Finian and Ron sat quietly in the living room.
Ron explained everything.
Finian clenched his fists.
"Foster… they took everything from my brother, Locki."
"I know you and Locki have different mothers," Ron said softly, "but you two are close—closer than real blood brothers."
Finian nodded. "Locki is three years older than me. One day, Grandpa told me he had found my long-lost elder brother. I was happy—so happy. But what I saw that day broke me."
Ron leaned forward. "What happened?"
"I don't know how it happened," Finian continued, his voice heavy. "Locki either got lost… or was kidnapped. Years passed before we found him. By then, he was living with an old woman—he called her his grandmother. She raised him, along with her only granddaughter."
Finian swallowed. "Locki cared deeply for them. That woman wanted Locki and her granddaughter to marry. And eventually… tragedy struck. She was stabbed to death."
Ron's breath hitched.
"That was the day Grandpa and I went to meet Locki," Finian said. "It was raining heavily. Locki was on the ground, crying like a child, lying over her body, refusing to let go."
His voice trembled. "That was the day my brother died."
Silence filled the room.
"Later," Finian continued, "Locki married the granddaughter. She became the only precious thing left in his life. He refused to come back with us. He chose to live quietly—with her."
Tears slipped from Ron's eyes.
"His wife joined a police organization called CPU," Finian said. "She worked in the field, and she took care of Locki too. He wasn't mentally stable. Sometimes he'd cry for no reason—missing that old woman. A grown man, crying like a baby."
A faint smile flickered through Finian's pain. "But his wife was always there. She'd hold him, calm him. They were everything to each other."
Finian paused, took a breath, then continued, his voice cracking.
"Locki's wife knew something was wrong about her grandmother's death. So she investigated. And she reached Foster."
Ron stiffened.
"That was the first time in history someone dug that deep into Foster," Finian said. "They've been behind everything for centuries."
"She must've been incredibly smart," Ron said quietly. "To uncover Foster."
Finian nodded.
"But then… she died."
Ron's eyes widened in shock.
"Locki and his wife shared everything," Finian said. "No secrets. She told him everything she discovered about Foster. After her death, Locki died for the second time. And the Locki you know now was born."
Finian clenched his jaw.
"He knew Foster was responsible—for his wife and that old woman. So he joined the police. His wife had uncovered almost eighty percent of the truth about Foster. Locki dug out the rest. Not for justice—"
"For revenge."
Ron clenched his fists.
"But the moment he got too close," Finian continued, "Foster made their move. They started fabricating cases—against Carter, Rocky, Bruce… everyone connected to you."
Ron's heart sank.
"They even made one case against you," Finian said, "but Locki managed to get it dropped. He saved everyone except Carter and Bruce—and even then, he tried. When he attempted to help Bruce, they arrested him on false charges."
Finian looked down.
"They shifted all of Bruce's crimes onto Locki. And under the excuse of arrest… they took him to their base."
"They won't kill him," Finian added grimly. "He knows too much. He has the answers to what Foster truly wants."
Ron stood up.
"I want to help him."
Finian met his gaze.
"So do I. Just wait a little longer."
Then he said firmly,
"We'll go together."
"Just wait a little," Finian said. "Then we'll go together and rescue Locki."
"Locki is rescued," Ron replied calmly.
"What?" Finian's eyes widened.
"Yes… but he's lost, and he—" Ron hesitated.
"What do you mean?" Finian pressed.
"Let me explain," Ron said.
Finian let out a light laugh and shook his head.
Ron continued, "Recently, we came across a crashed jet. Someone with me said there were two people on board besides the pilot. One of them… is Locki. And he's alive."
"So he's hiding somewhere," Finian said, frowning. "Foster will be after him. I have something important to take care of first. But after that… we'll go. Three days. Maximum."
Ron nodded.
They sat together a while longer, speaking quietly. Then Ron stood and left.
As he walked out, Ellen watched him go.
Memories surfaced—Finian, almost a decade ago, back when they were still dating.
"You know, Ellen," Finian had said, "I once found a coffin deep underwater. Someone stole it from me… but I got it back. I took it to a safe place. When I put it down, the door slid open. A man with pure red eyes stepped out. He scanned the surroundings… then looked at me. I was terrified. But suddenly, his eyes returned to normal, and he said, 'My head hurts… where am I?'"
"Wow, honey," Ellen had laughed. "That sounds like a movie. Let's watch one tomorrow."
"No," Finian had said quietly. "It's real."
Ellen had smiled softly.
"It's late. You're tired. Go home and get some rest."
But now, watching Ron disappear into the distance, a strange unease settled in her chest.
I thought Finian was joking… trying to make me happy, she thought. So why does this feel real now?
"This place…" she whispered. "This place is strange."
Ron walked down the alley toward his house—but stopped.
A woman carrying grocery bags stood at the door. She pulled out her keys, unlocked it, and went inside.