Chapter 287. Feelings
"Lunatic?" Charles turned and found Weister walking across the street with a woman and two children carrying bags of varying sizes. It seemed that Weister was out shopping with his family.
Weister was so terrified by Charles' gaze that the apple juice in his hand quivered so violently that he almost dropped it. His younger brother was about to respond, but he hurriedly stepped forward and hid his younger brother behind him.
However, Charles was already in front of him. Charles dragged Weister to the side and crouched to look at the roughly eight-year-old boy in front of him before asking, "Have you seen me before?"
The boy shrank back and inched closer to his mother upon seeing Charles' fierce look. Chart your course back to the origins of this substance at n0v^lbin
Meanwhile, Elena's eyes were wide open in surprise as she stared at Charles. She thought that her youngest son had mistaken Charles for someone else, but now that Charles was standing so close to her, Charles appeared more and more familiar to her.
The black tattoo on his neck, the prosthetic left arm, and the scar marring his face told Elena that Charles was indeed that lunatic loitering outside their house for nearly a year and a half.
Instead of panicking, Elena revealed a smile of relief. She reached out to stroke Charles' face as though she was stroking the face of her child. "It's really a surprise that you recovered your sanity. Great. Living is really always better than dying."
Charles didn't avoid the woman's hand. The woman with a weathered face before him exuded a familiar air for some reason.
"Madam, have you seen me before as well? Where and when?"
"Of course, I've seen you before. You've squatted around our house for a long time. I'd usually give you our leftovers for you to eat," Elena replied. "Due to your mental state then, you would even drink the water from the drains."
The world was indeed small. Charles didn't expect to see someone who knew him as a lunatic here. He made a sidelong glance at Weister and thought to himself, So the reason this kid was familiar to me was that I met him when I was still a lunatic.
Elena saw the drawing board in Charles' hand, and a hint of surprise suffused her face as she exclaimed, "Oh, you've become a painter?"
"Mom, actually, he's—" Weister was about to say something, but he stopped mid-sentence after Charles shot him a glare.
"Yes, Madam, I'm a painter," Charles replied in a gentle—unusually gentle tone of voice.
Elena nodded in approval and said, "Great. It's great to have a decent, marketable skill. Anyway, can you paint a family portrait for our family of four? We've never had a new family portrait since his father died."
Charles didn't reply. He hurled the drawing board in his hands at Weister and turned around before breaking out into a mad dash toward the harbor area.
"W-what happened to him?" Elena asked as she turned to Weister with confusion in her gaze.
"Mother, he's not just an ordinary painter," Weister looked helpless as he muttered, "He's the incumbent Governor of this island..."
Elena's eyes widened to the size of saucers. She pointed at Charles' departing back and exclaimed, "H-he's the Governor of this island? That's impossible! He was a lunatic for over a year, and it hasn't even been that long since he recovered!"
Weister had no idea what to say. He also didn't expect that his captain was the lunatic loitering around their house at the time. It was just unbelievable, but how come he hadn't noticed the similarity until now?
Charles soon reached the harbor and looked around, but he couldn't find Margaret. He snapped his fingers and made a sidelong glance at the gloomy alleyway nearby, which was connected to the fish market.
"Come out, guys. You've seen that girl I've been talking to earlier, right? Where did she go?" Charles asked.
A group of mice rushed out of the fish market and formed an arrow on the ground. The arrow was pointing at the sea. Charles followed the arrow and reached the docks, but there were no traces of her at all.
Charles saw nothing but ships departing and leaving Hope Island.
"Is she really here? Where is she?" Charles asked the mice.
The group of mice squeaked at each other a few times before they collectively tilted their heads and stared at him. Clearly, they had no idea where Margaret had gone.
Charles silently cast a complex gaze at the sea before him. Moments later, he muttered, "Why did you not tell me? How could I have known without you telling me about it?"
Charles turned around and started walking toward the naval shipyard. Margaret had asked for his fleet and his crew, so there was a high chance that he would find her there.
Soon after Charles' departure, a drenched Margaret climbed out of the sea. Her fair hands were trembling as she took out a sheet of paper. The paper depicted the pencil sketch that Charles had drawn of her.
The paper was completely soaked, and the sketch of the smiling Margaret eventually split in half and fell to the ground.
Margaret looked down at her feet; her tears melted into the seawater on her eyelids before dripping down her marred face.
"Yes, why did I not tell him? Things wouldn't have come to this if I had just told him the moment I met him again..."