"Judgment? Shouldn't they just be freed after their servitude"? Cecilia curiously asked.
"None of them showed remorse for the original sin; that is why they are judged and punished. The captains of the barge all possessed the power to break their own chains, to free themselves from the curse that bound them. Yet, instead of humility, compassion, and sacrifice, they chose arrogance, defiance, and wrath—forces that only tightened their bonds."
He gently took Cecilia's hand, his grip firm yet tender. "Chris, among all the captains, was the worst! But because of you, he is the closest to redemption, to breaking free. Don't let him fail," Triple-A pleaded with Cecilia. "Before you set foot on this ship, you feared the lost, the wandering souls. But now, your heart overflows with boundless compassion for them. Neither of you may fully see it yet, but together, you ignite a light within each other—a light strong enough to dispel the darkness that holds you both captives. Don't lose hope in what you two could become."
The archangel stood, took a few steps, and glanced back at the human. "You said you wanted to see angel wings?" With a simple shrug, majestic wings gilded in gold unfurled from his back. Cecilia sprang to her feet, awestruck by the six pairs of black wings. "Wish granted." The archangel smiled softly and, spreading his powerful wings, he shot upward into the heavens like a streak of light.
Cecilia furrowed her brows. "Aww, he didn't let me pluck a feather." She made one more look at the sky and then made her way to Chris's cabin. Inside the dark and dreary cabin, Chris sits on his lone chair, letting the doubt and anger fester within him. The shrieks and wails of the portraits created a cacophony of sounds that drained the hope and sanity from him.
He heard a soft knock at the door but said nothing. "Captain? It's me, Cecilia." Her voice was fragile, trembling like a candle flickering in the dark. "I'm heading out to do what Triple-A tasked us with." She pressed her forehead against the cold steel, as if trying to bridge the distance between them. "I'm sorry for the things I said earlier. I didn't mean them—I was overwhelmed by pain. And I know you didn't mean your words either. Your heart is broken over losing your crew—I carry that same ache inside me. But it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. It was his choice, and I believe he found peace in it. He finally freed himself from fear and guilt. He redeemed himself."
Chris's hands curled into tight fists, trembling with the weight of her words.
"Chris… please, say something." Her voice cracked, fragile and desperate. Hearing her say his name felt like a hand reaching into his chest, lifting his heart with a gentle, aching touch. Yet still, silence held him captive.
Outside, his silence stretched between them like a chasm. Cecilia bowed her head, a heavy sigh escaping her lips full of sorrow and resolve. "I'm doing this for both of us… for you. Honestly, I wish we could face this together. But if I have to walk this path alone, I will."
She listened for a while, but silence was all she heard. "Goodbye, Captain."
With one last lingering glance at the cabin door, she turned slowly, her steps weighted yet carried by a fragile thread of hope, as she made her way toward the communications room.
In the communications room, Bustamante and Murillo just finished an inspection when Cecilia came in. "Balete Drive," she said with a stern voice.
"You're going? Alone?" Murillo surprisingly asked her
"Where is the captain?" Bustamante added, "You can't do this alone," he cautioned the human.
"I must and I will!" She then opened the door and entered the portal that would lead her to her destination. When the door closed, the chiefs exchanged glances before they hurriedly got out of the room and ran to the captain's cabin.
When they got to the cabin, they banged their fists on the door, making as much noise as possible. "Captain! Miss Bermudez went to tackle the case on her own. You need to go and help her!" Bustamante shouted.
Chris, fed up, shouted, "NOBODY LEAVES THE SHIP!"
"Open the door, Captain! Miss Bermudez is all alone there; she needs your help!" Murillo reiterated, but still no reply was heard, "Are you really going to let her, a human, do this alone? She will die if you don't help her."
"We know you're blaming yourself for what happened, but this is not who you are, Captain, you are someone who values his crew above all else," Bustamante said out loud, trying to remind him. "Are you going to sit idly by and let her get hurt? Is that the kind of man you are?" The chief officer's words felt like blades slicing at his heart. Bustamante stopped knocking on the door and stood up straight. "If you're not going to help her, then we will. I'm sorry, Captain, but I will not follow your order! We're going after her, and we are going to help her!" The chief officer then turned around and headed back to the communications room.
Murillo followed the chief officer's example and stood straight. "I always tried to understand you, Captain, but right now…your actions are beyond understanding. And I think it is my fault, I'm sorry, sir, but I will also disobey your order." With those words, she followed Bustamante.
Chris remained silent, festering with pain in that dark cabin of his. Then, from out of nowhere, he heard a question directed at him: "Is that a smile I see, sir?"
"Martinez?" he called out. he stood up, head whipping left and right, looking for the source of the voice. Then his excitement vanished when he remembered the helmsman's fate. "I'm sorry, it's all my fault."
As if Martinez were there, he heard an answer, "You know, even if a person dies, they never really leave us, they will always be in here and in here."
"But you're gone, you were erased because of my failure as your captain." Chris thought, and like before, he heard an answer, "The captain? He is a good person, a little pragmatic, but a good person."
"How could you be so kind when you no longer exist? You will never have the chance to be reborn again." He thought, but the voice answered again, "And I know he will never lead us astray."
Chris closed his eyes, his breath shallow and ragged, his mind a tangled storm of painful memories, his heart a tempest of anguish and despair. Yet, slowly, his breathing deepened—each inhale steadier, each exhale gentler. His frantic thoughts began to settle, yielding to a quiet stillness. His heart, once a battleground, found a fragile calm.
When he opened his eyes, the chaos had faded, replaced by a clear, steady purpose. The pain that once consumed him softened into a serene strength. Doubt dissolved, leaving only a resolute courage burning quietly within.
He glanced around; the wails and cries of the portraits that had haunted him now seemed distant, muted—as if their grip on him had loosened. They were no longer grim reminders but echoes fading into the background.
With a steady breath, he pushed open the cabin doors and stepped out into the uncertain light, ready to face whatever lay ahead with newfound courage and quiet resolve.