The weight of it finally crushed him. The fake smiles he had given his customers, the desperate way he tried to pretend his "real" family was the only one that mattered, and the image of Hoppy's hopeful, dirty face as she finally found him… it all collided.
The merchant let out a jagged, broken breath. The tears didn't just drip now; they poured. He looked at the blood on his finger and saw the red of the slime attack. He looked at his daughter Holly and saw the ghost of the girl he had denied.
He didn't just break the glass. He had broken himself. Under the watchful, invisible eyes of the "ghost" in the corner, the merchant finally began to fall apart, realizing that no amount of profit or prestige could drown out the sound of the daughter he had thrown away.
His daughter, Holly, tilted her head, her face full of innocent confusion.
"Papa? Does the cut hurt that much? I-Is that why you're crying?"
