Chapter 379: Who was that man????
The Meaning of Life.
What is your goal in life?
To become a good student?
To get a respectable job?
To earn enough money?
To find the love of your life?
To get married?
To raise children?
And then what?
Work until your body grows weak.
Watch your children grow.
Grow old.
And eventually...
Die.
That was the life I always admired whenever I looked at ordinary people.
Not because they were rich.
Not because they were successful.
But because they were normal.
They had somewhere to return every evening.
Someone waiting for them.
A warm meal.
A roof over their heads.
Things I never had.
Back then...
I wandered through the frozen streets of Oslo.
Begging for something to eat.
Winter after winter.
People could be unbelievably cruel.
Some chased me away before I even spoke.
Some threw stones at me as though I was some stray animal.
Some simply looked through me as if I never existed.
Every night...
I pressed both hands tightly against my stomach.
Not because it helped.
But because I wanted to stop the pain of hunger from tearing me apart.
I used to stare at the sky and ask the same question over and over again.
Why was I even born?
People often envy the rich.
I never did.
I envied the family eating dinner together.
I envied children wearing school uniforms.
I envied workers returning home with tired smiles.
I envied people who could complain about ordinary problems.
Because they had the privilege of living an ordinary life.
I wanted that.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
There were many nights when I wished I would simply disappear.
One evening...
I stood on the bridge over the Akerselva River.
The cold wind howled through the city.
People walked past me.
Couples.
Workers.
Students.
Old men.
Young women.
Everyone had somewhere to go.
Everyone except me.
No one stopped.
No one asked if I was alright.
No one noticed that a child was standing on the railing.
Perhaps...
People were right.
If you cared about everyone...
You would end up with nothing.
I looked into the dark river below.
I wanted to jump.
But another thought entered my mind.
If I disappeared...
Why should everyone else continue living?
If the final destination for every human being is death...
Then why are we born at all?
What is the purpose of this endless cycle?
Birth.
Growth.
Work.
Old age.
Death.
Again and again.
It looked less like life.
And more like a machine.
A giant system.
Every human being moving according to predetermined rules.
In that perfectly organized world...
Children like me were nothing but noise.
Errors.
Defects that people wished would disappear.
Who created that system?
Who controlled it?
Did governments really control it?
If they did...
Then the system itself was rotten.
I had seen policemen accept bribes.
I had watched criminals walk away laughing.
The rules protected those who understood how to bend them.
The laws trapped those too weak to resist.
Errors like us existed everywhere.
Some lived in slums.
Some lived inside prisons.
Some wore expensive suits.
Others hid behind political power.
The clever ones found loopholes.
And once they found them...
The rules no longer applied.
I wanted a normal life.
A peaceful life.
A systematic life.
Yet the very system threw me onto the streets before I even understood what life was.
The rules never protected me.
The laws never fed me.
Justice never arrived.
I was powerless.
I was hungry.
And hunger...
It strips away every illusion.
That was the day I understood something.
If I wanted to survive...
I could never remain inside the system.
I had to find its loopholes.
I had to climb above it.
I had to break a broken world.
Still...
The pain of hunger was stronger than every dream.
I smiled bitterly.
"If there is another life..."
"Then maybe..."
"I’ll fulfill my wish."
"I’ll rise above the system."
"I’ll become the error..."
"That even the system cannot erase."
I climbed onto the railing.
The freezing wind pushed against my body.
One step.
That was all it would take.
Then...
A calm voice echoed behind me.
"Do you know?"
"Every web is built with the spider standing exactly at its center."
"It becomes a physical manifestation of an ego..."
"Creating its own little universe."
There was a brief pause.
Then the voice became much warmer.
"Would you care for a bowl of hot soup, child?"
I slowly turned around.
A young man stood there.
Steam rose gently from the bowl in his hands.
The aroma reached me before his smile did.
That simple warmth...
Became the warmest moment of my entire life.
The day I stepped away from death.
The day I received my ticket...
To rise above the system.
...
Present Day.
Bjorn stood beside the enormous glass window overlooking the City.
Rain quietly traced lines across the glass.
In his hand rested a cup of hot soup.
Steam slowly drifted upward.
He stared at it silently before taking another sip.
His expression carried neither joy nor sorrow.
Only remembrance.
"Old man..."
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"At last..."
"You returned to the very system..."
"The one we swore to defy together."
The office door opened quietly.
Astrid walked inside.
She looked at the cup and sighed.
"You are still drinking that?"
Bjorn smiled without looking back.
"It reminds me..."
"Of what I once stood for."
He looked outside again.
"And today..."
"I was feeling a little cold."
Astrid walked beside him.
She stood silently for several moments.
"We will succeed."
She spoke with quiet certainty.
"We’ve already come this far."
Bjorn nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"The time has finally come."
He reached inside his coat.
Pulling out a small black card.
He handed it to Astrid.
She accepted it and looked down.
"This is..."
Bjorn answered calmly.
"Thea’s direct contact."
Astrid raised her head.
"You want me to call her?"
"Tell her..."
"Our real plan."
"The one only you and I know?"
Bjorn finally turned toward her.
His eyes carried absolute conviction.
"Yes."
Astrid hesitated.
"Are you certain?"
Bjorn looked toward the city one last time.
Thousands of lights stretched endlessly across the skyline.
A world built on rules.
On power.
On systems.
His lips slowly curved upward.
"Soon..."
"We won’t merely fight the system."
"We will destroy it."
"And then..."
"We will become the ones who control it."
He slowly tightened his grip around the warm bowl.
"This time..."
"There will be no loopholes left."
.......
The next day, Star Harbor welcomed the morning with a quiet warmth.
For the first time in many years, Timothy Sterling was no longer lying unconscious behind the walls of a hospital room.
He was going home.
The doctors had allowed his discharge after another round of examinations. His condition was stable, though his body was still far too weak to support his weight for long. His legs needed time to regain their strength, and for now, a wheelchair was his only reliable way of moving around.
A medical professional accompanied him at all times, carefully watching his movements and making sure he did not push himself beyond his limits.
Timothy did not particularly like being treated as fragile.
But every time he tried to stand, Miles gave him the same look.
The kind that silently said not to even think about it.
So Timothy had reluctantly agreed to behave.
The moment the car arrived at Pearl Villa, the atmosphere changed.
Almost everyone was already waiting outside.
Daniel had planned the entire welcome.
Elena stood near the entrance with Hope and Asher. Monica was beside her, while Silvey, Chase, Cole, Sophia, Isabelle, Alice, Kate and the others stood a little farther away.
The moment Timothy was brought out of the vehicle, Hope and Asher immediately ran toward him.
"Grandpa!"
Timothy’s face brightened.
"There you two are."
Hope carefully stopped herself before reaching the wheelchair.
She looked at the medical professional and then at Timothy.
"Can I hug him?"
The medical professional smiled.
"Of course. Just be gentle."
Hope immediately wrapped her arms around Timothy.
Asher followed from the other side.
Timothy laughed softly.
"You two really remember me?"
Asher grinned.
"Of course. You are the grandpa who was sleeping forever."
Everyone burst into laughter.
Elena covered her mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly.
Timothy looked at Miles.
"Your siblings have no mercy."
Miles smiled.
"They got that from the family."
Daniel stepped forward and placed a hand on Timothy’s shoulder.
"Welcome home."
Timothy looked at him for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"Daniel."
The two men shook hands.
"I have heard so much about you."
Daniel laughed.
"And I have heard enough about you to know that you are not supposed to be walking yet."
Timothy raised his eyebrows.
"So everyone has already been warned about me?"
"Everyone."
"Unfair."
The laughter continued.
One by one, Miles introduced everyone.
Timothy listened carefully to every name.
He met Monica, Silvey, Chase and the younger members of the family. He listened to their stories, their jokes and their memories.
But the twins barely gave him a chance to breathe.
They moved around his wheelchair everywhere.
They showed him their favorite toys.
They told him stories about school.
They showed him pictures.
They even dragged him toward the garden to show him the places where they usually played.
Timothy listened to every single word.
There was something almost childlike in his expression.
For seventeen years, he had slept through the lives of the people around him.
Now he wanted to know everything.
Every small detail.
Every person.
Every memory.
Even the things that seemed completely insignificant.
Because to Timothy, they were seventeen years of life he had never been allowed to witness.
By evening, Pearl Villa had settled down.
The young people slowly scattered into different parts of the house.
The twins finally became tired enough to leave Timothy alone.
The drawing room became quieter.
Timothy sat comfortably in his wheelchair near the fireplace.
Across from him sat two other elderly men.
Edwin Carter.
And Louis, Chloe’s grandfather.
The three old men had somehow found endless topics to discuss.
They talked about families.
Business.
Old memories.
The changes in Star Harbor.
The world they had known decades ago.
At one point, Edwin looked toward Timothy with a serious expression.
"I still owe you an apology."
Timothy looked at him.
"For what?"
"For Elena."
Timothy remained silent.
Edwin lowered his head.
"When I abandoned her, I was wrong."
Timothy slowly shook his head.
"You don’t need to explain it to me."
"I do."
Edwin’s voice became quieter.
"You took care of my daughter when I wasn’t there."
Timothy smiled faintly.
"She was family."
The conversation continued for a long time.
Louis joined in occasionally, sharing stories about Chloe.
Timothy listened with genuine interest.
Eventually, the two men left the drawing room.
Silence returned.
Timothy leaned back in his chair.
He closed his eyes.
For a few moments, he simply breathed.
So much had changed.
He had lost nearly two decades.
Two decades that he could never get back.
But somehow...
He had been given another chance.
Another chance to see his family.
Another chance to meet the grandchildren he had never known.
And most importantly...
Another chance to see Miles standing before him as a grown man.
The door opened softly.
Miles entered with Monica.
"You good?"
Timothy opened his eyes.
A tired smile appeared on his face.
"Come sit with this old man."
Miles walked over.
Monica followed.
They sat nearby.
Timothy looked around the room.
"If I wasn’t in that coma..."
He paused.
"Even I couldn’t have done what you did."
Miles looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You are surrounded by so many good people."
Timothy’s eyes softened.
"You somehow brought everyone together."
He looked toward the doorway.
"I never thought Edwin would come and meet me in this life."
A small laugh escaped him.
"He doesn’t really look like the infamous ruler of Crimson Island anymore."
Monica smiled.
"Grandpa has changed a lot since he met Boss."
Timothy looked at her.
"Why do you keep calling him Boss?"
Monica glanced at Miles.
"Old habit."
Miles chuckled.
"Well, Grandpa, perhaps in age I am older than him. Even though he is my younger cousin, I always thought of him as someone older because of how much responsibility he carries."
"And he is getting married before me."
Timothy laughed.
"Then your turn is next."
Monica immediately nodded.
"Definitely."
Miles looked at Timothy carefully.
"You are feeling alright, Grandpa?"
"I am fine."
"If you feel even slightly uneasy, tell us."
Miles’s expression became serious.
"The doctor specifically told us to be careful. To be honest, I really didn’t want to bring you out of the hospital before you had fully recovered."
Timothy looked around.
"I would have regretted missing your wedding."
Miles sighed.
"Then promise me you will rest."
"I promise."
"Keep your mind stress free too."
Timothy hesitated.
The smile slowly disappeared from his face.
"There is one thing..."
Miles immediately noticed the change.
"What?"
"Something that has been heavy in my heart."
Timothy lowered his eyes.
"I will tell you."
He paused.
"But only if you promise me something."
Miles leaned forward.
"What?"
"Don’t do anything before your wedding."
Miles’s expression became serious.
"Tell me."
Timothy took a slow breath.
"It is about Elena."
The room became silent.
Timothy looked toward the window.
"When Edward died..."
His voice trembled slightly.
"And after I disappeared and Edward was gone, I knew there would be no one to take care of her."
Miles listened without interrupting.
"Then you went missing."
Timothy’s fingers tightened around the armrest.
"I eventually found out."
His voice became heavier.
"I couldn’t come myself."
Miles frowned.
"But?"
"I asked Gordon for money."
Miles’s eyes narrowed.
"Gordon?"
"Yes."
Timothy nodded.
"I asked him to help Elena."
He paused.
"He gave me a cheque."
"Enough to support Elena for years."
Monica’s expression changed.
Timothy continued.
"But..."
Timothy looked directly at him.
"It seems the money never reached her."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Miles slowly leaned forward.
"What?"
Timothy sighed.
"I thought Elena had received it."
Miles shook his head.
"She never mentioned anything."
Timothy’s expression became troubled.
"I know."
Miles’s hands slowly tightened.
"How did you send it?"
Timothy looked down.
"I trusted a man to deliver it to your mother."
Miles stared at him.
The peaceful atmosphere of the room disappeared.
His voice became cold.
"I want to know who that man was."