Chapter 7

The look in Rhea's eyes told me she wasn't going to kill herself today. That, at least, was a relief.

Still, she wouldn't just admit it. "Well, what if I am determined to die, huh? Maybe I'll jump off the balcony after you leave!"

"Cool. Jumping off buildings isn't in my job description anymore, so knock yourself out. Just a heads-up, though: this floor isn't high enough. You'll probably survive, but with a broken spine and no control from the waist down. What are you gonna do if that happens?

"So here's a better plan. Grab a bag from the shop downstairs, wrap it around your head, climb to the roof, and then jump. Full satisfaction, guaranteed," I snarked.

"Why you—" She shook with fury. "Why the hell should I get a bag over my head?"

"Out of respect for the cleaning crew! No need to make their job harder. They'll have to spend a lot of effort scrubbing the pavement clean of your brain, right?"

Rhea shut her eyes in fear while snarling, "Fuck you, bozo!"

That was not the look of someone who meant what she said. I was sure I had saved her life. "Alright, enough talk. Give me my badge and ID back. I need to get going. You can, I don't know, start picking out a nice bag for your head."

I extended my hand toward her matter-of-factly, but Rhea shook her head. "Sorry, but I'm not giving them back to you. How dare you tell me how to die?! And you saw me naked! You have to pay for that!"

"Come on, miss. I don't have time for this. Get on with your plan already. I have a fire to put out today!" I replied, snatched my stuff back, and left before she could react.

I had no problem saving her life, but it did not mean I was fond of people like her. I was especially repulsed by high-maintenance, self-centered rich girls like her.

"Stand where you are, bozo!" she yelled. "Grimwald! Did you hear me? You're not getting away with this!"

I ignored her and walked off with my suitcase.

Unbeknownst to me, Rhea opened her palm to reveal a torn scrap of paper—a photo of me she'd ripped from my documents.

"You don't actually look half-bad," she muttered to herself with a smirk. "Sebastian Grimwald, Astergrad Fire Brigade Beta Team… You're not getting away from me."

…

I had no idea I'd become someone's target. All I wanted was to report for duty.

Albert spotted my suitcase and gaped. "Grimwald? Why are you bringing luggage?"

Of course he was surprised. When the odds of surviving a mission were so uncertain, no one bothered packing extra clothes. We lived and often died in the same uniform.

"It's just for my family," I said, lying. "Didn't want to leave this stuff behind in case I don't make it. Might make things harder for them, you know?"

"Grimwald… That's a little grim, don't you think? You're not necessarily going to die, alright?" Albert let out a sigh. "Anyway, our superior got in touch. All our gear's already been moved to the mountain base. It's our turn to report."

Ever since I said goodbye to Hera, I'd been ready for whatever came next. My face barely changed. "Yes, sir. I'm ready."

If he could have, the captain would've taken Sebastian off the roster. Last he heard, the man hadn't even had a child with his wife yet.

"Hey, good news," Albert added. "It rained a few hours ago. Thank God. Helped a lot with the fire. It's mostly under control now. Our team's just heading out to provide backup. So honestly… you don't have to come. We've got this."

Part of me felt relieved. A wildfire under control meant fewer deaths and less destruction. That was always a win.

But thinking about Hera erased any trace of relief. I just wanted to get out of Astergrad for a while.

"No, Captain Holst. Let me go. They still need every hand they can get, right?"

I was so persistent that Albert gave in and let me join the team.

…

By the time we arrived, the fire was mostly under control. The remaining tasks involved statistics and logistics, such as counting heads and recording casualty figures.

I scanned the charred forest floor and felt my personal concerns fade into the background. My focus sharpened.

I stayed at the mountain base for days. Although the wildfire had eased, I still witnessed its cruelty. I watched bodies being carried back to camp. Many comrades had died, and too many were burned beyond recognition.

These frontliners were usually firefighters from nearby towns. Their loved ones had already arrived at camp to identify the bodies. Some were the deceased's wives and children—the sight of their tears struck a painful chord in my chest.

I even saw a few elderly family members. Their frail frames trembled as they approached, and some fainted from shock.

It was a harrowing scene. Yet, I could not help but notice the silence from Hera after several days. She had not even sent me a single message.

To be honest, I wished it were me on the stretcher. I wished my life mattered enough for someone to grieve my passing.

And yet, my wife did not even remember me.

-

Hera left the conference room after a long meeting and suddenly felt a sharp jolt in her chest. It felt as if her heart had skipped a beat. Instinctively, she pressed her hand to her chest, confusion flickering across her face.

Her assistant noticed immediately. "Ms. Bishop? Are you all right? Should we cancel your next meeting so you can take a break?"

"No need. I'm fine," Hera said calmly, shaking her head.

A sudden thought struck her. She glanced at her phone.

There was no message from Sebastian. None at all.

She frowned. The silence unsettled her. "How has Sebastian been doing at the hotel these past few days? Has anyone from management reached out?"

"No, ma'am," Morgan Phelps replied, his voice betraying a hint of surprise. It seemed odd that Hera was suddenly interested in someone she had never appeared to notice or care about.

"I see. Leave me be for a while. I have errands to run," Hera said, then strode out of her office. Moments later, she left the building entirely.

Half an hour later, Hera arrived at the hotel front desk. She flashed her black card and asked, "Please check the activity log for Mr. Sebastian Grimwald over the past few days."

"Ma'am, Mr. Grimwald hasn't stayed here. He arrived on the first day, left with his suitcase shortly after, and hasn't returned since," the young woman answered.

Hera's brows tightened. A flicker of irritation surfaced. She pulled out her phone and called his number.

She had almost never done this before. Yet for the first time, no one answered.

Her frown deepened. What kind of elaborate scheme had Sebastian set in motion?