a strange man

"Morning, Kaluu," I say as I step out of the tent.

"Morning, Bamba. Coffee?" he asks, holding out a cup.

I glance at it. "But… you're drinking it, aren't you?"

He giggles. "Nope. I made it for you."

I take the cup from his hand. "I saw a whole bookshelf in the tent. How did you even carry those? There's no driveway in the woods. Don't tell me you hauled them all here yourself. That must've been a nightmare."

I sigh softly. "You're a strange man, Luu."

He takes a sip of his own coffee. "If that didn't come from a woman who nearly drowned in the Sitt Town River last night, it might actually mean something."

"You're not going to ask me about it?" I ask, unsure.

"If it'll make you uncomfortable, no. But if you want to talk, I'm here."

I press my chest playfully. "I'm touched."

He gives me a side glance. "Aren't you gonna leave? Don't you have somewhere to go?"

That line hits me like a spark. Blade. Lualing. The Temple.

"The Temple! I have to get to the Temple—she might be waiting for me!"

He stares at me like I just said something absurd. "Temple? She? Don't tell me you mean Azalea."

"Yes! Her! Oh no—I gotta run!"

He grabs my hand. "Whoa, slow down. You don't even know the way out of this forest. And the Temple's not going anywhere. I'll take you."

He bends to one knee and starts untying his shoes.

"What are you doing?" I ask, confused.

"Your feet are wounded. No woman walks barefoot on my watch."

He slips off his shoes and hands them to me.

"You're not gonna put them on for me?" I tease as I take them.

"I believe in self-service, young lady. Now if you don't mind, I'll pack things up. We're leaving in ten minutes."

We walk for over an hour until finally, we break through the trees and see the sun rising from behind the cursed forest.

The golden light spreads across his face like a brushstroke in an expensive painting. Even his oddly shaped nostrils seem poetic under the ruby glow of sunrise. The sweat on his skin glimmers like dew on bronze.

"I guess this is goodbye," he says with relief, catching his breath.

Even I, with my weak stamina, feel fine. But he's already winded.

He steps a bit away from me, like he's ready to part—but there's still one problem.

"Wait… I… I don't know how to get to the Temple," I admit awkwardly.

"Oh… right. You probably don't have any coin on you. Here, take this." He hands me two coins.

"It's not that… I don't know how to use the train." The embarrassment creeps up my throat like fire.

He stares at me, stunned. I can see it on his face—What kind of 20-year-old doesn't know how to use public transport?

But he doesn't say a thing. He just helps.

We board the train together. On the way, he teaches me how to get around—how to read the signs, which side to stand on, when to transfer.

But not a single word sticks. My head is a blur. I'm exhausted, overwhelmed, on the brink of giving up. If time weren't running out, I would've just walked.

Just when my patience snaps—

"We're here," he says.

The Central Temple.