All-around teacher at the magic academy

Eric wandered aimlessly in the darkness.

This darkness was like an abyss that devoured everything; there was no passage of time, no boundaries of space, only his lonely figure wandering in this boundless darkness.

He didn't know how he got here, nor how long he had been walking. The concept of time had lost its meaning here; he just kept walking mechanically, as if it were an eternity.

In this darkness, his footsteps became his only companion, echoing in the boundless void. His thoughts drifted, trying to recall his past memories, but the darkness, like a tide, relentlessly eroded his consciousness, making it impossible for him to concentrate.

Just when he was about to give up, a faint light flickered in his vision. The light was so faint, as if it might go out at any moment, but to Eric, it was like an oasis in the desert, a flame on an ice field. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange hope ignited within him.

Eric followed the light and quickened his pace. At first, his steps were only slightly hurried, but as the light seemed to grow clearer, he felt he was moving too slowly. No longer content with walking, he began to run, his steps accelerating in the darkness, his desire growing stronger with each step.

The light expanded in Eric's vision, like a rising sun dispelling the surrounding darkness. Eric walked through the seemingly endless corridor until the blinding light forced him to stop.

He squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand to adjust to the sudden light, and gradually the scenery before him became clearer.

Before him lay an ordinary courtyard, simple and tranquil. Eric looked around, a strange sense of familiarity welling up within him, as if this were a place he had once lived, or a homeland deeply buried in his memory.

He stepped forward and pushed open the courtyard gate with both hands. The gate creaked slightly, as if welcoming his return.

In the courtyard, a sycamore tree stood tall, its lush branches seemingly telling tales of bygone years. Eric walked to the tree, reaching out to gently stroke its trunk. The rough texture brought a long-lost warmth and familiarity. A gentle tranquility welled up within him, as if, in that moment, he had found his way home.

A gentle breeze stirred, and the leaves of the sycamore trees began to fall slowly, like dancing butterflies tracing elegant paths through the air. Eric looked up at the falling leaves, a feeling of indescribable emotion welling up within him.

"Eric, this is your little brother. Look, do you like him?" The woman's voice, gentle and loving like the warm spring sun, softly sounded from behind Eric. He slowly turned around, his gaze falling on the quiet little life in her arms.

Eric carefully took the baby, his movements gentle, as if afraid of disturbing the little one in his arms. He looked down at the baby's peaceful face, the delicate skin and slightly trembling eyelashes bringing a tender smile to Eric's face. A warm feeling welled up in his heart; he had a younger brother now, a completely new experience, a heavy responsibility.

“I love it,” Eric said softly, his eyes filled with affection and tenderness. This little life would occupy an important place in his life.

The woman smiled and gently stroked Eric's head, her eyes filled with trust and expectation: "You must take good care of your younger brother from now on. You will be each other's strongest support."

Eric nodded earnestly, his eyes resolute, and he secretly vowed to protect him. This was not only a promise to his mother, but also a promise to his new role.

“Come on, your father is already waiting at the table. Let’s celebrate this special moment.” The woman’s voice carried a hint of pleasure as she led Eric into the house.

Eric, holding the baby in his arms, carefully followed the woman's figure, step by step, towards the warm home.

Their figures gradually merged into one in the afterglow of the setting sun, eventually disappearing from sight and leaving behind an atmosphere of peace and happiness.

...

Duke Chloe was strolling with his daughter Emma along a bustling street, sunlight filtering through the buildings and casting dappled shadows on them.

Emma's face was beaming with a bright smile. She couldn't remember the last time she went shopping with her father, and this precious time with her father made her feel incredibly fortunate.

Duke Chloe was equally pleased, a faint smile playing on his lips. Perhaps it was the joy of his daughter that had infected him, or perhaps he harbored some exciting secret within himself; in any case, he was in an exceptionally cheerful mood.

He even felt that the air around him had become fresher, and the ordinary people he usually paid little attention to seemed particularly pleasing to the eye now; they did not seem as bad as he had imagined.

"Dad, what are you thinking about?" Emma noticed her father's somewhat absent-minded gaze and asked curiously.

The Duke snapped out of his reverie and gently stroked Emma's head, his eyes filled with doting affection: "It's nothing, I just think the weather is really nice today."

...

Hansen lay alone on the hospital bed, his mood as turbulent and restless as a lake battered by a storm.

From the moment he started, his heart was like a blazing fire, restless and unable to be calmed. He gripped the sheets tightly, trying to distract himself, but the anxiety within him remained unchanged.

He didn't know why all this was happening. Perhaps the defeat in that competition had left a shadow in his heart, or perhaps he was afraid of the uncertainty of the future. Hansen tried to find the answer, but his thoughts were shrouded in mist, unclear and indistinct.

He struggled to sit up and looked out the hospital window. The world outside was so peaceful, a stark contrast to his inner turmoil.

On the tree branch, several crows were cawing and chattering, their cries sounding particularly jarring to Hansen.

A gentle breeze swept by, and the crows flapped their wings, leaving their original positions and flying into the distant sky.

Hansen watched them gradually disappear from his sight, a sharp pain shooting through his heart. The feeling was incredibly painful, as if something important was quietly slipping away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. His chest felt like it was being crushed by a heavy weight, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

He slowly withdrew his gaze and lay back down on the bed. Hansen stared at the ceiling of the ward; its pale and monotonous color seemed to reflect his current mood.

A tear silently slid down his cheek and landed on the pillow, leaving a faint damp stain.