Through Es’s conversations, he learned sothing important—sothing he had been aching to know. The girl he had grown so fond of, the one who filled his lonely days with warmth and laughter, had a na. Her na was Helga.
He whispered it to himself, over and over, letting the sound of it settle in his mind like a soothing balm. "Helga..." It felt familiar, as though he had known it all along but had only just now been given permission to say it out loud.
Es’s visits were different, though. Where Helga would laugh and tease, Es spoke in quiet tones, her words deliberate, often filled with stories that felt heavy, like they carried unspoken truths. There was sothing in her words that made Aaron feel uneasy at tis—a distance that reminded him of the hollow spaces inside himself.
Still, he listened. He listened because she was his only connection to Helga, the girl who had brought him out of the suffocating silence of his small, isolated world. Through Es, he learned more about Helga’s life—her illness, her struggles, and the things that kept her away.
As the noise echoed in the dimly lit room, Aron jolted upright in bed, heart racing. The rhythmic bangs grew louder, reverberating in his ears, until a forceful kick sent the door crashing to the ground. Dust swirled in the sudden stillness, and there she stood—the girl from Helga’s drawing, a vision that had haunted his thoughts.
"Es?" he murmured, the na escaping his lips like a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Her presence filled the room, bringing with it an intoxicating mix of familiarity and intrigue.
Es t his gaze, her smile warm yet mischievous, an unspoken invitation glimring in her eyes. "You’re quite beautiful," Aron remarked, a playful tone threading through his words. He couldn’t help but admire her—the way her hair fell in soft waves and how her laughter seed to dance in the air.
Without hesitation, she stepped closer, her hand slipping into his with an effortless grace. "Do you have sothing to pick up from here?" she asked, her voice low, hinting at secrets that lingered just beneath the surface.
Aron felt a rush of excitent and curiosity, drawn in by her magnetic energy. "What do you an?" he replied, tilting his head slightly, a grin forming on his lips as he searched her eyes for answers.
Aron’s mind raced, grappling with the shock of Es’s sudden appearance and the urgency in her voice. "Do you have sothing to pick up?" she had asked, her tone playful yet demanding.
"Huh!"
"You have , 50 seconds. Be quick."
Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, she pressed a button on her watch.
Panic surged through him as he scanned the room, but his frantic search yielded nothing. What was he supposed to grab? Ti was slipping away, each second feeling heavier than the last. And then it hit him—a wave of frustration washed over him as he realized he had forgotten about the drawing.
"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, lunging for the sketch that lay crumpled on the floor. It was the only tangible connection to the mystery surrounding Es and Helga. He quickly gathered it, smoothing out the edges as best as he could, just as Es’s smile grew wider.
With a swift motion, she stopped her watch, the soft click echoing in the sudden silence. "Good job," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief and approval.
But the mont was short-lived. Just as Aron straightened, a flurry of movent filled the doorway, and a group of won dressed in flowing skirts rushed inside, their presence both unexpected and commanding. The air thickened with a mixture of curiosity and tension, and Aron’s heart raced anew as he glanced between Es and the newcors.
"What’s happening?" he stamred, his voice barely above a whisper.
Es looked back at him, her smile turning enigmatic. "It seems we have company," she said, her tone light but laced with an unspoken urgency. "And they’re here for a reason."
The won, each with an air of authority, quickly took in the scene, their eyes landing on Aron with a mix of intrigue and suspicion. He could feel the weight of their scrutiny as if they were asuring his worth in this unexpected whirlwind.
Es’s expression hardened as she deftly removed her watch, placing it into Aron’s hand with a firm grip. "Take care of it. Make sure there isn’t a scratch, or you’ll be done for," she warned, her eyes sharp and unwavering. There was a fierce determination in her gaze that belied her youthful appearance.
With a swift glance at the won entering the room, her deanor shifted from playful to fierce. "Co here, you bitch," she called out, her voice steady and commanding.
One of the won, a towering figure with a scowl etched on her face, stord toward Es, fury radiating from her. "You little brat!" she spat, her arm swinging back to deliver a blow that would send most kids sprawling.
But Es was ready. In one fluid motion, she sidestepped the attack, her small fra agile and surprisingly quick. As the woman lunged, Es grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply. The guard stumbled forward, caught off balance, and Es used the montum to throw her down onto the floor with a practiced grace that took everyone by surprise.
The other guards gasped, but they quickly regained their composure, converging on Es. "Get her!" one of them shouted, and the remaining won charged forward, their expressions a mix of disbelief and anger.
Es, undeterred by their numbers, stood her ground, her youthful face set in determination. She moved with unexpected precision, her small size working to her advantage. As one guard reached for her, Es ducked low, dodging the grasp and countering with a swift kick to the woman’s knee. The guard yelped, collapsing to the ground in pain.
Another guard attempted to flank her from the side, but Es was quick to react. She spun around, using the montum to deliver a powerful punch right to the guard’s midsection. The older woman doubled over, gasping for air as she stumbled back.
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