What? You thought I had forgotten about you?
No.
I knew you were still there, silently watching me, listening to every word I said. But I don't mind. Why?
Because I can also listen to every thought you are thinking.
I know what's currently on your mind. You're probably wondering what's happening, right?
But, to be honest, I have zero answers to your questions. I know you don't believe me because I have hidden many things from you before, but not now.
I don't have any answers.
I don't know anything.
If you don't believe me, that's alright, but just... just don't disappear on me like before.
Paul exited the main entrance of the office and strolled sideways toward the road, occasionally talking to himself or thinking intently about what Loka would report regarding the baldy man.
He wondered if he could obtain an address for where Baldy lived or where he usually went on normal days; perhaps he could deduce something from that.
However, the most confusing aspect was that Paul couldn't recall Loka's real name—the individual who worked with the police and provided information whenever necessary.
Loka typically did not take much time; it would usually take around thirty minutes to an hour if he wasn't in the office; if that were the case, it was a different story. This delay had only occurred a few times, which Paul could count on one hand.
The problem was that it seemed related or connected to the higher-ups of the High Table members. His boss, Philip, usually informed him about that. However, this time his boss said nothing, and neither did Simon.
Paul thought this issue was probably not connected to the High Table but rather to other lower members or someone outside the stage.
He clearly remembered what Sara stated earlier: "Loka is under pressure from higher-ups."
Paul thought that whoever was behind this had a solid understanding of the rules of this place, as they were able to delay the information.
This thinking made Paul feel somewhat angry and annoyed at the same time because there was a report delay, and whoever it was must be a significant figure, pressuring the police, making it difficult for Paul to find him.
He was not fond of waiting and needed answers for many things.
Lost in his sea of thoughts, a black car pulled up beside him, matching his walking pace. He didn't know how much time had passed since the car began following him.
When he stopped, the car stopped as well. He attempted to look inside the tinted window, but with a meter of distance between him and the car and how dark the window was, he couldn't see who was driving.
Soon enough, the black window was pulled down, revealing a figure inside who was, of course, a female: Sara.
Sara slightly gestured for Paul to hop inside. Paul nodded, unsurprised that Sara was there to pick him up. He opened the door to the front seat and placed his backpack in the back seat.
Sara glanced at Paul, indicating he should adjust his seatbelt, as she pressed the accelerator.
As they drove to Paul's apartment, there was an unsettling silence inside the car, but Paul didn't mind. He thought sometimes not talking is better.
However, minutes later Paul's stomach growled with hunger.
He wondered why he hadn't eaten his lunch at school this afternoon.
Simultaneously, Sara's stomach called out for food as well. Just as the silence became more uncomfortable.
Sara said somewhat awkwardly, "Why don't we stop to eat something?"
Paul leaned back in his seat and replied faintly, "Yeah... Sure."
Sara looked at Paul from the corner of her eye, as if remembering something from a few seconds ago, and said, "I've heard a new restaurant has opened recently."
A few minutes later, the car stopped in the restaurant's parking lot. They exited the car and walked toward the restaurant. Paul cast a slight glance at the restaurant's name, which hung in front of the door: "Woozy Woo" in red and white colors.
"What does this name even mean?" Paul wondered.
They both entered through the big glass door.
Paul scanned the place for a seat.
The yellow-brown furniture was covered with clean white cloths, and the area was very tidy, with each table surrounded by four chairs.
There were a total of nine tables, only five of which were occupied, and all three seats by the big glass windows were empty. Paul silently gestured to Sara that there were empty seats.
Sara nodded in agreement, and they sat opposite each other. On the table, there was already white salt in a small bottle, along with ketchup and chili sauce.
They both waited silently for the waiter, and the awkward silence from before returned.
I don't like seeing her like this. The cheerful smile—always talking about something even if I don't understand. I know it can be frustrating sometimes, but... don't be sad; I'm always here...
After working together for almost two years, Paul has a clear understanding of Sara's mindset.
He noticed that Sara, who almost always initiates conversations and can hardly stay silent, was unusually quiet.
What happened to her?
She was fine just moments ago at the office entrance. Is something troubling her?
At that moment, a woman arrived wearing a black and white dress, which seemed to be the restaurant's dress code for waiters.
She appeared to be around twenty-two, with her hair tied in a bun.
She bent down slightly and gave a small, warm smile as she asked for their orders.
Paul was looking outside the window, but his mind was elsewhere. He glanced at Sara and said, "Whatever she orders, make it two," without missing a beat.
After hearing Paul's words, Sara came back to reality and gave her order.
The waitress smiled slightly again and walked away towards the kitchen.
Just as the waitress disappeared from Paul's view, he sighed internally and asked calmly, "What's with that look? You know you can always open up to me."
Sara also realized that she was not her usual self, but she still wondered if it mattered and replied, "Thanks, but I'm thinking of something."
"You can think? Well, that's something new I learned about you today," Paul said playfully, aware that a calm conversation was unlikely to get him anywhere.
Sara felt disturbed and annoyed, looking at Paul as if to say, "Why can't you just shut up for a minute?"
Paul noticed, but he smiled and replied, "You know, a wise man once said one plus one equals two. If you share what's going on in that little head of yours, maybe I can help."
He raised his eyebrows up and down. Sara pondered for a moment.
She didn't want to share because she feared others' opinions.
After telling Paul, she might regret it, questioning why she told him. It would've been better to keep it to herself.
However, Paul had already asked her twice, showing that he was concerned about her, unlike Julian, who took things lightly.
She thought that if she communicated how serious she was, Paul might take it seriously.
After some thought, she finally asked, "You wouldn't laugh or make fun of it, would you?" confirming her concerns one last time.
Paul, back to his normal self, said with a slightly mocking tone, "You think I am like you? I don't make fun of others' emotions like you do, who knows everything and..."
Sara interrupted Paul, saying apologetically, "Okay! Okay! I get it; you don't need to say this much." She thought, "I know you weren't like that," but who knows, maybe Paul's next response could change her mind?
Paul nodded calmly and waited.
She took a breather and asked, "Say, if I said 'I love you,' what would you say in reply?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Paul replied, as if dropping an atomic bomb, "Of course, I would turn you down."
At the same time, just as Paul finished speaking, the same waitress who took their food orders earlier placed white plates on the table, carrying hot, brown steak accompanied by rich brown sauce.
She cast a sorry glance at Sara, who clearly noticed it but didn't say anything.
They both waited for the waitress to leave. Once she was gone, Sara glanced at the counter and saw the waitress talking to her colleague about what she had just overheard.
Sara let out a slight 'tsk' and looked at Paul, who was staring at the food, ready to dig in.
She tapped his hand, which was gripping the knife.
Paul looked at her, raising his eyebrows and asking, "What now?"
Sara felt annoyed at this and declared, "I'm not finished speaking yet."
Paul, ready to cut the steak, replied, "Yeah, go on. I'm listening."
Now, Sara was angry. She thought, if he truly wasn't concerned, why did he keep asking her repeatedly? Did he just want to hear the reason behind her change in behavior? Ugh! She cursed
Paul internally, reflecting on her expectations of him. This piece of shit.
As Sara wasn't continuing, Paul lifted his eyes and, as if he'd read her mind, said softly and gently, like he was really concerned about her, while dropping the knife and spoon, "Hey, I said I'm listening, why did you stop? Did you not feel like continuing?"
Now again, after Sara felt touched emotionally by Paul's honey-coated words, she thought, "Paul actually feels concerned about me. I'm sorry I called you a piece of shit."
She cleared her useless thoughts and, coughing slightly, asked, "So, I'm saying, why? Why would you turn me down? Do you actually think I'm not pretty or—or because of the age difference or—"
"Wait…" Paul didn't let Sara finish her sentence and asked carefully, examining her expression. "Just wait... Why are you thinking this type of stuff all of a sudden? Are you interested in someone perhaps...?"
Paul could see Sara's face turning red because of embarrassment.
Sara nodded slightly, and Paul continued, "Who is it? Of course, it isn't me." He examined Sara's expression. "Or is it?"
After seeing that Sara didn't react, Paul said, "Then it's probably..." with a disappointed and slightly confused expression, as if he were thinking hard but already knew the answer.
Almost anyone could guess who it was. Two years was a long time, after all, but he didn't speak hurriedly and was beating around the bush, as if he didn't know for sure. He thought it might sound too obvious if he said it right away, and knowing Sara's personality, he didn't feel it was right. He could see Sara was back to her old self—always smiling and reacting to small things that didn't even matter to most people.
He didn't know why he felt a little relieved seeing her like that. Just don't change.
"Is it Simon?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
Sara felt a little embarrassed and nodded slightly.
Paul clapped his hands together as if he had just finished playing a video game, after spending many hours doing quests and solving multiple puzzles. He had finally beaten the last boss.
"Then why are you waiting? Just ask him out, I guess?" Paul said casually while his knife almost touched the crispy steak.
Sara lightly slammed the table. "If I wanted to do that, I would have already done it, not wasted my time thinking about this stuff."
Paul put down his knife and spoon again and looked at the steak for a moment, then fixed his eyes on Sara. "Then what do you want me to say?" He wondered, "I should have just left it as it is. Why did I even bother asking?"
"You said you would help me, right?"
"Yeah, I said that, and I am doing it." It was Paul's turn to get annoyed.
"You clearly are not helping me with anything."
"Ugh! Okay, just say what you have left to say."
Sara sighed inwardly and said something Paul didn't even expect.
"So I was thinking that, you are in your teens, right? And you started going to school too, so maybe you have some ideas in mind for me?"
Paul replied in disbelief, "Huh... What in the world are you thinking? It's only been a week, mostly. Aren't you expecting too much from me? Like hell!" He sighed and continued, "Let me be clear. I am not like other guys who go for girls whenever they get the chance. Please leave me out of this."
After listening to what Paul had said, Sara thought, "Why did I bother telling him? Sigh... It would have been better if I had kept it to myself. I'm just wasting my time here with him."
Paul, noticing Sara's disappointed look, coughed slightly and said, "But I can help you with Simon, though."
Sara, who had felt like all her energy drained to zero percent a second ago, felt fully charged after hearing Paul's charismatic words.
"How? Just tell me!" she asked, her eyes shining with hope for some good advice.
Seeing Sara's reaction, Paul cleared his throat and said, "I think Simon's type is probably like some mature type of woman, you know? Like someone who doesn't spout nonsense all the time and doesn't bother with every small thing, and someone who can handle any work—"
"Hey!" Sara slammed her hand on the table, feeling really frustrated.
But Paul didn't change his tone and ignored her, continuing to think that if she really wanted to get together with Simon, she had to accept this and change herself.
"But this is just my honest thought, and this is probably what you wanted to hear. Don't take it too personally, though. I'm not trying to make fun of you or anything. This is just what I think. With your current personality, I don't think you have a chance. You know what I'm getting at, right?"
Sara's head cooled after she thought to herself, and nodded with displeasure. She didn't have any other choice, either. If she really wanted to work things out with Simon, she really had to change and take things more seriously.
Paul, reading Sara's expression, thought, *That's enough.*
He stared at his steak, which was probably cold. Finally, his knife sliced through the tender steak, releasing its rich juices. Each bite slowly melted in his mouth, blending a smoky sear with the deep, savory sauce.
While eating, he looked sideways. Outside the big windows, his gaze observed the streets, cars, and people going home after their work. His eyes also caught sight of a flower shop just across the street.
He noticed a girl standing beside the shop, her long hair fluttering, and she was wearing the same dress as him.