A Sudden Midnight Departure

Clara closed Aunt Melissa's door gently, leaning against the wall outside for a moment. The weight of the conversation pressed against her, but she couldn't dwell on it for long. She had a task to complete, and the sense of urgency in Aunt Melissa's voice left no room for hesitation.

Clara retreated to her room, the quietness of the second floor amplifying her thoughts. She turned on her desk lamp, its warm glow spilling over the neatly arranged notebooks and pens scattered across the surface. Grabbing her laptop, she powered it on and opened a browser to search for flights to Kuala Lumpur.

Her fingers moved quickly over the keys, navigating the website. She found an early flight at 12 a.m. and booked it without hesitation. The confirmation email pinged in her inbox seconds later.

"12 a.m.," she whispered to herself, glancing at the clock. It was already past nine, leaving her just enough time to prepare.

Clara pulled a backpack from her closet and began packing. She was deliberate, choosing only the essentials: comfortable clothes, her toiletries, her passport, and the notepad where Aunt Melissa had scribbled Victor Kane's address. She slipped in a small, leather-bound notebook she used for sketching and journaling, thinking it might come in handy.

On a whim, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and retrieved a compact self-defense kit—a few tools she'd trained with during her martial arts practice. She hesitated before placing them in her bag, a subtle reminder of how serious this trip might become.

By the time she finished, her room was neatly organized again, as though she hadn't just packed her life into a single suitcase. Clara zipped it up and took a deep breath, her hand lingering on the handle.

She stepped out into the hallway, pausing outside Felix's room. Light seeped from under the door, and she could hear the faint sound of music playing inside. She knocked softly, waiting for the music to stop before Felix's voice called out.

"Yeah?"

Clara pushed the door open to find Felix sitting cross-legged on his bed, his laptop balanced on his knees. He looked up, his brows lifting in surprise at the sight of her suitcase.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, shutting the laptop and setting it aside.

Clara nodded. "I need you to take me to the airport."

Felix blinked in confusion. "The airport? At this hour? What's going on?"

"It's complicated," Clara said.

Felix stood, his concern growing. "Clara, if something's wrong, just tell me. I can help—"

"I'm fine, Felix," she interrupted. "I just need a ride. Can you do that for me?"

Felix stared at her, his mouth opening as though to argue, but then he sighed. "Yeah, of course. Let me grab my keys."

"Thanks," Clara said, already moving toward the stairs.

Felix followed her, still puzzled by her sudden departure. As they descended the staircase, Felix tried again. "You're not really going to leave me hanging, are you? What's this all about?"

Clara reached the landing and turned toward the side stairs leading to the garage. She didn't meet his gaze. "It's something Aunt Melissa asked me to do."

Felix paused. "Aunt Melissa? What does she need you to do that can't wait until morning?"

Clara's grip on the backpack tightened as she pushed open the door to the garage. "I can't explain right now, Felix. Just trust me, okay?"

Felix frowned, following her into the garage. His car sat waiting in the dim light, its glossy black surface reflecting the overhead lamp. He hesitated before unlocking the doors, watching as Clara placed her backpack at the back.

"I trust you," Felix said. "I just don't like being in the dark."

Clara softened. "I'll explain everything when I can. Right now, I just need to get to the airport."

Felix nodded reluctantly, sliding into the driver's seat. Clara settled into the passenger side, her mind already racing ahead to the flight and what lay beyond.

The drive to the airport was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine and the soft tunes playing from the radio. Felix didn't press her for details, sensing that she wasn't ready to talk.

When they finally pulled up to the terminal, Felix turned to her. "You sure you're okay?"

Clara smiled faintly, touched by his concern. "I will be. Thanks for the ride."

Felix nodded, his hand lingering on the steering wheel. "Text me when you land, okay? And... be careful."

"I will," Clara promised, grabbing her backpack.

She gave him a small wave before heading into the terminal, her heart pounding in her chest. The reality of the situation settled over her as she navigated the check-in process and made her way to the gate.

As she waited to board, Clara pulled out her notebook and flipped through its pages. She stopped on a blank one, her pen hovering above the paper. After a moment of hesitation, she began to write:

Victor Kane. Kuala Lumpur. Aunt Melissa's past.

When her flight was finally called, Clara stood and joined the line. As she stepped onto the plane and settled into her seat, she gazed out the window at the city lights below.

This wasn't just a trip—it was the start of something much bigger. Clara didn't know what awaited her in Kuala Lumpur, but she was determined to face it head-on.

The hum of the engines grew louder as the plane taxied down the runway. Clara closed her eyes, Aunt Melissa's voice echoing in her mind: "This is important—more than you know."

***

Clara settled into her seat on the plane, securing her backpack under the seat in front of her. The hum of the cabin surrounded her, blending with the murmurs of other passengers finding their places. She glanced out the window at the dark tarmac, the distant glow of runway lights reflecting on the glossy surface.

The conversation with Aunt Melissa lingered in her chest. Clara's mind churned with unanswered questions: Who was Victor Kane? What was this artifact Aunt Melissa mentioned? Why now, and why her?

She leaned back, closing her eyes as the plane began to taxi. Her hands tightened around the armrests when the engines roared to life, the aircraft hurtling down the runway. As it lifted into the air, Clara felt a momentary sense of freedom, her worries momentarily left behind on the ground below.

Clara opened her notebook again, staring at the words she'd written earlier. She added a line beneath them:

What's really going on?

When the plane touched down in Kuala Lumpur, the early morning light cast a warm glow over the city. Clara adjusted her backpack and followed the stream of passengers through customs and baggage claim. She stepped out into the bustling terminal, the scent of coffee and baked goods mingling with the faint hint of jet fuel.

Clara paused, pulling out the note Aunt Melissa had given her. She unfolded it, rereading Victor Kane's name and the address of the private museum. "First things first," she muttered, tucking the paper into her pocket.

Outside the airport, Clara flagged down a taxi. The driver, a middle-aged man with a warm smile, helped her load her backpack into the trunk before pulling out into the busy streets.

"Where to?" he asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

Clara gave him the address.

"Ah, the museum," the driver said. "It's a quiet place. Not many tourists go there. What brings you to Kuala Lumpur?"

"Visiting someone," Clara replied vaguely, not wanting to share too much.

The driver nodded, seemingly unfazed by her brevity. As they drove, Clara took in the sights of the city. Skyscrapers rose against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, their modern designs contrasting with the older, historic buildings scattered throughout. Markets bustled with activity, the vibrant colors of fresh produce and handmade goods catching her eye.

The drive took about forty minutes, and the streets grew quieter as they neared the museum. The building itself was modest, tucked between a row of shops. It was made of weathered stone, its façade marked by intricate carvings that hinted at its historical significance.

"Here we are," the driver said, pulling to a stop.

Clara thanked him, paying the fare and retrieving her backpack. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, taking in the sight of the museum. A sense of unease crept over her, but she pushed it aside, stepping through the wrought iron gates and up the short staircase to the entrance.

The interior of the museum was dimly lit, the air cool and heavy with the scent of aged wood and old paper. Clara's footsteps echoed softly as she made her way to the reception desk.

A young woman greeted her with a polite smile. "Good morning. How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Victor Kane," Clara said.

The receptionist's smile faltered slightly. "Do you have an appointment?"

Clara hesitated, unsure how much she should reveal. "Not exactly, but I was told to meet him here. It's important."

The woman studied her for a moment before picking up a phone. She spoke quietly, her tone respectful, before nodding and gesturing for Clara to follow.

"Mr. Kane is in the archives," she said, leading Clara through a set of heavy wooden doors.

The archives were a stark contrast to the museum's main hall. Rows of shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with ancient tomes, maps, and artifacts encased in glass. Clara's eyes darted around, taking in the organized chaos of the room.

In the center stood a man in his mid-40s, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed. He was dressed in a tailored jacket and jeans, his posture relaxed but alert. He glanced up from the book he was studying, his sharp eyes locking onto Clara.

"You must be Clara," he said calmly.

Clara nodded. "And you're Victor Kane."

He smiled faintly, closing the book and setting it aside. "Your aunt told me you'd be coming. It's good to finally meet you."

"She said you'd explain everything," Clara said, cutting straight to the point.

Victor gestured to a pair of chairs near a small table. "Let's sit. We have a lot to discuss."

As Clara sat down, Victor retrieved a map from a nearby shelf, spreading it out on the table between them. The map was old, its edges frayed and its surface marked with faint but intricate lines.