Chapter 89
Two hours later, Hiro knocks on Lio Becker's apartment door. He glanced at Wake and me with a reassuring nod. "This guy doesn’t know anything. We’re just here to see if he can give us any insight into Felix Becker. Keep it simple."
I nod, though my stomach twists. The door swings open, and a man in his mid-thirties stands there, his shaggy black hair swept back in a messy ponytail. He has Felix's eyes—sharp, deep-set, haunted.
"Can I help you?" Lio asks, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze drifting over us warily.
Hiro smiles warmly, extending a hand. "Lio Becker? We’re military historians. We’ve been looking into your grandfather’s service records and we were hoping you might have a moment to speak with us."
Lio’s eyebrow quirks in surprise. "You’re interested in Felix?" He shakes Hiro’s hand and steps aside, letting us in. "I gotta say, that’s the first time anyone’s ever come looking for him in that way."
We settle into his small living room, a cozy space cluttered with graphic design equipment and old military memorabilia, probably left over from Felix. There’s a certain stillness in the room, an aura of the past lingering in every corner.
Wake, towering as ever, stands by the door, his arms crossed. Lio seems to notice his imposing presence but says nothing.
Hiro takes the lead, starting with a gentle introduction. "We’ve come across some interesting photos and documents that we think you might find intriguing. Your grandfather played a significant role during his time in the military, and we’re piecing together his story. We were wondering if you could help."
Lio scoffs, folding his arms. "Significant? That’s generous. From what I knew of him, he was just a grumpy old man who couldn’t let go of his time in service. Spent way too much time stuck in the past."
I exchange a quick glance with Hiro, deciding to press further. "Do you remember him talking about his service? About his life after he left?"
Lio shrugs. "He never shut up about it. But he didn’t have friends. No comrades visiting or anything like that. I always thought it was weird that he’d go on and on about staying in Japan to be close to ‘them,’ but I never figured out who ‘them’ was."
Phoebe’s curiosity flares. "Them? You mean his old unit?"
Lio’s lips twitch in a half-smile. "That’s what I always assumed. But when I think about it, there were no buddies from the war. No one ever came by. No letters. It was just him and Grandma."
I bite my lip, my mind racing. Could Felix have been referring to Marina and Coraline? Could his obsession with staying in Japan have been linked to his deep-rooted connection with the sirens?
"Do you have anything from your grandfather? Journals, perhaps?" I ask carefully, gauging his reaction.
Lio scratches his chin, thinking. "Yeah, I do, actually. My parents gave me a box of his things after he passed. I never really looked through it—Felix and I didn’t get along. He wasn’t the best father to my dad, either."
Hiro leans in, showing genuine interest. "Do you mind if we take a look?"
Lio shrugs. "Sure. I’ll go grab it."
A few moments later, Lio returns with an old shoebox. He sets it on the coffee table and opens it, revealing a collection of photographs, letters, and journals. "Take it," he says casually. "I’ve got no use for it. Maybe you guys will find something interesting."
"Thank you," I say, smiling as I take the box into my hands, my fingers brushing over the worn edges. "This could be really helpful."
Lio flashes a small grin, though there’s a sadness behind it. "Good luck. Felix wasn’t an easy man to figure out."
As he extends his hand for a final shake, I make sure to study him closely. His smile is warm, genuine even, but I search his features for anything that might indicate a connection to me. His eyes are kind, despite everything he said about his grandfather, but there’s something distant. A pang of sadness washes over me.
If Felix Becker really had fathered a child with Anthozoa, would that mean Lio’s lineage was tied to mine? If so, I had an entire family I didn't know, and given current circumstances, probably never would.
I shake Lio’s hand, trying to ignore the tangle of emotions inside me. "Thank you for your help."
He gives me a nod, unaware of the significance I’m searching for. As he walks us to the door, I catch Hiro’s gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes tell me that we’re onto something.
Back in the street, I exhale slowly, the weight of the shoebox feeling heavier than it should. Hiro glances at me as we walk. "So, what now?"
I meet his gaze. "Anyone in the mood for sushi?”
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