[Flashback]
Penny sat at the bus stop, waiting for the bus. Her listless eyes were cast down, unsure of what weighed her down more — was it her exhaustion from working tirelessly, or getting scolded by Atlas after helping him resolve an issue?
"What an ungrateful man," she mumbled, kicking the air lazily. She was already numb to Atlas’s usual scolding whenever he saw her at the company, but sotis, it frustrated her. "It’s not like I don’t know he doesn’t like , but if soone offers help, the last thing they should do is scold them. How unfair."
Another deep sigh escaped her. Still, she felt relieved that the issue was fixed despite the reprimand afterward. By now, Penny was too tired and too numb to dwell on Atlas’s reaction. It wasn’t the first ti, nor the second, or even the third. This had been happening since they were children, and it continued into their adulthood.
What was new?
"Boyfriend?"
Deep lines appeared between her brows as she turned her head to the person sitting at the other end of the bench. The man had a naturally playful face, but although he was good-looking, his ssy, frizzy-dyed hair made him look rather unkempt.
Penny looked away, uninterested in talking to strangers.
"Or was it work?" the man added curiously. "Well, that makes two of us. Today, I did all my deliveries perfectly, but once I finished, I got kicked out! It’s unfair!"
"Kicked out?" She slowly set her eyes back on him, assessing him from head to toe. Based on his open floral shirt, ragged pants, and worn-out Crocs, it was clear he was barely making ends et.
"I was," he nodded and shrugged. "They said I’m fired just because I didn’t agree with the client’s request, but I know that’s not the real reason. They fired because I’m too good at my job — smarter than the owner. He can’t accept that a re delivery guy is smarter than him."
Penny pressed her lips into a thin line. "You don’t look smart, though."
"Hey, Miss, aren’t you being a little judgntal right now?" he scrunched his nose, while Penny shrugged faintly. "You also look like soone who can’t be trusted."
"What makes you say I don’t look trustworthy?"
"Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"
No.
The man shook his head, reading her answer on her face. "If people don’t appreciate you, stop doing them favors. You’ll be happier that way."
"It’s not that easy," she whispered, her eyes cast down. "How can I be happy when, for my whole life, I’ve only ever felt happy when I’m accepted?"
"I accept you."
Penny snapped her eyes at him and coldly said, "I don’t care about your acceptance."
His face twisted at how bluntly and coldly she said those words. Penny didn’t linger long as the bus arrived and she got on. The man followed, but he got off at the next stop.
Penny thought the encounter was a one-ti thing. However, the next ti she was feeling down and waiting at that sa bus stop, the guy appeared again.
They talked briefly once more, with Penny ntioning she’d been scolded again, and the guy explaining he’d been fired again. Just like the first eting, they got on the bus, and he got off at the next stop.
A month later, the sa scenario repeated.
This eting occurred five tis. On the fifth occasion, they didn’t get on the bus; they stayed and talked about their frustrations. Eventually, the two beca friends, and Penny began to trust him. While drinking together, she would occasionally confide in him about personal matters—her family relationships, problems, and more.
Little did she know, everything she told him was being sold sowhere else.
The results? Penny ended up in jail, spending her ti toeing the line between sanity and madness before her eventual death.
All because she trusted Nathaniel. A man she thought was her friend.
---
[PRESENT TI]
"Haha. Good luck, Miss Miller."
[Haha. Good luck, Penny.]
Those were the words that man would always say to Penny whenever she planned to do sothing. He would laugh and cheer her on. He had said it so many tis that she could almost morize his tone and inflection.
"Right," she whispered, snapping back to the present ti. "He had a talent for mimicking people’s voices."
No wonder she hadn’t recognized it imdiately—he was altering his voice. Fortunately, he slipped up during that last call.
"So, he’s alive and still running the sa scam, huh?" Penny ran her tongue across her inner cheek, her eyes gleaming dangerously.
Besides realizing how Patricia had been hired to impersonate Zoren’s Thursday Girl, Penny had learned that the person pulling the strings wasn’t connected to the information center. If Nathaniel were affiliated with the bar, they wouldn’t have released this information for protection purposes.
"That brings back a lot of unnecessary mories," she muttered, refocusing on the script Patricia needed to morize. "This script... how did it beco so detailed? Where did they get it?"
---
[Skyline Plaza: Zoren]
Zoren stood in front of a bookshelf, holding an old notebook in his hand.
"So, it’s my fault?" he mused quietly, staring at the old diary he had kept for years. "The tools they’re using to deceive ... are mine?"
During his treatnt, Zoren had written in notebooks as a form of therapy. He filled all twenty notebooks with mories of Penny — every page, every detail, from how she looked and spoke to his promises to her.
That was why Zoren kept the notebooks as though they were treasures.
The only thing he hadn’t written down was how Penny called Blacky. He had missed that, usually writing "Renny" instead, even recording how he ca up with the na.
"No wonder they knew everything except that." His lips twisted in displeasure at the thought of people ’stealing’ his precious mories. Zoren took a deep breath and walked back to his desk. He commanded his phone to dial soone, then held it to his ear.
When the line connected, he said, "I’m sending you a file. Find out who he is and bring him to ."
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