ㅤ▬▬ 𝟓.𝟏

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▬▬ 𝕿oday was a bad day for you, at least

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▬▬ 𝕿oday was a bad day for you, at least. It was very shitty that Y/N just wanted to go crawl to her bed and sleep the entire day away so she could forget the whole thing ever happened. But she highly doubts that sleep would make her forget what had just occurred.

On the way home, the blacksmith even tried her best to distract her antsy mind, but she only worsened the mental gymnastics she was going through.

In a fit of rage, she punched a nearby wall.

Fortunately, she didn't dent the wall, so she didn't have to pay for the damage but, her knuckles weren't doing so well; It felt like her knuckles were being dipped in the furnace, followed by her knuckles groaning in pain and pleading to be dipped in oil to relieve the pain.

To think that the spear bearer tried to run away from the past yet, to be brought back to her past by the very thing she's passionate about. She just wanted to create something to be proud of and to avoid bothering anyone else, yet the very skill she cherishes brings back her trauma.

Is this her own skill saying to face her fears? If it is then, she'd consider it outrageous. Skills don't speak, it only shows one's capabilities.

The only thing the girl will ever believe in is coincidence. This whole shit was merely a coincidence that was never meant to happen before her eyes.

Yeah, it was just a coincidence. That's it.

Once Y/N recollected her mental state, she hastily walked past the retreating workers, then barged her way into her and Hockney's shared household.

The messy house welcomed her with silent kindness and a fresh atmosphere that didn't remind her of the forgery. The refreshing environment slightly relieved her of the shock.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the artist, aka David Hockney. She was about to wave one of her calloused hands at him as a greeting, but the male interrupted her.

"How was work?" The fair skinned artist asked.

It was a simple question that triggered a scenario that Y/N has been trying to keep in the back of her mind.

 Blacksmith『 ᵈᵃᵛⁱᵈ ʰᵒᶜᵏⁿᵉʸ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ 』Where stories live. Discover now