Chapter 123: Cursed

After we had sex in the forest, our relationship stopped being just a long-standing friendship, and our meetings became marked by our burning passion—each encounter defined by a different position.

Naturally, I had no intention of telling my father about my relationship with Emilia—not because I was ashamed to introduce her to him. Quite the opposite.

My family wasn’t well regarded because of my father. Back when his body was healthier, he would spend his time away from his research drinking and causing trouble at the bar. Now that his body could no longer handle alcohol, he spent his days at home, bitter and resentful. My mother couldn’t stand his behavior, so she ran away, leaving me alone with him.

I never wanted to drag Emilia into my family’s problems, nor did I intend to expose the woman I loved to my only relative—but that wouldn’t be an issue. I just needed to wait a little longer.

David Forster wouldn’t live much longer. With each passing day, the medicine I produced became less effective, and my father was already at death’s door.

Knowing he was going to die, he called me over—not to say goodbye, but to ask about my results.

“Edward, do you understand the seriousness of our research?” he asked.

As long as I can remember, my father had a large belly—not because of food, but because of alcohol. Ever since he stopped leaving the house, not a single bottle had entered it, and even so, his face still looked like that of someone who had just downed an entire bottle.

I was never foolish enough to bring even a single drop of alcohol into the house, not even when I was younger and he asked me to—I refused. Fortunately, he never beat me; he wasn’t the type to raise his hand, but everything that came out of his mouth was meant to belittle those around him, all while ignoring the fact that he had thrown his own life into the gutter.

“Of course, Father.”

“And in the last few months, what progress have you made?”

I didn’t answer. What progress could possibly be made? That old man was senile enough to believe that a few formulas could somehow create the elixir of eternal life out of nothing.

“Useless son! What is wrong with you?! I raised you, clothed you, fed you, and you couldn’t even make the slightest progress. You disgrace our family name.”

I was already used to that kind of treatment, so his insults no longer hurt me. But he didn’t stop there that night. His face looked almost ghostly.

“Listen well. The future of the Forster family—our revenge against those who humiliated us—will rest on your shoulders until the day you die! If you do not carry on our legacy and pass it on, everything you love will be cursed! Mark my words!”

I said goodbye to him that night. When I went to see him again the next morning, death had already taken him.

I don’t consider myself a good person for thinking this, but when he died, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I swore to myself that the Forster family’s curse would end with me, bringing the research to a definitive end. I wouldn’t even consider passing it on to my descendants. That would be the end of the nightmare that had cost my family so much.

But even with that resolve, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the research manuscripts I had produced. Whenever I thought about it, I would remember my father’s final words and feel a tightness in my chest. So I kept the documents, intending to let them gather dust.

Some time after my father’s death, I made my relationship with Emilia official and brought her to live with me. After several nights together, she finally told me the best words I had ever heard in my life.

“I’m pregnant!” she said with a bright smile.

I couldn’t have been happier. The woman I loved was going to give birth to my child. I was about to have a new family—one free from the madness of my old one. I would give my child the home I had never had. That’s what I believed.

Our child was born without complications, healthy and strong. But Emilia seemed weaker after the birth. When the boy turned two, her condition truly began to worsen.

“My dear, I’m fine. I just felt a little weak, that’s all,” Emilia said from her bed.

“This is the third time this month you’ve fainted like that. Please, get more rest.”

“And who will take care of the house? Of little Richard…”

“I’ll take care of everything. Just focus on getting better,” I insisted.

Emilia hesitated for a moment, then gave me a fragile smile.

“Alright… just don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

How could I possibly grant that request? With each passing day, Emilia seemed weaker, her health so fragile that being bedridden became part of her daily life.

I had tried everything—every kind of potion—and nothing, absolutely nothing, could restore her health. One night in my laboratory, overwhelmed by frustration at my wife’s worsening condition, I swept all my equipment off the table.

“What the hell! I can’t do it—I just can’t!” I shouted.

Every day, every single day, I searched for a cure for Emilia’s condition, but nothing I tried had any effect. If I had more money, I would have called for the best priest in the capital, but with what I earned from selling potions, the best I could do was try to save her myself.

I wasn’t a bad alchemist. I had the knowledge needed to cure the sick. If it were a simple illness, I should have been able to heal her. “So why…?”

That’s when it hit me—my father’s last words.

“Everything you love will be cursed!” I repeated, swallowing hard. “It can’t be…”

I found the manuscripts—my work on creating the philosopher’s stone. I hadn’t written a single new formula in those pages since the day my father died nearly three years ago.

“No… it can’t be. My father didn’t have the power to curse anyone. But then why…?”

I couldn’t stop thinking about that possibility. If my father had truly cursed me, my family would be at risk—not just Emilia, but little Richard as well.

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