The Last Successor

03. A Golden Heart Under the Rain

The rain was pouring heavily, washing the streets of the city. Adrian walked alone along the dark sidewalk. His car—a cheap ten-year-old sedan—was parked three blocks away because the hotel valet refused to park such an ugly vehicle.

He felt the wet cash inside his pocket. It was exactly twelve thousand dollars. It was enough to keep his mother stable for another month. But the cost was his complete humiliation, broadcasted to the entire city.

"Father," Adrian whispered.

He looking up at the dark sky as rain poured into his eyes. He touched the old watch on his wrist. "You told me to always be an honest man. You told me that hard work would eventually bring rewards. But look at this world. The evil people live in palaces, and the good people are trampled like dirt."

As he turned into a narrow, dimly lit alley near a local hospital, he heard loud shouting and the sound of heavy thuds.

"Give me the money, you old bag of bones!" a rough voice shouted.

"I don't have any money... please..." an old, weak voice begged.

Adrian stopped. His gray eyes narrowed. He walked quickly toward the sound.

In the deep shadows of the alley, three young street thugs in leather jackets were kicking a helpless old man. The old man was dressed in dirty, torn rags. He looked like a homeless person who hadn't eaten in days. His white hair was soaked with mud and blood.

One thug raised a thick wooden stick, aiming for the old man’s head.

Without thinking about his own safety, Adrian rushed forward. His athletic body built from years of working as a delivery man and laborer, moved with explosive speed. He grabbed the thug’s wrist before the stick could fall then twisting it sharply.

Crack!

The thug screamed in pain. He dropping the stick. Adrian followed up with a heavy punch to the man's jaw, sending him crashing into the trash cans.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?" the second thug roared. He began pulling out a small knife.

Adrian did not hesitate. He avoided the wild knife slash, stepped inside the thug's guard, and grabbed his arm, slamming him hard against the brick wall.

The third thug, seeing his two friends defeated so quickly, panicked. He dropped his weapon and ran out of the alley into the rain. The other two quickly scrambled to their feet and followed him, cursing loudly.

Adrian did not chase them. He breathed heavily, wiping the rainwater from his forehead. He immediately knelt beside the old man.

"Old man, are you okay?" Adrian asked gently. He checked the old man's pulse. It was weak but steady.

The old man opened his eyes. They were a strange, piercing gray color—exactly like Adrian's. Despite his bloody face and dirty clothes, there was no fear in the old man's eyes. Instead, there was a strange, deep calmness.

"You... you helped me," the old man whispered, coughing weakly.

"Don't speak. You need medical attention," Adrian said. He looked toward the hospital down the street. He could easily carry the old man there. But Adrian knew hospitals required immediate deposit fees for homeless people without insurance.

Adrian looked at his pocket. The wet money from Edward Sterling was there.

"If I use this money for him, my mother’s bills might be short," Adrian thought.

His heart tearing apart. But then he looked at the old man’s shivering body. If he left him here, the old man would die before midnight.

"Forget it," Adrian muttered to himself.

"I will find another way for tomorrow. I can't let someone die in front of me."

Adrian carefully lifted the old man onto his back. He carried him out of the alley and walked to a small, 24-hour noodle shop nearby that had a small roof over the outdoor tables. The owner knew Adrian and allowed them to sit. Adrian bought two bowls of hot chicken soup using the small change left in his wallet.

He wrapped his own dry jacket around the shivering old man and pushed the hot soup toward him. "Eat this, old man. It will help you warm up."

The old man looked at the soup, then at Adrian’s ruined suit and bleeding knuckles. He took a sip of the warm broth, a small smile appearing on his wrinkled face.

"You are a strange young man," the old man said

His voice suddenly sounding much deeper and more powerful than before. "You look like you just came from a war yourself. Your suit is ruined, your eyes are full of pain, yet you used your last strength and money to save a worthless beggar."

Adrian forced a small and tired smile. He looked at his father’s old watch. "My father always told me that the moment we stop helping others just because we are hurting, that is the moment we lose our humanity."

The old man stopped eating. He stared deeply into Adrian's gray eyes. "Let me ask you something, boy. You have clearly suffered because of your kindness. You know why good people always lose in this world?"

Adrian paused. He thought about the Sterling family, the guests laughing at him, and his mother lying in the hospital. Then, he shook his head.

"If everyone stops being good just because they are afraid to lose," Adrian said softly, "then this world becomes a hell. I would rather lose while holding onto my heart than win by becoming a monster."

The old man suddenly laughed. It wasn't a weak, dying laugh. It was a loud, booming laugh filled with absolute pride and joy—a laugh of a king who had finally found what he was looking for.

"Perfect," the old man whispered, his gray eyes shining with an unbelievable light. "After twenty years... the search is finally over."