Chapter 12
Lina's POV
The last class in the afternoon was history.
I sat by the window. Sunlight streamed through the glass, making everyone drowsy.
The teacher on the podium was an old man with graying hair. His voice was like a poorly maintained radio—sometimes loud, sometimes soft, occasionally punctuated with a few coughs.
He was lecturing on the American Revolutionary War. The blackboard was covered with dates and names. Chalk dust fell on his shoulders, accumulating in a thin layer.
I tried hard to listen for a while, then found I couldn't even remember which side won.
Maggie sat next to me. Her notes were densely written, handwriting round, every important date highlighted with a fluorescent marker.
She noticed me looking at her notebook and quietly pushed it toward me, winking.
I froze for a moment, then followed her example and copied her notes.
"1776, signing of the Declaration of Independence."
"Siege of Yorktown, 1781."
"Treaty of Paris, 1783."
These numbers meant nothing to me, but Maggie had colored them neatly with pink highlighter, even drawing a small smiley face beside them.
I stared at that smiley face for two seconds, then also drew one at the edge of my notebook. My drawing skills were poor—it came out very ugly, the stick figure's mouth corner twisted down to its chin.
Maggie snuck a glance and covered her mouth, shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter, only restraining herself after the teacher glared at her.
When the bell rang, Maggie asked while packing her bag, "Lina, can you really not come to my house after school?"
"Not today," I said.
"Then what about tomorrow, the day after, the weekend?"
She was like a persistent woodpecker pecking at a tree hole, one question after another, her eyes carrying a light that was impossible to refuse.
At Raven I'd seen many ways to apply pressure—threats, intimidation, interrogation, psychological suggestion—but Maggie's method didn't belong to any of these.
She was just very simply, very earnestly hoping you'd agree.
This completely non-aggressive pressure left me somewhat at a loss for how to respond.
"...The weekend," I said.
Maggie's eyes immediately lit up. "Then it's settled! Saturday! You have to come! I'll have my mom bake extra cookies! What flavor do you like, chocolate or cranberry?"
"Either is fine."
"Then we'll make both!" Maggie shouldered her bag and waved at me. "Don't forget tomorrow morning—the sandwich shop, two blocks left from the school gate!"
When she ran out of the classroom, she almost crashed into the doorframe. Her backpack strap caught on the door handle. She stumbled, then rushed into the hallway without looking back.
I watched the direction she disappeared, the corner of my mouth involuntarily lifting slightly.
By the time I walked out of the academic building, the sunset had already burned the entire sky orange-red.
There weren't many people left on campus—a few scattered groups walking toward the school gate.
On a bench by the flower bed sat a couple. The girl had her head on the boy's shoulder. The boy was looking down at his phone, his other hand absently stroking her hair.
I glanced at them, then looked away.
Stroking hair.
I uncontrollably thought again of Luca's action last night. An inexplicable irritation rose in my heart. I bit down hard on my tongue, forcing myself to stop thinking about it.
I wrapped the scarf tighter and walked toward the school gate.
A black car was parked at the school gate. The body had a subtle pattern—the Moretti family crest.
A tall man in a black suit stood by the car door, hands clasped in front of him.
Seeing me, he nodded slightly. "Miss Lina, Mr. Moretti asked me to pick you up."
"Where is he?"
"Sir has matters to handle. He'll return to the apartment later."
I nodded and opened the car door to sit in the back seat.
I pressed my forehead against the car window glass. The coolness seeped through my skin.
The matters Luca was handling were nothing more than those things—business, territory, betrayal, elimination.
Every day he dealt with matters from that world I knew best, yet he'd pulled me out of that world and stuffed me into a university full of aristocratic children, making me learn knowledge, making me make friends.
As if this way, I could really become an ordinary person.
But I knew deep down that fundamentally I was a person from the same world as Luca.
The car stopped at a red light.
Through the window I saw a flower shop by the roadside. In a bucket by the door were bunches of red roses, their petals appearing rich and silent in the twilight.
Roses.
When Dmitri gave me this codename, he said, "Roses have thorns. I hope you do too."
He sharpened my thorns one by one, poisoned each one, then turned me into his most prized creation.
The light quickly turned green. The car continued forward. The flower shop was left far behind. That bunch of red roses also disappeared into the twilight.
By the time I returned to the apartment, twilight had completely vanished and the sky had turned completely dark.
I opened the door, took off the scarf and placed it on the coat rack, then immediately collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling in a daze.
This kind of life—not having to rush around for missions, not having to worry about survival—was too comfortable, so much so that I didn't know what to do.
To avoid thinking about Luca again, I decided to do some math problems.
But I clearly overestimated myself. After completing one-third of the test, I rubbed my dizzy forehead and chose to give up.
I walked to the window and opened the curtains. Manhattan's night view spread out below—countless lit windows, countless flowing rivers of traffic, making this city look like a giant machine that would never fall asleep.
Luca still hadn't returned.
I stood for a long time. The window glass reflected my own face—and those eyes that looked somewhat unfamiliar.
I was waiting.
Waiting for someone to come home.
When I realized this, my stomach turned.
Not from discomfort, but from something that made me want to retreat yet also draw closer.
I closed the curtains and returned to bed to lie down.
I stared at the ceiling light. My mind went through everything that happened today. Drowsiness quickly swept over my nerves.
Just as my consciousness was about to completely disappear, I heard footsteps outside the door—very light, a pace I recognized.
I knew Luca had returned. My heart relaxed, and I fell completely asleep.