Chapter 21: What's her problem?
Slowly, like the sun breaking through a cloud, a light, genuine smile emerged on her lips. It was tired, and a little sad, but it was real at the very least.
"You really do know how to calm a woman down, don't you?" she whispered, a fresh tear falling, but this one seemed different. Lighter.
"Well," I said, allowing a playful note back into my voice, releasing some of the tension, "I did learn from the best. It's not my fault the teacher is now getting a taste of her own medicine."
"Oh, you." She chuckled, the sound watery but warm. She finally let go of one of my hands to wipe her cheeks with her napkin.
I chuckled too, relaxing back in my chair. Yet, as the emotional storm passed, my eyes couldn't help but linger on the beautiful woman in front of me.
In the soft café light, with her eyes still shimmering and a soft, vulnerable smile on her lips, she looked heartbreakingly lovely.
I allowed myself, just for a second, to simply enjoy the view of her heart-warming, unguarded expression, pushing the complicated, forbidden thoughts firmly into a locked box. For now, she was just my Noona, and she was hurting less. That was enough, for now anyways.
*****
I was back in my room again, the door closed on the quiet, sunlit luxury. Sarah and I had left the café about an hour ago, the mood between us lighter, more connected.
Though that connection had been interrupted when her phone buzzed with an urgent call from the company. Her face had tightened back into its professional look.
"I'm so sorry, Julian. A licensing issue with one of our new products. I have to go in and sort this out." She'd squeezed my shoulder. "Make yourself at home. Order dinner if you get hungry. We'll talk more tonight."
With a whirl of her silk blouse, she was gone, leaving me alone in the vast, silent apartment. Well not totally alone but I decided it wasn't time to include the other parties presence.
Her absence gave me too much space to think. The emotional catharsis of the café conversation had been real, but it didn't solve my practical problems.
My life was still a collapsing building, and I was now camping in a beautifully furnished room in the ruins.
College would start in a few days. The familiar grind of classes, assignments, and part-time work.
' if I could even keep the Sunny Mart job while living here.' loomed.
The eviction was handled, but I was now a charity case, dependent on Sarah's generosity.
That sat uneasily with me. The strange "mission" system was the only wild card, the only thing that felt like the only way out of this for me.
'If possible, I should try to complete more missions. See if these mission rewards can get better in the long run.' I reasoned, pacing over the soft carpet of my new room.
'But I need to be smart about it. I can't go around doing something reckless like last time otherwise, it'll come back to bite me in the ass.'
I pursed my lips, thinking. The mission with Marian had been high-risk, high-reward in terms of personal satisfaction, but it had also been incredibly messy and could have gone very wrong.
I needed a lower profile. I rummaged through my luggage. the one piece of my old life in this new space, and pulled out a simple black baseball cap. It was worn and faded, but it would help shade my face. I paired it with a dark grey t-shirt and my least-faded jeans. It wasn't a disguise, but it made me feel less visible and more like an observer.
A new plan quickly formed in my head.
'I'd go out for a walk, Explore the city and keep my eyes open. See if any panels appears for people on the street, in parks, in shops, basically anywhere around here.'
Stepping out of my room into the hallway, the profound silence of the apartment enveloped me. It was mid-afternoon, the sun slanting through the living room windows in bright bars. I felt thirsty, my mouth still vaguely sweet from the latte. I decided to grab a glass of cold water from the kitchen before heading out.
I padded softly across the cool concrete floor into the open-plan living area, Only to stop for a brief moment when I noticed that Ophelia was there.
She sat atop the couch.
She was staring at the large TV, which was playing some arty-looking animated film with a muted, melancholic color palette and no dialogue.
She must have sensed my presence, because the next moment, Her head turned slowly, and her eyes, landed on me.
The cold, contemptuous look from the hallway was back, but it was weary now, rather than completely hostile.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of the earlier fiery anger. Her eyes squinted slightly, not in curiosity, but in a familiar, dismissive scrutiny.
I looked at her for a beat, then pointed deliberately at my own lips. I brought my fingers together in a pinching motion and slowly drew them across my mouth, making a very clear, very silent "zipping it" gesture.
I was reminding her of her own command: 'I thought I told you to shut it.'
Her face, which had been a mask of bored hostility, creased. A flicker of surprise and irritation, passed through her eyes.
Her lips tightened.
"You know what, fine! Continue to remain silent, as if I care!" The words exploded from Ophelia, shattering the heavy, watchful quiet of the living room.
They weren't a shout, but a sharp, frustrated hiss, laced with venom and a strange undercurrent of something that sounded almost like disappointment.
She didn't even turn to look at me as she yelled; she just stared rigidly at the ongoing animation on the screen.
Then, with a deliberate, jerky motion, she sank back into the plush cushions of the couch, turning up the volume on the TV with a dismissive click of the remote. The haunting synth soundtrack swelled, filling the space between us with artificial emotion.