After finishing her lunch in the cafeteria, Varsha heads back to the classroom with a few minutes remaining before break time ends.
She took her seat in the second row, at the last bench. The classroom was empty, but she could hear footsteps in the hallways. With nothing else to occupy her mind, she glanced to her left, where an empty bench stood.
Just a few days ago, a new transfer student had occupied that spot—a boy.
As Varsha pondered, she remembered that the boy had a cheerful demeanor.
Since his seat was next to hers, the first person he spoke to after introducing himself to the class was her.
He repeated his name and offered his hand for a handshake. Maybe if she had replied with her name and accepted his handshake, she would have become his first friend in school… maybe, but she ignored him, thinking he was the same as the other jerks in class.
But why?
Why was she thinking about this boy now?
A boy who only attended school for one day—his first day. He had said he came from Erelis when introducing himself. The same day, after going home, he was suddenly killed, and there's no evidence as to who killed him.
How he got there, and more than anything else—it was the first time in her life she had seen him.
They had never seen each other before, and she wasn't the type of person who felt pity for every other individual who dies, so "why am I thinking about this all of a sudden?"
She thought, but she knew the reason.
Last night, her father had called her on the phone.
Varsha and her father don't have a good relationship. They barely talk to each other, only through phone calls, and meeting in person was nearly impossible. Her dad always tries to talk in person, but she refuses all the time.
She doesn't like her father because he works with something like a criminal organization or underworld type of people. She doesn't clearly know all the details.
All she knew about her father was from her mother and her brother, but she only believed her mother's words because her brother lives with her father.
She thought maybe her brother does this type of work too, though he visits her place once or twice a month to check on her.
He hadn't visited her in almost the past two months.
Also, she doesn't have any troubles with her brother. Sometimes when he visits her, she has thought of asking, "Do you also work with those types of people?"
But of course, she doesn't have the courage to ask him. Maybe she was afraid of knowing or already knew the truth.
When her father called her last night and told her to be safe, not to be out late at night, to come home before dark, and not to talk with unknown people.
The conversation was very brief and one-sided, but through the tone of his voice, she could clearly understand that her father really meant it. She herself also thought that maybe her father was telling her this because of what happened to the transfer student.
She wanted to ask, "Is this because of what happened to that transfer student?" But she couldn't speak a single word at that time, and now?
She was thinking about this stuff… and suddenly her eyes caught sight of a student who was coming over to his seat—the farthest corner beside the window.
He was the most unusual, or maybe weird? She made a random speculation.
She only knows his name:
Paul.
That's all she knew about him—where he lives or what's on his mind. Only sitting in the corner, either looking outside the window or observing the students.
But most importantly, she feels a strange aura around him whenever her gaze lands on him.
'Well, that's nothing to do with me, as long as...'
And Paul's and Varsha's eyes met.
Varsha averted her eyes quickly, shrugging her elbows, focusing on the next class.
Paul, without any interest, shifted his eyes outside the window.
The last class ended at three PM, but Paul, as always, waited a few minutes in his seat for the students to leave first.
Now he was outside the school campus, walking towards his apartment.
As he was walking for two or three minutes, he sensed that someone was following him.
"Probably not; maybe it's some other students,"
Because he isn't the only one who waited for other students to leave first.
Maybe there were some who left after him, but just to be sure, he looked behind but didn't see anyone.
The roads were empty; only the black car he could see, which was very far off, and he couldn't see if someone was inside the car.
He again brushed the thought aside, thinking it was just his imagination.
Then he quickly picked up the pace, almost sprinting. Just a few meters ahead was a right turn, but his apartment was straight ahead.
As he approached the turn, he dashed to the right like an animal, just a meter away from a pole. He had spotted it earlier.
He quickly hid behind it, waiting patiently. A minute went by, and he could hear footsteps approaching, but his face showed no sign of nervousness, as if he was used to this.
The footsteps grew closer to Paul, and he could hear them clearly.
When he sensed the person was within reach, he stepped out from behind the pole, clenching his fist. But just as he was about to confront them, he stopped, facing the person following him.
Why did he stop?
Because he knew the person's identity.
It was Mia.
The girl he had talked to earlier during lunch.
Mia's face held an expression of shock and fear, her hands raised slightly. She hadn't expected the person in front of her to react like this. Her voice faltered.
"I... I can explain."
"Didn't I tell you never to show your face again?" Paul said, his gaze fixed on her trembling eyes, as he waited for a reasonable answer.
Mia nervously swallowed her saliva and explained, "It's not my fault if my home is in the same direction as yours. What can I do about it? And when I saw you walking alone, I thought of walking closer to you, but you would probably yell again like you are doing right now. So, I was walking behind you… far behind, slowly, without your noticing, to... not disturb you again… that's all."
"And I'm not lying," she hurriedly added.
Paul, of course, didn't believe her, but then again, he didn't want to argue with her either.
He simply walked past her and started walking towards his apartment. He noticed that Mia was also walking behind him in the same direction, a meter away, but he ignored her.
Twenty minutes later, he reached a four-story building; his apartment was on the fourth floor.
He checked again, looking behind to see if Mia was still following him, but she had disappeared without a trace, and Paul hadn't noticed when she left.
He thought she was troublesome.
Soon, darkness covered the city, but Paul's room was filled with light.
He was sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching something on his phone or perhaps waiting for something.
The living room was almost entirely milky white: the walls, sofa, and floor were all white. The wooden dining table, a few meters away, was a mix of dark brown, brown, and light brown. There were also four wooden chairs of the same color as the dining table. It was covered with white cloths and cabbage laying there, ready to be cut. A knife and dish for the cut vegetables were nearby, but currently empty.
Paul was likely about to cook dinner after he finished with his smartphone.
Soon enough, his smartphone started buzzing. He instantly tapped the receive button without looking at the caller's name. Actually, there was no name saved; it was only numbers, but he knew who it was.
He had been waiting for this call. Half a second later, there was a response.
"Paul?"
It was Simon.
Paul answered calmly, "Yes."
"You were right. Someone was following you from the morning when you left the apartment for school, and later from school to the apartment."
Paul didn't speak and waited for more information.
"I'm monitoring him, but why was that man following you?" Simon asked, his voice clear and steady.