Chapter 4

I pressed my hand to my forehead. My body trembled slightly, and I forced a weak smile. "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

"You shouldn't have brought those things out to upset him!" Edmund immediately scolded Samantha, looking at me with concern. "Norman is only just starting to feel better, and you're making him feel worse!"

"Dad, I'm fine," I quickly reassured him.

The sharp scrutiny in Samantha's eyes softened, replaced by worry and guilt. "I'm sorry, Norman. I was too impatient," she said.

The topic dropped for the moment, and I half-listened as they chatted about everyday things.

After a while, Samantha suddenly slapped her thigh and turned to me. "Speaking of food, I just realized I never picked up those oysters and clams you like for your recovery!"

She glanced at her phone, checking the time. "There are still a couple of hours until lunch. Shawn, come with me to the market."

"These won't last if we go too late," she added.

The two of them stood and headed for the entryway. Edmund followed, not forgetting to remind them, "Pick up some fresh spinach and chicken, too. I'll make something nourishing for Norman."

I felt a tug at my heart and stood to head to the kitchen to help Edmund prepare. "Dad, let me give you a hand."

Gerald chimed in, "I can't just stand here doing nothing. I'll help, too."

As I made my way to the kitchen, Edmund quickly intervened. "You've only just started feeling better. Don't overdo it. Let Gerald take care of it. He could use the exercise."

I had no choice but to step back. Meanwhile, Samantha and Shawn had already finished gathering what they needed and stepped out the door.

As the door swung half-shut, I caught a glimpse of Samantha, wearing a tense expression as she leaned close to whisper something to Shawn. Something felt off.

I called out toward the kitchen. "Dad, I'm dizzy. I'll lie down for a bit. Call me when it's almost time for dinner."

After Edmund acknowledged me, I quietly closed the bedroom door, making it seem as if I had gone inside. Then, I carefully avoided the two in the kitchen and slipped out.

As I turned the corner on the first floor, I overheard Shawn mutter, "At this time, it won't be fresh anymore…"

"Don't worry. I reserved it in advance," Samantha replied.

Their conversation sounded ordinary, but my gut told me something was wrong.

"Let's hurry. We don't want to lose the stock," Shawn said.

As they disappeared down the hall, I came out from behind the wall. Maybe I was overthinking it.

Then, a memory of Maya, the recycler, flashed through my mind. Last time, she had tried to say something but stopped, and Samantha and Edmund had been extremely wary of her. Perhaps she knew something.

Following that thought, I made my way to the scrap collection station where Maya lived.

I called out a few times at the door with no answer, then steeled myself and pushed open the old wooden door. The room was tiny, stacked with jars and bottles.

Maya wasn't there. I searched around, and as I turned to leave, I noticed a small streak of blood on the wall behind the door. It was half-dried, not very old.

A chill shot from my feet to the top of my head. Had something happened to Maya?

I flung the door open, ready to run, but a shadowy figure stood just outside.

Suddenly, memories of the car accident flashed through my mind. I saw myself lying on the ground, bloodied, as a woman stepped down from the car that hit me.

As she drew closer, her face gradually came into focus.