His thumb hovers over the edge of the phone. For just a moment, there's a pull inside him—a soft, strange tug.
But then… No.
"…No," he says firmly. "Don't give out my personal information."
"Of course, understood. We value our customers' privacy. That's all we needed. Everything's clear now. Have a great day, Mr. Lenter."
"You too. Take care."
He hangs up and sets the phone down on the coffee table, staring blankly for a moment.
Outside the window, the soft summer light paints the streets below in gold and green. Trees line the quiet lane, their leaves shifting gently in the breeze. It's peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
Julian lets out a low exhale—half sigh, half laugh—and rubs the back of his neck.
"She's really persistent," he mutters with a dry smile. "Not a big surprise."
His gaze drifts again, inevitably, back to the photo of Hannah. Still smiling. Still frozen in time.
She was persistent too, he thinks. There's a sadness in his expression now—faint, distant. A memory brushing against the edge of his chest.
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring at nothing.
"Stop thinking about her," he whispers. "She's just another person."
Julian reaches for his phone again, the gesture almost automatic. His fingers move quickly over the screen, dialing a number he knows all too well.
"Hello," a deep, middle-aged female voice answers on the other end, the tone both professional and warm.
"Hello, this is June," Julian says, his voice steady, calm.
"Oh, hey June. Did you call to check in with your task?" she replies, the familiarity in her tone giving away the long-standing nature of their connection.
"Yes, indeed. I met the agent from the other side and received the list of the children we'll be extracting from the political prison next week. They'll be moved safely to the Kalsary Orphanage, and I'll stay here until everything is completed," Julian updates her efficiently.
"Thank you for confirming, June," she says, a slight relief in her voice.
"No worries. I'll call you later with an update."
"Thank you. Have a great time while you're there. Maybe you'll get a chance to tour around since it's your first time there?" The woman's voice carries a lightheartedness, perhaps trying to break the tension.
Julian lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head, his smile faint but genuine. "No, it's all right. I'll just take a rest."
"Well, haha, my mistake. I forgot you were there on a mission a century ago."
Julian's face tightens for a split second before he responds. "... Yes, indeed."
"Okay, all good. Have a great day, June."
"Yes, you too. Good day."
Julian ends the call and sets the phone down, his mind already turning elsewhere. He steps toward the window, taking a deep breath as he looks out at the street below.
To his surprise, the buildings outside remain almost exactly the same as they were when they were first built—standing as they did a century ago, frozen in time yet worn with history. Julian had witnessed the construction of these very buildings, and the memories come rushing back as if they were from yesterday.
He stands there for a moment, lost in thought. I was here… walking this very street with Hannah... The memory of that day, their first time together, floods back in an instant—the feeling of Hannah following him from behind, just like how that girl, Grace, had followed him from the back today. How could he ever forget?
His gaze lingers on the scene outside, but soon he feels the weight of the past pressing down on him. It's been a century…
With a sigh, Julian turns away from the window and walks back to the bed. He throws himself down on it, closing his eyes, trying to quiet the storm of memories swirling in his mind.
But even with his eyes closed, the scene of Hannah following him down that street refuses to leave him. Her face. Her smile. It crosses over with the image of the girl he saved just a little while ago—the girl who had followed him after he rescued her from the gangster.
Their faces… they're so similar, as if they could be identical twins.
But it can't be…
Julian's breath catches in his throat. His chest tightens as the realization hits him.
Hannah… Hannah is… He swallows hard, his vision blurring as tears threaten to sting his eyes. She's not here anymore. She's in heaven.
He lays there, his heart heavy, but his thoughts unwillingly drifting back to the girl from earlier.
Grace Silver… Grace… Grace Silver…
He murmurs her name quietly, as if trying to make sense of the strange pull he feels toward her. The silence of the room presses in, and Julian pulls the blanket over himself, trying to bury the thoughts swirling in his mind.
I hope she returns safely to her home… he thinks to himself.
Grace walks out onto the street, her thoughts still lingering on the awkwardness of her situation with Julian. The shopping bag in her hand feels heavy, but not in the usual way. It's not the weight of the clothes that bothers her—it's the uncomfortable feeling that lingers from her earlier encounter. I'll pay him back as soon as I get home... She tries to shake off the thought as she steps into a nearby clothing store, hoping to distract herself.
Inside, she finds a simple but charming selection of clothes. She doesn't want to spend too much, and her eye catches a white short-sleeved t-shirt—just like the one she's wearing now. It's plain, casual, comfortable. It's her go-to style. But she needs something a little more special for her friend's wedding tomorrow.
Something casual, but a little more polished… She picks out a black t-shirt, figuring that since her friend will be in a white wedding dress, she can go with a darker tone to make the dress pop. Then, she adds a long grey skirt to the mix. Normally, she wouldn't choose such a long skirt, but since it's her friend's wedding, it feels like the right choice.
Finally, she grabs a blue denim jacket, knowing it will be a versatile piece to wear with whatever she picks. Grace's minimalist fashion sense doesn't require much deliberation. Within minutes, she's ready to check out.
The clerk looks at her in surprise. "Wow, you pick up really fast. I've seen no one do shopping as quickly as you."
Grace laughs lightly, handing over the credit card. As she does, the thought of Julian's kindness crosses her mind again. I'll pay him back as soon as I get home.
She sighs, still feeling the lingering discomfort. The thought of him, of everything that happened, has been gnawing at her for a while now. After paying, she walks out onto the street, the shopping bag in her hand, her mind trying to focus on the rest of the day.
The day is still fresh, the air warm and light. Her feet lead her toward a nearby park, where green trees create a calming, peaceful atmosphere. She spots an ice cream vendor and smiles—what better way to enjoy a moment of solitude than with an ice cream?
She steps up to the cart, only to be met with the vendor's apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but we only accept cash."
Grace's smile falters. "Oh, cash only…" She reaches into her bag, only to realize she doesn't have any cash. The only thing she's holding is Julian's credit card, but that feels wrong to use for something like this.
The ice cream vendor smiles warmly, not seeming to mind at all. "Which flavor would you like? I have vanilla, strawberry, and blueberry."
Grace hesitates, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't have cash. I'll come back later with cash."
The vendor shakes his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "No, it's fine. I'll give you the ice cream for free."
Grace's eyes widen in surprise, touched by his kindness. "I just don't even know what to say. Thank you so much. Then… umm… blueberry, please?"
He hands her the ice cream, and she takes it gratefully. She moves to an empty bench nearby, settling down with the blueberry ice cream in one hand and her phone in the other. The peaceful surroundings calm her as she takes a bite. The coolness of the ice cream is a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the day.
She looks around, noticing a few people walking by with dogs and strollers. The park feels quiet and serene, a moment of peace she desperately needed.
As she enjoys the ice cream, her phone suddenly rings. An unknown number flashes on the screen, and she answers, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes, hello?" Grace asks.
A bright, male voice responds. "Hello. I'm calling back regarding your request for the phone number of the credit card holder."
Grace's heart skips a beat. This is it. She braces herself.
"Oh, right. Yes!" She's eager to hear more, excitement bubbling inside her.
However, the voice on the other side is not what she expected. "I'm really sorry to inform you, but we can't share the phone number or any personal information of the card holder. He didn't want his information passed on."
Grace's heart sinks. Of course, he didn't want to give me his number.
She nods to herself, her voice quiet. "Oh… I see." There's a lingering disappointment in her chest, a feeling she didn't expect.
The man on the other side continues. "It's all right. Thank you for understanding. But I have to ask—how did you come to have his card if you don't even have each other's phone numbers?"
Grace falters. How do I explain this? She can't very well tell him the truth—that she was saved by this stranger and he gave her his card to use. That feels too personal, too complicated.
She stammers, unsure of how to proceed. "Umm… well…"
The man laughs gently, sensing her hesitation. "It's all right, Ma'am. You don't need to explain. It just… you know, sounds like the start of a sweet love story. Haha."
Grace laughs awkwardly, caught off guard by the playful tone. "Well, I don't know about that, but yeah… this cardholder seems like a really good person."
"Well, all good then. Have a great day, Ma'am," the man says warmly.
"You too. Thanks once again."
Grace hangs up the phone, feeling both a little disappointed and oddly flustered. She looks out at the park, the greenery surrounding her in a calm embrace, but her chest feels tight. There's a fluttering in her heart she doesn't quite understand.
What is this feeling? Grace places her hand over her chest, feeling her heart race.
Meanwhile, back in his hotel room, Julian lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His hand rests on his chest, the sensation in his heart similar to Grace's. He doesn't know why, but he feels an overwhelming unease, a flutter of emotions he can't quite place.
What is this...? He whispers to himself, as if trying to make sense of the strange sensation.