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🕑 Added 2025-05-06 20:19:21 +0000 UTCChapter 1381: Clues
Joy, anticipation, happiness.
In Jack's bright eyes, Anson saw... dreams and hope—a faint glimmer, but one that was igniting a warmth deep within his soul.
Maybe Jack was finally breaking free from his father's shadow, taking his first steps to carve out his own life.
"Congratulations!"
Anson's smile bloomed fully.
Just that one word made Jack's face light up. He replied a bit shyly, "It's just the beginning."
Anson's eyes sparkled with joy. "Anyone who has dreams is remarkable, but those who dare to take the first step to chase them are even more so."
Jack scratched his head, chuckling, "Heh. Who knows? Maybe someday, I'll get to work with you—capturing your performance through my lens."
Anson laughed heartily. "Looks like I need to keep working hard so Hollywood doesn't toss me out before you become a filmmaker."
Jack tilted his head, looking Anson straight in the eye. "Shouldn't I be the one working hard to grow up faster so I can catch up to you?"
Anson shook his head gently. "Oh, Jack, you should watch Sunset Boulevard."
Jack looked serious. "Who says I haven't seen it?"
For once, Anson was at a loss for words.
Caught off guard, he burst out laughing. "Sorry, I apologize for making assumptions."
The news had been so sudden that Anson took a moment to process it. If Jack was looking for work now, what about school? Jack had always yearned for a peaceful life, just like any other kid. But now he was leaving school—did something happen at home again?
Something felt off.
Just as Anson was about to ask, a voice called out from nearby.
"Anson."
He turned to see Lucas standing there.
Lucas, as always, was stone-faced, showing no emotion, like a grim reaper holding a first-aid kit.
Anson was puzzled. "What's up? Did someone get hurt?"
Lucas didn't answer, just looked at Anson quietly.
It took Anson a moment to realize—he had just been filming a scene with a rough fall and smashing up a room, so his palms and knees were a bit scraped and bruised.
But it was nothing serious.
The crew's medical team was on standby immediately.
Anson was the biggest star on set, and with Lucas—the watchful producer—hovering nearby, the crew was on high alert. Despite the minor scrapes, one doctor and two nurses surrounded Anson, which felt like overkill.
Amused, Anson waved them off, saying he'd take care of it after the shoot and just asked for a few band-aids.
Then... the ultimate boss showed up.
Feeling helpless, Anson tried to change the subject. "I'm fine. Oh, Lucas, let me introduce you to my friend, Jack."
Quickly trying to divert attention.
But when he turned back, Jack was nowhere to be seen.
"Jack?" Anson looked around, confused. "Where did he go? How did he disappear so fast?"
Lucas frowned and scanned the room alongside Anson.
The theater was bustling with people, but Jack was nowhere to be found. No one seemed to be rushing off, either.
Without a word, Lucas sat down next to Anson and opened the first-aid kit.
Anson looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Lucas, I'm not a kid anymore."
Lucas was unfazed. "Then stop whining like one. These wounds need disinfecting and bandaging. You're an actor. Not taking care of yourself is irresponsible to the crew and your role. I thought you were mature enough to take that responsibility seriously."
Oof!
The crew members nearby all held their breath, their curiosity quickly curbed as they pretended to look away.
Even Anson was rendered speechless by Lucas. The true boss had made his appearance.
Anson looked up at the ceiling in defeat. "Great. My image on set is ruined—all thanks to you."
Lucas replied simply, "Hmm."
Anson: ...
Under Lucas's stern gaze, Anson finally gave in and rolled up his pant leg, revealing the bruises on his knee and scrapes on his calf.
Lucas's eyes turned cold as he efficiently began treating the wounds.
Anson winced, "Ow! Lucas, easy!"
Lucas glanced at him, unfazed. "Oh, so you can feel pain? Good, that means your nerves are still working."
He saw right through Anson's exaggeration. "Weren't you worried about maintaining your image on set? Is this the image you were going for?"
Anson sheepishly rubbed his nose, his protest dying on his lips. "I'm fine, really. This is nothing compared to that time on the Spider-Man set..." He trailed off mid-sentence, realizing his mistake—bringing up Spider-Man 2 was a bad idea.
Lucas's icy glare shut him up immediately. Anson blinked innocently. "On second thought, you're right. I shouldn't take these injuries lightly. Thanks, Lucas."
His tone was as mechanical as an automated message, utterly devoid of emotion.
Lucas's lips twitched into a cold smile before he resumed his work.
Even though Anson kept insisting he was fine, Lucas knew better. Anson was so immersed in his role—and possibly still feeling the effects of a hangover—that he was numb to the pain. But the bruises and scrapes were obvious to everyone else on set.
Sure enough, Lucas's instincts were right.
Knees, calves, elbows, arms, palms—everywhere was scraped.
Every time Lucas uncovered a new injury, Anson looked at him, bewildered.
"Huh? When did that happen?"
"Wait, how did I scrape that?"
"Here too? I didn’t even feel it."
After a while, Anson realized how clueless he sounded and fell silent under Lucas's icy gaze.
Finally, the room fell quiet.
While tending to the wounds, Lucas unexpectedly broke the silence, "That friend of yours... Jack?"
Anson nodded, "Yeah, Jack. The one I told you about before."
Lucas asked, "What's he doing here? I thought he was just a student."
Anson's eyes widened in surprise. "You actually listened? I thought you tuned me out back then."
Lucas shot him a glare. "Focus."
Anson waved his hand. "Alright, alright. I was just about to ask him about school when you showed up, so I didn’t get the chance."
"He mentioned that he joined a crew as an apprentice, working under the production team. He wants to get into Hollywood, working behind the scenes."
Lucas's hands paused. "Did he say which crew?"
Anson shook his head. "I didn’t get a chance to ask. Why? Is it important?"
Lucas looked up at him. "Anson, right now, we're the only production shooting in Las Vegas."
(End of Chapter)
*Chapter 1382: Reasonable Doubt*
Lucas's movements paused slightly, his eyes reflecting a trace of confusion and hesitation. But he still spoke.
"Anson, our crew is the only one currently filming in Las Vegas."
What... does that mean?
Anson froze and looked directly at Lucas, unable to grasp the underlying implication.
"Are you saying Jack lied and secretly skipped school?"
Anson shook his head. "Impossible. Jack has been longing to return to school. All he's ever wanted is to attend school like a normal kid."
"If Jack said he's with a film crew, then he should be with a film crew. Maybe we're the only major production here, but Lucas, Hollywood has plenty of small crews. A group of three to five people is enough to form an independent crew. If such a crew is filming in Las Vegas, there's no way we could know about all of them."
Lucas quietly looked at Anson. "I know. The ‘Elephant’ crew is one of them."
Anson snapped his fingers. "Exactly. After all, Jack is still new to Hollywood. Even if he joined a production as a low-level assistant, that doesn’t mean he would necessarily be in a big production."
Lucas nodded. "Right. That’s what I mean. Jack is still a minor, isn’t he? If he came to Hollywood alone, even just as a production assistant, it would be difficult for him to find work. Legitimate productions wouldn’t risk hiring a minor."
Anson chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, you don’t know, huh? Officially, sure, that’s not allowed. But in the gray areas…"
His words trailed off.
In his past life, after being subjected to online harassment, Anson had become a pariah, unable to find work no matter how hard he tried. It was during that time that he discovered a world beyond the legitimate channels—a space where he could barely scrape by and survive.
And Anson believed Hollywood operated the same way.
"Anyway, don’t worry. I trust Jack," Anson brought the conversation back, thinking for a moment. "Jack… Jack is a good kid."
Originally, Lucas had only been raising a reasonable doubt. But now, seeing the unwavering trust in Anson’s expression, an alarm bell went off—
Something wasn’t right.
Ever since the kidnapping incident, whether or not Anson remembered what had happened, he had developed a subconscious wariness of strangers. Combined with the Wooten family’s tight protection, he was not someone who easily trusted people.
And after entering Hollywood—this industry filled with suspicion, doubt, jealousy, and betrayal—Anson had firsthand experience. Trusting strangers so easily was even more difficult.
Yet now?
A sense of unease quietly tugged at Lucas’s heart, growing stronger and more overwhelming by the second, like a black hole swallowing every emotion in its path.
His fingertips felt like they were burning from the air itself. Lucas instinctively curled his hand into a fist. It took him a moment to realize how absurd the thought was—how could air burn his fingers? But he still clenched his fist, trying to steady his trembling hands and suppress the growing unease spreading inside him.
This wasn't the first time he'd had doubts. But Lucas had always told himself he was just overthinking it, that there was no need to complicate things.
Even now, he tried to deny it—to dig a hole and bury that gnawing anxiety once again.
But this time, Lucas failed.
After a brief pause, he finally raised his eyes to look at Anson. But when he saw the clarity and brightness in Anson’s gaze, he faltered.
How was he supposed to say this?
How could he phrase it?
How could he reveal the truth without causing more harm?
How could he tread carefully enough to avoid breaking Anson completely?
What… was he supposed to do?
A simple question—yet unbearably heavy.
Instinctively, Lucas wanted to turn around and run, to bury his head in the sand once more.
But… he couldn’t.
He refused to run away again.
And so, the words finally left his lips.
Lucas heard his own voice—unfamiliar yet calm—though his heart trembled uncontrollably.
"Anson, besides you, has anyone else seen Jack?"
Anson blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Lucas’s voice caught in his throat.
Anson simply laughed. "Lucas, what are you talking about? Didn’t you just see him? He was right here! Other people saw him too."
"Haha, Lucas, maybe we should add you to the list of people who had a hangover last night."
Lucas felt his throat go dry, barely able to speak. "No. I didn’t see Jack."
Anson froze.
Lucas continued, "Maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but you can ask someone else to confirm."
The smile on Anson’s lips slowly faded—but then he quickly forced it back. "Lucas, that’s not funny. Haha, you almost had me."
Anson turned and called out to the stage crew working nearby.
"Hey, did any of you see a tall teenage boy just now? A middle schooler… no, wait, he’s in middle school, but he looks younger, like thirteen or fourteen. He was standing right in front of me."
The passing crew members exchanged puzzled looks, their expressions filled with confusion.
"Sorry, Anson, we weren’t paying attention."
Anson couldn’t believe it. He scanned their faces one by one, but they all shook their heads—no one could confirm seeing Jack.
Anson: ???
What the hell?
Anson burst out laughing. "Lucas, if this is an April Fool’s prank, you get full marks. I was almost scared there."
He turned toward the front row of the audience.
"Sorry to disturb you all. Did anyone see the teenage boy standing in front of me earlier? We chatted for a bit—he was here for a little while."
However—
"No, I didn’t see anything."
"Nope, it was just you the whole time."
"Sorry, can’t help. I was discussing your performance with my friend. Oh my god, Anson, you were incredible today!"
Anson frowned slightly, tilting his head before flashing a smile to acknowledge the background actors’ interaction. But in his mind, the number of question marks kept increasing. He turned back to Lucas.
"Maybe everyone was too focused on their own work. With so many people coming and going, it’s easy to overlook someone."
"Guess I’m not as dazzling as I thought."
Anson made a self-deprecating joke, clearly in a good mood.
"But Lucas, Jack was just here. Seriously. I’m not joking."
Lucas stared at Anson’s sincere expression, his heart sinking. His usual composed demeanor cracked slightly as a flicker of doubt flashed in his eyes.
"I know you’re serious," Lucas said softly, nodding. "But…"
The words—harder to say than he ever imagined—felt like they were being forced through a parched throat.
"But, Anson… I’m serious too."
Lucas forced himself to meet Anson’s gaze.
Anson tilted his head, momentarily stunned. His smile wavered before disappearing entirely. His face was filled with confusion. "What… do you mean?"
Lucas repeated himself.
"Anson, no one else has seen Jack."
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 1383: The Vast Forest
“Anson, besides you, no one has ever seen Jack.”
This time, it wasn't a question but a statement—a declaration that hit Anson hard in the chest. For a brief, fleeting moment, the air fell completely silent.
Anson looked at Lucas, and Lucas looked back at Anson. Neither backed down, neither looked away. Their gazes clashed head-on.
“Heh.” Anson let out a light chuckle. “Lucas…”
But this time, Lucas didn’t hesitate or pause. He cut Anson off, “Anson, calm down. Just listen to me.”
“Think about it. You’ve tried more than once to introduce Jack to me.”
“At the movie theater in San Francisco, at the hospital in New York, and even here.”
“Yet, every single time, he vanished without a trace.”
Anson laughed outright. “He just happened to leave at the wrong time…”
Lucas pressed on, “Once could be a coincidence. Twice, a fluke. But three times?”
Anson froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Lucas continued, “Anson, think about it seriously. Besides you, no one has ever seen Jack. Sure, today you could argue that with all the people around, no one noticed him. But what about at the hospital? How did he vanish from the bathroom without a trace?”
“Plus, San Francisco. New York. Las Vegas. He appears in different cities at different places. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Where does he get the cash to do that?”
Step by step, Lucas closed in.
He backed Anson into a corner, his pupils quivering violently. Words stuck in his throat, and a wave of panic and fear gripped his heart.
It felt like he was drowning.
But at last, Anson steadied himself. “Lucas, Jack is real. I mean it. What am I, a little kid with an imaginary friend?”
“Come on, that’s ridiculous.”
“My meeting with Jack was an accident. I helped him escape from domestic violence. He and his mom fled New York and finally started a new life. He’s adjusting to life as a regular high school student, finding dreams, even chasing them. I’m genuinely happy for him and sincerely wish him well.”
“Maybe I didn’t explain it clearly, but Jack doesn’t just appear at random. There’s always a reason, a situation for it. It’s really not what you think.”
“Next time, I’ll definitely introduce you to him. Once you see him with your own eyes, you’ll realize how absurd this conversation is.”
“Haha. You’re using up your April Fools’ Day pranks early. When the day actually comes, don’t expect me to fall for any tricks. I won’t be fooled again.”
But Lucas didn’t laugh.
Quietly, he continued to watch Anson—so certain, so calm. It made him waver, just a little. Was he just being paranoid?
An imaginary friend? A split personality? Or something more…?
Should he believe the outlandish theories, or trust that Anson was still in his right mind?
Conflicting thoughts pulled at him, torturing him.
Anson couldn’t read anything from Lucas’s expressionless face, but he did notice a trace of worry in Lucas’s eyes.
Anson sighed softly, dropping the playful act.
“Lucas, I know you’ve been feeling guilty, trying to make up for your mistakes. But honestly, I don’t remember anything. Not a single memory remains.”
“And even if I did remember, I’d still tell you—it wasn’t your fault.”
All the scars and darkness that once belonged to this body had vanished when Anson’s soul took over, dissolving completely. Anson wasn’t afraid of them resurfacing. They weren’t lurking, waiting to attack. They were in the past, and he was living a new chapter.
But Anson couldn’t tell Lucas that.
In a way, Lucas’s worry wasn’t misplaced. Those nightmares did catch up with the body’s original owner, consuming him entirely, leading to Anson’s rebirth and second chance in this vessel.
So, Anson looked Lucas straight in the eye.
“Lucas, I’m fine. Really.”
That look shook Lucas. He couldn’t hold his composure and averted his eyes, embarrassed.
Taking a deep breath, Lucas composed himself. “Alright. Make sure to introduce me to Jack when you get the chance.”
Anson laughed heartily. “Haha. Of course. No problem.”
Just then, Anson noticed someone lingering nearby, hesitant to approach but unwilling to leave. He looked up. “What’s up?”
The person visibly exhaled, relieved, and walked over quickly. “Anson, we’re almost ready. The makeup team wants to do a touch-up, and the costume team needs you for a wardrobe change. We’re preparing for the next scene.”
The person’s body was stiff, especially on the side facing Lucas.
Anson burst out laughing. “Relax. He’s just the producer, not Lucifer. I’ll be right there.”
He patted Lucas on the shoulder. “Hold down the fort. I’m off to work.”
Lucas: …
His face darkened.
The staff member struggled not to laugh but nearly failed when Lucas’s sharp gaze swept over, freezing the air.
Anson walked away, and the staff member hurried after him, leaving Lucas alone.
He sat there, lost in thought, still torn—
Was he really just overthinking it?
But what if he wasn’t?
Should he tell his family? What if the old nightmares resurfaced?
His mind raced, overflowing with worry.
Then, a realization struck him—something incredibly important:
Jack Forrest.
Forrest. Woods. Another word for a forest. Was that just a coincidence?
When did all of this begin?
It started when Anson was filming Catch Me If You Can in New York. During one scene, Anson got too into character and ran off set, where he stumbled upon Jack, saving him from domestic violence.
But there was no surveillance footage, no eyewitnesses. Anson was the only one who experienced it.
Could it really be just a coincidence?
Anson saved a boy named “Forest” while lost in a role where fiction and reality blurred?
An unsettling feeling gripped Lucas’s heart.
But the real issue was that Lucas hadn’t seen Jack at all. Instead, he had vaguely seen Anson talking to himself.
Clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms, Lucas stood up and headed toward Mangold.
He needed to ask if the cameras were rolling and aimed at Anson. If there was footage, the truth would be revealed.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t.
Mangold was confused by Lucas’s question. Of course, the cameras weren’t running during break time. The cost of film alone would’ve made Lucas cringe.
Lucas said nothing more and walked away quietly.
He hesitated, then called Mount Sinai Hospital in New York, asking for footage from Anson’s hospital stay last year.
If Jack had visited Anson, even if the boy disappeared, at least there should be footage of him entering the room.
Then, the truth would come out naturally—no need for speculation.
(End of Chapter)
*Chapter 1384: A Fleeting Phantom*
The night was deep, enveloping the world in silence. All the noise had settled, leaving only the dense darkness outside the window, swallowing the lingering light and shadows.
After an entire day of filming, Anson could finally go to bed early and get a good night's sleep.
Exhausted, Anson had already been yawning nonstop during dinner, his eyes barely able to stay open. Originally, he had planned to rest for a while after eating to avoid acid reflux, but the moment he sat on the couch, he dozed off.
It wasn't just physical exhaustion—his mental fatigue was even more severe.
With Noah's help, Anson was carefully carried to the bedroom. Watching over him as he drifted into peaceful sleep, Lucas finally returned to his own room and opened his laptop.
The surveillance footage from Mount Sinai Hospital had arrived.
Back then, they had deliberately left the hallway's surveillance running, setting a trap for the paparazzi. It had helped them turn the situation around and strike back against both the paparazzi and Sony Columbia. However, Lucas hadn't expected the footage to come in handy again.
This time, though, he didn't want anyone else to know about it.
His memory of that day was a bit hazy. Lucas vaguely recalled entering the hospital room before Anson had the chance to introduce him to Jack. Then, paparazzo Harry Percival had burst in, setting off a chaotic scene. By the time everything had settled down and Anson finally remembered Jack, who had been hiding in the bathroom—he was already gone.
The exact sequence of events might be slightly off, and Lucas needed to sort out his thoughts.
But there was one thing he was absolutely certain of—before any of this had happened, Jack had already been in the room. That meant the surveillance footage should have captured Jack sneaking into the hospital room before Lucas arrived.
The night was still. The world was silent.
A faint blue glow from the laptop screen reflected off Lucas’s face, revealing no hint of emotion.
Calm, indifferent, cold—his features, bathed in the dim light, exuded an eerie chill.
Patiently, carefully, Lucas watched the entire surveillance recording—
No fast-forwarding.
He couldn’t afford to miss any crucial details. He had to examine each frame meticulously.
Yet…
Nothing.
There was nothing.
Lucas felt his heart sink, an icy chill creeping through him.
From the moment the nurse left the room to when he entered, then when Harry barged in, followed by both of them rushing out, and finally, when Lucas returned—
He had watched the entire sequence, from beginning to end.
And then, again.
Still—nothing. The room was empty. No other figures appeared.
So, it was just a phantom.
A phantom that had never existed.
Jack… did not exist.
Lucas sat there in stunned silence. He opened the drawer, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and slowly lit one. The smoke curled around him, blurring his vision.
After a moment’s hesitation, he played the footage again, from start to finish. Like a puppet, he sat motionless in the darkness, watching every second unfold.
The smoke swirled between his fingers, tinged with an eerie blue hue, while the dim red glow of the cigarette turned cold—almost frozen.
At last, the video ended.
Lucas remained seated, deep in thought, recalling every expression Anson had ever shown when mentioning Jack—the pure happiness, the innocence, the way he seemed untouched by pain, as if he had never been hurt before.
The laptop screen dimmed automatically, but Lucas still didn’t move.
Darkness engulfed him, swallowing even the sound of his heartbeat.
Only a faint ember of blue light flickered in the shadows, unmoving, as if time itself had stopped.
For a long time—he lost track of how long—he remained there, unaware of time slipping away.
*Click.*
The soft glow of a phone screen lit up, small and faint, struggling against the surrounding darkness. In its dim light, a trace of determination flickered in Lucas’s eyes.
He made a call.
No answer.
He didn’t mind and dialed again.
On the fourth attempt, the call finally connected. On the other end, Nora Wood’s voice sounded slightly tired yet still energetic.
“Oh, Lucas? What’s up? Calling at this hour?”
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Lucas didn’t know how to begin.
“…Are you painting?”
Nora stretched lazily. “Yeah, got a burst of inspiration. I’m just finishing up a piece. Thought it’d take an hour, but—wait, what time is it now?”
“Oh, God…” She must have checked the time on her phone. “I completely lost track of time. I’m probably about to wake up Dad again.”
Lucas forced a bitter smile. “Dad’s home?”
Nora hummed in confirmation. “Yeah, he got back last week. But he’s heading to Colorado the day after tomorrow. Some Hollywood actor bought land near the Grand Canyon and wants his advice.”
“A piece of land?”
“Yep. They’re planning to build their dream mansion from scratch—kind of like Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch. But Dad doesn’t know anything about this stuff. He’s not an architect. Still, you know how these Hollywood types are—clueless but sitting on piles of cash. They think Dad’s an expert and want his opinion.”
She rattled off her complaints, then paused, realizing something.
“Oh, wait—sorry, I got sidetracked. Why are you calling at this hour?”
Lucas: … “It’s Anson.”
Nora’s tone immediately shifted. “Anson? What happened to Anson?”
Lucas had never felt so lost.
It was like reliving that nightmare all over again.
He remembered that day so clearly—staring at his father and mother, overwhelmed by fear and panic. His heart was gripped by terror, and he had no idea how to speak or explain what had happened.
He had lost Anson.
Again and again, he reminded himself—Anson was the one in danger, not him. But the sheer dread consumed his mind, leaving him speechless.
He had thought he had grown up. That if he ever faced another crisis, he would be stronger, more composed, ready to face any storm that life threw at him.
But he was wrong.
He was still that same terrified child.
Even though this was about Anson, he sat there trembling in the darkness like a fool.
“…Mom. I think something’s happened to Anson.”
It was difficult. But he finally forced the words out.
Lucas told her everything he knew—every detail, every clue.
They needed to figure this out together.
He was scared.
Really, really scared.
Scared of losing Anson again.
He didn’t know if he could endure that kind of pain a second time.
Worse still—he didn’t know if Anson could.
He had thought those memories were gone, that Anson had completely forgotten, that the nightmare was over.
But reality was never that simple.
The nightmare had never truly ended. It had always been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
Maybe Anson really didn’t remember. But that didn’t mean the wounds had healed. His pain, his struggles, his nightmares—had all taken form in the shape of Jack.
In that instant, Lucas felt like he was fifteen again.
Young. Naïve. Reckless.
Helpless in the face of hardship, blindly charging forward, exhausting himself completely—only to find no way out.
What should he do?
What could he do?
Were they about to lose Anson again?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 1385: Like a Dream, Like a Bubble
What should they do?
What could they do?
Lucas used every ounce of strength to maintain his composure, straining to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone, hoping to grasp even a glimmer of light in the darkness.
Ten years had flown by in the blink of an eye. The nightmares and shadows of the past seemed to have been left behind, and they thought they had finally healed and moved on. But they never expected that they were still trapped in those nightmares, that the wounds had never truly healed, and would never fully return to their original state.
What had happened... had happened. Even if the wounds had scarred over, they still left marks on the heart and soul that would never disappear.
Nora’s breathing was somewhat uneven but controlled. She showed remarkable strength and resilience, her voice resonating in the night.
“Luca, calm down. Do you hear me? Stay calm.”
“I’m heading to Las Vegas right now.”
Lucas froze. “But, Mom…”
“Luca,” Nora interrupted firmly, her voice unwavering, “We will not lose Anson. Do you understand? We absolutely won’t.”
The call ended. Sitting alone in the darkness, the world once again plunged into a suffocating silence.
Suddenly, tears burst free, searing his cheeks like fire.
In an instant, he felt as helpless and lost as he did at fifteen, the crushing weight of guilt and anger pressing down on his shoulders, almost too heavy to bear—
It was him. It was all because of him.
But he wasn’t fifteen anymore. He would not lose Anson again.
Taking a deep breath, Lucas grabbed hold of his sanity, regaining his balance. A fierce determination flashed in his eyes. No matter who it was, even if it was the Grim Reaper himself, they would have to step over his dead body to take Anson away.
---
The night was like water—soft and gentle, draping lightly over everything. A chilling breeze seeped into his pores, and his weary, aching muscles felt heavy and sore.
Anson curled up into a ball, hugging his knees tightly to his chest like a boiled shrimp, trying to absorb a trace of warmth.
The air trembled faintly with the sound of knocking and calling, the dense darkness pressing down so heavily that he could hardly breathe.
“Anson…”
“Anson!”
The voice came closer and closer, finally exploding beside his ear, startling Anson. He shot up straight, searching in the pitch-black darkness. The moonlight was completely blocked by the blackout curtains, leaving not a sliver of light. The room felt like it was swallowed by a dense fog.
“Anson!”
From outside the door, the knocking and shouting continued, finally pulling Anson’s attention back.
Throwing off the blanket, his feet hit the floor as he stumbled toward the door. But just before reaching it, a chill ran up his toes, and he stopped abruptly.
Looking down…
Sand. Waves.
Wait… Why were there sand and waves in his room?
Instinctively, Anson took two steps back, only to find his footprints clearly imprinted on the sand. White sea foam chased after his toes, lightly kissing them with a cold, damp touch. The soothing sound of waves, accompanied by a cool sea breeze, rushed toward him.
W-what… what’s going on?
“Anson.”
A voice echoed behind him. In his half-dream, half-awake state, Anson turned around—and there she was… his mother.
And the tiny alley they once lived in while escaping debt collectors, a place so cramped that the kitchen and bathroom were outside, barely enough room to move.
“Anson, run!”
His mother’s voice was raw with desperation, her face streaked with tears and snot, a pitiful mess.
But… why was he here?
There was no time to think. His mother was screaming with all her strength.
“Run, hurry!”
Looking ahead, he saw a group of ordinary men. They didn’t look terrifying or brutal, nothing like the vicious debt collectors he had heard about—just plain men you would pass by on the street without a second glance. Yet, at that moment, their faces were twisted with malice, like demons.
His mother lay on the ground. One man was stepping on her right hand, bending over to search her purse, only to find a few crumpled bills. Another was yanking her hair back, venting all his frustration and anger on this helpless woman.
In the background, more people were ransacking their rental, throwing clothes, sheets, shoes, and dishes everywhere, smashing everything in sight. Even when they found nothing, they destroyed everything just for the sake of it.
They were victims too, victims of his father’s deceit, lost and desperate.
Unable to find his father, they directed their rage at his mother and him, exposing the ugliness and cruelty hidden beneath their everyday masks, their eyes glinting with a twisted malice.
Leading them was a man in a pristine suit, coldly watching everything unfold. His icy gaze followed his mother’s line of sight and landed on Anson, freezing him to the core.
Rage surged through him, obliterating all reason—
These cowards.
“Get out! Get away from us!”
“If you’ve got the guts, go find my dad! Dig him out of his hole! What do you gain by bullying a widow and her child? You should see your disgusting faces. I’ve seen shameless people before, but never this revolting!”
“We don’t know where he is! We’ve told you a thousand times—we don’t know anything! Why won’t you leave us alone?”
“I’ll fight you all!”
While yelling to distract them, his fingers brushed against his backpack, feeling the solid weight of a brick inside.
Without hesitation, he charged forward, swinging the bag with all his might, his eyes blazing red with fury, aiming straight for the man in the black suit.
Bam!
The brick connected with the man’s jaw, sending him flying backward. The others froze in shock.
No hesitation. No second thoughts. Anson swung the brick at the men holding his mother, forcing them to retreat as he shielded her behind him.
He didn’t waste time. Outnumbered and surrounded, he targeted the nearest man, swinging the brick wildly and throwing punches with reckless abandon, determined to take at least one down with him.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Fist after fist, he was consumed by rage.
Even as the group surrounded him, raining blows upon him, he refused to let go. He clenched his teeth, beating the man who had pulled his mother’s hair with everything he had, fighting desperately.
Blood sprayed. The onlookers were paralyzed with fear, staring at him in horror. Drenched in blood, eyes wild with fury, he looked like a demon reborn, the scent of death hanging thick in the air.
Finally, they panicked, one by one fleeing in terror like the cowards they were.
His strength gave out. He could no longer raise his fists, yet his eyes remained wide open, scanning his surroundings, his voice raw as he screamed, desperate and enraged.
He was broken. Completely broken.
(End of Chapter)
