Ethan kept pushing, pinning Charles to the wall. "Tell me what happened that day. Who did he injure, and why?"
Charles spoke no more, drenched in cold sweat. Even a nursing student had outsmarted him—this was humiliation for a police cadet; a future detective!
Ethan's plan to keep acting like a fool to make Charles speak more had failed—because he could barely hold back his laughter at how easily he had exposed Charles.
Charles could have just told him and kept the narrative where Jacques was the villain—but now, he wouldn't say anything. Maybe it was a late apology to himself. His 15-year-old mind, bad at social settings, made him miss the opportunity to smear Jacques's name even more.
"Where is he now?" Ethan pushed further, more determined than ever.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, revealing Instructor David with a serious, stern face.
"Mr. Shaw, come with me," Instructor David said, leaving without waiting for a response.
As Ethan left Charles, his gaze sent a clear, non-verbal message: I'm not done with you yet.
Soon, Ethan found himself in Instructor David's office. The man sat behind his desk and gestured for Ethan to sit in the chair in front of him. Ethan sat down, trying not to lose his patience.
"Who are you, Mr. Shaw? Why are you so interested in Jacques Durant?" Instructor David placed his intertwined hands on the table, his gaze sharp, as if trying to dig everything out of Ethan.
"Like I told you when I met you in the hallway, Instructor," Ethan replied firmly. "I'm just a nursing student. I happen to work at the diner where Jacques loves to visit. We became close friends, and now he's disappeared. The last time I saw him was when he drove me home after we climbed Mountain Hegs. If you were me, Instructor—if your close friend went missing without even telling you anything, and his ex-roommate was talking about him like that—what would go through your mind?"
"As a man, I would look for him, of course. But as a soldier, or law enforcement, I would understand why he disappeared. Maybe when someone disappears without a trace, and they're an officer, it's because they don't want to be found." Instructor David raised his eyebrows.
Ethan wanted to argue that his instincts told him something was wrong with Jacques—not because he was on some undercover mission, but because Jacques wasn't okay wherever he was. He needed help, and Ethan needed to find him now. But this had happened before—when Ethan pushed someone based on instinct, it only made him lose respect and still not get what he wanted. He had to think of a reasonable argument to make David understand why he had to locate Jacques now.
"What exactly did he do to get arrested?"
"Like I told you when we met in the hallway—it's because he injured his colleague deliberately. He was trying to kill his friend. This isn't cute anymore; this is a crime. Your best friend is a dangerous boy, and he's probably never going to see sunlight again or enjoy freedom. He's in a place where the world is safe from him."
When he heard that, Ethan felt like doors were being slammed shut in his face.
"Go home. Move on with your life. Forget about him. Whatever happened between you two—it's just a memory now. He's gone. Consider him dead—it will give you peace. If I ever catch you sniffing around about him again, we can deport you far away from here. Do you understand?" Instructor David's tone was cold and final.
Ethan didn't want to answer. He wanted to keep searching—but he knew he was facing something that could crush him like an ant. Still, he couldn't move on. He knew something was happening to Jacques—he needed help right now, and Ethan couldn't turn his back on his friend.
"Do you understand?" Instructor David's voice was louder now, shocking Ethan so much that he had to adjust his glasses.
"No, I don't understand, Instructor, because this is so illogical—and as a teacher, I think you can explain it clearly." Despite his shaking legs from Instructor David's scolding, Ethan decided to push forward. This was too weird. "First: Jacques is just a 15-year-old cadet, not a criminal—and he was under your training. But you're treating him as if he's a monster instead of someone you're supposed to protect and guide! Are you really an instructor? Are you really here to guide them—or to judge them?"
Instructor David's jaw tightened. His expression remained cold and controlled, as if weighing every word Ethan said. Ethan had gotten to him, but he wouldn't let it show. He had trained his cadets not to laugh when he cracked jokes or flinch when he scolded them—he was good at it. And this was the right time to use that training. Showing emotion meant revealing something—and that was something he would not do.
Ethan's legs trembled, but his voice only grew stronger, "If he truly committed a crime, then why aren't you talking about a trial, an investigation, or a disciplinary process? Instead of addressing it, you're telling me to 'give it up, cuz he's dead.' But at the same time, you're not showing proof whether he's alive or dead either. What are you hiding, Instructor?"
"A real instructor would explain the situation professionally. But instead, you're trying to scare me off with threats of deportation! Even if Jacques were truly guilty, you wouldn't be so defensive and secretive. That means you're hiding something! You did something immoral to Jacques—something that, if the world knew about it, they would stand with him instead of your twisted sense of justice!"
Ethan was getting too fired up. He adjusted his glasses and leaned toward Instructor David. "The question now isn't 'Where is Jacques?' anymore—it's 'What did you do to Jacques?'"
Ethan glared at Instructor David, who was now visibly unsettled. His ambitious line of questioning had reduced the muscular instructor into someone who suddenly seemed smaller—shrinking under the intensity of a nursing student's sharp, unrelenting gaze.
Instructor David, however, suddenly stood up tall.
He looked down at Ethan, and being 20 cm taller certainly helped with the intimidation. "I hope you learn something when you regret this."
Then he pressed an emergency button, and soon, two guards appeared and grabbed Ethan by the arms.
"Really? Is this how teachers operate now?" Ethan trembled with rage as the guards restrained him.
"Kick this delusional brat out of the academy and blacklist him! Don't let him enter this place ever again or disturb the cadets!" Instructor David commanded the guards.
"Cadets were entrusted to you, but you betrayed their trust! You are not a teacher! You are supposed to be their guardian and guide! Free Jacques Durant now, or I'll fight you! I swear!" Ethan kicked the air, struggling to break free from the guards—but, of course, they were too strong for him.
"Kick him out of here!" Instructor David barked.
"You're not an instructor! You're a predator!" Ethan shouted, his voice echoing down the corridor.
Onto the dirty, muddy road, Ethan was thrown. His clothes were soaked in mud, and so were his hair and eyeglasses. But he picked himself up, straightened his spine, cleaned his glasses, and wiped the dirt from his face.
As he walked away from the police academy, he swore to the sky, I'll find you, Jacques! I swear, I will find you! No matter where they hide you, I'll flip the mountains and I'll set you free!
***
Meanwhile, in the clone lab…
A plate of steak was served in front of Jacques. The boy couldn't believe it. This was something he had always wanted to eat but was too expensive to buy with his allowance. As a 15-year-old boy, he couldn't think much further than getting what he wanted.
Well, it's here—what could go wrong? he thought. If they mess with me, I'll just hit them in the face. Even a riot shield crushed under my fist.
Three times a day, he ate whatever he wanted, ordering it like a free restaurant—and they actually seemed happy to serve him.
They say the key to a man's heart is food?
That seemed to be true.
"Enjoying your meal, Jacques?" Sigma's voice greeted him through a holographic screen that popped up nearby.
"Yeah, thanks for getting my order. I can't believe you guys did this. I thought I was a prisoner?" Jacques couldn't hide his happy face as he started to eat his food.
"I told you before—you're not our prisoner. The government wanted to put you in jail for life after you killed your colleague, Mourice Lahm. But we know your worth. That's why we went through a legal battle against them—to get you here," Sigma said casually.
But something in his message made Jacques stop mid-bite.
"Wait, what?" Jacques's happiness faded instantly. "Mourice… is dead?"
"Yes. Haven't you heard about it?" Sigma's expression softened with sympathy.
Jacques dropped his fork and knife. "No! Tell me about it!"
"Mourice Lahm… he died last night due to a brain injury. The trauma was too severe, and the internal bleeding wouldn't stop…" Sigma pulled up photos of Mourice's last moments on the surgery bed. "...The doctors fought for 18 hours to save his life. They cracked open his skull, drained the blood from his brain—but the wounds got infected, and he didn't make it."
A slideshow of Mourice Lahm's last moments haunted Jacques—the surgical room, the surgeons, the nurses, the hysterical grief of his mother, and the military father with his stoic face—still able to show deep sadness at the loss of his only son.
"How can I eat… this now?"
Jacques shook his head and buried his face in the pillow.
I'm a monster. I'm a killer.
I can't believe… I'm a murderer!
Disappointment starts to kill him from the inside.