Even though we hurried, as soon as we reached the grand staircase of the building, my suitcase seemed to come to life. One of its wheels hit an uneven stone, and before I realized, the latch snapped, and the lid burst open.
In the next moment, clothes, scarves, and other items flew into the air, like a crazy firework exploding. The fabrics spread across the steps in colorful waves.
Elis threw herself into the chaos without a second thought, frantically trying to gather the scattered clothes, while I still stood frozen in shock.
And that's when I felt it.
A gaze.
Cold, piercing, and watchful. A shiver ran down my spine, and instinctively, I lifted my head.
At the top of the stairs, in the shadow of the building, stood a man dressed in black. His blond hair was perfectly styled, his blue eyes glinting with an icy sharpness as he surveyed the scene. He didn't look surprised—more like someone observing a pitiful, embarrassing sight.
Elis was still kneeling on the ground, desperately trying to salvage what she could, while I finally forced myself to move and help her. But just then, the man spoke.
"It's not customary to leave one's belongings scattered like this," he said coolly, without a hint of emotion.
His voice was exactly like his gaze: cold, firm, and anything but kind. For a moment, I wasn't even sure if he was talking to us or just sharing some universal wisdom. But then our eyes met, and it became clear.
He meant us.
And somehow, there was something threatening about it.
Elis's reaction was immediate and defiant. She dropped the clothes she had been holding right onto the ground and stepped forward angrily. Her face was flushed with fury, and as she stood in front of the cold-eyed man, the air around her practically crackled with tension.
"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Elis snapped, glaring up at him. "Talking to ladies like that? Didn't anyone teach you manners?"
The blond man stared at her for a moment before a faint, mocking smirk tugged at his lips.
"In my city," he said softly, yet with unmistakable superiority, "outsiders like you don't tell me how to behave."
Elis's eyes narrowed. I felt the air freeze between us.
"Watch your mouth!" Elis shot back, now jabbing her finger right at his chest. "Because my friend"—she gestured toward me as if I wasn't even standing there—"is about to start her training at the Angel Guardian Academy, and once she's done, she's going to kick your arrogant, icy little ass!"
My throat went dry.
Elis never knew fear—or at least she never showed it—but I was certain she had picked the worst possible person to challenge.
The man didn't back down. One of his eyebrows arched slightly before his gaze shifted to me.
"Well then, I look forward to it," he said, and his smirk didn't waver in the slightest.
After that, he didn't spare us another glance. As if nothing had happened, he turned on his heel and headed up the stairs, his steps long and purposeful.
His strange, cold presence still lingered in the air even as he walked away. Elis stood there, arms crossed, watching him go, probably plotting a hundred different ways to take him down.
I, however, was still trying to process the weight of the encounter.
There was something about him… something unsettling. It wasn't just his arrogant demeanor or the way he had coolly assessed us—it was the feeling he left behind. As if his mere presence had been a warning.
Elis, however, didn't share my concerns.
"What the hell was that?!" she burst out, still fuming. "How can someone be that insufferable? I swear, if I see him again, I—"
"Elis," I cut in cautiously, trying to calm her down. "Maybe it's best if we don't draw even more attention to ourselves."
She rolled her eyes but finally let out a deep sigh and bent down to gather my scattered clothes again. I helped her, though my gaze still lingered on the man as he disappeared into the building.
"Come on, Blondie," I said after collecting the last piece of clothing.
"You're not seriously thinking of carrying this wreck, are you?" she asked, eyeing what was left of my suitcase.
"Of course not," I shot her a sarcastic look. "I'll just weave a basket out of your pretty blonde hair instead."
Cue the classic eye-roll.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in a similar playful, teasing mood. My clothes were lost, and neither of us felt like carrying around the remnants of my past.