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One More Time! – Part 02

As the baby nestled into La Guardia’s embrace, he stopped crying. A boy with a large, star-shaped birthmark on his forehead. Staring at his peaceful face, La Guardia chuckled softly. She hummed lullabies and cared for him attentively. Her smile grew warmer. Glancing at the dress in the suitcase, she drifted into happy thoughts.

Suddenly, one of the men roughly tapped her shoulder. Startled, she looked up.

“You don’t have to look after that woman’s child.”

“…”

“Getting mixed up with the wrong crowd will lead you down a dark path. If you were my daughter, I wouldn’t let you associate with such women. I’d beat you until you cried.”

La Guardia stared at the man in silence, bewildered.

The man let out a sigh of resignation. “Suit yourself. Some folks are just too kind-hearted for their own good.”

La Guardia resumed comforting the baby. He giggled.

After some time, the woman returned, unsteady on her feet.

La Guardia attempted to hand the baby back, but overcome with exhaustion, the woman brushed off La Guardia and turned away, drifting into sleep almost instantly. Perplexed, La Guardia sighed but adjusted the baby in her arms and whispered a prayer. She closed her eyes, slipping into slumber herself.

Within the ship, darkness deepened. Night weighed heavy. The weary sleepers, the guardian of the baby, La Guardia, faded into the shadows of the past. The ship pressed on.

There was no turning back for those who had fled the old world. Forward was their only direction. Like a vessel ferrying the departed or, perhaps, the damned, adrift in the ocean.

The black night veiled the sky, shrouding the ship and dyeing the sea. Time passed.

Morning light streamed through the porthole, casting a spotlight on La Guardia. She slept peacefully, her face aglow with innocence.

Immigrants sleeping on the floor began to stir, rising to their feet one by one. They sensed the ship slowing down. The engine roared like a beast.

In a medley of tongues, they cried out, “We’re here!” “We’ve reached our destination!” Immigrants clamored up the stairs, eager to disembark.

La Guardia rose as well, joy radiating from her face. “We’re here! My new beginning!”

A chorus of languages rang out from the deck, reciting the age-old poem of the New World.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

La Guardia’s voice echoed softly, “Passing through the blue gate, grasping the beacon of hope! We will become new people, standing tall!”

Hope radiated from her profile. Glancing around, she quickly slipped into the white dress in the suitcase before anyone returned to the cabin. It complemented her black hair and dark eyes perfectly.

“Hey Betsy, what do you think? I look great, don’t I?”

She looked at the sleeping woman and baby beside her.

La Guardia shook the woman anxiously. “I-It can’t be!”

The woman lay there exhausted, eyes wide open. She had passed away. Her limbs were stiff, and her skin had turned deathly pale.

La Guardia cried out in alarm. “How could this happen? We met each other by chance, and we dreamed of reaching the New World together. Why?! Betsy!”

She swiftly packed the bundle of letters and coins into the suitcase, then snapped it shut. Casting a regretful glance at the mother and child, she tried to leave the cabin.

But then, the baby in Betsy’s lifeless arms started crying. La Guardia paused and glanced back.

“I’m sorry, little one, but I…” Shaking her head, she dashed out of the cabin, bounding up the narrow staircase two steps at a time.

Emerging onto the deck, she beheld the Statue of Liberty against the blue morning sky. She let out a gasp of admiration as she gazed up with delight. Standing before the colossal bronze figure, she was overwhelmed with emotion.

“Lady of the New World… A new land…”

Dragging the suitcase, she disembarked from the ship and strode forward. She cast a sorrowful glance back at the vessel.

“Poor mother and child,” she mumbled, making the sign of the cross. She hurried ahead.

The large blue gate of Ellis Island’s immigration office stood open. The colors of the sky, the sea, the cosmos, and the future merged. La Guardia slowly vanished into the gate, moving towards the future.

They stood in line like livestock, and after much struggle, finally obtained their immigration permits. Boarding a ferry to New York Harbor, they landed on Manhattan Island, where buildings towered like trees in a rectangular forest. A crowd of people awaited them. In contrast to the immigrants’ varied traditional attire, the residents of the new world wore chic suits, bowler hats, and carried canes. The immigrants fell silent, intimidated by the sight.

La Guardia fearfully stepped forward.

“Oh…”

A young man, dressed in typical New World fashion, held up a plaque with a message in English, smiling eagerly as if expecting someone.

In front of him was a large gray stone that seemed out of place, like it belonged in a wilderness rather than the port. It exuded a distinct atmosphere from its surroundings.

La Guardia read the plaque, then sprinted towards the man. She stumbled over the stone, nearly falling, but swiftly recovered.

The man spotted the approaching woman. “The dress I sent! It looks perfect on you!” he exclaimed. “La Guardia, you’ve blossomed beautifully!”

“Likewise! I recognized you right away!”

They grinned, showing their coins and slowly connecting them. The dragon coin gleamed golden in the evening sun, a beacon of hope. The start of better days. La Guardia’s dreamed future was finally taking shape.

Then came an obstacle.

The gray stone beside the man began to stir. What seemed like stone revealed itself as the phantom of Victorique de Blois, cloaked in gray fabric. Her silver hair shone like a celestial shower.

Approaching from behind, she reached out and gently tapped the shoulder of the past La Guardia. She poked her head out of the gray fabric to reveal green eyes as mystic as an ancient lake. Glimmering silver locks. Sinister beauty.

Her glossy, cherry lips parted. “I see through your ruse.”

Fifteen-year-old La Guardia turned around in surprise. “Huh?”

“Huh?”

In the grand hall atop the Apocalypse building.

Gathered were guests with ashen faces. Smoking her golden pipe, La Guardia, aged sixty-five, stared fixedly at Victorique with a self-assured demeanor and ice-cold eyes.

“What ruse would that be?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

Snapping back to reality, the guests exchanged perplexed glances.

Beside La Guardia stood the Mayor and his wife, accompanied by their kin, a group of lawyers, the police chief, and his retinue.

A short distance away stood a diminutive figure cloaked in gray fabric—Victorique de Blois.

Bon Vivant, who had been standing idly between the two, asked, “What do you mean by ruse, Wonder Girl?”

“Your story contains a lie!” Victorique muttered stubbornly, hanging her head.

Her complexion was pallid, and her legs trembled, on the verge of collapse. Noticing her condition, La Guardia regarded her with keen interest, as though she had encountered a curious creature.

Befuddled, Bon Vivant pressed on, “But Granny’s story of the immigrant ship is the epitome of the Bluecandy family’s history that we’ve heard for decades. There’s nothing strange about it, no?”

He took his top hat and twirled it around.

“I’ve loved this story since childhood. A young girl sailing alone to a new world! That’s how Wonder Girl’s legend began. A girl traveling solo to a new planet and achieving many a great feat. Essentially, Wonder Girl symbolizes us immigrants. And Granny is what we all strive to be.” He puffed his chest proudly. “There’s no lie anywhere.”

“Absolutely. Isn’t that right, everyone?” La Guardia scanned the hall with a graceful smile.

The guests remained silent, their gazes on the floor. La Guardia cast a brief glance at Victorique.

“You seem to be exhausted from the journey, young lady. Why not leave the deduction to the others and rest? It appears help is on its way. Let’s wait for them to arrive and open the emergency exit.”

“Yeah,” Bon Vivant agreed. “Coup is coming, too. And so is Linlin.”

At the mention of Linlin, Victorique lifted her head with a shudder. A peculiar, pained expression crossed her face. She looked downward, stamping her feet in place.

“That no-good, scatterbrained fool. Why would he return to a dangerous place?”

La Guardia smirked. “Let’s drop this topic and wait for help. My gut feeling says there won’t be any worries about the third bomb exploding before then. Nothing to fret about.”