Yuki Leigh point of view (Recalling Chapter 36)
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"That idiot always dashes out from his problems." There is no helping about Nickson and his two-speedy feet, running away from the two of us, his responsibilities.
He needs to acknowledge that being an officer of the school is not fun and games, especially when he is the vice-president. The person beside me is even Roxanne, the president of the student council.
What does he expect when the right hand of the power is missing?
"Should we go after him, Yuki?" Her anxious words make me want to chase after that boy. But we should leave him alone for the time being, given that he must have an issue of his own.
However, it is not fair that he can ditch his work as an officer! If I have known this would happen, I could have fought for that position. Roxanne and I should have been working together with all the unfinished papers.
"Does Brother Nickson hate me now?" The little girl, Himari, perches on the seat while gnawing the takoyaki on the table. Despite eating such a scrumptious meal, she feels down after seeing Nickson bolting from afar.
"Cheer up, Himari. Nickson is probably in the weather, you know, puberty."
"What is puberty, Sister Yuki?"
After explaining the meaning behind the unconventional words, we finish our meal and head out of the building. Himari knows that we still have to do our things, such as academic-related tasks and novels. She is one of the few people that know my identity as a famous writer. This girl does not look like it, but she has been reading my work since the day I have published my novels.
A shiver escapes my spine as I recall the genre of my stories. The novels include gore, thriller, mystery, and even murders that have traumatised countless civilians already.
"Himari, I hope you do not go down that path," I murmur to myself while staring at the confused girl beside me.
"Hmm~?" Himari tilts her head in confusion, wondering what I have said.
With one shake of my head, I push aside the topic and continue walking along the road together with my best friend. The event is like always; I write my stories while Roxanne plays all the games in my stash, wanting to finish it all and share with me her achievements.
However, there is something that crosses my mind by the time we enter our room.
"Do you think Nickson has been acting strange lately?" I voice out while setting up my laptop, resting on my desk. A clarion sound reverberates from the device as I turn the screen.
"I have not noticed him." Roxanne blurts and enters the passcode for my gaming consoles. She has the skills of playing two to three games at the same time without dying once. Maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, but she has received countless requests from companies hiring her as a professional gamer until now. But it is the other way around.
Roxanne is not interested in joining out the online league. She does not plan on becoming a player. My best friend is more of a designer who makes games and gameplays.
"But I think something is going inside his head." I am surprised that I pay close attention to Nickson from our conversation. "I know crazy when I see one."
"Is it because you are crazy?"
Roxanne and I exchange looks, only to laugh afterwards about her comment. I give my best friend a nod and acknowledge her statement, knowing that I am a lunatic in love with my novels.
During our stay, I feel something tickling me between my thighs.
"Déjà vu," I tell myself as I reach for my pockets again and check my gadget.
A notification appears on the screen. Upon swiping the mail, the same random number gives me a message.
"What does it say?" Roxanne peers through my shoulders and reads the texts out loud before I could get a chance.
"Go to the Clock Hotel once more tomorrow before attending your school." Her voice trails off in the distance as if she has seen this scene before.
If we are in the movie, the two of us would have been dead by now. It is only a matter of time that the bounty hunters could kill us because of our ignorance and gullibleness of following their orders.
Fortunately, that is not the case with the message.
"It seems to me that we are on a mission!" Roxanne jumps around the room, feeling giddy about the text message.
"And what makes you think that?" I feel sceptical about the emails I have been sending. This unknown number probably knows my name, yet they cannot reveal theirs!
"Listen, Yuki. Who in the right mind would send us these discrete messages? Come to think about it, you are like Sherlock Holmes, and I am Watson. We make a great team!" Nothing could save my best friend after blabbering about the statement she has made.
"Who in the right mind would listen to a mysterious, eerie, and ridiculous message?" I retort to her questions, knowing that I will always be correct in every circumstance.
However, she replies with a straightforward answer. "I do."
Roxy raises her hand, claiming that she will believe everything that this individual would message her.
"For the love of America, Roxanne!"
"What?!"
"Play your games and do not utter a single word." With my command, Roxanne and I go two separate ways. I do my writings, and she will play until midnight hits that damn clock.
But, the thing is, none of our conversation from that day matters. The next day, around eight in the morning, Roxanne and I are standing in front of the hotel, tracking something we wish we know about!
"We better hurry and find this moron," I look far and wide and find a figure that resembles a Nickson. The creature that has feet for sprinting away from our sight is none other than the Korean guy.
"Oh, you found him before I could even tell you," Roxanne marks her fingers at the man, trying desperately to run away. Lucky for the two of us, he is a couple of blocks away from where we are standing.
"it is a good thing that we have listened to the message, right?" Roxanne queries as we dart through the crowd.
I do not plan to respond to her question as I focus on catching the vice-president in the game we call "tag".
"Stop it with this cat and mouse games, Nickson!" I shout with all the strength leaving my lungs and head towards the alley.
However, the setting surprises me. Upon racing through the passageway, I greet the panel with my eyes and see nobody. Not a single soul welcomes my eyes as the two of us search the entire place.
"Maybe Nickson has superpowers?" Roxanne blurts the stupidest thing I have ever heard that nearly gets me into laughing.
"If he did, we would call the researchers and study his body." I give her a wink and flick her forehead. "Get your thoughts together, girl."
"You big meanie!" Roxanne rubs her face and resumes looking for a single guy that escapes our face.
After searching for thirty minutes, Nickson has left not a single trace on the road. We would usually find a shoulder bag lying around like the last time he has run away from us. But that does not happen right now.
"Why is he even here in the first place," A rhetorical question flees my mouth as I observe the clock ticking its hands at the numbers.
Is there something special about that hotel? Or is he a colossal pervert that enjoys stalking us?
We can never know.
My best friend has gone into bananas as she strikes me with an answer to my quiz. "Maybe he likes you?"
I could not help but chuckle at her comment, as if it is the best joke I have heard in years. Upon recollecting my thoughts, Roxanne might have said the sublime jest yet since the day of the release of my novel back in the old summer days.
After finding nothing from our hunt, Roxanne and I hurry ourselves going to school. As we are about half a kilometre away from the schoolyards, something yet again, vibrates inside my pants.
"Not again," I annoyingly exclaim as I reach out for the phone for the nth time within my entire life.
"Go inside the Clock Hotel after your school. This message will be your last instruction that I will say to you, Yuki Leigh. I am Wilson, and I plan to disclose myself to the two of you once the situation ceases."
Upon reading the text and showing it to Roxanne, I send the man with the name "Wilson" a reply almost in an instant. I have been holding out-with the best of my abilities about the matter, and this text allows me to decline.
"I am not obliged to help you, and even, hypothetically, that I would help you, what is in it for me?" That sentence is what I have sent to the mysterious Wilson guy, whom I know nothing about!
But the following message catches me off guard as I read it out loud.
"It involves Nickson Park."