---
The head instructor's tone was dead serious, his eyes boring into Lucas with a weight that felt heavier than any physical training he'd ever endured.
"Why didn't you tell me that girl had run away?" The head instructor's voice was sharp now—less commanding, more accusing.
Lucas blinked in confusion. "What?"
The instructor didn't answer. Instead, he picked up the remote and turned on the television mounted on the wall. A news report blared to life.
"A missing girl case has stirred concern across the city. Nineteen-year-old Lia Morsen reportedly ran away from home yesterday, leaving behind a handwritten note that reads—"
> 'I can't take this anymore. Everything, everyone is too hard on me. I don't know what to do. I'm drowning. Sorry. I have to disappear.'
Lucas felt the blood drain from his face.
The camera zoomed in on the photograph of the missing girl.
It was Lia.
It was her.
The same eyes. The same smile. The same girl who stood before him just hours ago, asking for help, dressed in baggy clothes and a fading voice.
"Sir…" Lucas muttered, but his words barely made a sound.
The instructor turned off the screen and faced him again, eyes heavy with implication.
"She ran away from home yesterday. According to her family, she's had problems for a while now. Family issues, emotional strain." He crossed his arms. "The CCTV footage around her neighborhood shows a girl leaving yesterday in the exact outfit described by your gate guards. The same girl who visited you today."
Lucas's heart thudded in his chest, louder and faster now.
"Tell me the rest."
Lucas took a breath, trying to steady himself. "She... told me she got lost during a trip with friends. Said she lost her wallet, her phone died, and she needed money to get home. I believed her. She never once said anything about running away. She never looked... desperate."
"Did she seem nervous? Shaken?"
"No," Lucas said, shaking his head. "She smiled. She joked. She... looked just like she used to."
The instructor studied him for a long moment. Then, to Lucas's surprise, he sighed. "I believe you. That's what you told us earlier, and you didn't try to hide it. Honestly, she was convincing. So convincing that even I didn't doubt she was a concerned cousin. Smart girl. Calm, calculated. She played her role well."
Lucas looked down. Guilt now pressed on his chest like a weight he couldn't shake.
The instructor's voice softened, just slightly. "You two seemed close. Did she have any boyfriend? Someone she could have run away with?"
Lucas hesitated. Then answered truthfully.
"She's not actually my cousin. She's my junior. From high school. We haven't talked in years… until today. And as far as I know, she's alone."
The silence that followed was deafening.
"Then find her," the instructor finally said. "And find her fast. Before someone else does."
Lucas nodded, jaw tight. He was already thinking again. Replaying every word Lia had said. Every glance. Every pause.
This wasn't just a girl who lost her wallet.
This was a girl trying to disappear.
"Cadet Lucas," he stopped, voice stern but not unkind. "You're a shining young man. You've got a promising future. But if the media catches wind that you were the last person to speak to her... your career could collapse before it even begins."
Lucas swallowed hard. His heart was already pounding from panic, but now it dropped straight into his gut.
"I'm giving you one day," the instructor continued. "One day to find her alive, before anything worse happens. After that, it won't be in your hands—or mine."
Lucas's throat felt dry. He straightened his posture and replied with quiet determination, "Yes, sir."
The instructor didn't say another word. He simply nodded and turned away, leaving Lucas alone in the silence of the tension-choked air.
---
Lucas walked back to his dorm, his mind a whirlwind. Every moment replayed in his head like broken film: Lia's smile, her voice, the cap she took off, the way the wind danced through her hair, the way she called him "senior."
He sat on his bed, but he couldn't sit still. His fists clenched, his jaw tight.
Where could she have gone?
Was she lying about the trip?
Was she really in danger?
Was she scared? Or... was she running from something else?
He leaned back on the mattress and shut his eyes, trying to connect the dots.
Then it hit him.
The sea.
She always loved the sea.
He remembered her photos—standing near crashing waves, her captions filled with poetic nonsense like "The sea understands my silence" or "Saltwater in my veins, not tears." He'd teased her once about sounding like a Tumblr poet. She'd only laughed.
"No wonder she came here..." he whispered to himself, eyes snapping open.
Martin's Beach.
Just five kilometers away.
He jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone and keys, and dashed out the door.
---