Mysterious Girl

The woman approached Arga, though her gaze slightly avoided his. A faint smile was hidden behind the mask she still wore, as if reluctant to show her true feelings. Hesitantly, she extended her hand, her slender fingers trembling slightly. "Don't get the wrong idea. I just want to say… thank you. If you hadn't been there, everything would've fallen apart," she said with a half-irritated tone, though warmth lingered beneath her words.

"Happy to help," Arga replied, shaking her hand warmly. A faint smile graced his face.

From a distance, Sanaa turned away, trying to distract herself. Yet, the crowd's cheers and their laughter only intensified the burning sensation in her chest. She bit her lower lip, struggling to calm the storm she couldn't control.

As the night deepened, they walked back to the inn. The night sky was studded with stars, but the atmosphere between them felt heavy. Sanaa walked slightly behind, her eyes fixed on the cobblestone path ahead. Arga and the woman seemed to converse quietly, their voices occasionally audible between the sound of their footsteps.

At the inn's entrance, Sanaa finally couldn't hold back any longer. She stopped, prompting Arga to turn with a raised eyebrow.

"You seemed to really enjoy your time with that woman," she said abruptly. Her voice was sharper than she intended.

Arga tilted his head, clearly surprised. "What do you mean? That was just part of the game."

"But you were too close to her," Sanaa retorted, her voice faltering, though her eyes remained fierce. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down.

Arga stepped closer, narrowing his eyes as if trying to read her expression. After a moment of silence, a slow smile spread across his face. "Wait. Are you… jealous?"

Sanaa froze. Her tongue felt tied, but her increasingly red face gave the answer she couldn't voice. She wanted to deny it, but the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Arga chuckled softly, his voice low and soothing. "You know, you don't need to worry about her. She's nobody. I'm here, with you."

Sanaa's eyes softened, but her heart remained shrouded in doubt. It wasn't because she didn't trust Arga, but because she doubted herself. She nodded slowly, trying to calm her emotions.

As they entered the inn, Nico was already waiting in the lobby with a broad grin. "Hey! How did it go? Why does Sana look so glum? Did you guys lose?" he asked enthusiastically.

Arga simply smiled while pulling out a small pouch filled with coins. "Of course not. Look at this 600 coins as our prize money."

Nico's eyes widened with excitement. "Amazing! I knew you guys would win!" he exclaimed, jumping slightly. "Oh, and you've already bought food? Tomorrow we're feasting! But for now, it's time to rest."

That night passed quickly. The next morning, as the sun broke through the darkness of night, they returned to the bustling city streets to look for breakfast and gather information. The fresh morning air and the lively hum of the market drew them into the city's unending rhythm. Yet behind the laughter and light conversations, the shadow of unresolved feelings still loomed over Sanaa.

In the heart of the city, they found the town hall towering majestically amidst the bustling crowd. Surrounded by open dining areas adorned with East Asian ornaments, the atmosphere resembled a lively marketplace. Life here felt so vivid—the tempting aroma of food filled the air, mingling with the chatter of voices from various Asian nations. Traditional buildings lined the streets, displaying intricate wooden carvings and gently swaying red lanterns, adding a touch of warmth to the modern chaos. In this place, diversity appeared as a symphony, creating a natural harmony.

Arga, Nico, and Sana walked slowly down the street, their steps dragging from hunger after a full day without eating. They finally settled on a small, striking eatery adorned with East Asian-style decorations a blend of Chinese and Japanese aesthetics. The establishment radiated warmth, as if calling out to anyone passing by to stop in.

As they stepped inside, a cozy ambiance immediately enveloped them. The sound of chopsticks clinking against bowls mixed with the cheerful laughter of patrons, while the delicate scent of jasmine tea blended with the aroma of stir-fried dishes filled the air. The faces around them varied: visitors from China, Japan, Korea, and even some from Southeast Asia, all enjoying their time together in this little spot.

"I'll order the food," Sana said, heading to the cashier. Meanwhile, Arga and Nico began scanning the room for an empty table. Their eyes landed on a small table in the corner, just big enough for four.

However, as they approached to sit down, a cloaked figure suddenly emerged from the crowd, claiming the table before them. Arga stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed as he studied the figure intently. The person's face and head were completely covered, but something about them felt familiar. Then, like a puzzle piece falling into place, Arga realized who it was—the person they had seen earlier at the gate, the owner of the same mysterious license plate as theirs.

Arga suppressed his growing curiosity. He glanced over at Sana, still at the cashier. With a hand gesture, he signaled her to order four portions of food, even though his mind was swirling with questions about this uninvited guest. The cloaked figure remained silent, showing no signs of objection to their presence.

From afar, Sana glanced toward their table. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she caught sight of the cloaked figure. Yet she chose not to say anything. Her hands remained busy completing the order, though a clear tension was etched on her face, as if she too sensed something unusual was unfolding.

The wooden table where they sat radiated an odd silence, despite the lively chatter and clinking plates filling the air from nearby tables. Arga, Nico, and Sana exchanged glances in silence, while the cloaked figure seated across from Arga remained motionless, bowing their head in an increasingly thickening quiet. The awkward atmosphere enveloped them, making every second feel elongated, as though time itself refused to move.