Later, back in Saccoth's hospital room.
The room was filled with heavy silence, broken only by the faint beeping of the heart monitor.
Isaac, Davis, Patricia, Zach, Alisha, and Peter sat quietly in the chairs. Since it was a VIP room, there was more than enough space for them.
"I just told my mom and Grandma about what happened to Dad. They're already on their way to see him," Peter said. "They'll be arriving a little later, since they were in Kansas. You have no idea how hard it was to tell them. I'm sure Mom must've passed out before Grandma took the phone… huh… yaa." He exhaled heavily.
Alisha moved closer, gently rubbing his shoulders in comfort. "Hey… it's okay. It's going to be fine…"
"No… no, Ali. Nothing is going to be fine. Nothing. I thought we had time," he sobbed. "I thought we still had time, and now… he…"
His tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried out, "Damn you, Chronalis! Damn you! I hate you! I hate you to the core! Damn you!"
Everyone exchanged sorrowful glances before turning back to Peter, who now gazed at his father with a tear-streaked face.
Patricia stood up from her chair, approached Peter slowly, and crouched beside him.
"Hey… Peter, look at me," she spoke gently, urging him to meet her gaze. "Look at me. Please."
Peter turned, his teary eyes locking onto hers.
"Listen… I know things are very difficult for you right now. And I'm not going to say, 'Don't worry' or 'Everything is going to be okay.' Why? Because I know for a fact that I'm not certain what's going to happen next. This… this is a mystery. A situation none of us can comprehend or predict, because no one knows what we're truly up against.
But I also know this: a solution cannot be found unless we get a clue, a lead—something to help us understand what's going on. So please, Peter. I beg you. We beg you. If you know something—anything—about this being or this curse, then tell us. Tell us, so we can find a way to save your father. To save your family. To save the innocent lives being affected by it. Please, Peter. If you know something, tell us."
Peter looked around at the eager faces turned toward him. Everyone was waiting for an answer. But to their disappointment, he had nothing to give.
He sighed, wiping away his tears. "I'm sorry. But I cannot help you."
Patricia exhaled in disappointment and shook her head. The others did the same.
"But…" Peter continued, his voice steadier now, "I think I know someone who can."
Everyone's eyes lit up with anticipation.
"Who?" Patricia asked.
Peter first looked at his father, then turned back to her. "It's Bernard. Bernard Crisby."
"Bernard?" Patricia frowned. "What does Bernard have to do with all this?"
"It's not Bernard you need specifically. It's his father—Gerald Crisby. The Crisby family are said to be the last living descendants of a man known as Daniel Plumberry," Peter revealed.
Everyone's eyes widened at the revelation.
"Wait… what?" Patricia asked in shock.
"You mean they're descendants of Plumberry—our Plumberry, the Plumberrys?" Alisha asked in disbelief.
"Well, I guess so. All I know is that they're Daniel Plumberry's descendants. Daniel Plumberry was a very famous aristocratic painter from 650 years ago. But nobody knew he was also a derby racer. Back then, it wasn't integrated into sport, but it's said Daniel was a great racer—envied by all, especially for his good looks, charm, and adventurous spirit.
But his fate was cut short after he fell in love with a woman named Rosella—unfortunately, the mistress of a brute, ruthless tyrant king. The king killed him in the end.
My father suspects Gerald Crisby might know the whereabouts of Grandfather Alexander's box. His grand-maternal uncle, Arnold Crisby, was the one who saw Grandfather Alexander that night. I heard the Plumberrys changed their last name to Crisby because they feared persecution. That's all I know. The rest… I can't tell you."
He turned to face his father. "I have a feeling… it could also cost me my life if I do."
Patricia began pacing the room as the revelations sank in.
"Woo…" Patricia exhaled. "So tell me… do you know what's in that box? Do you know anything your grandfather hid there—something that could help us?"
Peter shook his head. "I don't know. Dad didn't know either. But… it's said to be something powerful. Something that could help defeat.... It."
Patricia exhaled, glancing at Isaac, who seemed detached from the room, lost in thought.
She sighed and looked back at Peter. "Okay, Peter. Thank you. Thank you for this information. Now we'll try to see if we can do something about it. Hopefully, it will lead us to answers."
Peter hummed softly and shook his head. "It's okay, Patricia. I'm glad I could help… a little."
"Okay…" she paused. "Now we wait for your mom and grandma. But for now… Isaac, Davis. Can I have a word with you. In private."
Isaac and Davis nodded.
Patricia turned to Zach and Alisha. "Take care of him. We'll be back soon."
"Okay, Sis," Zach replied.
Patricia nodded before turning to leave the room.
Isaac and Davis followed her out.
...
Outside, at the hospital gazebo.
It was a private area—a splendid garden reserved only for the wealthy. Few had the privilege to see it, and it was heavily secured.
"So… tell me," Patricia began, turning to Isaac and Davis. "What do you think? What are we going to do now?"
"Now…" Isaac said as he stepped into the gazebo and sat down in a chair.
"Nothing, Patricia. We do nothing."
Patricia stared at him in disbelief. "What? What do you mean? You can't possibly ask me to do nothing after hearing all those revelations back there. Bernard is a descendant of Plumberry, and just like Peter said, we need him for our plans to uncover the mystery of the Chronalis. We need to reach his father—and get our hands on Alexander Saccoth's box. We need to act before it's too late."
Davis and Isaac exchanged a look, remaining silent.
"What? What's wrong with you two? Why aren't you saying anything?" Patricia asked, noticing their strange silence.
"What is going on? Can you please tell me?"
Isaac sighed and looked at her. "Patricia… I think… I think it's best we put the case about the Chronalis to rest for now. At least not pursue it any further. Well… at least not now."
"What?" Patricia asked in confusion. "What do you mean—you want us to drop the Chronalis case for now? Are you suggesting we give up and let Philip die? Is that what you want?"
"What! No! No, Patricia, that's not what I mean," Isaac said quickly, standing from his chair and approaching her. "I'm not saying we should give up. I'm saying we should… take a break. Take a breather. At least until we truly find a solution."
He gently took her hands. "Baby…" he whispered. "I know you want to do something about this. I know you want to make things right. And I do too. I want Philip to get better. I want this nightmare to end. But, Sweeches… a lot has happened these past couple of months—the derby race, Liberty, Jonathan, Alisha, Jethro, me, and now Philip. It's been too much. And I think… I think you need a break. We need a break."
Patricia took a deep breath, averting her gaze from Isaac and looking around the gazebo.
Isaac sighed, holding her hands tighter. "Look… Sweeches. How about we go to Aphilis… to Canada. To my family. I'm sure a little time away will do us some good. Mmm… don't you agree?"
Patricia sighed, glancing around. "Oh Isaac, I don't know. I don't know. Leaving? At a time like this? Doesn't that seem selfish… and wrong? I mean, the situation right now doesn't call for us to leave. It requires immediate attention, not a vacation, Isaac. We can't just leave like this. That's just…"
"Patricia…" Isaac called gently.
"… it's wrong. It's not right," Patricia continued, ignoring him.
"Patricia!" Isaac called out louder.
Patricia froze, her eyes snapping to his.
Isaac exhaled. "Look… Sweeches. We're not doing anything wrong. We'd only be taking a breather—for just a while. To regain our strength, to restore our composure, our focus. We need the energy to face this. Straining and exhausting ourselves won't help at all. Besides… there's nothing we can do at the moment. Nothing except wait."
"Wait? Wait for what, Isaac? Another attack? Another problem? Can't you see we're needed here more than ever? We can't just abandon our friends when they need us. Come on!" Patricia retorted.
"But we can't do anything even if we stayed, Patricia. Please understand that. It's not as easy or simple as it seems," Isaac said.
"What? So running away like cowards is? Is that what you're saying?" Patricia shot back.
"Of course not. It's not like that—please understand," Isaac pleaded.
"Well, I don't understand, Isaac. I don't! I don't understand why you want us to run away when we're needed most. I don't understand why you want us to postpone our plans and go on a vacation when it's clear this is not the right time. Why are you doing this?" Patricia demanded.
Isaac shook his head in disbelief at her stubbornness. "Unbelievable," he muttered, before glancing at Davis with a look that said 'I told you so'. Running a hand through his hair, he moved away from Patricia and walked out of the gazebo.
Davis watched Isaac walk away, sighed, and turned to Patricia. "Miss Milton, with all due respect… may I ask, what do you think you're going to gain if you stay here and refuse this break? What do you think you'll achieve?"
Patricia looked at him intently. "I believe we'll gain ground in finding our answers. Now that we've been given the initiative to involve the Crisby family in our search, I'm positive this is the time to engage—not to run off on some vacation and lose precious time."
"Oh yeah? Is that what you think?" Davis asked.
Patricia sighed, folding her arms and glaring at him. "Yes. That's exactly what I think. And I'm not going to fall for your ridiculous idea of a vacation. So I kindly ask the two of you to drop it. Please—let's focus on what matters."
Davis chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. We really should focus on what matters. Which is important. And not allow ourselves to think about selfish reasons, to chase self-glory, just because we believe what we want is automatically the right thing to do."
Patricia narrowed her eyes at his statement. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… come to think of it, I know a guy. He's just like you—so stubborn and so selfless that he always threw himself into danger to protect his loved ones, never thinking of himself.
This guy is so selfless, so in love, that he would risk his life for anything. Because of his love, he endured so much: getting attacked in a bar while searching for clues, nearly dying in an inferno, entangling himself with an entity that almost cost him his life more than once—all for his loved ones.
He's always been there, trying his best to be accepted, giving his all just to say he did something to protect them. But even after trying… trying so hard… he still couldn't hold it together. His loved ones still got hurt in the end.
Right now, three of his best men—men he sacrificed for his loved ones—are lying motionless in hospital beds. And he can't do anything about it, knowing it was his fault for involving them, yet failing to protect them. His heart and mind are tired.
He sacrificed so much, gave so much, that now he needs a break. Not a vacation—no. But a chance to heal. To rediscover himself. To love, and to mourn. To dissipate his exhaustion so he can return stronger.
But what does he get when his suggestion doesn't fit his loved ones' criteria? He's branded a heartless coward. A selfish man. His ideas dismissed as ridiculous, as if they benefit no one. All because—for once, just once—after a long time, he thought of himself instead of everybody else. And because of that… he'll keep suffering."
Davis sighed, feeling tears sting his eyes. "All I'm trying to say, Patricia—as a friend who loves both of you—is stop thinking only about yourself. About what you want. What benefits you and what doesn't. If you truly love Isaac the way you say you do, then stop focusing on the 'I' in your relationship and start thinking about the 'we' and the 'us.' Because that's what a relationship is all about." He chuckled bitterly. "You think you can solve all this…"
"Well, I'm sorry to inform you, Patricia, but you can't. This thing—this entity—doesn't play by anyone's rules. It's the chess master, and we're its pawns. Its pieces in the game. And it will do whatever it wants with us, whether we like it or not.
But please, Patricia… don't let it make you lose sight of what's important. Otherwise… I hate to say this, but you'll end up like Saccoth—driven to the point of pure obsession, unable to tell what's right or wrong. Hurting the loved ones he swore to protect." He paused, sighing heavily. "So I hope you understand what I am saying and go and do what's right…"
He didn't get the chance to finish. A teary-eyed Patricia suddenly drew him into a warm hug.
"Thank you, Davis. Thank you," she whispered.
Davis smiled and hugged her back. "It was my pleasure."
They disengaged, facing each other with teary eyes.
"Now I've got to go and make things right," Patricia said.
Davis nodded.
Just then, they turned their gaze toward the path back to the hospital and saw Isaac walking toward them.
Patricia smiled and looked at Davis.
"Go get him," Davis said.
Patricia chuckled, then sprinted away from Davis. She ran straight into Isaac's arms, coiling her legs around his waist and kissing him passionately.
In the frenzy, Isaac glanced at Davis with a look that said 'Thank you', before continuing his embrace and passionate kissing with his Sweeches.
"Aah…" Davis sighed. "I miss my hooligan."
"Then why don't you go and see her? Love doesn't wait forever, you know."
A low voice echoed from behind him.
Startled, Davis turned around to see Dr. Miles seated in a chair nearby.
"Dr. Miles? You? What are you doing here? And how did you…?"
The moment Davis asked the question, a chill ran down his spine.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And he felt goosebumps crawling on his skin.
And only one thing made him feel like that.
Dr. Miles chuckled. "You can call it intuition, my friend." He lifted his gaze, revealing eyes glowing an unnatural blue. "Oh, just a pre-calculated meeting in your honor."
Davis's eyes widened in fear and disbelief. "You… you…" he stammered, stepping back in terror. He turned to call out to Isaac and Patricia—
But his voice was gone. As if stolen. He tried to run, but his body felt unbearably heavy, frozen in place.
He turned back to see Dr. Miles still staring at him with those glowing eyes.
"Tsk… tsk… oh Davis, my dear Davis. You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you." Rising from his chair, Dr. Miles walked toward him, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. "Hey… shh… don't be afraid."
He stopped and gently wiped a tear from Davis's cheek.
"Don't be afraid… Rara…"
Davis's eyes widened at the pet name.
"Yes… Rara. Don't worry, you'll know what it means soon enough."
Dr. Miles then turned, watching Isaac and Patricia in the heat of their romance, whispering forgiveness to each other.
"Ah… love. Such a sweet feeling, isn't it? Sweet… but also deadly. I was in love once, you know. Madly in love. Tsk… and it cost me dearly." He turned back to face Davis.
"Don't worry. You'll know the truth soon."
He then stood at a distance, gazing out toward the garden.
"What do you want?" Davis asked, surprised to find his voice had returned.
He turned to look for Patricia and Isaac, but realized they were gone.
No wonder his voice had returned—he couldn't call out for help anymore.
Slowly, he turned back to Dr. Miles. Or rather… Chronalis.
"What do you want?" He asked again through clenched teeth.
"Don't worry, Rara… you'll soon find out. You'll soon know. Because from now on, until the race begins…" Chronalis paused, fixing his glowing gaze on him. "…all my focus will be on you, Rara."
He broke into a smile.
Davis swallowed hard.
'This can't be good.'
Can it?