With a lot of doubt, I asked, "Why is my mother down here?"

While I was shocked, my father immediately adopted a scoundrel look, dusted himself off, and sat lazily on the high wooden threshold of the old house. "She committed suicide by jumping into the well," he said disdainfully.

Upon hearing that, I was furious and yelled at him in front of everyone, "Didn't you always say that my mother ran away because of our family's poverty? How come now she committed suicide? Which of your words is true?"

My dad retorted, "I said that because I was afraid that you were too young to accept it!"

I didn't know how to respond, so I asked doubtfully, "Why not bury her in the tomb in the back mountain?"

Unexpectedly, my father gnashed his teeth and said angrily, "She didn't deserve it!"

These three words immediately ignited a fury within me. I yelled, "But you couldn't bury her under this high threshold! Are you going to let her be trampled by countless people? Do you hate my mother so much that you let me step on her? What's in it for you?"

"This is the rule! Women who commit suicide deserve this punishment!" my father shouted.

"Rule? Where do this rule come from? Who made it?" I asked angrily.

Unexpectedly, my father answered with even greater arrogance than I had displayed. "This is the rule of our family! It has been established by our ancestors for generations!"

Knowing I couldn't argue with him, I gave up and asked, "Why did my mother jump into the well?"

Seeing that his dominating presence had overwhelmed me, my father proceeded with a seemingly fearless demeanor and impatience, stating, "I've already explained it to you. She simply didn't want to continue living, so she killed herself."

"Impossible!" I almost shouted these three words to my father.

Despite his apparent certainty, I knew he was lying because 20 years ago, there was a secret between my mother and me, a secret known solely to the two of us.

It was this secret that made me absolutely unable to believe that my mother would commit suicide!

However, I was too young at that time and knew almost nothing about the past, so I could only pin my hopes on my father.

In order to find out the truth, I swallowed my pride for the first time and begged him, "Dad, please tell me how my mom died."

However, he remained impervious, insisting, "She didn't want to live anymore."

Though I didn't believe it, I couldn't do anything.

Soon, the onlookers who had gathered by the entrance of the old house dispersed, and what was once a joyous opening scene transformed into a senseless mockery. I sat in a daze in the corner of the side room, confused and helpless.

When I thought about how that gentle woman left me in despair and misery, my heart began to ache uncontrollably.

I had never wanted to believe that the woman who was so gentle in my memory would leave me, who was only ten years old, and commit suicide in despair.

I heard that people who committed suicide would arrange everything in advance and then leave with a clear mind.

However, my mother had agreed to my request so sincerely. It was impossible for her to be so eager to end her life without even fulfilling my little wish.

She must have had some compelling reason to break her promise.

But what could it be? How did she die?

I asked myself this question countless times, yet all I got in response were still mottled walls and dust on the ground.

I got up helplessly. As I left, my elbow unintentionally scraped against a sizable fragment of the already crumbling paint.

As the dry lime soil scattered, the small red bricks within the wall were all exposed.

Inadvertently, I caught sight of a conspicuous white object nestled within the crevice between the dark red brick walls.

I took the object out, full of doubts. Until I shook off the dust on it, I realized it was something I had prepared back then.

However, when I opened it with trembling hands and saw the contents inside, I was struck with astonishment. It felt as if someone had delivered a powerful blow to my head with a stick, leaving me unable to regain my composure for a long time.

After a while, I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. I surrendered to my grief and burst into uncontrollable sobs.

I was like a wounded wolf, howling alone in the wilderness, my miserable voice mixed with anger and sadness.

Until this moment, I had always believed that the mystery that had troubled me since I was ten years old would remain unsolved.

Unexpectedly, today, I learned the hidden truth of the past at the place where the sin began.

While the truth abruptly halted and the mystery appeared to recede into deeper obscurity, I uncovered some information about what had happened in the past.

And with this secret, perhaps I could find out the rest of the truth in my own way.

I spent the entire night sitting in the corner of the old house, pondering relentlessly. Finally, at dawn, I thought of the best way to find out the truth.

After making up my mind, I solemnly put the things into my pocket and then walked to the homes of several elders at the front of the village with firm steps.

In less than 15 minutes, word quickly spread throughout the entire village that I intended to offer one million dollars to each of my father and his siblings in exchange for the old house.

The villagers looked at my elders with envious expressions.

Amidst the praises and admiration from everyone, I subtly displayed a barely perceptible sly smile.

In the afternoon, I invited the two esteemed village leaders, Zach and Harry, to join me in the dilapidated old house's main hall as witnesses to the upcoming event.

After a while, my family sat joyfully and neatly around the dark square table in the main hall.

My grandfather had three sons and one daughter, with my father being the second eldest among them.

The eldest son, Ryan, became mute due to illness at a young age. While he retained his ability to hear, he was unable to speak. His reserved and dull character left him single throughout his years. Now, he was old, and when I visited his house to invite him, I found him chopping wood. However, his agility and skill were not as sharp as they once were.

Ryan was the first to arrive. With a shy smile in his modest demeanor, he quietly settled himself in the corner of the main room, smoking as he remained silent.

The youngest son, Jacob, entered alongside his wife, Debra. Despite the smiles on their faces, there was a hint of estrangement in their relationship.

In contrast, the daughter, Regina, and her husband, Donny, who came in last, seemed to get along well. Not only were they holding hands, but their faces also radiated with sheer joy and happiness.

The final person to enter was my alcoholic father. He was already drunk by the afternoon, and his expression carried a mixture of emotions. He seemed torn between protesting my indifference towards him for over a decade and desiring closeness with me, now that I had returned home with success. Fortunately, I didn't allow him much time to hesitate. Upon entering the room, I offered a brief nod, addressed him as "Dad" in a low voice, and then never looked at him again.

With everyone in attendance, I politely greeted the elders one by one and then arranged for everyone to sit at the square table.

Harry and Zach took their seats at the front, while Ryan, accustomed to being reserved, hesitated to join the table. Sensing his discomfort, I decided not to force him into sitting.

My father sat down on the right side and gestured for me to sit beside him.

Jacob and Debra settled on the left side of the table, with Regina and Donny taking seats beside them.

Once we were seated, except for Ryan who couldn't speak, Regina, Debra, and Jacob started enthusiastically praising me.

"I've always believed you would achieve great things, and now you've made a lot of money. We're also benefiting from it," Regina expressed.

"Archer has been smart since childhood, and he has never forgotten his family. I've always liked you," said Debra.

"Archer, you have brought great honor to our family. Martin, you should also take credit for Archer's success!" exclaimed Jacob.

Inebriated from the wine, my father, upon hearing everyone's compliments towards me, also felt a sense of pride and began bragging.

As his outrageous boasts escalated, I could no longer tolerate it. I suddenly stood up and rushed to the door of the main hall.

With a creak, I closed the door of the old house.