In the room, Freya recognized the voice as somewhat familiar, triggering a memory.

She rose from the bed, flicked on the room's light, and headed outside.

Upon seeing Bradley pinning down a boy, she was surprised.

"Simon Smith, why are you here?"

As Freya approached, the tearful boy bit Bradley and then dashed towards her.

"Freya, help me! This guy wants to kill me."

Avoiding his embrace, Freya scrutinized Simon.

He was the youngest son of Mrs. Smith.

Back in the countryside, this kid used to torment her frequently.

She didn't expect to encounter him here.

"Tell me, what are you doing here? Otherwise, I won't go easy on you."

"I... I..."

Simon stammered and darted to the side, clutching a basket of vegetables.

This time, Freya was quicker, catching up and knocking him down.

"Let me go! You ungrateful freeloader! The Smith family has supported you for years, and this is how you repay us? You'll pay for this."

Simon cursed, recalling the days when he bullied Freya in the countryside, labeling her a freeloader.

Though just ten years old, Simon had a sharp tongue from growing up in his family.

Before Freya could reprimand him, Bradley, standing nearby, kicked him.

Though not forcefully, Simon cried out in pain.

"Who are you calling a freeloader? Huh?"

The man's voice rose and his eyes were filled with anger.

Simon dared not curse again. This man seemed fierce and might harm him.

He was so cunning as he begged, "Freya, our family has been starving for days. Please, give me some food and let me go."

Narrowing her eyes, Freya listened.

From Simon's words, she learned that their family had moved from Luiville Village to a nearby thatched house.

Mrs. Smith was ill and bedridden.

Mr. Smith's elder daughter, Sally, had left for work six months ago and not returned.

The second son, David, succumbed to hardships, turning to drugs and debt, escaping after being injured.

Only Simon remained to care for his mother, resorting to theft due to his youth and lack of skills.

The child didn't know how to make a living when he was young, so he kept doing sneaky things.

This wasn't Simon's first attempt at stealing here.

Before this farm was sold, the landlord rarely visited, allowing Simon to frequently steal vegetables.

Recently, new residents arrived, prompting Simon to hide on the outskirts until hunger drove him to sneak in.

Since there was no more food left at home, and he couldn't endure the hunger any longer, he decided to take a chance and sneak in.

He never expected to be caught.

With teary eyes, Simon pleaded, "Freya, please let me go. My mother is waiting for the vegetables to cook."

He forced out a tear.

Seeing through his act, Freya wasn't swayed.

In the past, Simon would feign innocence whenever caught bullying her, shifting blame with fake tears.

Growing up mischievous and deceitful, he was skilled at lying and manipulating.

"Take me to your mother."

Freya demanded, wanting to confront Mrs. Smith, who had tormented her more than Sophie.

The reason she became mentally disabled was largely due to this woman.

Now that she had fallen to such a state, if she didn't go to see her, how could she repay her for her years of 'nurturing'?

Reluctantly, fearing a beating, Simon led them to their dwelling.

It was a dilapidated thatched house, its roof sagging, and moss covering the thatch.

At the door, a musty odor lingered.

Leaving Bradley outside, Freya entered with Simon.

The woman lying on the brick bed heard the commotion and spoke up, "Simon, Mom's hungry, hurry up and cook."

Mrs. Smith was lying on the brick bed, instructing Simon to work, but she didn't expect to see a familiar figure, which frightened her and made her sit up.

"Fre Fre Fre, Freya?"

"Mrs. Smith, you're well?"

Freya approached, her expression cold.

Initially, Mrs. Smith was stunned.

In the next second, her expression changed, glaring at her fiercely, "You, this bad luck, you've caused so much trouble to our family, and you still have the nerve to come back?"

"I heard you fell ill, Mrs. Smith, so I came to check on her. After all, the debt of upbringing is greater than that of birth. Even if you can't make it through, I have to come to see her off on her last journey."

"You... you... you're cursing me to die? You heartless person, by cursing your foster mother to die, you'll face retribution."

Mrs. Smith was hot-tempered, and even in her current predicament, her personality remained unchanged.

She grabbed the nearby water glass and forcefully smashed it towards Freya.

Freya dodged slightly, causing the glass to hit the wall, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Having such a big temper is bad for your health. Besides, this house doesn't look sturdy. If it suddenly collapses, you won't have a place to stay."

Freya stood with her arms crossed, observing Mrs. Smith's agitated behavior, reminiscing about her time in the countryside.

Upon her arrival at the Smith family's home, the three children immediately surrounded her.

Sally admired her dresses and eagerly reached out to grab them.

David rifled through her suitcase, taking all her valuable possessions.

Simon, on the other hand, drenched her with muddy water, transforming her into a mud-covered figure.

Still adjusting to life with the Smith family, Freya was tasked with chores by Mrs. Smith.

She worked on an empty stomach until dawn while members of the Smith family gathered around to have breakfast. She was taken to the kennel to sleep with the dogs and compete with the dogs for food.

Regardless of weather conditions, she had to trek up the mountain daily to gather firewood and dig bamboo shoots.

If she returned empty-handed, hunger awaited her.

She continued this grueling routine until she fell ill.

Despite her condition, the heartless members of the Smith family left her to fend for herself in the doghouse.

It ultimately leading to her mental disability.

Fortunately, fate intervened, sparing her from a lifetime of impairment.

Observing Mrs. Smith, Freya couldn't help but feel as if she were witnessing a circus act.

She never anticipated that karma would catch up to the Smith family in such a manner.

"Freya, I raised you for seven years with great effort. Even if you haven't contributed, you've endured hardships. You've eaten and slept under our roof. Now it's time for you to give back. Show me filial respect and provide me pension expenses."

Eating Smith family's food...

Sleeping in Smith family's house…

Give back, pension expenses?

Freya found the notion amusing and burst into laughter.

"Sorry, even if I wanted to repay, I'd only repay the Smith family's dog!"

"You... you..."

Mrs. Smith pointed at her, too furious to speak, and grabbed something from the table to throw.

"Enough is enough! How did I end up raising such an ungrateful ingrate like you? You've been freeloading off us. Aren't you afraid of divine retribution?"

Rumble!

Suddenly, thunder roared.

Mrs. Smith jumped in surprise.

Freya smirked at her, "See, it's thundering now. We don't know if this thunder is meant for you or for me?"

Rumble!

Another thunderclap echoed through the air.