Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Sterling is Multifaceted!-Chapter 281: Ethan Sterling Gets Beaten

Ethan Sterling took a deep breath, forcing himself to endure, his fingers unconsciously caressing the tattoo on his wrist.

He stroked it over and over, closing his eyes to rest.

In just over twenty hours, he would be back in Z Country, and he could get Seraphina Redgrave out.

The freighter started to sway, indicating it was moving, and the refugees in the hold couldn’t control their balance, swaying left and right as the cramped space gradually filled with the low curses of men.

"Fuck you! Was it you who pushed me just now?"

No one knew who started the fight, but in such a cramped space, it soon turned into a brawl.

The conflict drew close to Ethan, and suddenly someone threw themselves onto him. In the darkness, a fist swung harshly towards his face.

Ethan abruptly opened his eyes and instinctively turned his head, dodging the punch.

Then he pushed the man off him, who crashed into the hard wall with a cry of pain, making a loud disturbance.

The noise was loud enough for those above to notice. The person in charge lifted the hatch to the hold, a strong beam of white light shining down, followed by the head of the person in charge peering in.

In the beam of the flashlight, he saw the faces of three men with clear signs of having been beaten. Without giving them a chance to explain, he said directly, "Throw them overboard to feed the fish! They have some nerve, causing trouble the moment they arrive. Who knows what kind of trouble they’ll cause once we’re further out."

The three men pleaded repeatedly, but their voices could not move the hearts of the hardened smugglers.

Silence returned to the hold, but the unease in people’s hearts grew stronger; some fragile women even began to sob quietly.

Suddenly, Ethan felt a cool sensation slide across his face, then something seemed to flow out. He reached up to touch it, and it was his own blood.

Something must have cut his face.

If discovered.

The three men earlier were a cautionary tale.

The smugglers might not have the nerve to take his life, but if he were discovered, he would surely not make it back.

In the darkness, he wasn’t sure where he was injured and could only use his sour, foul-smelling sleeve to vigorously wipe his face.

The freighter continued to sway left and right.

Those who were seasick couldn’t help but vomit, the acidic smell growing stronger and more nauseating in the hold.

Ethan felt his stomach churning and could only once again touch the cat-shaped tattoo on his wrist, trying to use this method to ignore his discomfort.

It was then that he realized he didn’t have anything on him that bore Seraphina’s trace.

In this oppressive and terrible environment, extreme emotions easily fester. The ruthless abandonment of the three refugees had only kept these people quiet for about two hours before others began to stir up trouble again.

"Come on! Hit me! Better kill me! I’m not gonna survive anyway; might as well take some with me!"

It was unclear who started the provocation, but someone with already bad temper lunged forward to silence him, starting a fight.

The timid began to plead, whimpering.

Ethan was hit by a hand reaching out from who knows where, but he didn’t retaliate, hoping the other person would stop. However, the other grew bolder, bringing companions along.

Enduring pain, Ethan fell to the ground, a thought flashing through his muddled mind.

He had to hold on.

He had to return to his country.

He couldn’t cause any trouble.

"Bam!"

Someone punched Ethan hard in the stomach, making him groan in pain. He worried retaliating would cause more trouble, so he just blocked the blows.

The people opposite thought he was a coward, which drew even more refugees to join in.

Punch after punch landed on Ethan.

Not long after.

A few oily, obese men pinned him down, raining punches and kicks in an attempt to vent their dissatisfaction with life.

In such circumstances, Ethan felt, for a moment, like he was back in Hibiscus Garden, being abused as a child.

He bit his lip hard, filling his mouth with the taste of blood; he had to endure.

Suddenly, Ethan almost cried out, as something sharp pierced under his nail.

The pain made his pupils contract sharply, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his neck, as his nail was pried off forcefully.

"!"

Still, Ethan gritted his teeth, cold sweat soaking his hair, sticking wetly to his forehead.

The beating went on for a long time, yet Ethan managed to tough it out.

It wasn’t until the person in charge threw down some bread to replenish strength that they stopped their violence, scrambling madly for the bread as if the chaos had never occurred.

Slowly, Ethan curled up, leaning against the wall, gripping his middle finger, missing half a nail.

Gripping it tightly, until the blood couldn’t flow.

His hand was covered in blood.

Woman.

Ha.

This time, I’ve suffered so much for you.

If you still dare to say you don’t love me, then...

Ethan pressed his lips together, his breathing quickened.

Forget it, love and all that can be discussed later.

Hold on for me.

Don’t die.

He’s coming back.

In the darkness, with no sense of time’s flow, Ethan fell into a groggy sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, a beam of orange-yellow light fell into his vision.

A familiar shade of light, like the lamp at her bedside when she sleeps.

The light seemed to have magic, drawing his attention, looking up to see the tightly blocked hatch was open, with a girl sitting at the edge.

She wore a warm yellow knitted sweater, below which was a white gauze skirt. She was barefoot, her smooth ankles shining white.

Her legs swung back and forth.

The girl’s fingers delicately unwrapped a candy, slipping the pink sweet into her mouth with graceful fingers.

The sweetness brought her great joy, and she looked at Ethan with pleasure in her eyes, "Ethan, I really like this candy."

Really?

How much do you like it?

Ethan reached out to her, almost touching her—but then the stabbing pain brought him back to reality.

When he opened his eyes again, there was no orange-yellow light, only darkness, oppressively stifling darkness, and Seraphina couldn’t possibly appear out of nowhere.

He paused sharply, raising his good right hand to tap his head.

It was a hallucination.

But why would he suddenly have such a hallucination?

He shook his head; it must have been because his head was struck, because he hadn’t slept for more than ten hours, because he hadn’t eaten anything, and the constant rocking of the boat.

It must be that.

Nothing to do with the madness in his genes.