I slip into the first shop I see, finding that it's the Café.
Slumping into the first chair visible, I bury my head into my hands, dizzy from a multitude of conflicted thoughts and images. I'm dizzy from the lack of oxygen- I did just sprint all the way from the roof of the school, down the stairs, through a bunch of streets all the way to the Café without pausing to breathe.
Damn. Had this been any other day, I would have been proud.
It is strangely quiet, which shouldn't be strange at all, considering the fact that this Café isn't very well known. I can faintly hear the sound of far off typing- the Café is directly connected to a Cyber Café with plenty of computers.
The only discernable sound is my rapid breathing as I desperately gulp up as much oxygen, disliking the idea of passing out.
Sealing my lips shut to stop the sound of my sobs, my shoulders shake.
'(Y/n)?'
I raise my head at the familiar voice, and am met with glowing amber orbs. Hana stares down at me, a backpack slung over one shoulder, quizzical.
'What are you doing here?' I manage to choke out before tears spill down my cheeks, dripping in turn onto the embroidered table cloth.
I am so incredibly sick of it all.
Always running, always hiding, always constantly on full alert. The effects of all the coiled up anxiety bursts out of me in one go.
'Oh God... (Y/n), what's wrong?' Hana pulls out a seat next to me, and rummages into her bag for a tissue, offering it to me. I take it gratefully, and wipe away my tears, horrified to find I just can't stop crying.
To her credit, Hana sits patiently next to me, gently patting my back until I calm down sufficiently enough to speak.
'S-sorry... this must be so random for you...' I mumble. The brunette shakes her head, smiling slightly.
'It's fine.' A heartbeat of silence passes by, before Hana speaks.
'D'you want a drink? It's on me.' She offers, gesturing to the menu in front of her.
'Water is fine.' I answer, finding that my throat is parched.
Hana nods, waving over the waiter nearby.
'One cappuccino and water, please.' With that order, the waiter waltzes off.
The air is humming with muted energy, and the sun set is prominent as ever, extending its fingers throughout the Café and bathing it in a warm, unearthly glow. My phone buzzes out of the blue, startling me. Hana giggles quietly at my surprised expression.
Flushing slightly, I pardon myself.
One text message from Cat Boy the screen read.
My lips quirk up slightly at the name.
It was a complete spur-of-the-moment thing, calling Minuet 'Cat Boy'. That phrase amuses me very much, especially since it reminds me of the priceless look he'd given me once I'd accidentally-on-purpose blurted it out.
》》》●《《《
CAT BOY: Where are you?
ME: I'm at a Café with a friend
CAT BOY: Was is that June girl?
ME: Uh, no. Not exactly
CAT BOY: I'm getting fishy vibes from this.
Tell me it's not who I think it is?
ME: Oh no, it's not him. I'm with Hana.
You know, that girl in my group?
CAT BOY: A study session for the project?
You could have told me sooner
ME: Um
Well
Not exactly?
CAT BOY: What's. Wrong.
ME: Nothing...
Never mind. It's something
I've got some... interesting developments to
talk to you about
But now is not the time
Gotta go, my drink is here
CAT BOY: Don't you dare leave me hanging after
that sentence.
(Y/n)?
》》》●《《《
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I ignore the insistent buzzing of my phone, and the sinking feeling in my gut.
I ought to excuse myself and go home right now, because both I and Minuet are no longer even remotely safe- not even the slightest bit. My first priority should be to tell him of the events right now and make a plan to avoid getting caught by Paris and...
And...
The rising wetness of tears returns to my eyes. I scoop up the glass of water and gulp it down hurriedly.
'So...' Hana trails off, twirling her straw in her coffee.
'Want to talk about what's bothering you?' I'm tempted to say no, but another part of me wants to disclose everything. To take away the weight off my shoulders, even if it's temporarily.
'Say... y-you thought you knew someone. Say you thought you knew someone better than you knew yourself. And it was the same vice versa. But you're wrong, and it turns out that you don't know them at all.' I start, fiddling with my sleeve, eyes set on the half-empty glass of water.
'What do you do?' Lifting my gaze up, I'm surprised to find Hana with a strangely contemplative expression. I didn't want her to think too much into this.
'Well for one, I'd try not to jump to conclusions- unless, that is, if it's life threatening, in which case I can pardon myself on that-' Fuckity.
'But what if it is life-threatening- hypothetically speaking, of course!' I hastily amend my slip up and internally kick myself. I shouldn't have said that! What if she thinks something suspicious is going on?
'Well, hypothetically speaking, I would try erasing them from my life. Completely.' Hana returns, and in turn sips her drink.
'But what if you can't?' I find myself whispering.
'Then, I'd use the cover of friends and family to protect myself. If this situation is as bad as it is, I'd slowly disentangle myself from it.' I watch in amazement as Hana calmly answers, unfazed by my questionable questions.
'If it's a situation where suspicion is involved I'd try to erase the suspicion.' She continues, eyes following my nervous fidgeting.
'What if I'm...' My voice is getting quieter, but the words are heard nonetheless.
'What if I'm going to die? What if I'm no longer safe?'
Hana answers, her tone betraying her calm demeanour.
'If I'm going to get killed, then either I get other people involved, or I deal with it myself.'
We are no longer hypothetically speaking.
.
.
.
.
I don't think of myself as selfless.
The thought of being selfless has never occurred to me.
That quality was for heroes, for the brave, the ones with confidence and unwavering trust in their abilities, in other words...
Someone not like me.
And so I play Otome games where the main protagonist is the ideal, flawless female with a lack of self-esteem and limited belief in their abilities. They are usually in need of a certain "someone" in their lives. The female would eventually grow to become irresistible, showing their worth through acts of courage I never thought I would ever be capable of doing.
Acts that are selfless. Acts that aren't like me.
Sure, I believe that I myself have to somehow contribute to the plot; but all the heavy-loading and hard work hads to be handed onto the significant other.
They were the ones to look up to, and the ones to swoon into the arms of.
They were the selfless ones. Not me.
So why do I feel obligated to throw my life on the line?
.
.
.
.
But what if this fails? I shake that thought out of my head.
'Why... why would you deal with the situation yourself when you could get other people involved?' I already know the answer, but I ask Hana nonetheless, to try alleviate any scepticism. I can't get other people involved because I harbour a dangerous secret.
I can't get other people involved because...
'Because there are people worth protecting.' Hana answers simply.
And then a pause, '... Hypothetically speaking.'
.
.
.
.
'Thanks again.' I wave, then turn my back to the café in the direction of my house. I feel much lighter from my conversation with Hana. She's pretty therapeutic.
I quickly rush through darkened alleyways, hand enclosed around my phone tightly, getting out of them without any disruptions, much to my relief. I have no intention of staying outside for longer than necessary- my house isn't close by after all.
It's approaching night, and the sky seems ten shades darker than when I'd last seen it. I must have been chatting with Hana for longer than I thought.
Right. A left turn here...
I make it to the general vicinity of my neighbourhood. A sophisticated diner is just up the road, and a limo has just stopped outside it.
Wonder what brings them here. I saunter closer, intending to pass by quickly and get a peek at whoever this is.
A few hundred metres directly ahead of me, the limo's door opens
And what I see gives me the second heart attack of the day.
.
.
.
.
Paris Templar, like the perfect gentleman he is, stands outside door, hand extended for whoever is to step out.
A slender woman of a height of about 5'6'', vastly booted up thanks to her stilettos (I suspect) steps out, accepting his hand with a gracious smile.
She exudes glamour. A long, regal black dress hugs her figure, with carefully tailored slits on the sides to reveal smooth thighs. Her clothing spares space for some cleavage, complete with criss-crossing straps just about keeping the outfit together at the back. Her hair, a deep set shade of crimson with blue, cat-like eyes as bright as Paris's; staring at him with some warmth; cheeks slightly flushed.
And this isn't the issue. Really. I couldn't care less about Paris's taste. Maybe a few weeks ago but now? Ugh, no.
It's the fact that the woman oozes magic. Literally. Ever pore of hers sends out waves of energy reaching out to me despite being positioned a few hundred metres away, frozen.
At this rate, she'd tire herself out. Did she really need to keep up this 'transformation' that much?
Then again, this is exactly what Paris wants.
Ducking into the nearest alleyway, I whip out my phone, hurriedly texting Cat Bo- Minuet.
》》》●《《《
ME: I think Paris has found new prey.
And for once, it's not me tonight.
Meet me at the car park of the diner.
QUICKLY.
