Those big black eyes sparkled and locked onto Jircniv's.
"Looks like you've made up your mind," Shiao Yi said. "Then let's go. You're not coming back here, so make sure you don't forget anything."
"I'm fine. There's nothing I need to bring," Jircniv replied.
Shiao Yi extended his right hand. Jircniv reached out and took it. It was a small, soft, delicate hand—surprisingly warm.
"Let's go," Shiao Yi said. "It might feel strange for a moment, but don't worry. You'll be fine."
Jircniv looked back at the room one last time. It was the place he had lived from the age of five for the past fifteen years. But before he could feel anything sentimental, the room vanished.
He knew instantly that he was somewhere else. It had taken less than a second—there hadn't even been time to blink.
Yet for Jircniv, it felt like a long time had passed. He couldn't move. His body felt disconnected, like it wasn't under his control. It was like floating—an unsettling, queasy sensation.
