The train ride had been quiet, almost too peaceful. Lyra—no, the assassin within her—sat stiffly by the window, pretending to be a girl she didn't understand.
She arrived at the station around noon. Her fingers clutched the slip of paper with the address her "mother" had given her—her supposed new home for the year. She hailed a cab and gave the address to the driver.
The house looked old but well-kept, tucked between towering hedges with ivy trailing the windows. As she climbed the steps, suitcase in hand, she hesitated, then knocked.
The door creaked open.
A tall man stood there—broad-shouldered, silver hair that gleamed under the sun, and eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Is this Mrs.Vale's residence?",she asked
The man narrowed his eyes.
He replied coldly"No."
Then he shut the door in her face.
She blinked, stunned.
("What the...how dare this jerk treat me like this..")
(Should I kill ...no...I am not a assassin anymore..")
{inner thoughts}
---
Hours Later...
Dragging her suitcase through the neighborhood, she checked the address again and again. The streets twisted like a maze. Her patience frayed.
Eventually, while leaning against a bench, she saw him again—the silver-haired man. He stood across the road, scanning the area like he was looking for something—or someone.
He approached.
"Are you Lyra",he asked
"Noo....I mean yes...I am Lyra..", she replied hesitantly
He replied with a smirk on his face,
" oh..I am sorry..I thought you were a conartist so I lied"..
(" I look like a conartist...I look...I..")--devastated
---
Back at the House
She followed them back—same house, same door—but this time it didn't shut in her face.
Inside, the air smelled like black tea and books.
She looked around, confused.
"Where's Mrs. Vale".
He turned, his expression unreadable.
"She doesn't live here anymore. Just me. And now… you."
She frowned.
"We're living together? Alone?"
He smirked, resting one hand casually on the wall.
"What? Scared I'll try something funny?"
She gave him a deadpan look.
(" like I will ever be afraid of someone like him"..)
Without another word, she walked past him and entered the guest room, shutting the door behind her.
She didn't have time to be afraid. Not of him.
What she needed now… was a plan.