Chapter 134: Delirium
Third person’s POV
By the third day, Ethan stopped trying to count the hours.
There was no morning inside the shipping container, no evening, only thin ribbons of light that slipped through the narrow gap between the cargo doors before fading again. They were the only proof that time was still moving, though he had long since lost any sense of how much of it had passed.
The container had become its own world.
The stale heat pressed against his skin without mercy, trapping the smell of rust, engine oil, sweat, and the ocean inside the cramped steel walls. In one corner sat an empty water bottle that had become a necessity rather than a choice. Even with the cap screwed on as tightly as he could manage, the odor lingered, turning every breath into an effort.
He had tried moving away from it.
There was nowhere to go.
His shirt clung damply to his back, and every shift in position left another film of sweat against the cold steel floor. His beard had begun to grow in uneven patches, his hair hung across his forehead in greasy strands, and when he rubbed a hand over his face he could feel the grit that had collected there over the past three days.
The remaining supplies sat against the wall exactly where he had left them.
Two bottles of water.
Five snack bars.
Three cans.
He knew the numbers without looking.
Still, he counted them again.
Not because he needed to.
Because it gave his mind something to do besides imagine everything waiting for him beyond those steel doors.
He picked up one of the bottles, turning it slowly in his hands before setting it back with the others.
Not yet.
He couldn’t afford to drink because he was thirsty. Every sip had to mean something.
Resting his head against the wall, he closed his eyes and listened.
The steady vibration beneath the floor had become so familiar that he barely noticed it anymore. Somewhere outside, waves slapped rhythmically against the hull while the ship’s engines droned with mechanical indifference, carrying him farther away from home with every passing minute.
Home.
The thought arrived quietly, and once it did, he couldn’t push it away.
He pictured his mother sitting at the dining table with her phone beside her, pretending she wasn’t checking it every few minutes. She would tell herself he had become busy with work. By evening she would begin calling. By nightfall she would convince herself his battery had died.
Tomorrow she would start to worry.
A knot tightened painfully in his chest.
"I’m sorry, Mom."
The apology escaped in little more than a whisper.
There was no answer except the groaning of the ship.
His thoughts drifted again, refusing to stay still.
Towards , Nathan , Jonathan .then he smiled as he remembered memories of his family .
The smile faded.
Susan would blame herself.
He knew she would.
She would convince herself that asking for his help had somehow caused all of this, even though none of it had been her fault.
Then, as though his mind had been trying to avoid her all along, Raina finally appeared.
He remembered the first day they met.
How direct she was ..
How he had thought she was dangerously pretty.
The endless messages that followed.
Somewhere between those ordinary moments, she had quietly become part of his life.
Had that been the mistake?
He frowned.
No.
Even now he couldn’t bring himself to regret meeting her.
Regret wasn’t the right word.
Sadness was.
He regretted whatever had happened to the woman she used to be.
He thought about the cabin.
The desperation in her voice when she told him she loved him.
The certainty with which she had said she had enough love for both of them.
She had believed every word.
That frightened him more than if she had been lying.
He lowered his head into his hands.
"What happened to you?" he murmured.
The question wasn’t angry.
It wasn’t even directed at her anymore.
It was the kind of question people asked when they already knew there would never be a satisfying answer.
BACK IN HARRINGTON...
The front doors of the Harrington safe house swung open with enough force to rattle the glass panels beside them.
The servants stationed in the entrance hall exchanged startled glances as Raina strode past without acknowledging a single greeting. Her heels struck the polished wooden floor in quick, impatient rhythms, carrying her through the familiar corridors until she reached the parlor.
Katsuro Arashigumi sat in his favorite chair beside the window, a newspaper spread neatly across his lap. Afternoon sunlight spilled over the room, catching the silver in his hair as he turned another page with practiced ease.
He didn’t look up immediately.
Only after Raina stopped in front of him did he lower the paper just enough to peer over the rim of his reading glasses.
"Where is she?"
The question came out sharper than she intended.
Katsuro regarded her for a long moment before removing his glasses. He folded them carefully and placed them beside his untouched cup of tea, then folded the newspaper with the same deliberate precision.
Only then did he speak.
"You always did have a talent for making an entrance."
"Ojiisan..."
"No greeting."
His voice remained calm.
"No ’How are you?’"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You simply burst into an old man’s house demanding answers."
Despite everything weighing on her, Raina let out an impatient breath.
"This isn’t the time."
"No," Katsuro agreed, studying her face. "I don’t believe it is."
Silence settled between them.
It wasn’t the silence that unsettled her.
It was the way he was looking at her.
He wasn’t watching her anger.
He was watching everything she was trying to hide behind it.
Raina looked away first.
"Where’s Anna?"
"And why," Katsuro asked quietly, "would you assume I know where she is?"
"Because she talks to you."
"Sometimes."
"You’ve always known where to find each other."
He gave a thoughtful hum.
"So have the two of you."
Raina rubbed a hand across her forehead.
"I can’t find her."
That, more than anything else, caught his attention.
Not the words.
The weariness behind them.
He had watched his granddaughter walk through this room furious before.
He had watched her heartbroken.
Today she looked frightened.
Katsuro rested both hands on the head of his cane.
"What happened?"
Raina hesitated.
She hadn’t planned on explaining.
She had planned on demanding.
But the moment he asked, the words came spilling out anyway.
"Ethan disappeared."
Katsuro’s expression didn’t change.
"He left my cabin three days ago and never made it home."
She swallowed.
"No one has seen him since."
"No calls."
"No witnesses."
"Nothing."
Her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her handbag until her knuckles turned white.
"I know Anna took him."
"You know?"
"I know her."
The answer came without hesitation.
"If she believes someone deserves to suffer, she doesn’t act out of anger."
Raina’s gaze drifted toward the window.
"She plans."
"She waits."
"And when she finally makes her move..."
"...she makes sure they remember it."
Katsuro watched her quietly.
"Then tell me something."
She looked back at him.
"If you’re so certain Anna is responsible..."
"Why are you here asking me where she is?"
The question caught her off guard.
She opened her mouth to answer, then stopped.
Because she didn’t have one.
Katsuro rose slowly from his chair, leaning lightly on his cane before walking to the window. Beyond the gardens, the afternoon breeze stirred the branches of the old maple trees that had stood there longer than either of them had been alive.
"When you were a teenager " he said, "you used to lose your favorite pen almost every week."
Raina frowned, unsure where he was going.
"You would search every room in the house until you were ready to cry."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Do you remember what I always asked you?"
She thought for a moment.
Then her shoulders sank.
"’Where would you hide it if you didn’t want anyone to find it?’"
Katsuro nodded.
"And where was it?"
"...Usually where I’d hidden it myself."
"Exactly."
He turned to face her.
"You’re asking the wrong question."
Raina frowned.
"I don’t understand."
"You aren’t looking for Anna."
His gaze held hers.
"You’re trying to think like yourself."
He shook his head.
"If you want to find her..."
"...stop asking where she went."
"Start asking where she would expect you to look."
The room fell silent again.
This time, Raina didn’t rush to speak.
She stood perfectly still as his words settled into place.
Then, slowly, something shifted behind her eyes.
Understanding.
Not complete.
But enough.
She lowered her head.
"Thank you, Ojiisan."
As she turned toward the door, Katsuro spoke once more.
"Raina."
She paused.
His expression softened, only slightly.
"Whatever this is..."
"...don’t carry it by yourself."
For the first time since arriving, the confidence she’d been clinging to faltered.
She managed a small nod without trusting herself to speak.
Then she walked out.
Katsuro remained by the window long after the front door closed behind her.
He watched her car disappear through the gates before letting out a quiet sigh.
"So," he murmured to the empty room, "the storm has finally reached you too."
He reached for his glasses and unfolded the newspaper once more.
This time...
He didn’t read a single word.