'Asha is acting differently.'
As she pushed Asha in her wheelchair, Connie couldn't stop thinking about the changes that had happened to her sister.
Since they left the restaurant, Asha hadn't shown any reaction. If before she expressed her thoughts through involuntary movements, now she was like a door locked with seven keys.
Her movements were so subtle that it was fair to say that if her lungs didn't move when she breathed, she would look like a corpse.
'Is she tired?'
They had left home when the sky was clear, but it was already night. Asha had never spent so much time away from home. Today had also been far from peaceful, and it was likely that she was still feeling uncomfortable in her father's presence.
They had gone to a library, a restaurant, and finally an amusement park, all in the same day. It wouldn't be a surprise if Asha was exhausted.
Even so, she accepted the request to go to the amusement park and even rode the roller coaster out of consideration for her.
Fortunately, she also seemed to be having fun. Connie could still remember the smile Asha gave her on the roller coaster. It was such a rare smile that even after blinking, the image wouldn't leave her mind.
It was a shame that the photos the roller coaster took along the way didn't manage to capture that moment.
When her father bought the photos, Asha's face was completely expressionless. She was comically the only apathetic figure while everyone else screamed.
How did she always seem so composed? On her first time on a roller coaster, Connie had been terrified, but Asha seemed completely fine. Even her father had trouble during the ride and screamed when they reached the peaks.
Connie admitted she held back a little. After all, seeing Asha so composed beside her, how could she look her in the eyes if she screamed in fear? She knew Asha might not notice because of her deafness, but she also had her principles.
So she swallowed her screams throughout the ride and tried to keep her composure.
One unusual thing that occurred after the roller coaster was Asha's closeness. Until the end of the ride, Asha gazed intently into Connie's eyes.
Even after they went on rides like the spinning teacups, Asha just looked at Connie and touched her face. It was an unreserved closeness that she wasn't used to, but Asha seemed quite serious about it, so Connie simply accepted it while holding back her racing heart.
She seemed to show more interest in her than in the rides themselves, which showed that Asha had accepted Connie's request out of consideration rather than interest.
When Connie asked if she wanted to go on any attraction, Asha just nodded firmly while looking at her.
"You two are closer than I imagined," Doug said, watching Connie push Asha in her wheelchair.
He had been a little surprised by the request to go to the amusement park after such a busy day, but it was good to see that the girls were getting along.
He knew their relationship had improved in recent weeks, but he hadn't imagined it had grown this much.
Asha probably hadn't had many supportive figures in her life, and seeing that Connie had become one of them warmed his heart a little.
Connie's face flushed at her father's slightly playful tone.
"Normally Asha isn't this outgoing," she explained, adjusting her glasses shyly. "I think she might just be a little uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people. It's natural that she trusts those around her."
"Who would have thought that the same Connie who cried while clutching her mother's clothes because she couldn't go on the roller coaster would be such a responsible older sister?" Doug said with a teasing look.
Connie's face turned red as she remembered the chaos she had caused the first time they went to the amusement park.
She had cried on her mother's lap and caused a scene, demanding to go on the most dangerous rides, only to cry in fear the moment they started.
Although Connie was quite mature, her past was still dark in many ways.
She looked at Doug with resentful eyes and retorted,
"And what about Dad, who screamed in fear the whole time on the roller coaster?"
Doug's face twitched at Connie's retort because it was true. But in his defense, he wasn't the only one. He had also been sitting in the front seat, so the pressure and the sense of falling were much greater.
He saw his life flash before his eyes at least three times during that ride.
"Cough."
He decided to change the subject a little.
"So, why did you want to go on the roller coaster?"
It was a question Doug had been wondering about for a while.
Considering Asha was quite passive and Connie rarely asked for permission to go to places like this, there had to be a reason.
Connie looked at her father and then at Asha, who sat motionless in her wheelchair.
"Asha said she'd never been to an amusement park, so I wanted to show her one."
"Oh, so that's what happened."
Doug replied, observing Connie's slightly thoughtful face.
Asha had probably not only never been to an amusement park but had never experienced many of the things a girl her age should have.
Connie might be a child, but perhaps she somehow knew her sister wasn't quite normal and was trying to compensate for those missing experiences.
She was so mature for her age.
Doug stroked Connie's hair, messing up her hairstyle. Connie shielded her hair and tried to dodge her father's mischievous hands, but she couldn't escape.
Her already messy hair from the roller coaster ride became even messier.
"Trying to escape your father's affection? You're light-years away from succeeding, little girl!"
Doug said, ruffling her hair even more.
Seeing that her father wouldn't stop, Connie simply accepted her fate.
It was a routine and comical father-daughter scene that neither of them had experienced in a long time.
"I'm going to tell Mom that Dad bullied me."
"How could you try to blackmail your Dad using your mother? It seems someone here needs true education."
Doug said as he tousled her hair even more.
By this point, Connie's hair was a disaster, but she just laughed without caring much.
"Don't blame me later when Mom gets mad."
"Looks like you still have the energy for a third round."
Doug approached her with a playful grin, but Connie seized the moment to strike back. Her fingers poked precisely at his weak spot, making him laugh loudly in public.
Connie kept poking his sides mercilessly until Doug raised his arms in truce, his glasses almost falling off his face, and his cheeks red from laughing so hard.
"Think twice before messing with me, Dad."
"Yeah... yeah... what a scary girl."
Their playful interaction didn't go unnoticed, and noticing the stares around her, Connie's face flushed as she realized what she had just done.
It had been years since she had spoken to her father like that in public, so she had lost track of her actions.
She decided to fix her messy hair first.
She bent down slightly to pick up the bag she had left beside the wheelchair, but before she could fully bend down, her movements froze like a machine short-circuiting.
In front of her, Asha had her eyes wide open, curiously gazing at her hands. Her eyes, unlike usual, seemed even more adorable.
If before her eyes were like an endless void, a layer of innocence had been added above that. They were still empty, but unlike before, it wasn't frightening to look at them. There was a peculiar charm that made it impossible for Connie to look away.
Even the movement of her eyes seemed more vivid and precise. To an outsider, Asha's demeanor might seem robotic and apathetic, but for Connie, who lived with her daily, the change was clear.
Unlike what Asha imagined, the change in her eyes, although subtle, would never escape the trained eyes of her family.
In less than a second, Connie identified the abnormality, and her mind went into shock.
'What happened to her eyes?'
If there had been any doubt before that Asha was some kind of magical being, those doubts had long since been dispelled. After all, how could someone change so much in such a short time if not by magic?
The change was as clear as night and day. Asha's eyes used to be so opaque and lifeless that looking into them was like staring into the abyss itself, but now that abyss seemed far more approachable, almost tempting, with a previously invisible layer of innocence.
But once the question "how" had been resolved in her mind, an even stronger question arose: "Why?"
What were the reasons that led to Asha's change? Were these merely visual effects, or had something more fundamental shifted within her eyes? And what caused that shift?
Connie tried to recall all the events that had occurred that day and how they related to Asha.
The first was in the library, where, while interacting with her father, Asha had shown signs of closeness toward Connie that went beyond the ordinary. This was the first change; Asha had become more open to touch.
The second was at the restaurant, where Asha was willing to share her food, even secretly, showing an even greater sign of intimacy. And not only did she share food, but she also began proactively asking Connie questions about what she was seeing.
And finally, the roller coaster, where Asha had shown a rare smile while touching her eyes during the ride. That was clearly the trigger, the most significant moment. Connie remembered that even after the ride, Asha continued touching her face, specifically the area around her eyes.
So, it wasn't difficult to imagine that this last event could be connected to Asha's change. It was possible that her curiosity about Connie's eyes had led her to alter herself.
But how could Asha's curiosity lead to such drastic changes? Could her physical form shift depending on her mental state or the things she became interested in?
Once, her mother told her that you are what you eat, that depending on the nutrients you consume, both physically and intellectually, you shape yourself accordingly.
But for a magical being like Asha, whose need to eat was still an enigma, what could possibly "feed" her?
The image of Asha smiling broadly on the roller coaster, followed by the image of her now, clear, round eyes shining, flashed in Connie's mind.
Emotions. Perhaps Asha was influenced by the emotions of those around her.
In the past, Connie had compared Asha to Golden Girl, a protagonist like a blank slate who changed depending on how she was raised. She could become kind and gentle, or hostile and rude, depending on the influences surrounding her.
Connie had discarded this idea when she realized that Asha did indeed have emotions; she simply expressed them in very subtle ways.
However, the idea now returned with force. Perhaps Asha wasn't entirely a blank slate like Golden Girl, but she did, in fact, change based on the influences around her.
Her positive emotions from the day's events, combined with her curiosity about eyes, might have caused changes in her body. In other words, if Asha experienced strong emotions or deep curiosity about a physical aspect, her body could adapt to it.
Perhaps even her mind could change as well. When Connie had first met her, Asha couldn't interpret what others meant, even after observing them closely. But now she could read lips with considerable accuracy, an ability she had acquired without being taught.
That might still be within human possibility, but Asha had lived among them for just over three months, and her progress was far faster than any normal person's.
The ability to gain new characteristics and skills based on one's mental state or curiosity, Asha was a being capable of adapting depending on what influenced her.
A wave of understanding washed over Connie; it was as if a piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place.
But with that understanding came another concern. What would happen if Asha were influenced not by something harmless, like eyes or human interaction, but by something dark?
Connie remembered Asha cutting her own wrist in her room, filled with blood. Could that event have happened not out of anxiety, but out of curiosity about "blood" itself? Her mother was a doctor, and there had been many chances for Asha to witness it. Left unsupervised, she might have followed her curiosity down an extreme path.
That meant the content of Asha's curiosity was not something to take lightly; it could be a matter of life or death.
If it were a positive aspect, such as wanting to communicate or see better, her existence would adapt to that. But if darker things like pain or blood fueled it, she might act in dangerous, extreme ways.
Asha was perhaps a magical being still in formation, essentially like a child. Even the smallest details, such as how a mother holds her baby after birth, can influence how the baby grows.
Perhaps once Asha became a fully developed being, these changes would stabilize. But until then, the influences around her played a crucial role in shaping who, or what, she would become, just like Golden Girl.
A new certainty was added to Connie's observation journal.
[Asha can change her physical characteristics depending on her curiosity or emotional state.]
Connie felt as if she had just discovered a very important secret.
Unconsciously, she gripped her wheelchair tightly as she watched Asha scribbling something in her notebook.
If what she had discovered was true, Asha's case was even more serious than she had imagined. Even physical traits seemed capable of changing from one moment to the next, depending on the influences around her.
But a question naturally arose in Connie's mind. If Asha was able to change her eyes, why didn't she modify her legs so she could walk like a normal person? Or even her vocal cords, which were incapable of producing sound?
Connie had some hypotheses about these questions, but before delving into them, she first needed to confirm whether her reasoning so far was valid.
She would have to put Asha's eyes to the test. It was the only way to determine whether they had changed only in appearance or if their functions had also been enhanced.
But then a new problem arose. How could she tell if Asha's eyesight had improved or not?
Asha's vision was already very good. Her drawings were extremely detailed, and if Connie asked her to spot random things on the street from a distance, it might sound suspicious.
Asha didn't yet know that Connie had discovered her secret. And if she aroused suspicion, the relationship they had built could crumble.
She needed a discreet and natural method.
Connie put her hands to her chin, frowning as she tried to think of something, but no idea came to mind until a peculiar tent caught her eye.
People were gathered there with toy guns, trying to hit targets.
The toys were arranged on shelves that occasionally moved to avoid being shot. The distances varied considerably, with smaller toys placed in front and larger, more valuable ones further back.
People seemed to have great difficulty hitting even a single shot, which showed how hard it was to win a prize.
This was the perfect opportunity to test Asha's eyesight.
Connie quickly went to her father and pointed to the tent.
"Dad, how about we go there this time?"
Doug looked curiously in the direction she was pointing.
They waited for the current players to finish before approaching. Most people gave up after using up all their shots.
The tent owner was a gentleman with a mustache, a goatee, and a suspicious smile.
Those leaving wore regretful expressions as they glanced at their wallets, a detail that didn't escape Doug's notice.
"Sir, how much is each attempt?"
"All the prizes are around fifty dollars or more. You can get five attempts for only twenty. A very fair price, don't you think?"
Doug's gaze sharpened at the suspicious price the man quoted. Five attempts were a generous amount, and theoretically, if all the targets were hit, one could make a huge profit.
However, nothing in life was that simple. The owner would only offer that price and quantity if he were certain he would profit more than he would lose.
Still, Doug wasn't too worried. After all, he was confident in his own abilities.
He pulled forty dollars from his pocket and handed it to the mustachioed man, who grinned from ear to ear as he offered him two toy guns with 5 bullets each.
"It's all yours."
Despite the man's suspicious smile, Doug picked up the gun and examined it. Because it was a toy, its weight was clearly much lighter than that of a real weapon.
The buttons were simplified so that even a child could understand them, but the toy's overall design was quite similar to an actual gun.
However, considering the lightness of the pellets and the material used, he seriously doubted its power and firing strength. The toys on the shelves seemed far too heavy to fall from such a weak shot.
While he analyzed the toy gun, Doug felt a piercing gaze on him. Connie was staring at the weapon in his hands with a certain expectation.
Doug felt pressured under that intense look. He had been confident when he first picked up the gun, but after a short analysis that confidence wilted a bit.
Even so, he could not allow himself to look insecure in front of his daughter, who watched him with such hopeful eyes.
Doug inhaled deeply and put on a confident smile.
He pointed the toy gun forward in an exaggerated manner and aimed at a toy closer to the center, but before firing he raised the gun slightly. Since the pellets were very light, he needed to account more carefully for the arc.
After making all the necessary adjustments, Doug fired.
But suddenly the button on the gun jammed, forcing him to press harder and throwing off his aim completely.
The pellet that had been aimed cleanly at the center barely grazed the toys on the far edge. He had literally aimed at the ceiling.
Connie's eyes grew even more intense when she saw him miss, making Doug's face heat up for a moment.
"Do not worry, my friend. Who hits it on the first try anyway? You still have four more attempts."
The mustached man spoke cheerfully with an irritating smile. Doug frowned slightly but regained his composure before aiming again.
It had only been an accident after all. Next time he was sure he could do it.
Doug pointed the toy gun again and aimed for a larger target, a big plush bear. It was such a large target that it should have been almost impossible to miss.
As before, he tilted the gun upward and took extra care to press the button evenly to prevent it from jamming again.
The shot finally went in the intended direction, but with a problem.
Because of the fans in the tent, the already light pellets had their trajectory altered, causing the shot to veer far from the original target in a way that looked almost chaotic at first glance.
The pellets were so light that even the wind easily changed their path.
"What a shame, another miss. But do not worry, I never liked the number four myself. Three has its charm."
Once again, the mustached man wasted no time mocking the situation. Doug glanced suspiciously at the small control device in the man's hands, then at Connie, who looked even more excited now that he had missed again.
He knew the situation was ridiculous. The man in front of him was clearly cheating, but Doug would lose all credibility in front of his daughter after coming this far.
He decided to use his remaining three pellets to at least win one toy.
He looked around and used his hand to feel the areas less affected by the wind, trying to spot the exact moment when the fans would turn in a favorable direction.
He quickly took his third shot, but unfortunately, he had aimed too high. The pellet sailed far above where it should have gone. Doug stared in disbelief at the pellet on the ground.
"Looks like three is not your lucky number. But do not worry, you still have two more tries! It is not three, but at least it is not one. You can do it!"
Said the mustached man in an overly enthusiastic, coach-like tone. Doug ignored him and focused on analyzing the remaining pellets again.
He was certain he had calculated correctly. If the previous shot had not been influenced by the wind, it would have easily hit a target. Now that he had eliminated the wind variable, the pellet, though light, seemed much more precise than he expected.
Could the pellets have different weights? Doug examined them carefully, but that did not seem to be the case. Maybe he really had just miscalculated.
He took another shot, aiming at a spot neither too high nor too low at the moment when the fans shifted, and fired.
The pellet did not go exactly where he imagined, but it managed to graze the plush bear's paw. The only problem was that it was not enough to knock it down.
Doug now had only one pellet left, but this time he was certain he could hit it again.
The mustached man's smile froze for a moment when he saw Doug hit something, then returned as if he had suddenly thought of something amusing.
"That was close, sir. How about we make things a little more fun?"
The man pulled a button from his pocket, and loud, noisy music began to play, breaking Doug's focus. Flashing lights lit up the toys, and the once static shelf began moving in all directions.
If it had been hard before, now it seemed impossible.
Doug's grip on the gun tightened with the tension of knowing this would be his final attempt.
Some bystanders stopped nearby out of curiosity, and both Connie and the mustached man watched him closely.
All these factors, combined with the moving toys, created unnecessary tension for him.
He knew this was a game of chance from beginning to end, and that the mustached man was playing with the variables. Even if he complained, nothing would come of it.
But he decided to accept this challenge.
Doug put a smile on his face, relaxed his tense posture, and focused completely on the target in front of him.
The fact that the shelf was moving was not entirely bad, since the toys also had a slight tremor.
The large plush bear would fall with a single shot, as long as he struck the upper part of the toy with precision.
Doug picked up the bullet and felt its weight. It was a light bullet, which meant that as long as the fans did not affect its trajectory, it would hit the target.
He took a deep breath and began measuring the variables, a sense of tension forming in the air.
Even when he looked at the shelf, he could not clearly see its patterns. Sometimes it was very slow, other times fast in random directions.
There was no point trying to predict the movements, so Doug focused on what was in his control.
He first made sure the air pressure was as it should be and then aimed at the center of the shelves. Instead of trying to follow the plush bear along an unpredictable path, Doug waited for a single moment.
The mustached man's face gradually grew more bored with the wait.
He was certain that no matter how much Doug tried, the result would be the same. Even if Doug hit the toys, they were designed to fall only after three or four bullets, and Doug had barely landed a few shots.
Unless Doug managed to hit the area with the greatest gravitational leverage, the toys would stay in place.
The mustached man had already made a large profit from young people who stubbornly bought more attempts, thinking it was simply a lack of skill.
However, their attempts were futile; this game had been intentionally developed in this deceptive manner.
Of course, it would not be fun if no one ever won, so occasionally, when a shot landed, the mustached man would give away one of his toys or even ask acquaintances to pretend to be winners and share some of his profit.
Over an entire week, he had made a profit with zero expenses.
Even so, it was impressive to see Doug somehow dealing with the obstacles, which is why the man decided to keep paying attention.
Unaware of the man's malicious intentions, Doug patiently continued waiting for the target. Twice, the plush bear aligned with his sight, but because of the wind blowing toward him, he had to back off.
He was so focused that even the irritating music seemed to vanish. Only the sensations in his hand and the target could be perceived.
And then the long-awaited moment came.
Or at least something close to it.
It was not a perfect moment, since the plush bear was a bit far from the ideal position, but close enough if Doug adjusted slightly.
But by the time his hand adjusted, the bear might shift position.
If he wanted to hit the target, he would need to predict where the bear was going next and only then shoot.
In other words, Doug would have to bet his final bullet.
It was not the safest choice, but he doubted that such a good opportunity would appear again.
All these thoughts, which lasted only a few seconds in his mind, turned into instinctive actions.
Doug decided to trust his instincts and aimed slightly to the left of the toy.
The bullet's path was smooth with slight interference, still keeping its trajectory. It was a shame the shot had lost some force along the way, but if it hit, there would still be a chance.
And then the bullet gradually approached the target, and as if luck was finally on his side, the toy indeed moved to the left.
Doug watched with anticipation as the bullet traveled toward the target until something suddenly happened.
The shelf stopped moving for a brief moment, causing the otherwise perfect shot to only graze the bear and push it slightly to the side.
If not for that interference, Doug was certain he would have hit the target successfully.
He stared in disbelief at the mustached man cleaning his face with a shameless expression.
"Oh, what a shame. That was really close."
From the beginning, there had been no chance of winning.
"So this is how you want to play..."
Doug's hands clenched as he glared at the mustachioed man with burning eyes.
The mustachioed man trembled under that menacing gaze and tried to appease him.
He liked profit, but he was afraid of pain.
"I don't know what you mean..."
Doug walked toward the man, each step so loud it made the ground creak. The man recoiled instantly, his eyes tightly closed.
He knew very well what was coming and braced for the impact, but nothing happened.
In an uncomfortable silence, the man cautiously opened his eyes.
Twenty-five dollars floated before him, along with Doug's menacing face.
"Again!"
The mustachioed man unconsciously handed the ammunition to Doug and watched him try to hit the targets again, forgetting about the two girls behind him.
The little girl with glasses quietly joined her father, but on the second shot, she seemed to give up without continuing much, completely the opposite of her father, who spent all his money on ammunition.
He wiped the sweat from his face and sighed with relief, seeing that the situation was still under control.
Fortunately, the man was an idiot, and his daughters were too passive to stop him.
He sat relieved as he watched the girl with glasses hand her ammunition to the little girl in the wheelchair, and their father futilely trying to hit the targets.
Their father wasn't bad, but he was bound to miss. Even if he hit the teddy bear, his gains would outweigh the losses.
The girl with glasses' aim wasn't anything special either; her two attempts didn't even touch either of the toys.
And besides those two, there was only a little girl in a wheelchair with arms so thin they barely seemed capable of lifting a feather.
There was no chance of anything going wrong.
The mustachioed man grinned sinisterly, watching the family of idiots fall for his plot.
Connie didn't know about the mustachioed man's scheme, but she wasn't too bothered by the shots she'd missed.
Of the five shots, she used two.
Her first shot was carried away by the wind and hit nothing, and the second veered off in the wrong direction because of a problem with the toy gun.
She had tried to aim seriously, but she did not come anywhere close to the results her father achieved.
Her father was a security guard who had used firearms before, and considering how good his aim normally was, the fact that he could barely hit anything here made it clear that something was wrong with this game.
Even so, there was something he had not realized while Connie watched him with bright eyes.
Her excited look was not because her father seemed cool, but because of how much effort he put in without producing any results.
Now she had a perfect reference for how someone experienced with weapons reacted when taking this situation seriously.
That meant she could use her father as a baseline to analyze Asha's true abilities.
She was dying to see how well Asha would handle it.
Connie turned and tried to offer her toy gun to Asha, but then her eyes stopped on a peculiar image in Asha's notebook.
Inside the notebook, two human figures were drawn side by side.
The first was clearly Asha in her usual white dress.
But what caught Connie's attention was the person beside her, a man, much larger than Asha. He wore dark, worn shirts and had a muscular build. Scars covered his arm, and an intimidating aura surrounded him.
What was even more peculiar was the area around his face. The paper was so heavily erased that it looked as if it might tear.
Every time Asha tried to draw it, she erased it and started again and again, until she pressed so hard that she cracked the tip of her pencil.
Connie had never seen Asha show so much emotion in a drawing, which was why her eyes could not leave the image.
She was certain she had never seen this person before, and no one like him lived anywhere near their neighborhood.
Why would Asha put so much effort into drawing him?
Asha was not even the type to draw people.
If she had free time, most of her drawings were drills or lions. Unless Connie suggested a topic, her drawings rarely left those themes.
There was, however, one other exception. Nature. Asha had several drawings of trees in her notebook.
But Asha's interest in trees was different from her simple fascination with drills and lions.
She did not draw them as frequently, yet whenever she returned to the subject, she spent hours drawing the same tree over and over.
Asha would draw a large tree from countless angles, as if one depiction was not enough.
The same tree again and again, each time with more detail.
When something was important to her, she drew it with extreme care and recreated it from multiple angles simply for her own satisfaction.
But never before had she spent so much time trying to fix a single drawing.
She usually finished her drawings in one fluid go, with only minimal adjustments.
The more detail she added, the more affection she clearly had for the subject.
But aside from the time Asha had invested in this drawing, nothing else matched her usual pattern.
The man was not completely proportional, and the picture lacked her usual precision. The clothes were simple and generic. Even the man's muscles looked more like those of an anatomical model than a real person.
It was as if Asha was trying to fill gaps in her memory using what she knew. Sometimes she added intense detail, like the muscles. Other times, she simplified things strangely, like his clothes and hair.
For most artists, such imperfections would be normal.
But for Asha, imperfection was not normal. It was the exception.
If Asha had good memories of this man, she would have drawn him as well as she drew anything else. Yet the drawing before her was the most flawed thing she had ever made, and the man did not even have a face.
It was suspicious. Very suspicious.
Considering Asha could recall details precisely after seeing something only once, it was hard to believe she would not remember his face.
Why had she become so emotional while drawing him? And why was the drawing so imperfect?
What was the identity of this mysterious man?
She did not want to jump to conclusions, but something deep inside her felt uneasy watching Asha struggle so desperately to finish the drawing.
She fixed the man's image firmly in her mind.
If the chance arose, she hoped Asha might talk about it someday, but Connie knew pressing her would not help.
She did not want to scare Asha by digging into her secrets.
Connie buried her doubts and, with a smile, offered the toy gun, deliberately placing it over the drawing.
Asha's hands froze, and two wide eyes stared up at her.
Her eyes were on Connie, yet unfocused, as if some small light inside her had gone out.
Connie knew she could not ask anything, so in a surprisingly mature gesture for her age, she gave a big smile, hiding her worries.
"Want to try?"
Asha reluctantly took the gun and quickly closed her notebook.
That alone made it clear she did not want to be questioned.
She looked at the tent with disinterest until a faint spark returned to her eyes, as if she had finally reconnected to reality.
Perhaps one of the toys had piqued her curiosity.
Connie watched each reaction carefully and quietly sighed in relief.
Originally, she wanted to test Asha's abilities and observe the change in her eyes, but after seeing her agitation, she reconsidered.
They were at an amusement park. She did not want Asha to worry about anything.
Connie suppressed her curiosity about the strange man and returned to observing Asha, but a seed had already been planted.
And once planted, the tendency was for it to grow.
*
Author's note
My fellows, this writer resurrected from the dust. I apologize for the delay; it turns out I had to climb the highest mountain, drink the most bitter wine, fight the most impure demon, and drink the sap of the sweetest herb to get here.
But don't worry, I'm back. Thank you for giving me motivation🍪
*
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