Chapter 122: Unknown Destination
The drive passed in silence.
While Eva stared stubbornly out the window, Blanche caught Kiyan looking at her several times through the rearview mirror. Every time their reflections met, he immediately looked away, pretending to focus on the road.
When he cursed a slow driver for the third time—using language colorful enough to make even a sailor blush—the two young women silently agreed that today was definitely not the day to test his patience.
Blanche did her best to keep a perfectly neutral expression.
In vain.
Ever since her awakening, the world seemed to have acquired a level of volume she'd never asked for.
Every sound assaulted her ears with unbearable intensity. The car's otherwise quiet engine filled the entire cabin with its steady hum. The tires sang against the asphalt. The turn signal clicked like an obsessive metronome. Even the faint rustle of Eva's clothes as she crossed her legs drew Blanche's attention against her will.
And then there were the smells.
The scent of leather warmed by the sun.
Kiyan's woody cologne, so pleasant under normal circumstances.
Eva's lighter perfume.
The stale tobacco lingering in the upholstery after the cigar he'd smoked only minutes earlier.
The plastic of the dashboard.
The exhaust fumes from passing cars.
Even the damp scent of the trees lining the road whenever someone cracked a window open.
Everything reached her at once.
Without filters.
Without mercy.
Her brain seemed incapable of separating what mattered from what didn't.
A vicious headache slowly settled behind her eyes, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Every passing mile made it worse, as though her skull had become too small to contain the avalanche of information pouring in through her heightened senses.
She took a careful breath.
Bad idea.
The mixture of scents inside the car nearly turned her stomach. She swallowed a grimace as a wave of nausea climbed into her throat.
Honestly...
Becoming the Queen of Players had apparently skipped the pamphlet explaining the side effects.
Discreetly, she turned toward the slightly open window, letting the cold air brush against her face in hopes of regaining some semblance of balance.
For a few precious seconds, she focused solely on the steady whisper of the wind, trying to ignore everything else.
Easier said than done.
Her hearing still picked up the song of a blackbird perched dozens of yards away, the low buzz of an electrical transformer, a motorcycle approaching from behind...
...and, much closer, the calm breathing of Kiyan and Eva.
That was when she realized the real challenge wouldn't be learning to use her new powers.
It would be learning to live with them.
Before her own brain decided to resign.
Fortunately, Kiyan switched on the radio.
A soft melody drifted through the car, gentle and almost weightless, never demanding attention. More surprising still, he unconsciously kept time with his fingertips, tapping lightly against the steering wheel between gear changes.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap...
There was something strangely soothing about that steady rhythm.
Amid the chaos assaulting every one of her senses, those quiet taps became an anchor.
Almost without realizing it, Blanche latched onto them, unconsciously synchronizing her breathing with the gentle beat.
Little by little, the overwhelming flood of sensations seemed to retreat just enough for her headache to stop getting worse.
She glanced discreetly toward Kiyan.
He didn't even seem aware that he was helping her.
As usual, he did things like this naturally, never expecting gratitude and never imagining they could mean so much.
The drive passed more quickly than she'd expected.
The car left the main roads and entered the city center, where traffic became noticeably calmer. Wide avenues gradually gave way to elegant streets lined with leafless plane trees whose dark branches etched delicate patterns across the winter sky.
The immaculate sidewalks still glistened from a recent rainfall, while bundled-up pedestrians hurried along with their hands buried deep inside their coat pockets to escape the biting cold.
The cafés' outdoor terraces sat abandoned for the season beneath neatly folded awnings, and thin trails of smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of nearby buildings.
Kiyan slowed even further before turning into one of the city's most prestigious residential neighborhoods.
The contrast with the rest of downtown was striking.
Here, nothing screamed wealth.
Luxury revealed itself through details.
None of the buildings rose higher than three to six stories, as though an unspoken rule forbade anyone from stealing the sky's spotlight.
Their harmonious façades were dressed in brilliant white stone that contrasted beautifully with the gray light of the winter afternoon.
The window frames were delicately carved.
Wrought-iron balconies formed elegant arabesques.
Tall, meticulously varnished wooden carriage doors concealed private courtyards hidden from the street.
The wisteria climbing the façades had long since lost its blossoms, yet its twisting vines still traced graceful lines across the pale stone.
Window boxes now held hellebores, heather, and miniature evergreens, adding touches of green to the sleeping season.
Not a single façade showed signs of neglect.
No scraps of paper drifted across the cobblestones.
No noise truly disturbed the peaceful atmosphere beyond the distant murmur of the city, muffled by the dense winter air.
Even with senses that had become almost impossible to control, Blanche could feel the serenity woven into the neighborhood itself.
The scents here were gentler.
Cleaner.
Damp stone.
Old wood.
Wood smoke.
A hint of resin drifting from the fir trees decorating a few entrances.
And that unmistakable fragrance unique to winter itself—a blend of cold air, rain, and absolute freshness.
It felt as though time itself slowed down on this street.
Elegant without trying to impress.
Refined.
Understated.
And almost intimidatingly peaceful.
Just like Kiyan.
The history professor drove farther down the street before parking in a spot that allowed the girls to step directly onto the sidewalk without having to cross the road.
He had noticed that Blanche now hesitated at crosswalks, while Eva insisted on checking traffic a dozen times before crossing.
Kiyan switched off the engine before climbing out first.
As always.
He casually walked around the car and opened Blanche's door before she'd even had time to touch the handle, then waited patiently while she stepped out, one hand tucked into his coat pocket.
The gesture was so natural to him that he probably no longer noticed he was doing it.
Blanche noticed.
Very much.
Honestly...
That man was dangerous.
Not because he could level an entire city if he felt like it—though admittedly, that wasn't an insignificant detail—
—but because he was the kind of man who opened car doors, held doors open, and managed, through a handful of ordinary gestures, to make you forget that well-mannered gentlemen still existed.
Eva climbed out through the same door after Blanche, safely away from the traffic.
Together, the three of them crossed the sidewalk beneath the crisp chill of the winter afternoon.