Chapter 110-Greek tragedy

Lucca pov

A new week began, and I skipped my first class in three semesters. Simon had pulled me into an emergency meeting.

This time, even Ethan was present, looking as handsome as ever but not in the best spirits. During the meeting, he kept glancing in my direction, seeming hesitant to speak.

After the meeting, Simon asked everyone else to leave so he could talk to Ethan alone.

"Go ahead and head back," Simon said. "We have some things to discuss."

I rushed back to my lab class and made up a rather awkward excuse to my professor.

Given my good grades, the professor didn't press the matter and didn't even count me as late.

After this class ended, Ethan cornered me outside the restroom.

"The last operation, you planned it, didn't you?"

Ethan's face was dark, his expression intense, and he seemed highly agitated.

"Which operation?" I wasn't sure what he was referring to.

"The transportation job, don't play dumb!" Ethan pushed me right up to the sink, his anger unprecedented.

I displayed a pained expression. Ethan's eyes immediately betrayed a hint of panic, but he pressed on firmly, "Did you design the plan to blow up the city hall for him?"

I took a second to review my transportation plan.

"We're transporting contraband goods in a refrigerated unit, protected by a wooden frame to prevent damage. It's 1 meter high, 1.2 meters wide, and contains frozen seafood, weighing approximately 160 pounds."

This was the information Simon had given me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied calmly, though my hands were shaking slightly.

Ethan angrily released his grip on me. "Of course, you do! What don't you know by now?"

He stepped back, looking at me with eyes filled with disappointment, and then walked away.

I turned to the sink to wash my hands.

The water trickled softly.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

A white lab coat, beautiful golden-brown curls that concealed the dark circles under my eyes for a long time, and unsettling black eyes.

I looked much the same as when I first started, young and tired.

I had worried about one thing from the beginning.

I found it strange that the truck in Simon's information was headed from the city center to Diamond Port.

There were too many checkpoints along the way, and they were likely to be caught.

In theory, they should have switched vehicles frequently or taken a different route for the transport.

But Simon insisted that with lycans on board, they wouldn't be checked, and he was adamant about going that way.

Now I knew why. The truck wasn't going to Diamond Port at all. It was going to detonate at City Hall.

The "contraband" in the truck wasn't fake hair; it was explosives.

The smuggling vehicle was intercepted, and the unstable explosives caused the deaths of a couple passing by – the father being my foster father.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, feeling like I was part of a Greek tragedy.

I looked at the familiar face, unable to conjure up any thoughts, just a sense of absurdity.

Suddenly, my phone rang. I quickly turned off the water and answered the call.

"Luca, it's me, Gloria. I heard you had a near-incident a couple of days ago. Can you come over to my place for lunch today?

I'll take a look, and if anything seems off, we can go to the research facility."

"Sorry, Gloria... I..." I tried to find an excuse to decline. The first thought that came to my mind was "I have a club activity."

But I immediately dismissed that idea and replied, "Sure, I'll be there for lunch."

I quickly checked my contacts to reach out to Simon.

However, he didn't respond to calls, texts, emails – nothing. He had always been elusive, and working in a classified department made him even harder to reach.

I couldn't help my anger, and I dug my nails into my palms.

I grabbed my bag, skipped the next class, and searched the entire computer science department and club room for any information about Simon.

But most people didn't know him; he was more of a legend associated with various honors.

Lunchtime approached, and I had no choice but to head to Gloria's house.

Gloria was delighted to see me. She had prepared a feast, fresh fruit juice, and even packed a box of homemade jerky for me to take home.

But my mind was consumed by thoughts of the explosion case.

I hadn't noticed the little surprises she had prepared. Gloria seemed a bit disappointed.

"What's wrong? Do you have something on your mind?" she asked me.

I shook my head and picked up the fork, then put it down again, repeatedly.

"Let's spare that poor little tomato," Gloria said as she held my hand. I felt a shiver of coldness pass through me.

I dropped the fork and sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm just a bit distracted. I wasted your effort."

"Don't say that!" Gloria quickly pulled me into a chair. "You can talk to me about whatever is bothering you. I'm willing to share your burden."

I found it difficult to open up. I used almost all my strength to maintain an objective calm. "I just... had an argument with a classmate."

Gloria, who had seen such situations before, said, "It's normal. At your age, you often have different viewpoints, and conflicts happen occasionally. Nobody can persuade anyone. Actually, this can be a good thing."

She took on her teaching attitude. "What was the specific argument about?"

"He believes that achieving great goals can be done through radical violence..." I trailed off.

Gloria nodded, "Oh, you were talking about the explosion case!"

"Cough, cough, cough..." I choked.

Gloria took out today's newspaper. It read that the driver behind the suicide attack was a rogue. The vehicle had "Fourth Amendment" written in reverse on its body. Gloria took a sip of juice.

"Three people dead, over a hundred seriously injured, and the death toll is still rising. The whole school is talking about this; it's normal for you to have an argument," she said.

"What's your take on it?" I asked.

"Lycans are constantly stirring up trouble, and it was only a matter of time before something like this happened," Gloria frowned. "But before they can fight for human rights, they need to have some humanity themselves. Who would believe they have humanity if they carry out indiscriminate attacks in the city center?"

I felt a slight ache in my stomach, as if the ice cubes in the juice were causing it.

"I think I should go now," I said as I stood up. My eyes were a bit watery, so I kept my head down and pretended to fix my hair while using my sleeve to wipe away any moisture at the corners of my eyes.

As I descended the stairs, I felt lightheaded, and each step was like treading on ground that wouldn't hold my weight. Just when I was about to collapse, an elderly gentleman coming upstairs reached out and steadied me.

"Are you alright?" The old man appeared to be in his fifties, dressed modestly, and exuded a sense of refinement.

"I'm fine," I managed a weak smile.

"That's good." The elderly man inquired politely, "By the way, does Dr. Gloria live upstairs?"

"What business do you have with her?" I asked cautiously.

"Well, it's a bit complicated," the man said, feeling a bit awkward.

After a brief conversation with him, during which I confirmed that he meant no harm, I escorted him to Gloria's house.

Gloria welcomed both of us inside and prepared a cup of tea for the elderly man.

"This is rather peculiar," the elderly man began to contemplate slowly, "I need to start from the beginning."

The man's wife was a nurse who had recently retired. Shortly after her retirement, she developed symptoms of Alzheimer's disease. Her memory was deteriorating, and she often spoke gibberish. She also experienced sudden episodes of panic, requiring her husband to spend a lot of time with her.

"When she's lucid, she keeps saying, 'It's my fault, it's all my fault.' I always thought she felt guilty towards me. But recently, in the past couple of days, I realized it's not that."

Gloria listened attentively at this point, not yet sensing any connection to me.

I was curious about the old man's reason for seeking me out.

"You're aware of the accident in the city center, right?" the old man took out a folded newspaper from his pocket. "My wife saw the news report about the accident on TV. The news mentioned three fatalities, including a couple who were driving by... and she nearly fell off the couch in terror."

The old man continued to explain. His wife, after seeing the news, started having convulsions and repeatedly said, "Retribution, this is retribution! It's the retribution for what we took away from that woman—the precious thing! It's the retribution for that filthy deal! They're dead, and now I'm going to die too! I should have realized it earlier; those dark-haired children are cursed! I shouldn't have earned that hell-bound money!"