Chapter 192 Alan

Chapter 192 Alan
ADRIANA
It was evening.
It wasn’t totally dark, but people were beginning to retreat to their homes. Children were finding their parents, and mothers were preparing dinner. The smell of broth filled the air—different textures, thickening and thickness. It was beautiful. I wondered why I didn’t roam the city at this time rather than at night.
Finding the new teacher’s home was easy. It was like he wanted to be found, or maybe teenagers were just very fond of talking.
Because it wasn’t night, I didn’t expose as much skin, but my attire was almost the same. A leather jacket, but instead of short rompers, I wore long black jeans. They were thick and big—not something I would normally prefer, but they would do. My red wig was in place, but instead of letting it fall freely on my shoulders and back, I put it up in a ponytail, letting a few strands fall in front to shield my face.
The house was not too far from the school; it was on the school land. My land. I sighted it from a distance. It looked normal, but then, what else did I expect? My suspicion could be wrong, too.
The closer I got, the more unsure I became of my actions. To make it worse, the gem that wouldn't leave me began buzzing in my pocket. It was physically vibrating. It felt like a warning. I could almost hear the voice in my head: “Turn, turn back. Go home!”
I didn’t. I kept walking toward the house. At one point, I began squeezing the gem in my pocket, maybe to borrow strength from it or to give it a little of mine. It could be either, or both.
I stopped in front of the door, removed my hand from my pocket, and knocked.
When I put my hand back in my pocket, the gem was gone. I felt alone, stranded… weak.
Would I have run? Maybe. But I couldn’t, because the door opened to reveal a very familiar face.
Norbert.
My heart began racing in my chest, racing hard. “Hi,” I muttered.
He gave me an uncertain look, like he was trying to place where he had met me.
“You’re the new teacher, right?” I coughed out.
He nodded, still staring, then looked behind me like he felt I wasn’t alone. “Can you give me a minute?” he pleaded apologetically.
I nodded politely.
To my surprise, he only walked out and looked down the street, as if expecting to see someone.
“Expecting someone else?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Did you see anyone on your way here?” There was something off about his tone.
I nodded. “I met a lot of people on my way here.”
He shook his head but came close. “Pardon my manners. Please come in.”
The place was small. Relatively. But he seemed to be making the best of it.
There was a reading table by the window, and an armchair facing a round table in the centre of the room. That was the chair he led me to.
“I’m Eve,” I introduced myself. I sat down comfortably. Eve didn’t have royal manners like Adriana, crossing one leg on the soft chair. “I live down the street. Heard there was a new teacher in the school and thought to say hi—you know, feed my eyes.”
He chuckled. “I’m Alan. I teach history.” Unlike when he was Norbert, his mouth wasn’t full of words. “I’m glad to see the High City has hospitable people.”
I raised a brow. “Hospitable? Maybe. But don’t think I’m your friend yet.”
Alan laughed. “You literally knocked on my door, begging to be my friend. That’s the story I’m going to tell everyone.”
“That’s if I don’t tell them you let your food burn because you were busy begging me to be your friend first,” I retorted.
“Shit.” He almost disappeared into the kitchen. The man was… fast.
I couldn’t sense what he was, but while werewolves were fast, there was a limit to their speed in human form. I followed him slowly. “What are you cooking?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
Alan gave me a questioning look. “You can smell burning food but you don’t know what it is?” he asked. The question might seem sarcastic, but his tone sounded genuine.
He seemed like a completely different person.
“Well, you can say I’m broken,” I shrugged.
“Are you serious?” There was almost care in his words.
I wasn’t. I knew what was cooking. It was porridge; it had potatoes, and I could list every single spice that went into that food, but something made me follow up the lie. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
He nodded. “Hungry?” He was serving himself.
I shook my head. “Nah.”
Alan laughed. “Well, it would be quite daring of you if you accepted.”
“What?”
“Well, you barged into a stranger’s house. A man, nevertheless. People would call you stupid if you ate.” He snickered, taking a step towards me. Then, his voice dropped a fraction. “Well, that’s not true—maybe not valid. Because in a real, dangerous situation, you wouldn’t make it out to tell anyone if you did or did not eat. Besides, if my guess is right, not a single soul knows you’re here, right?”
I wanted to bolt out of the room. I wanted to run, but my legs felt stuck; my body wouldn’t move.
Then Alan began serving another plate.