The person standing before him chuckled with dignity. He wore glasses for vision, his long, smooth hair combed back, and was dressed in a white shirt and black jeans. He had black eyes and calm, Asian features that denoted sagacity, intelligence, and quick-wittedness. In a sarcastic tone, he said:
"Do not be afraid, Yassin. I'm not going to kill you. I'm here to save you. Don't you remember me?"
Yassin stared at him intently. Then recognition dawned. His expression relaxed slightly.
"Ah... you're Kento, or Keano, or Kilo, I think. You were with me in the competitions. I remember now—you got first place."
Keno smiled and shrugged dismissively. "Kilo, you say? You're amusing. It's Keno. Remember it well."
Yassin studied Keno's face for a few seconds. He looked older than he remembered—now sporting a light beard and a thin mustache.
Keno extended a hand. Yassin hesitated, then took it. Keno pulled him to his feet.
