Chapter 47: This Is Not the Time to Be Playing Hide-and-Seek, Everyone!
At the hospital, Elias lay propped against stiff white pillows, shifting uneasily under Detective Clifford's steady gaze. Clifford noticed the boy's restlessness but assumed it came from fresh trauma pressing down on him.
"Sorry," Clifford murmured, tugging at his mustache. "Asking how you're doing probably wasn't the most sensitive thing after… everything."
His mind flickered back to his earlier conversation with Chief Diaz.
---
"We need more details if we want to catch the ones who did this," Diaz said, arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair. "But he's going to be closed off. If he's pushed too hard it might backfire. Still… he's our best chance. And maybe it'll help him to talk."
Her sharp eyes softened. "You've been working with the boy for a while, Henry. He knows you. He trusts you. It might make things easier for both of you."
Clifford nodded, fingers curling against his chair. If being the one to ask questions gave Elias even a fraction of comfort, he'd do it.
Diaz's gaze hardened. "Henry, be careful with your feelings. I know you like the boy. But… he's not your son. If you start treating Elias like a replacement, it won't be good for either of you."
Clifford flinched. He still sometimes spoke of his son in the present tense, a habit picked up from his mother who had mild dementia, even though the boy had been gone two years now. He missed him every day. But he had never once thought of Elias as a stand-in.
He lifted his eyes, steady with quiet resolve. "Chief, don't worry. I don't see Elias as a replacement. I just… like him."
He leaned back, thumb brushing his mustache. "He's not anything like my son, anyway. Elias is polite. Respectful. And he tries so damn hard to carry burdens no kid should."
His gaze dropped. "My son—God, I loved him—but he was never like that. He gave me hell right up until the day he died."
Clifford exhaled, grief flickering in his eyes. "But Elias… I can't stand watching him act like an adult with no parents around to help. I just want him to know there are still reliable adults he can lean on."
Diaz arched a brow but nodded. "As long as you say so."
---
Now, under the hospital's harsh lights, Clifford studied Elias. Bandages wrapped his arms. Stitches dotted his skin. The lively spark he'd grown used to was gone, leaving dull, lifeless eyes.
Clifford's chest tightened. The boy looked like he'd lost the will to keep going.
Dragging a chair to the bedside, Clifford leaned forward, voice quiet and warm.
"I know I'm supposed to ask you about what happened…" His voice softened. "But first, I just want to talk. I'm sorry you've had to go through all this… I know it must be hard to trust anyone right now. But I hope you know there are people who would do anything to keep you from facing something like this again. Is there anything I can do for you now, kiddo?"
Elias bit his lip. "You didn't protect me this time."
Clifford's smile pulled bitter. "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry. We failed you. And if you're angry, I won't blame you. Vent it all out if you need to."
Elias shook his head, the memory of driving a knife into Bellamy flashing across his mind. "I don't have the right to be."
Clifford leaned closer, steady and firm. "Elias… you're a victim of a heinous crime. If you don't have the right to be angry, then no one does."
Elias's voice cracked. The words tumbled out, sharp and desperate.
"You don't know anything. At school they call me 'the walking disaster' or the 'bad luck charm.' I was born with… abnormal luck. It helps me but ruins or harms everyone else. It's my fault. Maybe, I'm the reason my parents disappeared. Maybe that's why bad things always happen around me."
His chest heaved. His voice broke further, fragile as glass about to shatter.
Clifford sighed, his gaze heavy with concern. "Elias, you've been dealt a rough hand, I'll give you that. But that doesn't mean everything is your fault. I don't know if luck's real or not, but you can't carry the blame for things outside your control. That'll crush you, son. No kid should have to live that way."
He leaned closer, tone firm but gentle. "What's happening to you right now? That's not because of you. It's because of the malice of others. Don't take their evil and make it your burden. That weight doesn't belong to you."
"But I am a bad person, Officer… I'm a liar. A huge liar," Elias admitted, shoulders trembling. Guilt gnawed at him from the inside, but he carried too many secrets to let go of.
Clifford's brows drew together, struggling to make sense of the boy's words. To him, it sounded like Elias was someone who could only ever turn the blame inward.
"I'm not sure what you mean, son," Clifford said carefully. "I won't tell you lying is good. But let me ask you. Have your lies ever been told out of malice? Would anyone be harmed if they didn't know the truth?"
"N-no," Elias stammered.
"Then it sounds like you're putting more weight on yourself than you need to." Clifford grinned. "Elias, you're not alone. I don't know what burden you're carrying, but it doesn't mean you have to carry it by yourself. You've got good friends, a good sister, a good teacher… and you've got me. Maybe I'm overstepping, but I don't want to see the polite, kind boy I met crumble under self-blame. So, please, stop putting it all on yourself."
He set a hand on Elias's hair, ruffling it with gentle care. Both the warmth of his palm and the gentleness of his tone reminded Elias of his dad. His lips trembled, eyes burning hot. Tears spilled, dampening his lashes.
"I-I don't know why this keeps happening to me," he whimpered, trying to hold back the flood. "I just wanted to find my parents. Why do all these bad things keep happening?" His voice broke into a choked sob as he lowered his head. "I just want my mom and dad back." He couldn't even tell Detective Clifford the real reason his parents might have disappeared or that the police might never be able to bring them back.
"Let it out, son. There's no need to keep it all bottled up," Clifford said, patting his shoulder. "I know it's been hard. I'm sorry you've had to go through so much alone."
"I just want it to stop," Elias gasped, rubbing at his eyes with his bandaged hand.
"Yeah… I know," Clifford murmured, glad to see Elias crying instead of holding his emotions in. He'd rather see tears than the hollow expression he wore minutes ago.
Just as Clifford coaxed Elias to breathe, the world convulsed. The bed jolted, the floor groaned, and the walls shuddered with a roar like thunder underground.
Clifford's chair skidded sideways. He gripped the armrest, eyes snapping wide. An earthquake? Here? Dust sifted from the ceiling as light fixtures swung wildly.
"Kid!" Clifford's voice cut through the chaos. He scanned the room. There were no furniture sturdy enough to dive under. The chair was useless and the gap beneath the bed was too small. His stomach dropped.
"Under me!" he barked. Without hesitation, he lunged onto the bed, wrapping Elias in his arms and shielding his head with one broad hand. The boy trembled against him as the room pitched and rattled. Ceiling tiles split free and shattered on the floor. The air filled with plaster dust and the metallic sting of panic.
The tremors stretched on, every second a brutal eternity—until, at last, the shaking ebbed into silence.
Clifford didn't move. He held still, straining his ears for any further movement. Only when the stillness settled and the lights steadied did he lift his head.
"You okay?" he asked, his pulse thundering in his throat.
"Y-yeah," Elias whispered back, dazed. His wide eyes flicked up at Clifford, stunned not by the quake, but by how fast the man had thrown himself over him without a second thought. Even if he was a cop, did he really have to be this considerate?
"Hold on, I'm gonna check outside," Clifford said, walking to the door. Why was it so quiet? The room's soundproofing wasn't that good. After such a big earthquake, there should have been screams, panic, chaos. But he didn't hear a thing. His instincts told him something wasn't right.
He eased the door open, the squeak of its hinges the only sound. Beyond stretched long, empty white hallways in both directions. This was no small hospital. There should have been nurses, doctors, patients walking these halls. Yet no one was there. Stranger still, he couldn't see the ends of the hallways. As a detective, Clifford prided himself on knowing his surroundings, and he knew this building well. The stairwell exit should have been visible from Elias's door. So where had it gone?
An uneasy feeling crept into his chest. "What the hell?" he muttered. He pulled out his radio and pressed the button.
"Dispatch, this is Detective Henry Clifford, badge 4271. I'm at County General, room 314. We just had what felt like an earthquake. Requesting status check—does anyone copy?"
He released the button and listened. Only static answered, hissing and echoing down the endless hallway.
He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Chief Diaz's number. All he got in return was the harsh blare of a disconnected tone.
He tried the station, 911, even his mother, but not a single call went through. This felt like something straight out of a horror movie.
He turned to Elias, who had been watching his every move. The boy's eyes trembled with panic. What Clifford didn't know was that Elias's hearing was far superior than his own and even he couldn't catch a single voice or sound in the silence.
Clifford rubbed the back of his neck, unease gnawing at him. Should he check the halls for others? But he couldn't bring himself to leave Elias alone. Something told him the kid wouldn't be safe if left by himself. Not now. Not while he was in this fragile state, unable to protect himself.
"Elias, don't panic," Clifford said, steadying his tone. "Something strange is going on… I don't know what it is, but I need you to stick with me, okay? We might be in danger. But don't be afraid. I'll protect you, no matter what."
He drew his gun, the metallic click loud in the suffocating quiet.
Elias slipped out of bed, moving hesitantly, and tiptoed to Clifford's side. His wide eyes swept the corridor in disbelief. There really wasn't anyone.
What was going on? This wasn't the same hallway he'd seen before.
A passage from his father's journal flashed through his mind: Illusion and Trapping Arrays. Was that what this was? His father had written about being caught in such arrays and escaping them, but Elias wasn't knowledgeable about arrays like his father, a skilled array master. How were they supposed to get out? Who had set it up?
Then he remembered about the "boss" both Bellamy and Jackal mentioned. Could it be him?
Elias's breath hitched. Why had he come so soon? With Bellamy, he'd at least had a month of breathing room. Now he hadn't even had time to heal his injuries caused by Bellamy, let alone train or gather more Lucky Points.
His whole body trembled in dread. If this was true, then both he and Detective Clifford were in grave danger.
—--
Outside the hospital, just minutes before the "earthquake," Sable stood at its entrance, rolling an array sphere in his palm. His energy pulsed through it, igniting the etched symbols until they glowed and shifted, twisting over each other like the faces of a Rubik's Cube. The sphere expanded, its light engulfing the entire hospital. Under its influence, the building warped and distorted until it was no longer recognizable.
Through the sphere, Sable sensed every presence inside. Among them pulsed the one he sought, Elias. But there was another surprise he hadn't expected. The cop. The one who killed his son.
Delight flickered in his eyes. "I thought I'd have to hunt you down later… but it seems I can kill both birds with one stone." His usually calm voice trembled with excitement.
He stepped forward, his body melting into the array.