Chapter 315
Her feet danced across the sidewalk, carrying her dozens of meters away with spirited speed.
Then, triumphantly, she stopped and turned around.
Under the yellow glow of the streetlight, her pretty face was deliberately twisted into a caricatured "ugly face."
She stuck out her tongue, narrowed her eyes, and raised her eyebrows.
The expression was an arrow shot straight at Ilux, a sweet taunt, an undeniable challenge.
And that challenge was accepted.
The feigned annoyance on Ilux's face quickly transformed into spirited determination.
With a small, restrained shout, he launched himself forward, chasing the silhouette that had already begun to run again.
Thus was born an exhilarating chase, a spontaneous street ballet.
Its rhythm was entirely set by Erietta.
At times, she slowed her pace, even stopping, pretending to be tired, deliberately letting Ilux lag behind.
When the distance narrowed, when Ilux's breathing was almost audible, when his hand nearly reached the hem of her clothes, Erietta—like a clever sparrow—took flight again.
She laughed, her voice like the tinkling of tiny bells drifting through the cool air, as she accelerated once more.
"Teenage life is always full of surprises and completely unpredictable."
"Agreed."
From behind the blanket of shadows they had chosen as their hiding place, Theo watched the entire chase as if it were a silent film filled with motion and meaning.
His gaze, usually cold and analytical, now glimmered with something else—a subtle mix of admiration and wonder.
He saw how Erietta's laughter scattered into the midday air, how their silhouettes drawing closer and farther apart created dynamic patterns on the sidewalk bathed in orange light.
An unfamiliar sensation brushed against a soul accustomed to calculation and control.
Unconsciously, from lips usually sealed tight, escaped a light yet weighty sigh of words.
An admission that teenage life, with all its spontaneity and uncontrollable emotional surges, truly was a universe that could never be fully mapped, a small drama always brimming with surprises in every chapter.
Beside him, Aldraya stood like a statue carved from the full moon and silence.
Her pale, tranquil face remained turned in the same direction, capturing every curve of the two teenagers' movements with a visual precision that might surpass human limits.
She heard Theo's murmur slip out so naturally, words that floated briefly between them before being absorbed by the dust.
Slowly, very slowly, her head turned toward Theo.
There was no dramatic change in expression, no smile or nod.
Only a deep gaze, a silent acknowledgment radiating from the depths of her mysterious sapphire eyes.
In that silence, she conveyed her agreement.
Not in human language, but through a subtler frequency of understanding, a resonance felt only by those connected through unspoken experience.
For her, whose existence was built upon celestial order and abstraction, the beautiful and unpredictable chaos of "teenage life" might well have been a phenomenon that stirred curiosity just the same.
'She really does respond seriously to everything I say, even when it's just an unintended murmur.'
That realization came late, like moonlight arriving only after the stars had long been twinkling.
Only then did Theo realize that his words had leapt beyond the fortress of his thoughts, becoming real sound hanging in the humid air between himself and Aldraya.
A small breach of the discipline of silence he usually upheld during observation missions.
Yet, in the deepest and most honest part of his heart, no regret surfaced.
There was only a different kind of quiet, warmer, after his words had been acknowledged by the sapphire gaze beside him.
So, instead of correction or awkwardness, Theo chose an entirely different response.
His right hand, which had been hanging loosely at his side, now lifted with a motion that was deliberate yet gentle.
His firm fingers touched Aldraya's hair, living silk of pearly white that felt cool even in the scorching midday air.
He did not pat it, nor did he grasp it.
He stroked it.
The movement was long, slow, and attentive, following the flow of her hair from the perfectly rounded crown of her head.
"Come on, let's chase them again before we really lose their trail."
The two silhouettes that had been the focus of their observation finally vanished, swallowed by a bend in the road and the increasingly dense carnival crowd.
The last trace where Erietta and Ilux could still be distinguished was merely the lingering glimmer of laughter in the air, before it disappeared completely.
To any human eye, they were gone.
But for Theo, this was not the end.
It was a signal to transition, to change methods from static observation to dynamic tracking.
Without words, with an understanding already woven through hundreds of quiet moments like this, Theo's body moved first.
He turned slightly, facing Aldraya.
Under the almost merciless sunlight of half past eleven, his gaze met Aldraya's eyes, which had already been waiting for him.
Then, with a motion as natural as drawing breath, he extended his right hand.
His palm was open, facing upward, both an offer and an anchor amid the uncertainty of the pursuit about to begin.
Aldraya's response came with stirring immediacy.
Her left hand, pale and smooth like marble sculpture under moonlight, lifted.
Her slender fingers slid in to fill the offered space, then closed gently yet firmly around Theo's hand.
The grip was neither tight enough to hurt nor loose.
A solid connection, a bond ensuring they would not be separated by speed.
The differing temperatures of their skin met, forming a focal point of warmth amid the transition from morning to noon.
And then they moved.
Not walking, nor sprinting in reckless haste.
They ran at a standard pace, a steady and efficient rhythm designed to cover distance without premature exhaustion.
Their feet moved in perfect harmony, as if guided by the same metronome beating within their chests.
Neither tried to pull ahead, there was no tugging.
They were two entities functioning as a single propulsion system.
The joined hands were not an obstacle, but a center of balance, an axis around which they turned.
'A crowded market like this could be the perfect place to lose the trail. We have to keep a safe distance.'
After dozens of minutes running at a controlled rhythm, their breaths slightly quickened yet restrained, their pace finally slowed.
The carnival pulse that had previously been only a distant rumble had now transformed into a living, resonant symphony.
They arrived at the outer edge, a transition zone between the calm of the city streets and the tightly packed sensory carnival.
Here, the quality of light had changed, no longer the pale glow of streetlights, but an assault of colors from neon signs, paper lanterns, and hanging bulbs above wooden carts.
The air had changed as well, filled with a complex and tempting blend of aromas—from the sweetness of melting sugar, the savor of grilled meat, the heat of spices, to the bite of wood smoke.
To be continued…