On the kitchen table was some soup and bread, covered with a glass bowl placed upside down, with drops of liquid condensed on the surface. Thankfully, it hadn't been that long, and I lifted the bowl, placing it on the side, before lifting the plate with the bowl of soup and bread. I was about to take it to my room, have my food in the comfort of the only place I felt comfortable in at the moment, but I decided otherwise. Zoras, from my knowledge, wasn't the kind who preferred eating in his room. He did, at times, but for the most part, he would eat here, and that was exactly where my food was kept, and considering that it was Lune who kept it there, it wasn't a coincidence.
Lune was observant, and I was sure that she would catch the slightest misstep. One can never be too careful. I sat down and tried to finish my food as quickly as I could. I would have loved to take my time and savour the taste, but that wasn't something I had the luxury to do at the moment. In fact, I was quite sure that even if I did take my time with the food, I wouldn't feel any good. My chest tightened and my heart fluttered—but what was it that I was so afraid of? The fear of not being able to return?
Right, that must be it. I placed my hand over my chest, clenching it tight; my head instinctively turning down as my eyes closed shut. My breaths were hasty, my chest too tight to take a deeper breath.
I put the spoon down, and the piece of bread I had barely taken a bite of. I didn't have an appetite. I took a breath as deep as I could conjure, letting it out, slowly, as I clenched more of my chest.
'I will return,' I reassured myself, but that didn't do much. I returned to my room, turning the knob on the pipes, which turned the light on, and sat down on my bed, my fingers crossed, held tightly as they could be. I swallowed hard, my lips pressing into a thin line.
My head felt light.
I was nervous: even I could tell that—perhaps the most I had been about anything in my entire life. Although infuriating, I found it hilarious as well. When was the last time I had even closely come to be this afraid of anything? Perhaps my entrance exams, but even then—it wasn't comparable.
I will return. I will.
I kept repeating those words in my head. I had to. That hope was the thin, fragile thread that kept me sane amidst the insanity of the entire situation, but no matter how many times I repeated those words, or however many times I patted my chest, saying out loud, 'it'll be fine,' that worry did not go away.
Yet amidst it all, I felt a strange sense of peace. My mind was quiet—blank. Anything I thought or said was simply me reasoning out the reactions of my body. It was ironic, in a way; that my body was this agitated, yet my mind was at peace.
After a while, my chest loosened on its own, but the fear and nervousness did not go away. The clock ticked as hours slowly passed by, the gap between each tick growing with each passing second.
My legs hammered away at the floor while I fidgeted with my fingers. Shadows of the floating clouds hid away the moonlight as winds grew ever stronger. 'Perhaps it will rain,' I thought, looking out the window, at the sky that hung low. Thick, dark clouds moved with the wind, on their march to conceal the entire city.
Yup. It'll most certainly rain.
An hour until midnight. I could leave now; Mr. Douglas would have closed his shop two hours ago, but there were still a few people on the streets, most returning from their jobs, tired, some drunk, while there were also those who simply roamed around, enjoying themselves in the lovely winds.
…
Midnight struck.
My heart beat frantically as I stepped out the door. Fog so thick I could barely see what was in front of me, while thunder growled as rain assaulted the roofs and streets. I wondered if I should step out. Perhaps I could do this some other time, when the weather would be kinder…
'No,' I said, steeling myself. This was also an opportunity. If someone did see me, their vision would also be restricted. There was no better time. It was as if the world itself was on my side, and perhaps that might have been the case. After all, I was someone who got transmigrated here. The world often did favour the protagonist. If I got caught, escaping would be much easier in this nightmare of a weather.
I navigated blindly through the streets, guided solely by the warm dots of light floating in the fog. The streets were empty, which was obvious—nobody would be foolish enough to leave their houses in this weather, no one but me, of course. I thought of it as a blessing; that was, until a piece of metal came flying towards me. Instinctively, my head leaned back, moving away from its trajectory.
'I need to be more careful,' I thought, unable to hear my own words amidst the drumming of the rain and the growling of the sky.
It took me a while to reach Mr. Douglas' shop, the intense winds being a fearsome foe as they tried their best to push me away, but nevertheless, I prevailed! I peeked through the glass window. The room was empty: not a single soul in sight. The door was locked, but that was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
It is rather embarrassing to admit, but back in middle school, one of the skills I picked up was how to pick locks, and I got extremely skilled at it. Why? Because I thought it would help me get girls! As for if it did, that would be a story for a different time.
…Should I?
It was an irrational thought. Of course I should. If there were any leads, I needed to find them…but Zoras would never do something like this. From his eyes, he would be breaking the old man's trust. My hands trembled as I placed them on the door knob. I was standing right in front of it, yet…
No. I'm not Zoras.
Right. And moreover, I would simply need to not get caught. That was all.
I pushed the door open—the signature "creak" sound echoing through the room, announcing the presence of an intruder, but if the rain and thunder wasn't enough to wake anyone up, this definitely would not be. I sneaked into the old, shabby room, which was a much creepier place at night, without all the lights illuminating the shelves. This place looked less of an artefact and more of a museum of things you'd see in horror films, which perhaps wasn't that different from what this place already was.
I quickly browsed through the drawers, and there were quite a few things there, including the brooch from earlier, but strangely, I couldn't find the book of records in here.
'Did he move it?' I wondered. From my memories, he would usually keep it in the top drawer, but it wasn't in any of the drawers of the counter table. If he kept it with him, inside the house, then that would be a problem.
I checked the cupboard on the opposite wall, filled with artefacts that were no doubt quite strong, strong enough for them to be kept locked away. On the lower side of the cupboard, there was a locker with a dial lock. It took me a while, but I managed to unlock it.
Finally!
Inside it, at the very top, was one of the record books I was searching for, the one that logged lending, buying and submitting of artefacts. The book of records of scheduled deliveries wasn't there, which was unfortunate, but they should be around somewhere.
I browsed through the pages, taking note of every name and artefacts. There was my name as well, several times in fact, but not a single record in the last month. The last time I had borrowed an artefact was two months ago, and I had returned it the next day.
I clicked my tongue in disappointment. Putting the book back where it was, I closed the locker and the cupboard, then searched for the other book. I browsed the shelves of artefacts, in case he left it somewhere and forgot it, but no matter how much I searched, I couldn't find it.
'Was it inside the house?' I wondered. I looked at the door leading into the house, stairs leading up to it, framed by stone bricks. For a moment, I considered it, but it would be far too risky.
'Is someone there?'
It was the old man's voice.
Shit! Did he wake up? How?!
I couldn't stay here any longer. If he came here and saw me, that would be the end of this. I quickly put the things back in their places, making sure to leave no trace, and dashed out the door, closing it behind me and disappearing into the fog. Whether or not he even came to check the shop was not my concern—I couldn't risk it!
Absolutely not.
Fear creeped in. What if he saw me? There was no way, right? The door was locked. He couldn't see me. Of course not. But what if he opened the door just in time? I hadn't looked back. What if he questions me the next morning. Should I feign innocence?
Of course I should! Why am I even questioning that?
My heartbeat rose once again.
Damn it, I cursed as I held my chest, my breath short and frantic.
I ran and ran, water splashing under my feet, before tripping and falling, landing on my chin as it touched the wet street.
'Damn it!' I shouted, clenching my fist as I pushed myself up to my feet.
I felt frustrated, but that frustration disappeared the moment I lifted my head, along with any other thought I might have had at that moment, instead replaced by a sense of awe as I looked at the view that formed in front of me.