Every time she did, he felt sorry for her, but he could never truly empathize.

  Iraqi blood flowed through his veins, but the home where he was born and raised was unmistakably America.

  Memories of his school days, spent suffering at the hands of Frank and his gang, flashed through his mind.

  They bullied him, using the flimsy excuse that he was Iraqi and a Muslim.

  Everything Chazra hated was in America, but at the same time, everything he loved was there as well.

  That was why Chazra could not hate America.

  It was simply that the people who hated him were in America, and that fact was merely a bit uncomfortable.

  Sometimes he resented his father for having him born in America.

  Comparing himself to his brothers who had integrated so well into society, he would often belittle himself.

  Yet he knew better than anyone how desperately and fiercely his father, Zahir Al-Muradi, had fought to survive.

  This was because he had grown up watching his father’s back as he gave his all to life as both a professor and a scholar.

  Although he was not a father who often showed an affectionate side, it was certain that he loved his family.

  Chazra had never once seen his father and mother fight.

  Although his father was a Muslim, he ate well without fussing over what was Halal or Haram.

  At home, however, he only ate Halal food thanks to his grandmother, Bashira Al-Muradi.

  He did not particularly criticize his children for adapting to and living in American culture.

  It was to the extent that he would let it slide without much issue even when Zaydan and Chazra did not participate in the weekend prayers that the whole family attended.

  “The day after your wedding, it seems Karida had plans to meet Father.

  She went to visit Father’s lab, and she said the CIA was arresting him right then and there.”

  Zaydan muttered with his head bowed, the words tumbling out of him.

  “Karida? So, she actually saw it? The police? What on earth is the reason? What did Father do wrong?

  Ahmadi, did you notice anything suspicious while working with him?”

  “Hmm... I’ll tell you everything, step by step.”

  Ahmadi let out a long, heavy sigh.

  “First, about anything suspicious regarding Father—I don’t know.

  All I know is that he always stayed later than anyone else, completely absorbed in his research.

  And as for the police, they said they couldn’t deal with it.”

  “That’s it! That’s what makes no sense. And when I went to lawyers to try to sue the CIA, do you know what they said?

  They said they couldn’t take the case. I contacted about a hundred places, and not a single one agreed to take it.”

  Zaydan ran his hand through his hair.

  “Is this for real? Are you telling me to just accept that Father has disappeared?”

  Chazra struck the table lightly, unable to contain himself.

  The empty teacup rattled with a sharp clatter.

  “Just listen to the end first. Karida did mention one suspicious thing.”

  Zaydan leaned forward, staring Chazra straight in the eye.

  His voice was low and steady, clearly trying to calm his brother down.

  “What is it?”

  Chazra asked, lowering his voice in spite of himself, overwhelmed by his brother’s presence.

  A strange tension crept down his spine.

  “Treasure hunt.”

  Zaydan answered briefly, parting his lips.

  Even he seemed to find it absurd to say the words, his eyebrows twitching slightly.

  “Treasure hunt? That quiz we used to play with Father when we were little? What on earth does that have to do with any of this?”

  Chazra looked from one brother to the other, swallowing a dry laugh in total disbelief.

  It was the most out-of-place word for such a tragic situation.

  “I don’t know the details.”

  Ahmadi frowned, searching his memory.

  “Karida said that as Father was being arrested and taken away, he suddenly shouted—‘I have found the treasure!’”

  He looked completely at a loss.

  “What on earth does that mean? He found the treasure? In a situation like this?”

  Chazra asked back in disbelief—to think that the words his father,

  a man who had spent his entire life devoted to research,

  cried out at the moment of his arrest were nothing more than a childhood game.

  “We don’t know either.”

  Ahmadi continued, absentmindedly fiddling with his teacup.

  “A short while later, Mom received a call from Julia Marier, the institute’s Assistant Director.

  She confirmed that the CIA had arrested Father, saying the charge was ‘violation of the National Security Act’...”

  “National security? Are they saying Father is a terrorist?”

  Chazra’s voice trembled.

  That word was the most lethal stigma for an Arab immigrant family.

  “I don’t know. The CIA is keeping their mouths shut about any specific evidence. And we found out later... that Julia was apparently a CIA informant.”

  “What?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Chazra bolted upright.

  The chair screeched as it was pushed back.

  “Then didn’t she just frame Father with some made-up charge?

  I mean, what’s the evidence? How can something this absurd happen, and what are the police even doing?”

  “Like I said before, neither the police nor any lawyer wants to touch this case.”

  Zaydan thumped his chest in frustration.

  As a heavy silence settled over the living room, a face suddenly flashed through Chazra’s mind.

  Clinging to any shred of hope, he hurriedly cut in.

  “Oh! Right, Ahmadi. Remember that person who solved the problem when Asha was struggling with those deepfake videos? Can’t we ask her for help?”

  “Sophia Philips? She was the first person I contacted. She said she couldn’t do it—that the CIA was too dangerous.”

  Zaydan shook his head with a bitter smile.

  A heavy silence descended upon the living room once more.

  Every path—both legal and illegal—was completely blocked.

  “Since then, Dr. George Luton has succeeded Father as the director of the institute. And everything is running smoothly, as if nothing happened.”

  There was a hint of self-mockery in Ahmadi’s voice.

  “It’s as if... Father’s entire existence has been neatly cut away.”

  “Are you okay, Bro? If that’s the case with Father, shouldn’t there be some pressure on you too? You worked on the research together.”

  Chazra looked at his brother with worried eyes.

  He feared that guilt by association might apply.

  If so, Ahmadi wouldn’t be safe either.

  “I was worried about that too, but surprisingly, nothing happened.”

  Ahmadi shrugged.

  But his nonchalance seemed all the more unsettling.

  “Except for the fact that no one mentions Father. My colleagues treat me like an invisible man, or their eyes strangely avoid mine... That’s actually been more horrific.”

  “You guys must have gone through so much.”

  Chazra repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists.

  The sweat on his palms had turned cold.

  A sense of helplessness weighed him down.

  “Sigh... I don’t even know what to do anymore. Is this for real? How can he just vanish like this, as if Father never even existed?”

  Zaydan let out a long sigh, holding his head in his hands.

  “What about MIT? Nothing from them?”

  “Yeah. President Hudson just said he felt sorry—and that was all. Even the school’s lawyers washed their hands of it, saying it’s impossible to fight the government.”

  Ahmadi’s answer was hopeless.

  From academia and the legal world to even underground informants—every door that could lead to Father was closed.

  It seemed there was absolutely no way.

  But a single possibility flashed through Chazra’s mind.

  A door inaccessible to civilians, one that only he could open.

  “There’s only one thing left…”

  Strength returned to Chazra’s voice.

  His eyes, filled with determination, turned toward his brothers.

  “What? You have a way?”

  Zaydan stared at Chazra, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “If the police, the lawyers, the CIA, and the school all can’t do it, there’s only one option left.”

  Chazra paused, gauging his brothers’ reactions.

  “Wait, you don’t mean…?”

  Ahmadi’s eyes wavered.

  He caught on quickly.

  As if sensing what Chazra had in mind, his face turned pale.

  “It’s okay, Bro. I’ll figure something out.”

  Chazra beat Ahmadi to it, expecting him to try and stop him.

  “What is it? You’re not actually thinking…”

  Zaydan looked back and forth between Ahmadi and Chazra.

  He looked completely lost.

  “You don’t mean…? Bro, do you even know what I’m planning to do?”

  Chazra gave a smirk and asked playfully.

  It was an attempt to ease the tension, but his eyes didn’t share the smile.

  “Huh? Hahaha, you caught me. I don’t know. So what is it?”

  Zaydan laughed it off, looking a bit awkward, and asked again.

  “The military. I’m a soldier, after all.”

  At the word that came out of Chazra’s mouth, Zaydan’s jaw dropped.

  “The military? Hey, you’re going to use the military to get access to information? Isn’t that incredibly dangerous?”

  “If Father was designated as a terrorist, arrested, and his records were erased, there will definitely be related information in the military.

  Especially through intelligence command channels—there must be data shared with the CIA. I’m the one who has to do this.”

  Feeling his brothers’ worried gazes, Chazra was swept up in a strange emotion.

  It was a slight sense of pride, or perhaps a rush of exhilaration.

  All his life, he had lived in the shadow of his eldest brother, the genius scientist,

  and his second brother, who was athletic and had a great head for business.

  An inferiority complex—the youngest who wasn’t good at studying,

  the soldier who only used his body—had always crouched in a corner of his heart.

  But now, while his brilliant brothers could do nothing, he alone held the key to saving the family.

  ‘I am doing what my brothers cannot do.’

  Even in the face of the terrible disaster of his father’s disappearance,

  Chazra felt a twisted sense of euphoria at the fact that he had seized a chance to prove his worth.

  He drained the rest of his teacup in one gulp and stood up.

  Chazra called for Asha to head back to their new home.

  When she came out of Bashira’s room, her face was on the verge of tears.

  ‘The details can wait until later.’

  Chazra wrapped his arm around her shoulders and said softly, “Let’s head back now.”

  Asha wiped away her tears and nodded.

  After saying goodbye to his brothers, his mother, and his grandmother, Chazra took Asha’s hand and left the house.

  The cold night air seemed to cool his heated head.

  As they got into the car and headed home, Asha sobbed quietly while staring out the window.

  “I heard the stories of how Mother and Grandmother have lived. How hard it was when they first came to America, how much Father struggled…”

  She continued, wiping away her tears.

  “Chazra, we really have to be good to Mother and Grandmother.

  I… I’m going to go to worship every week, just like I promised. I’ll make sure to stay by their side.”

  Asha’s eyes were filled with determination.

  Watching her resolve, Chazra felt a heavy weight settle in his chest.

  Gratitude and guilt washed over him at the same time.

  It felt as if his wife was taking on the care and devotion he should have been giving himself.

  “Yeah. Let’s do that. Thank you, Asha. Truly.”

  With the hand not holding the steering wheel, Chazra squeezed Asha’s hand tightly.

  “Chazra, but what happened with Father?” Asha asked cautiously.

  Chazra fell silent for a moment.

  His plan to use military intelligence to dig through the CIA—if he told her that, she would surely be terrified.

  She had always worried about Chazra becoming a soldier and hated him getting involved in dangerous work.

  ‘There’s no need to make her worry. I can solve this on my own.’

  “There’s nothing special. Just… talk about how lawyers and the police can’t help. We just talked about how there didn’t seem to be any options.”

  Chazra lied as calmly as he could.

  It was for Asha’s sake.

  “I see… I really don’t know what should be done.”

  Asha let out a deep sigh.

  Trying to change the subject, Chazra asked, “Right. When do you start work?”

  “I have about three more days of leave. You?”

  “I have about five days, but I’m planning to head in the day after tomorrow.”

  “What?”

  Asha stared at him, her eyes wide.

  “Do you love the military that much?! Who goes back to work right after their honeymoon?”

  “It’s not that. But since I’m back, I should report in and take care of a few things while I’m at it.”

  Chazra forced a smile.

  “Honestly, you’re impossible. Fine, do your best. It’s what you chose, even if I was against it.”

  Asha grumbled, but she didn’t try to stop him anymore.

  She knew that Chazra was someone who couldn’t stand just sitting around.

  “Yeah.”

  The next day was spent in a whirlwind of unpacking and organizing.

  Once everything was in order, their newlywed home felt spacious and cozy.

  Sunlight poured in through the windows, spreading warmth across the living room.

  All of it was thanks to the support of his father, Zahir.

  Chazra sat down on the plush sofa and looked around the house.

  The thought that the father who had given him this peaceful, perfect home might now be in some cold cell made his chest feel tight.

  ‘I will find him, no matter what.’

  While Asha prepared dinner in the kitchen, he took out his notebook and began forming a plan in his head—to access the military’s internal network.

  Thank you for being here.