The evening air lay on Charles's shoulders like a heavy, damp cloth. Each step he took felt as if it pressed a weight into the ground greater than that of a single man — not just the weight of his body, but the weight of sorrow, regret, and memories that no longer carried even a trace of a smile.
He walked slowly toward the room that had once been full of childish laughter, play, and life. Now that space had become a graveyard of memories that, whenever he revisited them, opened a fresh wound in his heart.
He put his hand on the doorknob. He paused for a moment, as if wanting to take one last breath before entering a world emptied of a child. He opened the door gently.
The sunset light streamed through the room's windows. An orange-tinged red fell across the scattered toys. The dolls lay where they always had—unchanged, but now… lifeless, like statues waiting for their owner to return.
Drawings were stuck to the wall—simple, childlike pictures of Misha and her father, laughing, holding hands among flowers or beneath a blue sky. The drawings were no longer born of joy; they were records of something that would never come back.
Charles closed the door quietly behind him. The sound of it closing was like the slam of a coffin lid burying his heart.
He walked to Misha's bed and sat on the edge, staring at the colorful, rumpled blankets that still smelled of his daughter. He laid his hand on the pillow. The sound of childish breathing echoed in his mind. The nights when he read stories to Misha, when he held her small hand, when the tired little girl fell asleep peacefully on his chest...
And now? Only silence.
A tear slid down his cheek. Then another. He could no longer hold back his tears.
With a broken voice — as if the pieces of himself were spilling out with the words — he whispered:
"No… no Misha… my daughter… forgive me… I can't… I can't go on without you…"
His voice rose. Tears flowed without end. He screamed, and the only reply was the echo of his own pain.
Outside the room, Sebastian stood by the door. He held his breath. His face was full of sympathy, but his steps were frozen. He knew this was not a pain anyone could ease. Only time… maybe time.
And amid those endless cries and moans, something in Charles's heart began to grow. Not hope, not surrender. Rather… a fierce flame, a fire of vengeance. A merciless, silent decision, like embers burning under ash.
---
*Present time ، moments after Vantias spoke with Aldrin*
The city was shrouded in thick fog; the rain continued to fall hard. Few people walked the streets. In the midst of it, Aldrin, panting and burning with a rage that could be felt from miles away, ran with all his might toward the academy.
Vantias tried to keep pace behind him. After several minutes they reached the academy.
Aldrin ran into the academy without paying any heed to the guard. The guard chased after him to stop his unauthorized entry. Students looked at Aldrin in surprise and bewilderment, some with fear and anxiety, but Aldrin ignored them all and kept running.
Vantias thought,"I hope he doesn't lose control ، otherwise everything will fall apart."
Aldrin kicked the headmaster's office door open and burst in.
The room's interior, as always, had dark brown walls and portraits and frames covering it: photos and plaques of top students from past years, and of former teachers and principals lined the office walls.
Marcus sat behind his desk; surprise and bewilderment were clear on his face when Aldrin entered. He rose from his chair hesitantly and took a step toward Aldrin.
Aldrin grabbed Marcus by the collar and shouted at the top of his lungs,"Where is Yutav?! What did you do to him?!"
Marcus grew even more confused — why was Aldrin asking him such questions? Why had he come here and demanded this? Every question that crossed his mind was plainly visible on his face, as if reading a book.
Vantias reached the room and tried to restrain Aldrin. Aldrin's face was a mask of rage and he tried to move closer to seize Marcus. The guard quickly entered and restrained Aldrin.
After several minutes Aldrin finally calmed down, but his tone remained sharp and cutting. Marcus asked the guards to leave the room so that only the three of them would remain. Aldrin spoke to Marcus in a firm, threatening tone:
"Where is Yutav? What did you do to him?"
Marcus was still bewildered. After a few moments of silence he said, "I don't know what you're talking about… I have no news of him."
Aldrin clenched his hand into a fist, forcing himself to calm, then gave Marcus one last chance.
"This is the last time I ask… Where is Yutav?" he said slowly and menacingly, staring straight into Marcus's eyes.
Aldrin rose and stepped toward Marcus, lowering his head slightly, and said, "From now on, this case will be entrusted to me personally, with the authority Their Majesty has granted me. Marcus, I, Aldrin, one of the Seven Wise Sages of the world, will arrest you until this matter is resolved."
Marcus's face went blank and stunned; he didn't understand why all this was happening so suddenly. He stood up immediately and, with a trembling voice, said to Aldrin,"What do you mean, Aldrin? I haven't done anything… why should I be imprisoned for no reason? I truly know nothing about any of this."
Aldrin lowered his head and, with hidden anger, said, "You and I have a long history — I've known you since we were children, like a father… but… the evidence indicates that you are the one who committed the murders in the academy…"
Marcus's eyes widened, as if the world had collapsed on him for a moment. Then he lowered his head and said,"But…" He paused, realizing whatever he said now would be useless until Yutav was found. Then, with full resolve, he said, "Fine… I will go to prison. I will listen to you, to prove my innocence. But only until Yutav is found."