Chapter 9 They Both Mistook the Son

Caspian missing?

Alaric rushed to his bedroom, witnessing sheets trailing from the bed to the downstairs window. Had Caspian risked a leap from the second floor to follow the Galatea?

"Search!" commanded Alaric. "I want everyone on this!"

Galatea had just left; Caspian couldn't have gone far.

Meanwhile, Harry, who had been hiding in the bushes, only emerged when all was quiet. His mother and the man—where had they gone?

As Harry stepped out, preparing to call his mother, an overjoyed voice erupted behind him, "Mr. Knight, we found Caspian!"

Before Harry could react, a flurry of maids rushed towards him. He was baffled.

Are they talking about me, Caspian?

"Caspian, this is completely unacceptable!" Alaric approached with a stern look, scolding him firmly.

Harry's eyes widened in confusion.

"Caspian, you can't just run off like that; it's too dangerous!" Liona, having found an empty bedroom, was equally terrified. "You can't go wandering off again."

"Are you looking for me?" Harry was even more puzzled.

"Of course, we're looking for you, Caspian," said Liona, examining his outfit. "When did you get these clothes? I've never seen them before."

"Did you prepare this to run away from home?" Alaric's tone grew colder.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," Harry confessed, bewildered. "I'm not Caspian. I don't know you. I need to get home to my mom before I get caught again."

After speaking his piece, Harry turned to leave but hadn't taken more than a couple of steps when the tall man scooped him up in his arms.

"You're trying to kill me with worry, aren't you?" Alaric was furious, yet fearing he might provoke a health crisis in Caspian, he swallowed his anger and said, "How many times do I have to tell you? That woman is not, and will never be, your mother. Got that?"

"Sir, what are you talking about? I don't understand,” Harry replied.

"Caspian, you can't say things like that; you're going to break my heart," said Alaric.

Could this wealthy and handsome man be his dad? No, it might be—he was searching for his runaway son and now mistook Harry for his own son. That was Harry's quick deduction.

So, what did this mean? That he and the man's son were identical?

Before Harry could process the situation further, Alaric was already carrying him back to the hall. Entering the grand space, Harry's eyes widened.

"Is this a palace or something?" Harry asked in astonishment.

Alaric set him down on a couch and crouched before him, his gaze softening. "Caspian, whatever happens, you must never run away from home again, hear me?"

"My name's Caspian?" He seemed to recall hearing that name just a moment ago.

Alaric's heart skipped a beat at the question and the vacant look in his eyes, so he hurriedly reached out to feel Harry's forehead. Was he feverish, or was this a relapse of some sort? Why was he speaking nonsense?

"Caspian, don't scare me. What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

Seeing Alaric so worried, Harry realized he needed to play along to avoid suspicion, so he improvised, "When I ran off earlier, I hit my head. Now, some things are a little foggy."

Alaric's forehead beaded with sweat in visible anxiety, and he quickly instructed Liona, "Get Cormac and the doctors, all of them, now!"

With the order given, Liona set off to make calls while Harry was left to ponder.

"The things that happen in this world are truly strange - mistaking someone for your son. So, if he's mistaken me for his child, where has the real Caspian gone off to?"

At that moment, the real Caspian was dragging Galatea along in a sprint until she could run no more.

"Are you hiding some guilty secret?" Galatea pressed, catching the panic in his demeanor. "Why all this haste?"

Realizing she was onto him, Caspian broke out in a nervous sweat, then quickly insisted, "I haven't caused any trouble; I'm just really hungry. Remember last time, Mom, you said you'd make me barbecue? That's all I want right now."

"For just that?" she asked.

Caspian nodded resolutely.

Galatea could never stay mad at him, so with a sigh, they hailed a taxi and headed home.

The mansion was abuzz with a lively energy that Harry hadn't even experienced during his hospital stay. Surrounded by more doctors than ever, he felt a little overwhelmed.

After a thorough top-to-toe examination, the doctor announced, "Mr. Knight, rest assured, there's nothing wrong with Caspian."

"But how could he forget his own name?" Alaric questioned and his anxiety palpable.

Before the doctor could reply, Cormac chimed in skeptically, "Is he truly unable to remember, or is he just trying to get a rise out of you?"

Leaning in closely with a smirk, Cormac asked Harry, "Caspian, who am I?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, his lips pursed and his innocent eyes wide with speechless confusion.

Cormac, exasperated, pressed, "I'm Cormac – your Cormac. You don't recognize me?"

Firmly, the doctors interjected, looking at one another in agreement, "Mr. Knight, we've done a comprehensive check. There's genuinely no issue with his health."

Alaric furrowed his brow, conflicted. They had brought in numerous doctors to no avail, but Caspian didn't seem to be lying either.

"Dad!" Amid his contemplation, Alaric felt a tug on his shirt. Harry was looking up at him with an angelic expression. "Maybe it's just the knock on the head that made me forget a few things. I'll probably recover soon, so don't worry."

Harry had just decided. He was going to get to the bottom of this, convinced it wouldn't take long. His smartwatch was on his wrist, keeping his mother within reach at any moment.

"Are you feeling unwell anywhere?" Alaric asked with concern.

"No, Dad. Show me around the house, and maybe it'll jog my memory," Harry suggested with a shake of his head.

"All right, then." Swooping him up, Alaric carried Harry to what was Caspian's bedroom.

Inside, Harry was convinced that this Caspian kid was the same one who had run away from home. He couldn't fathom why anyone would flee such a comfortable life with a wealthy and good-looking father.