Ayan picked up the diary, and a blue envelope slipped out. It wasn't a letter; it was an old map with a red 'X' marked deep in the forest, accompanied by strange coordinates. As he stepped out of the library, the air felt heavier.
Walking back to his hotel, Ayan felt eyes on him. In a dark alley, a man in a black jacket blocked his path. "The envelope isn't yours," the man rasped, his voice cold as ice. "Return it to where you found it, or you won't see tomorrow's sun."
Ayan broke free and ran. Reaching his room, he locked the door, his heart hammering. He opened the diary to the last page. A handwritten note read: "Ayan, if you are reading this, I am in danger. Don't trust the words, trust the map." How did she know his name?