At that moment

The village was as silent as a heavy coffin.

Green mist crawled between the stone houses.

Eren’s father, wearing his old jacket, walked to the edge of the village.

His steps were unsteady.

His eyes, clouded.

Inside, a voice kept whispering.

> "You were never enough."

"You’ll never be enough."

"They don’t need you."

He bowed his head.

His arms hung at his sides.

Slowly, he began to speak, to himself, in a hoarse voice:

> "But I tried... I really tried..."

"I wanted... I wanted them to love me..."

"Why... why don’t they want me..."

His lips were cracked.

His breathing grew heavier.

As he dragged himself along the muddy road, something glimmered at the edge of his vision.

He stopped.

Squinted.

In a crack in the earth,

a walnut-sized green stone was shining.

The father approached it with a fearful step.

He bent down.

Pushed his hands into the soil.

And pulled the stone free.

It was warm and smooth in his hands.

It pulsed gently through his veins.

His eyes lit up.

This time, the voice inside whispered in a different tone:

> "Precious... so precious..."

"If you give it to him... he’ll be happy."

"Maybe, just once... he’ll thank you."

He cradled the stone in his hands with affection.

He took an old leather cord from his pocket.

His hands trembled as he made the necklace—trembling from both excitement and hopelessness.

He was murmuring to himself:

> "It’ll be beautiful...

So beautiful...

Maybe... just once, he’ll smile at me..."

And with the last hope torn from his heart,

he stumbled back toward the village.