That day, my parents went out shopping, and I pretended to wander around while following them.
Hearing their conversation, I was speechless.
“Where did that brat go? He left the Turner residence. What’s he running around for? Wasting the good backing I found for him.”
“Exactly, Ms. Turner has asked about him several times this year.”
“If I knew where that brat was, I’d tie him up and send him back to the Turner residence immediately.”
“Yeah, look how good the Turner family are. They bought us a house, a car, and even helped our sons find good wives. What more could we ask for?”
My parents hadn’t visited me once in all the years I’d been away from home.
At first, I hoped they would come to see me or use the money they earned to redeem me.
Gradually, I stopped expecting it. They probably had forgotten they even sold a son.
After hiding for two years, I finally found time to visit my parents, only to discover they still remembered me.
They only remembered the me who lived well at the Turner residence
It seemed I couldn’t return to this home.
I took an overnight bus back to the town.
After sleeping for two days, I decided to try working as a waiter in a hotel in town.