Jujube dragged the heavy bags behind her as she turned onto the street where her second part time job was. The pet daycare sat halfway down the block, bright sign, glass front, usually loud with barking.
Today, the street felt wrong. She stopped mid step.
A massive black van was parked right in front of the shop, its engine still running. Two huge men stood outside the door, broad shouldered, arms crossed, faces hard and watchful. Not customers. Not pet owners. A streak of sweat formed on her forehead despite the cold weather, it seemed that she had been caught red handed. 'this can't be his men.' she thought to herself.
Her grip tightened around the straps of her bags. Her knees froze, instinct told her to turn around and leave while she still could and she almost did but before she could, the door burst open.
More men came out in a rush, they seemed to be in a rush as if there were other places they needed to haunt. And then she saw him. The same man from last night. The one with the tattoo shaved into the side of his head. Fear crawled straight up her spine.
She took a step back without thinking. Her eyes flicked down, pretending she was just another passerby. From the corner of her vision, she saw his head turn slightly. Just a glance. Quick. Measuring. She looked away instantly.
The van doors slammed shut. The engine roared. In seconds, they were gone, and only then did she decide to walk any further. She slowly approached the shop.
Inside, the owner stood behind the counter, pale and shaken, counting small ten dollar bills with trembling fingers. Jujube pulled her bags in and stepped inside.
"Oh, Jujube. You're here," the woman said, forcing a smile that did not reach her eyes.
Jujube nodded. "Yeah." Her gaze dropped to the bags. "I see you're moving?" Sara. That was her name.
Jujube's cheeks warmed. "I'm looking for a place," she said quietly.
"I thought you said you studied at WestBridge Hall," Sara said, straightening her expression, clearly trying to pull herself together. "Don't they have dorms? I have heard great things about that place."
"They do," Jujube replied. "I haven't been able to get one for the past two years. I'm trying again this year. Hopefully it works out." She tugged the bags fully inside and set them down.
Then she hesitated, walked closer to the counter, and glanced out the window once more.
"Who were those men?" she asked.
Sara let out a breath she had been holding. Her smile faltered. "Just money collectors."
"You owe someone money?" Jujube asked. "No, dear," Sara said softly. "It's a protection racket."
Jujube blinked. "You mean they take money so nothing bad happens?"
"Yes." Sara nodded, tired. "Things were quiet after the last crackdown. Looks like they're back. Now we pay, or we lose protection."
The word protection sounded hollow.
"You should change," Sara added, forcing the subject closed. "There are a few dogs that need walking."
Sara turned and walked toward the back.
Jujube stayed where she was for a moment, unease sitting heavy in her chest. In less than twenty four hours, she had seen those men twice. She pressed her lips together.
'I got scared for no reason,' she told herself, almost like she was apologizing for something.
She shook it off and headed to the changing room. After pulling on her work clothes, she clipped the leashes on and took the dogs out for their walk.
The moment she stepped outside, the air felt different.
The town sat far from the main city, tucked away like something carefully protected. It was quiet, guarded, preserved. No tall glass buildings. No rushing crowds. Just narrow streets paved with old stone, curved lampposts lining the roads, and buildings that looked like they belonged to another time. Small houses with sloped roofs and green patches climbing their walls. Mist hung low in the air, softening everything.
She walked the dogs slowly.
One was a short legged Russian toy dog with a sharp little face and alert eyes. Another was a small white poodle that pranced like it knew it was expensive. The third was a sleek greyhound type, tall and elegant, the kind of dog rich people walked without ever holding the leash too tight.
As she passed a row of shops, she felt it.
That strange pull between her shoulders.
She glanced across the road, just briefly. For a second, she thought she saw someone standing there. A dark figure, half hidden by shadow. When she blinked, there was nothing.
She kept walking.
The buildings here had tall glass windows, polished stone, reflective surfaces meant to show off their beauty. In one of the reflections, she caught it again. A shape behind her. Too far to make out clearly.
Her steps slowed.
She did not turn around right away.
In another reflection, it appeared again. Same distance. Same vague outline. Her heart started to beat faster. 'They couldn't have found me. It is impossible.'
She finally looked back. The street was empty.
She exhaled, forcing herself to relax. You are tired, she told herself. You are imagining things.
A few steps later, the town library came into view.
It was a tall Victorian building, dark stone and high arched windows. One half of it remained a proper library, quiet and imposing. The other half had been repurposed into vintage shops, small cafes, and secondhand bookstores that attracted tourists.
She remembered her textbooks.
Most of them were already issued at campus, and buying them was not an option. The librarian there always looked at her like she was wasting their time. This place felt safer.
She crouched beside the dogs. "Two minutes," she whispered. "Stay right here."
The Russian toy dog sat instantly. The poodle followed. The greyhound hesitated, then settled.
She tied their leashes to the railing and rushed inside.
The receptionist looked up and smiled knowingly. "I was wondering when you would show up."
Jujube smiled back. "I barely had time these past few weeks."
She explained about the new academic year and asked about the course books.
"The coursework has changed a little," the receptionist said. "I am not sure about all of them yet. Once you get the curriculum, send it to me. I will check."
Jujube's shoulders loosened. "Thank you. You always have my back."
The woman winked. "I have to go," Jujube said quickly. "I am walking dogs."
The receptionist waved her off. Jujube hurried down the steps. Her smile faded.
Only two dogs sat by the railing. The third leash was gone. So was the dog.