Chapter 4
Walking through the picturesque streets of Zakex, a city defined by its serene atmosphere rather than chaotic crowds, Rayhon pulled out his encrypted phone. "Hmm... my apartment is in the central district of Beres. Navigating this city is going to be a workout in itself."
As he walked, the ghost of Einsa haunted his thoughts again. Einsa... where are you hiding? In which city do you wake up every morning? I long to see you. I wonder if these twelve years have stolen that ethereal beauty of yours, but I haven't forgotten your eyes. Even if we met as strangers, I would know them anywhere.
After walking a few more blocks, a five-story brown building came into view, situated perfectly across from a small, vibrant park. "Third floor, Apartment 3. This is it."
As Rayhon reached the entrance, a formidable, elderly woman suddenly blocked his path. Rayhon stumbled back, startled. "Whoa! Who are you, and why are you blocking the way?"
The woman glared at him, her hands on her hips. "Listen, boy, do you know who I am? I am the landlady of this building. No one enters without my blessing, regardless of whether they've booked a room or not. Now, which floor are you on?"
Rayhon forced a polite smile, scratching the back of his head. "I believe my friend booked a flat on the third floor for me just today. Did you forget, ma'am?"
The old woman tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Ah, yes... a man did come by earlier. My old brain doesn't hold onto details like it used to. But... if you want to get to your room, you'll have to give me something to make me happy first."
Rayhon paused, his mind racing through tactical options before settling on a simpler one. He pulled out some cash. "Here, consider this an advanced rent payment."
The woman peered at the money and smirked. "Your friend already paid for a full year in advance. I want something else..."
Rayhon felt a bead of sweat on his neck. Dammit, if money won't tempt her, what will? What does she want from me? Then, he remembered the packet in his pocket. He pulled out the Red Rose Cotton Candy. "This is all I have on me right now. Would you like it?"
The landlady's face lit up instantly. She snatched the packet from his hand with surprising speed. "Oh! My favorite! You're a good boy, you've truly made me happy. You may go up. My name is Buhona. What's yours?"
"I'm Layon," Rayhon replied with a forced, weary smile. "Pleasure to meet you."
Using his alias, Rayhon began climbing the stairs. However, on the second floor, two beautiful young women blocked his path, their eyes wide with admiration.
"Wow... look how handsome he is," one whispered, not even trying to hide her gaze. "His jawline is so sharp!"
The other girl giggled. "I can't believe such a good-looking man is moving into our building!"
Rayhon ignored the flattery, exhaling a sharp, tired breath. "If you two are done staring, I'd like to pass. I'm running late."
"My name is Maran," one said playfully, stepping closer. "And I think I've just fallen in love. You aren't going anywhere until you have tea with us." She turned to her sister. "Right, Sofia?"
"Absolutely," Sofia agreed. "We can't let a man this handsome pass by without a proper welcome."
Maran reached out and grabbed Rayhon's arm. "Come on, join us!"
Rayhon flinched, pulling his arm back with military precision. "No, thank you. I've already had tea." He tried to push past, but the two sisters looked at him with such innocent, pleading eyes that his resolve softened slightly. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll come, but let me freshen up first. I'm exhausted. The name is Leyon."
The sisters cheered. "We'll be waiting, Leyon!"
Finally reaching his flat, Rayhon conducted a thorough sweep of the place. It was a well-designed two-bedroom apartment with a modern kitchen, a clean bathroom, and a cozy TV lounge. He moved to the bedroom and located a hidden locker beneath the mattress—a standard feature for high-level safehouses—and stashed his tactical gear inside.
He collapsed onto the sofa in the lounge, the fatigue finally hitting him. "Half the day is gone, and I haven't even prepared for tomorrow. The interview at The Royal Oak High..."
The Royal Oak High was the crown jewel of Zakex—a school for the offspring of the powerful and elite. It wasn't just about academics; it was about grooming the future leaders of Aindun through sports, fine arts, and high-level strategy. To teach there, one usually needed decades of experience and a spotless record. But Rayhon's team had fabricated a perfect, unshakeable background for him.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed with an encrypted text.
We trust you are settled. Here are your specific objectives at The Royal Oak High: You will be assigned to teach a 3rd-grade class. Within that class is the son of Joll Hok. To get close to the father, you must become the child's favorite teacher. No room for error.
Rayhon stared at the screen in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? A 3rd-grade class? I have to win over a child to get to a high-value target? This is going to be the hardest mission of my life."
Overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of the task, Rayhon drifted into a heavy sleep. Hours later, the shrill chime of the doorbell woke him. He sat up, disoriented, checking the clock. "Evening already? I shouldn't have slept so long."
The bell rang again. Rayhon approached the door and peered through the peephole. He saw a girl with maroon hair and froze. For a heartbeat, he thought it was her. He threw the door open, but as the light hit her face, he realized it wasn't the girl he was looking for.
"Hi," she smiled warmly. "I live in the flat right across from yours."
Her voice... it was soft, but it resonated with a haunting familiarity that made Rayhon's skin crawl. It sounded exactly like Einsa's.
Rayhon composed himself. "I see. Is there something I can help you with?"
The girl held out a tiffin carrier. "It's a tradition here. When someone new moves in, we provide their first dinner. Please, accept this."
Rayhon swallowed hard, his mind reeling. Her face is different... but why does she sound so much like her? "If you're offering it so kindly, I'll take it. Thank you."
As Rayhon reached out, his hand brushed against hers. In that split second, a jolt went through him. He didn't just take the tiffin; he grabbed her hand firmly, pulling it toward the light to inspect the lines on her palm. His eyes widened in shock.
"What is your name?" he demanded, his voice trembling with intensity.
The girl gasped, wrenching her hand back in anger. "That was incredibly rude!" Without another word, she turned and fled back to her apartment.
Rayhon stood in the doorway, the tiffin still in his hand, staring at the spot where she had stood. He wasn't looking at her maroon hair or her unfamiliar face. He was thinking about those lines on her palm—a map he had memorized years ago.
What had he seen in those palm lines that made him see the ghost of Einsa in a stranger?