Ivan looking out the window thinking of his next strep, his reflection was interrupted by the soft creak of the door behind him. Ivan turned to see Charlie slip into the room, closing the door carefully behind him. The young boy, with his perpetually unkempt hair and bright yet shy demeanor, looked at Ivan and scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"I heard some noise," Charlie said with a nervous chuckle. "Didn't want to barge in. What were you up to?"
"Just practicing a bit of boxing," Ivan replied casually, brushing off the sweat on his brow. Then, noticing the way Charlie's expression shifted, he added, "How are things going at home?"
Charlie's eyes brightened for a moment, curious about Ivan's "boxing," but the question quickly brought his mood crashing back down. He lowered his head, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
"When we got back… Dad was already gone," he muttered. "Mom says she needs time to figure things out."
Ivan nodded quietly, sensing the weight of the situation. This was Charlie's family matter, and as much as Ivan wanted to help, he knew it wasn't his place to interfere. Louise would have to make her own decisions, and any advice Ivan might offer would only complicate things.
Still, his mind wandered to the task at hand. After a moment's hesitation, he turned back to Charlie with a curious look.
"By the way," Ivan said suddenly, "can you sail a boat?"
Charlie blinked, caught completely off guard. "Sail a boat? Sir, I'm only thirteen years old!"
Ivan, however, shook his head with a grin. "Age doesn't matter here. Besides, you're the only one I trust with this. Who knows? Maybe you've got a hidden talent for it."
Charlie's confusion turned into a hesitant laugh. "A hidden talent for sailing? I've never even touched a boat before."
"Exactly," Ivan replied, his grin widening. "That's what makes it exciting. Come on; how many thirteen-year-olds get to say they did something this cool? Trust me."
Before Charlie could protest further, Ivan clapped him on the shoulder and added, "Let's go. You'll thank me later."
---
The next morning, a large truck rumbled up to the back entrance of the Hilty Hotel. Ivan stood waiting outside, dressed in a navy coat that gave him an air of authority, though his relaxed posture made it clear he wasn't trying too hard to impress. When the truck stopped, a familiar face climbed out of the driver's seat.
"Mr. Cruise," Ivan greeted with a smile. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Cruise chuckled as he adjusted his coat. His demeanor was calm and composed, exuding a kind of effortless charm. "Well, Richard figured you'd prefer someone you're familiar with. Besides, Santos is too intense, Snowden's too weak, and Richard himself is too… well, let's just say he attracts attention. That left me."
Ivan smirked. "So you're the perfect candidate, huh?"
"Apparently," Cruise replied with a shrug. "Richard thinks I'm good at staying under the radar."
"Doesn't this break any BOI rules?" Ivan asked, his tone half-serious.
Cruise laughed, a rich, warm sound that instantly lightened the mood. "Not at all. We may not have arrest warrants, but investigation warrants? Those are practically a dime a dozen. To be honest, I've got a stack of blank ones right now. All I need to do is fill one out and sign it. It's as easy as pie."
Ivan couldn't help but shake his head at the absurdity of it. "Well, that's… efficient, I guess."
"It's humane," Cruise corrected, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He extended his hand toward Ivan. "By the way, I don't think I ever introduced myself properly. Wilson Cruise."
Ivan clasped his hand firmly. "Ivan. But I'm guessing you already knew that."
The two men exchanged a smile; one of mutual respect and a shared understanding that whatever came next, it would require both cunning and courage.
The henchman yelled in his heart that something was wrong, but he also ran away quickly. It would be fine if nothing happened normally, but if something really happened because of his laxity, he would be punished.
He ran a few steps and ran into the alley. Before his eyes had time to adjust to the light, he felt something hit him on the forehead.
He lost consciousness and fell to the ground instantly.
At this time, Ivan walked out slowly.
He took out a bottle of wine from the space, poured half of it, and put the bottle in his hand.
On the side of the alley is a small shop selling bootleg liquor.
…
This is a dark room.
The curtains were drawn and the lights were off. It was quiet, without a sound.
Martha curled up on the bed like a wax figure, wrapped in the quilt, without making any sound, like a small animal hiding in the crevice of the rock.
The room was very comfortable, the bed was soft with a goose down quilt and huge pillows.
It was so comfortable that it seemed like something prepared for a sacrifice.
Someone would deliver food to her at regular intervals every day, but Martha didn't want to eat it, nor did she dare to eat it, so the food was left on the table and slowly cooled.
She was very uneasy. The source of this uneasiness was that two days ago, a stranger walked in as if he was visiting, accompanied by family members.
The man looked at her as if he was examining a piece of livestock to see if it was qualified.
"Very good." He smiled and said, "I can feel that her 'essence' is slowly awakening. She has met the requirements."
"You are right. Stealing can indeed catalyze her awakening of her characteristics." Gallardo Joaquin Uralsu said obediently, "She must be a 'mother' that can satisfy you."
"No, Galado." The man chuckled, "What matters is desire, and the degree to which her own characteristics fit with the Essence."
"Okay, what department is she in?"
"Beast, Chameleon." Gallardo said, "Guzman, who is also a beast type, is willing to be the 'father'."
"Yes, I hope you won't let me down." The man nodded.
The conversation ended there, and no one explained anything to her or even spoke to her.
Martha didn't know what was waiting for her.
She could only sit helplessly in the room. This was the most familiar space for her, but this space was now full of holes, as if anyone could come and go at will.
By this time, she already knew that the debt her family had talked about was just a cover-up. She had never come close to freedom, and was not even allowed to look up at it.
But...but...Marda really wanted to leave here. She just wanted to sleep peacefully in a warm place. But even this wish would never be fulfilled.
She closed her eyes and was imagining what was outside the window.
She wanted to walk on the street, listen to the music played by the black people, eat freshly baked bread, try what it was like to stay in a hotel, and take a train to a very far place...
But she could only hug the quilt and curl up in anxiety.
"Save me…"
She spoke in a voice as soft as a mosquito.
No matter who it is... She wanted so much, she hoped so much that someone could hear her voice, someone could save her, someone could take her away from here, just like in the knight novels she had read before.
But she knew this was impossible. She was just venting, venting without hope, so as not to be overwhelmed by anxiety.
At this moment, the door was pushed open.