"What if... it isn't her?" The bespectacled girl hesitated. "Should we... go ask her?"
"Are you stupid? The moment we ask, she'll know something's off." The short-haired girl rolled her eyes in response, her gaze once again landing on Irene Spencer. "It's definitely her. She's wearing a mask to avoid being recognized. Who in their right mind would wear a mask on such a hot night?"
"Exactly," the long-haired girl agreed. "Post a message in the group chat: we'll surround her and not give her a chance to escape."
No sooner said than done, the short-haired girl immediately took out her phone and posted a message in the Twitter Group.
A moment later, a dozen or so figures emerged from a nearby path. They were all girls, some tall, some short, each carrying a bag of food.
The short-haired girl waved, and the crowd immediately started moving from both sides towards Irene Spencer, who was sitting by the chair.
By the chair, Irene Spencer glanced at her watch. It was already 8:50 PM.
