CHAPTER 81: SUCCESSFULLY FINDING PEOPLE WHO BECOME A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION

Alaric sat quietly, holding a glass of water he had just fetched from the kitchen. He had taken a few sips when the front door suddenly slammed open, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

Without so much as a knock, a young man barged in. His breathing was heavy, yet his demeanor carried an arrogance as if the house belonged entirely to him.

Startled by the abrupt entrance, Alaric instinctively turned toward the door. But the young man didn’t even glance his way.

His eyes were locked on the older man in the wheelchair. With long, urgent strides, he marched over and slammed a thick folder onto the glass table. The impact made Alaric’s glass tremble slightly in his hand.

"Dad!" the young man barked, his voice sharp, his eyes burning with pressure. "I’m selling the land. Sign the papers. Now!"

Alaric froze. His gaze shifted to the folder, which had opened just enough to reveal the official first page, a notarized contract for the sale of five hectares of land.

The man in the wheelchair, who had moments ago been sitting calmly, straightened up in shock. His hands trembled as they moved to his chest. "Sell the land...?" his voice was faint, filled with disbelief. He stared deeply at the young man’s face. "Why, son?"

The young man, Roni. The older man’s son—lifted his chin high, his tone as if issuing a command that was not to be questioned. "To pay for college. Just sign it already."

A brief silence fell. Alaric could hear the ticking of the wall clock. The older man furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of it. "College?" he asked. "Weren’t your older brothers the ones who promised to pay your tuition? They gave you money for that, didn’t they?"

Roni’s voice rose, defensive and sharp. "That’s not true! They only gave me money for books and registration. And it’s all gone anyway!"

The father’s expression shifted to one of deep disappointment. "What did you spend it on?"

Roni didn’t flinch. His voice burst out, shameless. "I partied with it!"

Alaric clenched his fists at those words but managed to restrain himself.

The father closed his eyes, drawing a long, shaky breath. "Why... why spend it on that, son? That money... it was for your future."

Roni scoffed, crossing his arms. "That was then. It’s gone now! So stop asking questions. Just sign the damn thing, and I’ll be out of here."

The words hit like ice, cold and sharp. As if he were speaking to a stranger, not his own father.

The older man looked at him for a long time, his eyes wounded. "But son..." his voice weakened, almost defeated, "that land... it’s my only savings for old age. If I sell it, what will I have left? Roni... You should—"

"Just sign it already!" Roni snapped, pointing aggressively at the contract. "You’re old anyway. What’s the point of holding onto property? Better to use it while you’re still alive than have it become a burden later."

The words struck like knives. Alaric saw the man in the wheelchair pale, his hand pressing against his chest in distress. His lips trembled as he reached for the pen Roni had tossed on the table. Slowly, with trembling hands, he also reached for the folder.

Alaric couldn’t stay quiet any longer. He gently set down his glass, then spoke up, his voice firm:

"Don’t, sir."

The words rang out clearly, cutting through the tension in the room and freezing the father’s hand just inches above the contract.

But the most explosive reaction came from Roni, as expected. His face turned red, and his eyes flared wide, suddenly noticing Alaric for the first time.

"Who the hell are you?!" he shouted, furious. "Why are you sticking your nose into someone else’s family business? Who gave you the right to tell my father what to do?!"

Alaric didn’t respond right away. Instead, he turned to look at the father with quiet understanding.

He remembered now. This was the man who once told him about a son who made him run in panic, only to fall down the steps at Westminster’s campus. The father said nothing now, but his silence was enough.

Alaric turned back to Roni. His voice was calm but filled with unwavering resolve.

"You have no right to extort your father like this, especially not for something as foolish as partying."

He said the name deliberately. Roni paused, caught off guard by how the stranger knew his name. But he quickly regained his arrogance.

"I can do what I want! It’s his asset, and when he dies, it’s all coming to me anyway. So what’s the problem if I use it now?"

The air grew heavier. Even the walls seemed to recoil from the words. The father lowered his head, his shoulders shaking with a mix of pain and resignation.

Alaric’s fists clenched tighter, his voice rising. "You should be caring for your father in his old age, especially now when he’s in a wheelchair. Look at him." He pointed firmly toward the chair. "Greed has blinded you, Ron. You’ve lost all sense of right and wrong."

Roni let out a growl, eyes blazing. "I said stay out of it! Who the hell are you anyway? Why do you care so much about this old man? What do you get out of all this, huh?"

Alaric closed his eyes for a moment, breathing hard to keep himself grounded. When he opened them again, his stare was steady.

"You really are..." He stopped himself mid-sentence, choosing not to say the words that were clearly on his tongue. He respected the father too much.

"Enough," the father said suddenly, breaking the heated exchange. Though weak, his voice was clear. He lifted both hands slightly, signaling for calm. "Don’t argue. If this is what you want, son... then fine. But this is the last time. Do you hear me? The last time."

Roni’s face changed in an instant, a mix of satisfaction and urgency. Without waiting, the father picked up the pen. He glanced briefly at the paper, then, with great reluctance, signed his name.

The moment the pen left the paper, Roni snatched the document, folded it roughly, shoved it into his bag, and stormed toward the door.

The door flew open with a loud bang. He didn’t bother closing it. His footsteps faded quickly down the path, leaving behind a heavy silence and a house stripped of peace.

The father slumped back in his wheelchair, drained. Alaric remained seated, staring at the open door with a mixture of rage, sorrow, and pity swirling in his chest.

Finally, Alaric turned toward the older man, who now sat slumped as if a part of him had just been ripped away.

His shoulders trembled, his eyes blank, staring at the table where the document had landed. Alaric walked over, gently placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, offering silent comfort.

"It’s alright, sir," he said softly. "Don’t let his words weigh on your heart. Don’t carry pain that doesn’t belong to you."

The older man looked up, offering a faint, sad smile. "You’re a good man, son. If it weren’t for you... I don’t know what I would’ve done."

Alaric didn’t reply with words. He pulled up a small chair and sat beside him, staying quietly, a steady presence in the silence.

But that silence was soon broken by the vibrating ring of a phone in Alaric’s pocket. He quickly reached for it and answered. "Hello?" he said, but the voice on the other end crackled, unclear.

He stood up and turned briefly toward the father. "Sir, I’ll step outside. The signal’s bad in here. I’ll take this call out front."

The man nodded. Alaric walked swiftly to the front door. As he stepped outside, he was met with an unexpected sight: several neatly dressed individuals were standing in the yard, carrying large boxes marked *Brightmind Robotics*.

Alaric froze for a moment, then hung up his phone. A soft smile formed on his lips. He waved at them. "Hey! You’re here, come in!"

The team moved quickly, some of them carefully lifting the large white boxes. Alaric tapped one of the boxes and directed them. "Set it over there, next to the sofa."

As the box was lowered, the man in the wheelchair looked puzzled, his eyes wide. "Son... what is this?"

Alaric turned to him with a smile. "Be patient, sir. Let me show you."

He signaled to the staff to open the box. With a small cutter, the packaging was peeled away, revealing protective foam. One by one, the pieces were removed, and inside stood a sleek, silver-and-white robot with a simple yet futuristic design.

Its face was a flat panel with two glowing digital eyes. The body was rounded, non-threatening, and made to feel approachable. Especially for the elderly.

"Alright, sir," one of the staff said, holding a thin manual, "it’s very easy to use. First, turn it on with the blue button on the back of the neck. After that, it will automatically adjust its posture."

The robot powered on slowly. Its eyes glowed blue, and a gentle mechanical voice filled the room.

"System initialization complete. Care mode activated."

The staff member continued, "Now we’ll configure it to match the layout of the house. It’ll scan and memorize the position of every room... the kitchen, bedroom, living area. After that, it’s all controlled with this remote."

He handed a small device to Alaric. "Green button for water, yellow for mobility assistance, red for emergencies. Simple and intuitive."