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At a small book shop in the busy city of Okhema, one certain professional writer with luscious long pink hair named Cyrene is staying in her silence. Holding on to the steering wheel of her car she let out a long inhale, and then exhaled slowly.
Seven years of book events had taught her that this wasn’t new—but today was different. Today, she was the main star, and her latest book, The Golden Race: Final Maze, had stirred controversy as it has finally ended a 3-part book story that gained her a lot of fans and coverage in the industry.
She thought back that it's just a signing event where her fans will meet and talk to her for 3 hours of more. “It will be fine, it’s going to be fine.” Cyrene muttered to herself fixing her fringe and then putting on her glasses.
However, like she thought, she had done this a lot of times already. And in truth, she already knows some loyal fans who will travel far and wide to see her, discuss her books and stories. Cyrene decided to visualize her fans instead of dreading other negative visions.
She remembers Castorice, she was a fan of her first book “Twins of Life and Death”. Castorice was rather a meek girl at first. But the moment Cyrene touched her hands, she felt Castorice open up to her more. The writer was incredibly happy to see someone like Castorice go from all the way across Okhema, just to greet her - that moment between them felt so bright and warm. Reminiscing about it, she wanted more of those expressions. “Yea, it will be fine.” She once again assured herself as Cyrene started to place some light lipstick and gloss.
She then remembers Hysilens, this particular fan, came up to her rather in a different approach from Castorice. Hysilens shook her hands enthusiastically, saying her book changed her life. The most surprising part of it, she asked this fan what part of the book was her favorite - she answered when the main hero killed the villain, her lover. Hysilens then fixed her hair for a bit, retreating a step back. Cyrene remembers a sudden shy expression she had. But then the fan continued on and said it reminded her that love at times can be a bit more complicated.
At present, Cyrene chuckled a bit at that memory. In the story, the hero did that to her lover because in the end it was for the well-being of the other.
At present, the writer fixed the collar of her polo sleeve and turned off the car engine. She checked the mirror once more — smile, steady. Her reflection smiled back a little too brightly. “Cute as always.” she muttered, even though her pulse was drumming in her throat.
She finally stepped out as she kept on trying to convince herself that there was no need to worry about this event, she would meet her fans and be delighted with all the memories they would all share again.
At times, Cyrene is aware yet more often she does have a habit of indulging in her romanticism of life that she does tend to brush off worries aside.
She walked to the small book shop where it accommodated at least 50 people sitting, waiting for her patiently. When they saw Cyrene come inside the shop, they all greeted her happily and she did the same. She saw familiar faces, her loyal fans that read her stories - But then she saw her: a light blue-haired girl at the back of the room. Stoic, cold, and staring - big blue eyes piercing through the crowd. A chill ran down Cyrene’s spine, but also something strange, a curiosity she couldn’t shake.
Perhaps, a new fan that's still not familiar around, she thought it aside.
Cyrene smiled brightly as she took her seat, with posters, book copies, banners and roll-up standees of her latest book - “The Golden Race: Final Maze” she boasted a shining entrance and waved to everybody.
"Hello everyone, thank you all for attending! As usual, I would like to ask everyone to line up for signing after we have our few discussions." Cyrene with her ever so pleasing words and expressions, she took a pause to see her audience's reactions. Most are positive, and nothing seems to be a problem. But her gaze drifted involuntarily toward the girl at the back. The intensity in those eyes made her pulse quicken, just a little.
"First, I'd like to thank my amazing front cover artist and editor, sitting in front, Cinny." As the writer pointed out, the girl nicknamed Cinny or fully named, Hyacine stood up and waved to the people around as they all gave her a warm applause, the same blue eyed girl was clapping along. Cyrene felt a stir that maybe this new face was the same as the rest of the fans, just happy to be there as well.
The writer then started to talk again once Hyacine sat on her chair. "The Golden Race series has been such a pleasurable journey I took to write. It's been 4 years since we started it and this final book, the third one, I've been so enthusiastic to share with you all. I was so excited I couldn't even sleep!" The words flowed out of Cyrene's mouth like it was natural for her, she is that type of girl after all. She thought for such an audience of people who support her, why should she even frown? That is not what’s expected of someone like her.
The audience also gave Cyrene a light applause. She returned them all with her brightest smile.
"Yet you were late." But after the noises cleared, one voice echoed in the shop. It came from the same girl from the back. Cyrene felt a tiny thrill at her boldness. So confident… so direct… and yet she’s staring right at me, she thought.
The writer fidget her pen to this sudden light tension. "Ah, sorry I should apologize for that!" Yet Cyrene quickly responded, thinking it might just be a dark humor. But her piercing stare was still striking back, rather relentless.
Some of the audience turned to look at the same light blue-haired girl. Some murmured asking who she was, thinking that comment was rather abrupt and partly rude. "You see I am really excited but at the same time I was really anxious on how I can even start to discuss this final book for this series." Cyrene added to try and ease up the atmosphere around. This caught the audience’s attention back. "We know you worked hard on this." One male fan tried to cheer up and clear the tension.
But at the same time, the critic's eyes didn’t flinch away despite any of the people around eying her early on.
"You should be anxious, because you ruined the whole story." Again, that same voice, those cold blue eyes now standing from the back with crossed arms and even her legs. "In fact I think we should just get on with it, why did it end like that? What made you decide to just le-" the light blue haired girl was stopped when a girl beside her pulled her sleeve. But she ignored it. "Cut the story as if the heroes' sacrifice was merely tied to the gods in the end? That their fate was to be.. Thankful to another set of gods?" Still arrogant, the same light blue-haired critic spoke up.
The audience themselves then asked the light blue haired girl to calm down and not interrupt the discussion. She did after saying she would wait for Cyrene's response now.
I knew I’d have some problems. But what does she know? A light hit of anger from Cyrene’s thoughts. However, the writer remained composed, she just fixed her fringe and fidget her pen once again.
This whole series Cyrene truly did pour her heart and passion to it. All the love she can give but people have mixed reactions about the ending published. There’s a lot more to this story than what she can share in public. Cyrene mentally calmed herself again, it wasn't like it was any different. Some critics of her book do have the right to say such comments. She accepts them as they do help them improve her stories later on - but why did this girl have to say it out loud and push her back to a corner?
Though what she said is fair.
Yet no matter, Cyrene told herself. She needs to be professional and like her as always.. Charming and full of love.
She can stare and read me all she wants. I will encounter such critics.
"Thank you for that reaction to my third book. I am grateful for that rather proud passion towards the ending. Did anybody feel surprised with the turn of events?" Cyrene tried to dodge it, obviously. There's no need to engage in it further. She took a quick glance at her unexpected critic for the day, she just looked back at her eyes as if they're reading through her soul. It partly made Cyrene sweat and involuntarily fix her glasses. "I did not catch your name, but if you like we can talk once you're in the line?" The writer continuously kept her composure.
The light blue haired girl didn't answer but lightly smiled, more akin to a smirk at Cyrene.
She’s always smiling, is this how you really are? The critic thought to herself.
Cyrene caught herself pausing a bit with that smug look. The critic’s eyes might be blue as ice but her expression is so intense, like a fire that's engulfing the whole room. And somehow, Cyrene finds herself drawn to it a bit.
As her personality is set, she brushed it aside. This shouldn't be something to dwell on, she thought
The discussions were more milder than what Cyrene expected though. Most of the fans expressed that they did not expect that ending for the story she created, yet they also aren't opposing as Cyrene has done what she can. Some did say they wanted prequels of the legions of the story, or even a sequel of the other characters. Cyrene once again, by basking herself with the delight of all these bonding with people who enjoy her stories she just forgot what her critic even barged in for.
Though with each fan that she answered questions and suggestions of, the writer found herself looking for the critic’s expressions. She remained quiet throughout, perhaps having found her calm now.
Unknown to Cyrene, the critic isn’t there to just sit and be rude as the crowd claim her to be. This is her first time seeing Cyrene quite up close, so she’s analyzing her opponent in their unfinished debate. Whenever a tough question comes out, Cyrene seems to have a habit of fidgeting her pen, fixing her fringe or her glasses.
She’s anxious despite that bright smiling face. Trained micro celebrities. The light blue haired critic noted mentally.
“Thank you so much for answering all my questions! I came from a 6 hour bus ride just to see you! I’m such a fan, Reney!” A fan was given the chance to ask a set of questions and Cyrene answered them cheerfully. “It's my pleasure! I hope your bus ride back home will be pleasant and safe.”
Very polite, extremely trained? Or are you.. Genuinely delighted. No, maybe you just like connecting with people. Once again, the critic observed quietly from a distance.
All along as the critic focused on trying to read Cyrene, the writer herself couldn’t seem to stop from stealing glances at the girl that’s relentlessly eying her. Cyrene was noticing how she sat perfectly still, yet somehow magnetic. She felt that it was rather unruly, to even have a certain preference to look at that critic's reaction when she has an amount of people eying her the same.
The book signing started and all the attendees of the event started to line up depending on the row of their chairs. One by one, Cyrene happily tried to converse a bit as she signed their copies of her book.
Until finally, Cyrene's gleeful expression was paused when it was her turn to face Cyrene. "H-hello.. Thank you for joining us today." The writer tried to keep it serene, still welcoming and warm. They’re now closer than before and only the table’s width was the length of their distance.
The light blue haired girl standing in front of her table didn't hold a copy of her book though. So Cyrene was starting to get puzzled. Nevertheless, to try and relieve the awkward tension, Cyrene let out her hand and offered a hand-shake. "Friend, you were so outspoken earlier, now you're quiet. Tell me anything, don't worry!" The pink haired writer tried, thinking this approach will work.
Again, the light blue-haired girl with her blue eyes didn't respond, intensely staring with the same stoic expression and her burning aura.
She then reached out to her sling bag. She brought out three books of the whole Golden Race series, from first, the Golden Race: Genesis, second, the Golden Race: Untracked and her complaint, the Golden Race: Final Maze. "Sign all of them." She finally spoke quite commandingly as she laid the three books side by side on Cyrene's table.
The writer took a few seconds to look at the books. All of them are carefully cared for, they look like they were bought fresh from the publishing. However, Cyrene doubts this certain critic will come all the way here with newly bought books of hers. Right?
Maybe s-she's a fan after all.. She’s probably the most careful one I've met then. Excessive compulsive? Or overly caring to things she loves? The writer made quick assumptions for she has seen a lot of how people handle their books.
Cyrene chuckled a bit at her thoughts. The critic was a careful person perhaps.
She then smiled at her. "So what's your name?" She asked.
"Cerydra." The light blue-haired girl critic finally gave out her name.
Cyrene’s lips curved involuntarily. There was something about the name, spoken so firmly, proud even, that made her pulse flutter.
"To my dear Cerydra, thank you for supporting.. Love, Cyrene." The pink haired writer spoke as she wrote in the first book and signed her signature.
She did the same to the second and but when she's about to sign the third book - Cerydra put out her hand over Cyrene’s own that’s about to sign.
The writer was completely surprised and stared up to Cerydra. For a moment, Cyrene felt like the whole book shop was just the two of them, the line disappeared and even the spaces weren’t existent. She was so sure her big blue eyes were so close.
"Answer my questions earlier." The critic once again dominantly demanded. But she quickly looked away, apologizing in a low tone, that she didn’t mean to touch her hand.
“That’s fine.” Cyrene with her bright smile was back. And the critic faced her once again as she too felt she didn’t want to miss a smile to observe.
The writer reminded herself repeatedly not to even engage in this conflict though. "It's already published. But I promise I'll do better in case I have the chance to create another book that you will take interest in reading!" She never falters, Cyrene again gave the warmest response she could give.
Cerydra didn’t change her expression but she’s fascinated at how Cyrene keeps up with this light of hers. Yet the critic is relentless, she can see through these avoidance.
"Nonsense. Stop with your PR replies. I'm a fan, a fan of your series and I deserve an explanation." Hearing Cerydra say these didn't really offend Cyrene. Like how Cerydra thinks, she is indeed trained to confront such fan reactions. Cyrene just sat back and hid her pen under the table.
"C-Cery.." The pink haired writer muttered.
"Dra.. Please complete my name." And her light blue haired seemingly fan, corrected.
Cyrene then put her hands back on the table, to push Cerydra’s books closer to her side. “All you said is fair.” She simply said with no tremor or tension.
Cerydra had expected defensiveness — maybe even irritation towards her words and actions. For some reason, that sincerity threw Cerydra off more than anger would have.
Despite another moment of silence around, Cyrene decided to look at her critic in front. She was wearing denim trousers with dark blue suspenders, a plain white oversized long sleeve and it seems she's rather short. On the back of Cyrene's playful mind, the critic looked like a small feisty dog, trying to look presentable with a big blue bow on her neck, yet actually barking up all the time.
The writer tried to shake away her thoughts. And focus on the issue at hand.
Or maybe to brush it off wasn’t the way. Cerydra was not just a fan, she’s a very passionate fan that only wants answers like the rest of them. Why can’t Cyrene be fair and just answer it all?
"Cerydra.. Can we talk after the whole event?" She thought it's for the best to talk it out with just her and the critic. It shouldn't be too bad, she had fans in the past that invited her for dinner to talk about her books.
"Why can't you answer now?" But Cyrene's confident combatant responded again, towering as if she should have control over this. Yet her tone sounded more teasing this time.
"Well there's still people I need to sign their books.." Cyrene kept her smiling expression yet she knew she had a score against her on this. She takes tiny wins as she sees the girl in front react understandably and walks back to her chair with her books.
Cyrene chuckled a bit at the thought that she can tame the feisty tiny dog a bit. Cute
Around an hour, the whole event was done.
The light blue-haired critic, as Cyrene expected, was still sitting at the back waiting for her. She's so stubborn, Cyrene thought to herself. But the mere fact that she waits and doesn’t even look like she’d leave shows her that the girl really wanted her answers.
However the pink haired writer’s mind goes beyond this situation, Cyrene decides maybe a little bit of revenge won't hurt. And by that she decided to make the girl wait a bit longer.
"Cerydra can you wait? I have to talk to the shop owner and manage some papers. And I need to wait after they clean everything." She approached her critic, who just looked back at her sternly with again those alluring big blue eyes, sitting as if she didn't stir this day for Cyrene.
"I don't mind." She replied but stood up from her chair. This action took Cyrene a step back as Cerydra almost bumped on to her, being as they were close. The table that separated them is gone, and the people around left. The world around them felt smaller. They face each other and Cyrene can clearly see their prominent height difference. Cyrene felt her heart skip a bit.
Cerydra seemingly paid no mind to this closeness. There’s no hint of shyness even, just some extreme confidence and ego. Ah! - it confused and somehow mildly irritated Cyrene that she was more concerned that Cerydra didn’t really react as much as she did. It was supposed to be her getting her vengeance! The writer exclaimed to her thoughts.
The critic then just excused herself and told Cyrene she would buy coffee from across the street. Cyrene didn’t know that her critic was also rather moved, she didn’t expect Cyrene to be such a beauty up close. The height also was hitting her checklist when it comes to partners. Coffee is bad for such ideas and fantasy of being so close to Cyrene, the light blue-haired girl was aware. Yet she had to leave or else her mask would fall.
The bell that rang whenever someone opens the door of the shop sounded as Cerydra left abruptly. Cyrene wanted to tease and ask if she could buy one for her too, yet she wasn't that close enough to her critic slash fan.
She didn't really need to talk to the owner, one simple text she was cleared. The owner of the book shop was one of her closest friends, Mr. Anaxagoras. She texted him that the event was done and as she expected, all he said was 'congratulations and do not forget to clean up'. Anaxa was out on a business trip abroad, so his staff offered to help Cyrene clean the place up and rearrange it back to a small humble book shop.
Like she declared, a law of vengeance should be enforced. And so Cyrene told the staff to just relax, the writer decided to just sit in the Anaxa’s office corner to make Cerydra who’s at that moment looking at the menu of the coffee shop across, wait a bit more longer.
Cerydra was sitting at the coffee shop, looking at the two books Cyrene signed.
To my dear Cerydra, thank you for supporting.. Love, Cyrene
The light blue-haired girl read what Cyrene wrote on both books. She looked at the third one that did not have the signature. She was supposed to be angry, storming like she was earlier but the critic couldn’t seem to remove the scene of her hand accidentally touching Cyrene’s own. She didn’t really mean it, Cerydra felt bad that it isn’t something a fan should do. For her books, her confident questions were valid. Cyrene herself even said they’re all fair.
But she’s actually.. A nice woman..
As Cerydra’s coffee order came, a caramel macchiato, she thought if she could buy Cyrene coffee as well. What does Cyrene like? Does she like sweets? Or bitter coffee? Maybe even the more adventurous exotic blends?
Yet this critic was stubborn, why should she - when her favorite writer is dodging all her questions.
Back at the shop, Cyrene finally decided to ask the staff to help her clean up. It didn't really take long to clean up yet as they finished. "Thank you for the hardwork!" She thanked Anaxa's staff and they all responded eagerly.
Cyrene looked towards the scenes outside the glass window of the shop. Her light blue-haired critic didn't seem to come back. Cyrene made her wait for 2 hours or more.
She wonders if she just forgot and left for the day as well. It's a relief, Cyrene said. Yet she felt a light pain when she realized her small feisty dog was gone - a fleeting memory.
Cyrene left the shop and stopped to look at the sky that's already dark. She was mesmerized by this scene of evernight, a day has ended again and perhaps her worries were for nothing.
The pink haired writer closed her eyes and inhaled the cold gust of air around, she thought to herself everything turned out fine in the end.
"How long are you gonna stand there?" That familiar voice broke Cyrene's short introspective. But there's no need to think, she knew it was her.
"You- you actually waited."
"You asked me to."
"A-ahh yes.. I haven't really talked to the shop owner yet." Cyrene tried to make an excuse.
"Is the shop owner not in the shop?" Oh her dear critic is utterly relentless.
"He's not there. I'm driving to meet him." Cyrene was caught off guard with Cerydra waiting for her after all that her defense mechanism is asking her to escape.
"I see.. Can I at least walk you to your car?"
Cyrene looked at Cerydra again. She wondered what she should say? She has every right to refuse but she felt bad for lying and making her wait, and that she did wait.
From a bit of distance she cannot read what Cerydra is actually thinking, her looks may make Cyrene see an adorable small dog but in reality Cerydra has this chilling aura of pride around her. She's so deliberate, precise and rather.. Charmingly irresistible.
"Alright." But Cyrene did make her wait. And so to make up for it, the writer thought this was to settle the score.
The parking lot was just on the back side of the shop, they had to walk from the front to the side street to get there.
"About the ending.. I'm aware some people are surprised." As they walked, Cyrene tried to finally speak up. It won't be bad right? She asked.
"Surprised? I think you ruined it." Cerydra said bluntly. And now Cyrene got her answer, she shouldn't have opened that topic. Her little dog is mad again.
She stopped on her tracks to face Cerydra.
"My words may be harsh to you but I indeed love the whole series enough for me to travel all the way here." Cerydra profoundly declared. Despite the height difference, she firmly stood in front of Cyrene. "I just do not see how both books are amazingly written, yet they turned out -" Cerydra placed a fist on top of her chest. Her expression filled with furrow yet she turned to the side. "Pardon my words please." She paused. "It turned out to be bullshit in the third one."
Cyrene was lightly taken aback by the words. She wanted to get angry but who is she kidding - there's some truth to what Cerydra is passionately speaking of. When their eyes met, the criticism felt less like an attack and more like intimacy—like someone daring to care deeply, to see through her. Cyrene felt heat rise to her cheeks.
Can she stop looking at me like this? Does she know she looks like a cute dog?
The writer tried to think playful thoughts instead. So she continued walking to her white sedan that's parked a few steps from where they stood.
Cyrene opened the door to the front passenger side and asked Cerydra to sit. The shorter girl didn't seem to mind, she just went inside and sat. Cyrene then walked her way back to the driver's seat of her car.
The moment she sat and slammed the door Cyrene actually screamed out loud.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Cerydra's eyes grew so wide from the loud action. She watched as Cyrene then took a very deep breath and exhaled. She then fixed her hair and then her skirt then her glasses.
"Sorry you had to see that." She apologized to Cerydra, who's still speechless.
To her eyes, this sudden breakdown isn't the Cyrene she observed all day. This is something extremely highly different.
"I know it already the third book is shit!" The pink haired writer held on to the steering wheel. "But I tried what I can, okay? It's just that when you work for more reputable publishing your editor can trap you in a goddamn cage!" Cyrene continued to express her intense feelings of frustration, speaking so fast.
"I wanted the heroes to win on their own two hands, I wanted them to never rely on these stupid gods you know! But my oh so amazing editor Lygus is just -" Cyrene had her hands up to her steering wheel pushing herself, stretching back to her seat as far as she can. "He was like oh Reney, we can't just give the heroes the final plight like that, let's give them a new god that will save them. That way we can create possible new books about this new god!" Cerydra doesn't know who Cyrene's editor was but it seems Cyrene was trying to mimic him as she changed her voice to a more strong and rounded one.
"4 years, no more than that I gave up on this story that I dearly love only to end up like that because I am just a writer!" The pink haired writer's fists holding on the steering wheel show her intense emotions apart from her words.
Cyrene didn't want to break down like that. Let alone to a person she doesn't even know but she felt like it - to live in that moment, chaos and destructive manners doesn't matter. Besides, Cerydra wanted reasons and that’s her truth.
Her now stunned critic had seen countless authors talk about passion, art, and their process — but never like this. Cyrene’s voice trembled, but every word burned with honesty. For the first time, Cerydra realized it wasn’t a performance. This woman wasn’t pretending to care — she cared too much. She loves what she does, writing is her passion as much as Cerydra loves her 3-part book series.
"Now you get your answer Cery, what do you think?" Cyrene then turned to her critic.
"Cerydra."
"No you're in my car I'll call you what I want." Cyrene added a light glee to this tease.
"I'm not sure what to say. I am.." Still lost of words, the confident and dashing critic who seemed to fear nothing is now taking a bit of time to think. Her idol author has now become more human to her eyes, the PR-trained Cyrene is gone.
"It's fine. That's my life as a writer. I just need maybe 3 more years on my prisoner contract then I can be free and write just randomly for a living.." Cyrene then reclined her chair letting her lay on it like a bed.
She then turned to her demanding yet enchanting critic. Currently looking far to the parking lot outside. Now Cyrene feels more bad that she dropped such a bomb on her. Cerydra was just an extremely passionate fan of her books. She might have just ruined the girl’s spirit.
“Hey– Sorry ab-”
But finally, Cerydra spoke up.
"I'm sure you're hungry. Let's go for dinner."
"Now? You're paying?"
But Cerydra just nodded her head and started to open the car door.
"Let's take my car." From outside, Cerydra invited and let out a hand for Cyrene.
Without a second thought, Cyrene placed her hand on Cerydra’s own. Letting the other girl lightly pull her out of her car. As both were outside, their hands drifted apart. There’s a tiny bit of awkwardness between them because of it, but both were mature enough to recover quickly without notice.
Cyrene felt as if there's nothing to lose on this. Her short critic which she likens to a barking small dog has now become more calm and more attractive. Did her loud ranting change Cerydra? She thought to wonder. But she doesn’t oppose this - not at all.
The writer obliged to her critic's request and they walked outside the parking lot. From the streets outside, she followed Cerydra to the coffee shop in front of Anaxa's book shop. From there Cerydra led her to the basement parking of that building.
All the time there was nothing but silence. Yet Cyrene paid no mind to it, nor did Cerydra.
But the quiet moments were disturbed when Cyrene saw the car Cerydra was walking towards.
"Woah! That's your car?!" Cyrene was surprised when Cerydra stepped near a luxury car. Cyrene isn't really a car person, she thinks if it's functional it works, the best thing for her is her customized pink seats. However with her little knowledge of the automotive industry, Cerydra's car was an Aston Martin supercar.
"Yes, let me take you to dinner." Without any door handle, a simple press of Cerydra’s hand on the car door made the door swoop automatically. She chuckled a bit seeing Cyrene’s obviously in awe reaction to it. She then led Cyrene to sit on the side of the car she opened for her.
When Cyrene went inside it was bizarre for her, it was so different from her own. Sitting on the seat that's so low on the ground felt different. The fine leather and even the inside panels felt like some fantasy rich person she'd only write. She mentally recorded it, in case she does use it for her next story. The cute rich princess is in love with me! Cyrene joked of a funny book title that related to her situation.
"Wh-where will we eat Cery?" Cyrene asked as Cerydra was starting the car. One press of a button the car started. The engine sound was so fine and felt pleasing to her ears, Cyrene thought back why she wasn't born with so much money. Oh the car barely even made any noise - it was music!
“I passed by some sushi shop on the way here, perhaps you can take that apology of mine, Miss Cyrene,” her critic said as she started to drive. She sounded different now — calmer, lighter, the storm from earlier reduced to drizzle.
“You don’t need to feel bad about it, I told you, that’s my life.”
“The way I reacted was wrong when I should’ve read you better. I was an ass.”
“Y-you’re just… a bit rude, Cery. It’s fine,” Cyrene teased, half laughing, half unsure.
Silence fell again, quiet except for the hum of the engine and faint city chatter from outside. Cyrene wondered what on earth she was doing with an obviously rich girl like this, in a car that smelled faintly of leather and perfume.
Her phone said 8:30. She could be home — curled on her couch, watching dramas, or cooking dinner. Instead, she was here. With Cerydra.
“Are you some rich kid daughter of a CEO or something?” she asked finally, glancing at the side profile of her critic-turned-driver.
“Hell no,” Cerydra snorted. “I worked hard for this. I’m just a traveling trader.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, eyes fixed on the road. “Not stocks, by the way — I buy small things, like the tiniest bolts, trade them up for bigger ones, and sell them on the market.”
“I didn’t even know that job existed,” Cyrene said, genuinely curious.
Cerydra started to park, her focus returning to the wheel. “If you want luxury, sometimes the smartest move is to look where no one else is looking.”
Cyrene didn’t reply — she just smiled quietly.
Inside, the sushi shop buzzed with noise — laughter, phones, plates clinking. It wasn’t fancy; most customers wore office clothes, halfway through their commutes home. But Cerydra led her to a corner booth, away from the rush.
“I hope this makes up for it. Please, order anything you want.” Cerydra gestured toward the laminated menu, her tone earnest.
“In a fast-food sushi?” Cyrene teased, her lips curling.
“Oh, did you expect a candle-lit dinner at a 360-degree omakase palace exclusive for kings and queens?”
Cerydra leaned back, smirking. She was smiling now — genuinely smiling — and it was the first time Cyrene saw her critic look alive.
“I expected more from someone who says she’s my fan,” Cyrene replied, grinning. “Yet stormed in like a raging wind and yelled at me.”
“Look, I didn’t know your circumstances, Miss Cyrene. I was just— really hooked by your books.”
The writer lifted the menu and hid half her face behind it, eyes peeking over the edge. “Reney is enough, Cery. That’s what most people call me.” Her eyes glimmered playfully. “Miss Cyrene makes me sound like I charge for autographs.”
Cerydra chuckled. Who would’ve thought she’d end up sharing dinner in a noisy little sushi shop, not with a literary idol, but with someone who looked so human, so normal — pink hair frizzed a little, laughter easy.
“Again, I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “Perhaps I can ask you for a better date next time?”
A small silence bloomed. The word date lingered in the air before either of them could chase it away.
Cyrene broke first, grinning. “I remember thinking you were like some raging tyrant shouting ‘change my story!’ at me.”
Cerydra rolled her eyes. “I can be difficult. People don’t take me seriously if I act meek. Just look at my face.” She cupped her cheeks, pulling a funny expression. “Short, dark circles, drooping features — you’d think I’m a college student cramming for a hopeless exam.”
Cyrene burst into laughter. “You look fine.” She removed her glasses and leaned closer. “See? Wrinkles, dark circles. The trick is concealer and frames — it fools people into thinking I’m all pink sparkles and rainbows.”
What an insight, Cerydra thought.
She found herself smiling without meaning to — not at the words, but at how real they sounded. This wasn’t the writer who spoke in polished lines and metaphors. This was a tired, sincere woman who still smiled through it anyway.
“Just like all your PR responses to me, then?” Cerydra teased.
“Yeah,” Cyrene admitted softly. “You saw right through me.”
She felt a little exposed after saying that — stripped of her practiced charm. Since childhood, she’d been told to be cheerful, polite, the kind of woman who makes everything easier for others. But Cerydra didn’t need her to be that.
The pink-haired writer glanced up again — Cerydra was talking to the waitress, her voice calm, her hands moving as she ordered. For a heartbeat, Cyrene forgot the noise, the walls, the fluorescent light. In her eyes, the whole world blurred into soft bokeh around Cerydra’s silhouette — that quiet confidence, the faint reflection of city lights in her eyes.
Then Cerydra turned, catching her stare.
“Reney, what do you want to order?”
The writer blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. “Oh— just the roll of the day.”
When their food came, Cerydra dissected her poke salad bowl with surgical focus while Cyrene admired the bright mango-avocado rolls before her. Her strawberry juice tasted like something from a vending machine, but she didn’t care.
It wasn’t the food — it was the company.
Whether it was this little shop, the crowded book event, her beat-up sedan, or Cerydra’s luxurious car, it didn’t matter.
What mattered was the quiet miracle of this shared moment — two strangers talking like they’d known each other forever. We're they friends in a different lifetime? That can be a story for another book, the cheerful writer thought.
“About that second date,” Cyrene said suddenly, resting her chin on her hand.
Cerydra looked up from her salad. “What about it?”
“Saturday?”
“Oh sure.” she said, casual — but there was a flicker of surprise, almost warmth, behind her tone.
“Well, not really a second date,” Cyrene continued, hiding her smile. “Let’s just say I forgot to sign your book. And for that— our blooming story starts.”
“You sure do love to romanticize things,” Cerydra said, shaking her head.
Cyrene’s eyes curved into little crescents. “You noticed.”
And Cerydra realized then — she liked that about her.
That Cyrene’s whole world was built on stories, yet here she was, choosing to live one. Not a perfect one — a quiet, funny, human one.
She looked at Cyrene again — her laugh soft, purple bright eyes, the light catching in her hair — and thought, maybe this was the part of her she’d missed all along. Not the writer on the covers. The woman in front of her now.
Cyrene grinned, eyes curved into reversed crescents. The playful tease was real, but so was the warmth in her chest. It was something… memorable. Pristine and precious.
"Alright, Cery," Cyrene said, leaning a bit closer. "Let’s exchange numbers."
Cerydra hesitated, then reached across the table, just lightly brushing her hand against Cyrene’s. A small, electric contact—but enough. Enough to promise that this wasn’t just fan and writer. Something else was blooming.