The sun had started setting by the time the café began to quiet down a little.
The warm orange light from outside slipped in through the glass windows, mixing with the soft yellow lights inside.
It was almost six in the evening.
That was when the door opened again.
A lady wearing jeans and a simple top entered the café. She had sunglasses resting on her head, and her walk was quick and confident, like she already knew exactly where she was going. She didn't even glance around.
She went straight to Olivia.
I watched them from my table.
They started talking in low voices near the counter.
I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could tell from their expressions that it wasn't casual talk.
The lady looked irritated.
Olivia looked tense, nodding along as if she was trying to calm her down.
Olivia kept stealing glances in my direction.
At first, I thought I was imagining it.
But she did it again.
And again.
The lady turned her head.
Her eyes locked onto me.
She didn't hesitate even for a second.
She turned fully and started stomping toward my table with quick, angry steps.
Each step felt heavy and loud.
People noticed.
A few conversations stopped.
I tried to ignore her.
She reached my table and slammed her hand down on it so hard that my cup rattled.
"Who are you," she demanded, "and what are you doing here?"
Her voice was sharp. It cut through the café like a blade.
I looked up at her, startled.
And in that moment, the girl's face from the photo flashed through my mind.
In the end, I made a decision.
I decided not to tell Olivia the real reason for my visit.
It wasn't only because I had lied to her earlier. It was also because there was a real chance she didn't even know about the real reason behind the incident from fifteen years ago.
Not many people go around claiming they can see ghosts or exorcise them.
And even if they did, they were usually labeled as frauds or attention seekers.
I knew that from experience.
It was always better to keep these things to yourself.
Even your closest family could turn distant if you told them too much.
If Olivia didn't know about the suicides or the symbols protecting her building, then telling her would only make things worse.
She would think I was a creep.
A stranger who saw a girl's photo once on Instagram and decided to follow her to another city.
'Ridiculous.'
So instead, earlier, I had told her something safer.
I said I would try to stay in the city for one night, to gather as much information as I could about my so-called relatives, just in case I missed something important.
She had looked at me for a long moment after that.
Then she had smiled softly and said, "If you want, you can spend the night here."
She even served me two more slices of cake, maybe as a way of showing her concern.
After that, I stayed at the café for hours.
I checked every customer who walked in.
Every woman. Every girl.
I kept hoping someone would look even remotely like the girl from the photo.
And now, finally, she was here.
The woman standing in front of me looked just like her.
Older, of course.
More guarded.
But the resemblance was undeniable.
In the photo, she had been smiling brightly.
Right now, she was scowling at me like I was some problem she wanted to avoid.
"Luna," Olivia rushed over to our table, her face pale with worry. "What is this behavior? He's just a small child."
"Child?" Luna scoffed and crossed her arms. "Yeah, sure. A child scammer."
I clenched my jaw.
I hated being called a child.
I was sixteen. Almost an adult.
And being called a scammer on top of that made my chest tighten.
Even if I was technically lying, hearing it out loud still stung.
'Luna.'
So that was her name.
Luna looked to be around thirty. She had a slim but healthy build, the kind that came from taking care of yourself without overdoing it. Her clothes were simple but fashionable, like she knew what worked for her and didn't need to try too hard. Her hair was tied back loosely, and a few strands had escaped, framing her face.
She looked furious.
But underneath that anger, there was something else. Control. Sharp awareness.
The kind of confidence that didn't come from being relaxed, but from being used to dealing with problems head-on.
"He is not a scammer," Olivia said quickly, grabbing Luna's sleeve in a desperate attempt to calm her down. "He just wants to help his parents look for their relatives."
Now people were openly staring.
I could feel their eyes on my back, their curiosity pressing in.
"Relatives?" Luna laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"What was it before this, Olivia? The poor runaway girl? And before that? The lost couple? How many times does it need to happen before you understand that being nosy doesn't help you in any way?"
Her voice rose with every sentence.
Olivia didn't reply.
She just stood there with her head lowered, her hands clenched together.
'So this isn't the first time.'
I wasn't the first stranger Olivia had tried to help.
That explained a lot.
Why she trusted me so easily. Why she offered me a place to stay without asking too many questions.
She was just a kind person.
"Luna, stop it," one of the staff members said, stepping forward protectively. "It's not Olivia's fault that people returned her kindness with betrayal."
Luna ignored her completely.
She turned her full attention to me.
"You," she said sharply. "Follow me."
She pointed toward the door and walked out without waiting for a response.
The café fell into a pin-drop silence.
I stood up slowly and began gathering my things.
"You don't need to follow her," Olivia whispered urgently, grabbing my hand. "I'll handle this."
Her grip was tight, but gentle.
I carefully removed her hand from mine, making sure my gesture didn't come off as rude.
"Thank you, Olivia," I said quietly. "But it's okay."
I didn't want her getting into more trouble because of me.
And as for what I had come here to find, I had already found it.
Luna.
I stepped outside.
The evening air was cooler. The sky was painted in shades of orange and purple. Luna stood near the wall, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease.
She looked… cool.
Too cool, honestly.
I walked over and stopped a short distance away.
She didn't look at me. She took a drag and let the smoke out slowly.
"I'm not going to help you," she said flatly.
I blinked.
"Sorry?"