Chapter 873

chapter873

"We're looking for their son," Roseanne clarified.

"Carlson Smith?"

"Yes! You know him?"

"I wouldn't say I know him, but he's the first kid from our village to get into a big- name university, so people remember him."

"We're Carlson's classmates," Mamie piped up. "Can you take us to the Smith family's house?"

The driver gave them a strange look for a second before nodding. "Sure. It's on my way. I can drop you off right at their gate."

"Thank you!"

Scales suddenly spoke. "Could you tell us a bit more about his family? Why do people call his father... 'Limp Smith'?

"Because he's got a limp," the driver explained. "Walks with a shuffle. It's just a nickname people gave him."

During the rest of the ride, they learned that Carlson's family was not well off. His mother had a chronic illness and needed constant medication. His father, the only one able to work, had injured his leg years ago on a construction site and had been forced to return home to farm. In recent years, he had started growing fruit trees, which sometimes yielded a good harvest. But it was never enough to cover the cost of his wife's medicine and support a son studying far away in Lumina City, who was too distant to help with daily chores.

After hearing this, the three of them fell silent. They had known Carlson had been exploited by Edna and had guessed his family wasn't wealthy, but they had never imagined things were this difficult.

Soon, the three-wheeler came to a stop.

"We're here. Mr. Smith's house is just up ahead. You can walk from here; I won't go all the way to the door."

"Okay, thank you," Roseanne said, paying him through her phone.

They stared at the dilapidated, old-fashioned farmhouse before them, a mix of complicated feelings

stirring within them. On the way sed

from the township, they had

another village where nearly every house was a modern, multi-story home, some even built to look like small villas. Even at the entrance to Low Creek Village, the first rew houses were new and well-kept. Carlson's home, however... Mamie had only ever seen something like it in a period drama. In real life, even the cheapest, most run-down apartment building she'd seen in Duke City was in better condition.

Roseanne stepped forward and knocked on the old, tightly shut wooden door. There was no answer.

She exchanged a look with Mamie, who stepped up and knocked again, a little harder this time.

A faint rustling sound came from inside, followed by a hoarse, world-weary voice. "Who is it? Honey, go see who's at the door..."

"Okay! a young voice replied.

They heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and the door creaked open. A little girl stood there, wearing a faded, washed-out cotton jacket She was small, but her eyes were bright, and her features bore a slight resemblance to Carlson She was no fool; instead of opening the door all the way, she left it cracked, peeking out at the strangers on her doorstep. She seemed a little flustered, but her eyes were filled more with caution than fear.

"Who are you looking for?"

Roseanne wasn't offended by the child's wary gaze. She softened her voice and explained gently "Hello there. We're classmates of Carlson Smith from Kingswell University. We came to see him. Is he home right now?"

The little girl immediately turned and yelled back into the house, Brother! Your classmates are here to see you!"

Her words were followed by a sharp, shattering crash from within. Someone had just dropped a bowl.