"How are you doing, Malcolm? Taking quite a lot of time to size all of us up," Graham said.

  I raised my eyes to Graham, a man in his late sixties with a potbelly. He was balding, and his hair was the color of peach. He was an average-statured guy, slightly shorter than Malcolm. He wore a pinstripe suit with a peach-colored tie all buttoned up to his collar. He had his bowler hat in his lap as he wiped the sweat from his head and continued to look at me with his blunt eyes.

  Wait, I have to answer this question.

  "Malcolm, you're sure taking your time," Graham chuckled alongside the quiet chuckles from the rest.

  "Well, boss, you changed a lot, so I had a long time to size you up," I said, hiding the fear in my voice.

  "Is that so, Malcolm? You changed too in three months back then you were, all healthy, and now limping."

  "..."

  "Hah, I was just joking, don't take it seriously, Malcolm."

  "It's alright, boss. Hope you are doing well."

  "Well, as you see, I am healthy as ever, it's just there is a black sheep among the family."

  "Heard it from Doyle"

  "Hmm, I see. Regardless, Malcolm and Doyle, take a seat; we can't let you keep standing now, can we?"

  Doyle moved and sat next to Mairi, and I sat next to Struan to maintain equilibrium.

  The rest of the captains gave me a nod except Mairi, who glared at me with her sharp eyes.

  Did Malcolm have some problem with this lady? Guess I should keep my distance from her.

  *****

  The conversation between the family was confusing, I just sat quietly and didn't open my mouth since I didn't understand anything they said.

  What does "grass" even mean? or "running powder", "dirty copper"? and many more terms that were foreign to me. So restraining myself from speaking will be the best-case scenario since I can't mess it up and die again.

  I glanced at my watch; it read 6:15.

  Gosh, when will these geezers stop talking? It's been over an hour, and they still haven't talked about who the traitor might be, but instead they talk about harbors and peacekeepers? Please get over it fast.

  *****

  "Alright, well, let's conclude this discussion, shall we? Any more questions, captains?"

  All of the captains were silent. Well, I have a large number of doubts, but I don't want to die.

  "Very well, then let's head our ways and catch up later."

  That's it? You didn't even talk about the black sheep or the traitor.

  All of them stood up and gave a small nod to the boss and left, and I saw Mairi's eyes glare at me for a moment before walking away.

  What's Malcolm's relationship with that lady anyway?

  "Well, Malcolm, how long would it take for you to get back on business?" Graham asked, stretching his coat as Doyle stood beside me.

  I didn't reply, if I did, I should give a reasonable timeframe for me to adapt.

  "Well, our Malcolm sure gets his fair share of pleasure from Eden, and he even did one right before arriving here," Doyle interjected.

  "So Malcolm will be able to be back on business if he is more than able to spend a night with fine ladies," Doyle said, followed by a giggle from Graham.

  "Well, a man has his own pleasures and priorities, don't pressure him, Doyle, even though you know him more than I do."

  "Yes, boss."

  "So Malcolm, when can we expect your return?"

  "One week would be ample."

  "One week, you say?"

  The room felt silent for a moment, but I shouldn't fear it.

  "Yes, boss, one week is enough."

  Graham looked at Doyle for a moment, his eyes contracted, and replied,

  "Very well, then, I am looking forward to your return."

  "Me too, boss," I said, trying my best to not break the act.

  "Alright, time for us to leave, Malcolm. Why don't we have some breakfast? After all, it's been months since we dined together."

  "Sure, why not?"

  "We will see ourselves out, boss," Doyle said as he gave a nod to Graham, and we exited the brewery by the same door we entered from.

  *****

  Doyle and I travelled in a car to the breakfast spot he mentioned, and by the looks of it, Doyle is quite comfortably well. Most people over here walk or use carriages, but Doyle had his own car. Regardless, it still wasn't as comfortable as the car Dad owned.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Tch, I shouldn't think about it. Calm down, calm down, go with the flow.

  The car took a right turn and entered the eastern port of Silverpark.

  "Is this where the restaurant is, Doyle?" I asked.

  "It's kind of a secret spot, you know, like the brewery where the boss discussed."

  "Oh."

  "Well, Malcolm, who do you think is the traitor after the discussion? Still on Arthur?"

  "My opinion has changed. What about you, Doyle?"

  "Oh, to whom?"

  "Mairi"

  "Hm, I see. Are you sure it's not because of your personal grudges with her? You two were tense today."

  Well, she scared me off

  "No, it isn't, the way she acts makes her suspicious," I said, trying to make a logical argument.

  "..."

  "What about you, Doyle?" I asked as we got out of the car.

  Getting out of that car felt like jumping down from a stool.

  "Well, my opinion changed too, Malcolm," Doyle said as he straightened his coat and walked towards me, his boots clattering against the gravel.

  "Hmm, and who might that be?" I took a glance at my watch, it read 7:03.

  Doyle suddenly yanked me, throwing his arms around me and making my wounded foot stumble.

  "Why don't you guess, Malcolm? Let's see how smart you are."

  "Struan?"

  "No, you are wrong."

  "Then who is—"

  My words were cut off as I felt a kick to my shin, and my feet lost their balance, and I fell on the gravel, my face bruising against it.

  Aagh

  "Still have no idea, Malcolm? It's of course you."

  What? Why is Malcolm the black sheep? Out of all the eight captains, why do I have to be Malcolm?

  "Malcolm, get on your knees with your hands above your head."

  I complied with what he said without putting up a fight.

  "Should I call you Malcolm or something else?"

  "What? What do you mean?"

  "Oh, come on, don't put up an act. You and I know that you aren't Malcolm Fraser; you are someone who possessed my friend's body, right?

  The hell? How did he find out so fast? Okay, okay, okay, do as you planned, Alyss, just don't blow your cover.

  "I am Malcolm, Doyle. No one possessed me, and I am not the traitor. You made a mistake."

  "Enough of your act, whoever you are. You can withdraw your ability and leave Malcolm," Doyle said as his navel started to glow with swirls.

  "Like I said, believe me, Doyle, I am Malcolm. I am not a traitor. It's not too late. I am not the traitor."

  "Oh shut up," Doyle said as he kicked my back.

  "Aggh"

  "If you really were Malcolm, you would have pinned me on the ground the moment my foot touched your shin."

  "I was hurt, you dumbass."

  "Dumbass?, what does it mean?" Doyle said, pressing my back with his boots.

  "It means you are stupid."

  "Oh, a new word, so you must be from another kingdom."

  "It's just a word I learned, Doyle. Now it isn't late. I am not the traitor; trust me."

  "So tell me, who ordered you to get into the body of Malcolm? Are you from another kingdom? Which one? Did Barter send you to cripple our family to get control of the eastern port? Tell me," he growled.

  "I don't know what you are talking about, Doyle. I am just Malcolm."

  "Well, yeah, my mistake, my mistake. I shouldn't have asked you a lot of questions at once, and it was immature of me to demand answers without giving anything. After all, in this business, information is money."

  "Doyle, trust me, I am Malcolm, not someone else."

  "I will tell you how I found out that you are not Malcolm so that maybe in the future when you do other jobs, you might not fail."

  "Doyle, listen to me."

  "You know I've been with Malcolm ever since Graham started this business. That's the reason he and I are captains of the first and second divisions, and I've known him for twenty plus years, so it's pretty easy to find out if my best man is being possessed by someone else, though you did put on quite a show. I should give you that. My doubt started when you first said you suspect Arthur, because little did you know, Arthur was brought in by Malcolm."

  What? Why didn't I think of that? Was I too hasty?

  "Arthur was a vagrant, he gave you a wonderful idea when you were in the drain, and you brought him in, and so when you cast your doubt on Arthur, I started to suspect you weren't Malcolm."

  Why are you so smart?

  "Though you did quite manage your act, you were stoic and didn't talk much, just like Malcolm did, and even made me go off-track by changing your doubt to Mairi. It was indeed amazing; Malcolm would have done that since, of course, any man will cast a doubt on the girl he abandoned."

  Was Mairi the girl Malcolm abandoned? what is happening? Why aren't the memories flowing into my mind like they usually do?

  "Doyle, you are getting it wrong. I am Malcolm. I am not possessed."

  "And finally," Doyle dragged the last word with a wicked sneer.

  "There isn't any breakfast spot near the east port of Silverpark, and I confirmed that you aren't Malcolm with that kick to your shin since if Malcolm wanted, he could easily overpower all the captains."

  "Doyle listen, listen I am wounded okay? That's why I wasn't able to fight back, and you are my friend. I thought it was another prank." I gave a logical reply, trying to escape.

  "You think I am a fool? Now answer me, you basta*d where are you from, and who sent you?"

  He kicked me again, my back throbbing with pain.

  "Doyle, just listen. Listen, please listen. I am Malcolm. I am not possessed."

  "Oh, come on, do you want me to kill you? You are in my friend's body, you fu*ker. That's why I can't kill you, otherwise, your brain will be spewed on the floor."

  "Don't kill me, please don't kill me, we can talk it out."

  "See, it's coming out. That's it. Say the truth. Tell me, who are you?"

  "Like I said, I am Malcolm Doyle, just listen to me."

  Doyle stopped kicking, but instead he pinned me on the ground, holding my head against the gravel, the sharp stones piercing my skin and making me take raspy breaths.

  "Listen, I am going to kill you, and you are going to die."

  "Hey, hey, hey, stop it, stop it. I am your friend Malcolm."

  "The family's going through a rough time, with the recent clash against the Silversparrows, the entire trade on the western port plummeted, and losing the east port will be the doom for us, and you are not sound enough to answer. That's why I will kill you, it will send the barter a message or to the one who hired you."

  "Please don't kill me please okay? , please, we can talk it out."

  Doyle held my head in his palm and turned my head towards him, lowered himself, and looked into my eyes and said,

  "Don't worry, this won't be painful. After all, you are inside my friend's body, just hold on tight, got it? it will just take a moment for your brain to explode from within."

  "Hey, stop it, stop it, stop it. I told you to stop it; we can talk it out," I cried out.

  He continued to hold my head, his navel glowing with fourteen swirls, and I started to feel the pain in my head as if something started to run inside my head.

  "St-sto-stop it...pl-e-ase," I breathed out the word.

  vrrr-

  My head exploded, and I died again.