The voice that called Ronwa's name shattered the silence suddenly,
and she turned around quickly—to see her mother running toward her,
her face a blur of worry and anger, hands waving in the air as if she were trying to fly.
"Ronwa!"
she cried out, then rushed forward and pulled her tightly into her arms,
as though trying to shield her from every evil in the world.
But at that moment, Oda froze in place, his smile fading.
Ronwa's mother looked at him with a sharp gaze,
her eyes burning with a stormy anger that began to rise like thunderclouds.
"What are you doing here with my daughter?!"
she said through clenched teeth, voice low and furious,
her eyes sparking with a silent threat.
"If you don't leave right now, I'll call the police!"
Oda didn't speak at first—he simply held himself still.
Then, he lowered his head slightly, trying to defuse the situation:
"Calm down... I was only saying hello."
But Ronwa's mother didn't believe him.
Her anger poured from her eyes like heavy rain,
and she stepped forward, her threats practically etched into her gaze:
"Don't think I'll ever let you near her again!"
"I'm not here to do harm..." Oda tried to defend himself,
but Ronwa's mother cut him off sharply:
"You were trying to kidnap my daughter!"
Oda took a step back, visibly caught off guard for a moment.
But then, he smirked faintly, surveying the situation with quiet sarcasm as he tried to ease the tension:
"Kidnap? Your daughter is very lovely, but that's not... what I wanted."
He let out a soft chuckle, trying to sound more relaxed.
"You're a careful mother—and rightly so. But believe me... I was only here to talk."
Ronwa's mother kept her eyes locked on him, burning with suspicion.
But something in his tone...
made her feel uneasy.
She couldn't tell whether he truly meant no harm—
or if he was hiding something else entirely.
Suddenly, the tension shattered with a voice calling from afar:
"Akamori! You dumb, late idiot!"
Ronwa's mother turned around, eyes wide with surprise, while Ronwa stared in disbelief.
That strange man who had terrified her just moments ago... was being called by name in public like some well-known figure?!
Oda—or rather, Akamori Onkayo—sighed, then flashed a sardonic smile and said:
"Ah, forgive me, my friend… I was delayed because I saw a girl so beautiful... she stole my heart instantly."
Then he turned to Ronwa and gave her a playful wink, as if tossing a joke like a grenade.
Ronwa's mother's eyes widened in disbelief:
"You… Akamori? The writer?!"
But he didn't respond—instead, he began throwing his odd remarks at the bookstore owner, his voice steeped in melancholy yet laced with a strange humor:
"I wonder… is this the fourth time I've been late this week?
Or the fifth? No matter…
You know, time is just a lie humans invented to suffer precisely."
The bookstore owner laughed and gave his shoulder a friendly slap, then motioned for him to come inside:
"Come on, man. The crowd's been waiting for you for an hour!"
Oda walked into the bookstore with confident steps, as if the world had snapped back into place.
Inside, a long line of people awaited—
most of them clutching his books, some trembling with excitement, others whispering his name like they stood before a legend.
He sat calmly on a worn wooden chair, his thin black pen between his fingers, a sarcastic smile dancing on his lips.
Then he said aloud:
"Who's next?
Who wants to stain their book with the signature of this wretched writer?"**
Laughter rippled through the line, and the crowd began to move.
As for Ronwa, she stood watching from afar...
That ghost, that writer, that strange man—
who had kissed her hand with noble grace,
terrified her with his eyes,
and yet inspired her with his words.
And she still couldn't understand—
Was this man a friend?
A danger?
Or something else entirely?
The line stretched from inside the store all the way out, and people were talking with awe about the mysterious writer, Akamori.
Ronwa stood beside her mother, who still wore a wary expression—though it was starting to weaken as things became clearer.
In the middle of the crowd, a young girl, not much older than Ronwa, stepped forward. She held a book in her hands, hiding half her face behind the cover,
and shyness seemed to overflow from her, as if she might bolt at any second.
She lifted her eyes to him and spoke in a barely audible voice:
"Mister Akamori… may I… ask you something?"
He raised his head from the page he was signing, looked at her with a strange kindness, and smiled with a faint, enchanting charm. Then he said:
"Of course, little lady. Ask anything you like—as long as you don't ask me how I buried my heart."
The girl giggled, even more bashfully, then hesitated and said, in a whisper:
"How… how old are you?"
He paused for a moment that felt like an eternity, then raised one eyebrow slightly and answered with a gentle smile:
"Twenty."
He said it in a soft voice, with a touch of nobility and a hint of irresistible innocence.
His smile seemed to carry a calming magic—it soothed the little girl's heart… and even Ronwa's mother's heart as she stood behind her daughter.
Ronwa's mother, who had nearly called the police just minutes ago, relaxed her brow slightly, looking calmer—
as if silently thinking: Maybe… maybe he's not so bad after all.
As for the girl, her face turned crimson, and her lips trembled as she said:
"You… you look younger…"
Akamori laughed, then signed his name on the first page with elegant handwriting, and below his signature, he wrote:
To the lovely Lady Shyness…
Keep your heart pure, and don't believe strangers' ages so easily.
Then he handed her the book with a wink.
After a long wait, it was finally Ronwa and her mother's turn.
The mother stepped forward cautiously, yet she seemed calmer than before.
She looked at Akamori with sincere eyes and spoke in an apologetic tone:
"I… truly apologize for what I said.
I was just worried about my daughter… I thought you were—"
She stopped, as if the words were too shy to finish.
But Akamori did not get angry. Instead, he lifted his eyes to her and smiled gently, with a soft, understanding smile, and said:
"If I were in your place, I would have done the same."
Then he added in a quieter voice, a faint shadow of sadness passing over his features:
"When something is… dear to the heart,
we fear for it—even from the air."
The mother looked at him with surprise for a moment; he seemed completely different from the strange young man she had seen moments ago.
Yet, as if sadness was not meant to stay with him long, he suddenly regained his old spark and raised his head with that familiar sarcastic tone:
"But still, I don't recommend yelling at writers too much.
You might end up as a villain in my next novel!"
The mother chuckled lightly, exchanged one last apologetic glance with him, and then stepped aside.
As for Ronwa, she stepped forward slowly, holding his book in her hands,
looking at him with a mixture of curiosity, amazement, and admiration.
Akamori gave her a special smile and raised his pen:
"Alright then, Ronwa…
What shall I write for you?"
Ronwa stepped toward him, with a reverent silence,
then extended her small hand and carefully handed him a book.
He took it from her, his gaze ordinary at first...
but when his eyes fell on the cover,
he froze for a moment.
His features contracted, then his eyes widened with a quiet surprise.
The cover was familiar...
leather-bound, with a golden seal,
the handwriting he had once written with a trembling hand.
That book.
It wasn't just any book...
it was the first book he had ever gifted to someone.
And that someone was... Lucas.
Many years had passed,
yet the book looked as if it had just come out of a memory box,
preserved by time, clean, as if someone had cared for it deeply.
Oda stretched out his slender fingers and gently stroked the cover,
as if touching something lost long ago.
Then... he smiled.
A very small smile, warm and tender, but saying nothing.
He made no comment. Didn't tell her it was his favorite book.
Didn't even mention it was one of his own writings.
He simply opened the cover,
picked up his pen,
and quietly signed it for her:
To the princess who guards the light in her heart,
Never let the darkness steal your sparkle.
Then he closed the book, handed it back to her with a faint smile, and said:
"Take care of it, Ronwa.
This book... is precious."
Ronwa took the book in her hands like a precious treasure,
then looked up at him and smiled with gratitude.
"Thank you, Mr. Akamori."
He nodded at her with a softer smile, but his eyes never left her face.
As for her mother, she bowed to him slightly, with genuine respect this time,
and said calmly:
"It was a pleasure meeting you. And I apologize again."
He waved at them playfully and replied in a cheerful tone:
"Likewise, strong lady.
Take care of this little troublemaker — she carries a great heart."
Then Ronwa and her mother turned and walked through the crowd, out of the bookstore.
As for him, he remained standing there for a moment, watching them leave,
then whispered quietly, almost inaudibly:
"Our second meeting… will be soon, my princess."
And amidst the crowd, and the laughter of readers,
no one noticed that strange flicker that passed through his eyes.