Morning arrived without color.
Sunlight filtered through the thin, yellowing curtains, falling onto the inn room floor like a pale, lifeless stain. Nara woke up with her body stiff, as if she had endured a night too long, even though she hadn't truly dreamt.
For a few seconds, she just stared at the cracked ceiling.
Then, everything came rushing back—the alien city, the rain last night, and the man named Arsen.
She sat up slowly on the edge of the bed. Her head felt heavy, but at least she was warm. No longer shivering like last night. She couldn't remember the last time she slept without waking up in a panic.
The silence of the room felt safe… too safe.
Her phone vibrated again on the small table.
The same name.
The same call.
She stared at the screen for a long time. Her fingers moved as if to answer, then stopped in mid-air. Her breath hitched. There was a part of her that wanted to run further—not just from the person trying to reach her, but from everything she had left behind.
She turned off the phone.
Today, she did not want to remember anyone.
After a quick shower with nearly cold water, she put on the clean clothes remaining in her bag. She stared at her reflection in the small mirror. Puffy eyes. An exhausted face. But at least she was still standing.
She left the room with cautious steps.
The inn lobby was quiet. The aroma of cheap coffee filled the air. The same elderly receptionist merely nodded without asking anything. Outside, the city looked different from last night—noisier, faster, as if it had never known the word "stop."
Nara stepped outside. The morning air felt fresh but foreign.
She didn't know where to go yet.
She walked aimlessly, following the long sidewalk filled with people who seemed to have a direction in life. The sound of vehicles, horns, and foreign conversations blended into a single cacophony that made her feel smaller and smaller.
A few blocks from the inn, she stopped in front of a small coffee shop. She wasn't truly hungry, but sitting in a warm room felt more sensible than continuing to walk without direction.
The bell on the door chimed softly as she entered.
And there, she saw him again.
Arsen sat in the corner of the room, reading something on his phone. A cup of black coffee in front of him was still steaming faintly. He wore a simple dark shirt, his hair a bit messy like someone who didn't care much about appearance yet still looked neat.
When their eyes met, Arsen smiled faintly. Not surprised. As if he already knew Nara would come.
A strange feeling crept into Nara's chest—not comfort, nor fear. Something more complicated.
"This city is small if you don't have a destination," Arsen said quietly as Nara approached to order coffee.
Nara frowned. "Are you following me?"
Arsen shook his head casually. "I always drink coffee here in the mornings."
He shrugged. "It's just a coincidence you came."
The word "coincidence" felt heavy in Nara's ears.
She took her order and sat at a different table. Not too far, but enough to keep a distance. She hoped the conversation would stop there.
Yet a few minutes later, Arsen stood up and moved to sit opposite her—without asking permission, but also without looking forceful.
"It's warmer today," he said lightly.
Nara stared at him blankly. "Do you always switch tables to sit with strangers?"
"No." Arsen sipped his coffee. "Only to those who were walking in the middle of the rain last night as if they had no reason to stop."
That sentence made Nara tense up.
She did not like how Arsen watched her—too detailed, too calm. As if every movement she made since last night had been neatly stored in that man's head.
"I just needed shelter," she replied curtly.
"Everyone needs more than that," Arsen said.
Silence fell between them. The sound of the coffee machine behind the bar was the only thing filling the space.
Nara tried to look away. Yet for some reason, she realized that Arsen never truly took his eyes off her. Not staring aggressively—more like someone observing an unfinished puzzle.
"You don't have a job here yet, do you?" Arsen asked suddenly.
Nara raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you look like someone who just arrived without a plan."
His tone remained gentle, but too confident.
Nara did not answer. She merely sipped the coffee, which tasted bitter on her tongue.
Arsen leaned back slightly. "A friend of mine has a small bookstore. They need a temporary employee. Not much pay, but enough to start."
Nara frowned. "Why are you bothering to help me?"
Arsen paused for a moment. His eyes softened—or perhaps they just appeared to. "Because I know what it feels like to come to a new city and have no one."
The answer again felt honest.
And that was precisely what made Nara uncomfortable.
She was used to people who had clear motives—money, sympathy, or something she could understand. But Arsen was too calm, too patient. As if he was chasing nothing… even though he always appeared at the right moment.
"I'll think about it," Nara answered finally.
Arsen nodded. "Of course."
However, before he stood up, Arsen said quietly, "You can refuse my help. But you don't have to face everything alone."
The sentence sounded warm.
And for some reason, the warmth felt like a subtle snare.
Nara stood up. She said a quick thank you, then left the shop. The air outside felt colder even though the sun was higher.
She walked fast, trying to move away from the strange feeling left in her chest. There was a part of her that felt safe when Arsen was near—and another part that screamed at her not to get too close.
All day she wandered the city, looking for small jobs. Most shops refused politely. A few didn't even look up from their phones. Evening came without results.
When the sky began to darken, she returned to the inn with heavy steps.
In front of the door, a paper bag was hanging on the doorknob.
Nara froze.
She looked around the hallway—empty. No one was there.
Carefully, she opened the bag. Inside was warm bread, a bottle of water, and a small slip of paper.
Neat handwriting:
"Just in case you forgot to eat. — A"
Her heart beat faster.
She didn't remember ever telling Arsen her room number.
A sense of warmth mixed with a creeping discomfort down her spine. The attention was too precise. The presence was too close.
She entered the room and locked the door tightly. She placed the paper bag on the table, but she didn't immediately touch its contents.
Nara sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door as if something would knock from the outside.
For the first time since arriving in this city, she felt she was not entirely alone.
And for the first time too…
she began to wonder if the presence of someone could be the beginning of something far more dangerous than loneliness.
Outside, the rain began to fall again—softly, almost unheard.
Like the footsteps of someone approaching without wanting to be known.
And without her realizing it, the line between protection and control began to thin.