Chapter 14
Lina's POV
The last class of the afternoon was history.
I sat in a seat by the window. Sunlight shone through the glass, making me 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 mixed with a few coughs.
He was lecturing about the American Revolutionary War. The blackboard was filled with dates and names. Chalk dust fell on his shoulders, accumulating in a thin layer.
I tried hard to listen for a while and discovered I couldn't even remember which side won.
Maggie sat next to me. Her notes were densely written, handwriting rounded, every important date highlighted with a fluorescent marker.
She noticed me looking at her notebook and quietly pushed it toward me, winking at me.
I froze for a moment, then copied her notes in the same manner.
"1776, signing of the Declaration of Independence."
"Siege of Yorktown, 1781."
"Treaty of Paris, 1783."
These numbers had no meaning to me, but they were neatly colored by Maggie with a pink highlighter, with a small smiley face drawn beside them.
I stared at that smiley face for two seconds, then drew one on the edge of my notebook too. My drawing skills weren't good—it came out very ugly, with the little person's mouth corner crooked down to the chin.
Maggie snuck a peek and covered her mouth trying not to laugh, her shoulders shaking, until the teacher glared at her and she restrained herself.
When the bell rang for dismissal, Maggie asked while packing her bag, "Lina, you really can't come to my house after school?"
"Not today," I said.
"Then 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.
During my time at Raven, I'd seen many ways of applying pressure—threats, intimidation, torture, psychological suggestion—but Maggie's method didn't belong to any of these.
She was simply, forcefully hoping you would agree to her request.
This completely non-aggressive pressure left me somewhat at a loss for how to respond.
"...The weekend," I said.
Maggie's eyes instantly lit up. "Then it's settled! Saturday! You must come! I'll have my mom bake more cookies! What flavor do you like, chocolate or cranberry?"
"Either is fine."
"Then we'll make both kinds!" Maggie shouldered her backpack and waved at me. "Don't forget tomorrow morning—the sandwich shop, two blocks left from the school gate!"
As she ran out of the classroom she nearly crashed into the door frame. Her backpack strap caught on the door handle, her whole body stumbled, then she rushed into the hallway without looking back.
I watched the direction she disappeared in, and the corner of my mouth involuntarily lifted slightly.
When 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, walking in twos and threes toward the school gate.
On a bench by the flower bed sat a couple. The girl rested her head on the boy's shoulder. The boy was looking down at his phone, his other hand absent-mindedly stroking her hair.
I glanced at them, then looked away.
Stroking hair.
I uncontrollably thought of Luca's action last night. A wave of irritation rose in my heart. I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue, forcing myself to stop thinking about it.
I pulled my scarf tighter and walked toward the school gate.
A black car was parked at the school gate. The car body had a dark pattern—the Moretti family emblem.
A man in a black suit stood by the car door, tall and large, hands folded in front of him.
When he saw me, he nodded slightly. "Miss Lina, Mr. Moretti sent 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 rested 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.
What he handled every day belonged to the world I was most familiar with, yet he had 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 essentially, Luca and I belonged to the same world.
The car stopped at a red light.
Through the car window I saw a flower shop by the roadside. In a bucket at the entrance was stuck a large bouquet of red roses, their petals appearing intense and silent in the twilight.
Roses.
When Dmitri gave me this codename, he said: "Roses have thorns. I hope you have them too."
He sharpened my thorns one by one, tempered each one with poison, then turned me into his most proud creation.
The red light quickly turned green. The car continued forward. The flower shop was left far behind, and that bouquet of red roses also disappeared into the twilight.
By the time I returned to the apartment, twilight had vanished and it had completely darkened.
I opened the door, took off the scarf and placed it on the coat rack, then immediately collapsed onto the sofa staring blankly at the ceiling.
This kind of life without having to take on missions, rush about for a living, or worry about life and death was still too comfortable, to the point where I didn't even know what to do.
To avoid thinking of Luca again, I decided to work on a set of math problems.
However, I clearly overestimated myself. After completing one-third of the test paper, I rubbed my dizzy forehead and chose to give up.
I walked to the window and pulled open the curtains. Manhattan's night scene spread out beneath my feet—countless windows lit up, countless rivers of flowing cars, 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 want to draw near.
I pulled the curtains closed and returned to bed to lie down.
I stared at the ceiling light, my mind going through everything that happened today. Drowsiness quickly swept over my nerves.
When my consciousness was about to completely disappear, I heard footsteps outside the door—very light, a step frequency I was familiar with.
I knew Luca had returned. My heart relaxed and I fell completely asleep.