20-10-2025, 03:01 PM
(This post was last modified: 20-10-2025, 03:02 PM by lee.jae.han. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
## Update 12: The Missing Book
The next day at schoool was a blur of boredom and anxiety. I got the usual harsh words for neglecting my homework, but the real task lay ahead. I went straight home, my stomach a tight knot of worry. I have to return the book. I gave my Chachi a quick excuse, telling her I'd eat less because Madam had invited me to dinner.
I arrived at Madam's house. Today, she was wearing a beautiful red sari, which framed her figure stunningly. She truly looked angelic, but the usual confident glow on her face was gone, replaced by a subtle tension. She served us both—a plate of delicious, fragrant food for me, and one for herself. The meal was wonderful, but the fear of being exposed made it hard to swallow. After we ate, I quickly retreated to the sofa, waiting for my chance to escape.
"How was the food?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
"It was very good, Madam."
She set her plate down and turned to me, her eyes suddenly serious, piercing mine. "Can I ask you something, Avi?"
"Yes, of course," I managed, though my voice sounded hollow in my own ears.
"Did you take a book from here?"
A cold, sickening wave of fear washed over me, draining the heat from my body. My heart slammed against my ribs. I stiffened, fighting the urge to run. "No, Madam," I said, my voice betraying me by coming out too loud and defensive. "I didn't take any book. If I needed one, I would have asked you."
"Okay," she said slowly, her eyes searching my face, lingering on my own frantic gaze. "Maybe I misplaced it."
"Was it a special book?" I asked, my voice shaky despite my effort to appear calm.
"Not really," she said, giving a small, dismissive shrug. "But I read it every night."
"Was it a storybook?" I pressed, desperately clinging to the lie. "I have some storybooks. I can bring them for you."
"No, don't worry about it," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "I'll get it when I go back to the city."
I felt a sudden, huge flood of relief, but a thought immediately sliced through it, freezing the relief in place: She's testing me. She's sure the book is with me. No one else comes here. She knows I lied.
"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, her voice returning to its normal, warm tone, as if the entire interrogation had never happened.
"Yes, why not?"
After drinking the familiar, comforting bitterness of the coffee, I left for home. On the way, the anxiety returned full force. The dinner invitation, the coffee, the compliments—all of it felt like an elaborate mask over the dangerous knowledge she held. I had been caught in a lie by the only person who offered me comfort and education. Now, she held a dangerous secret over me.
---
The next day at schoool was a blur of boredom and anxiety. I got the usual harsh words for neglecting my homework, but the real task lay ahead. I went straight home, my stomach a tight knot of worry. I have to return the book. I gave my Chachi a quick excuse, telling her I'd eat less because Madam had invited me to dinner.
I arrived at Madam's house. Today, she was wearing a beautiful red sari, which framed her figure stunningly. She truly looked angelic, but the usual confident glow on her face was gone, replaced by a subtle tension. She served us both—a plate of delicious, fragrant food for me, and one for herself. The meal was wonderful, but the fear of being exposed made it hard to swallow. After we ate, I quickly retreated to the sofa, waiting for my chance to escape.
"How was the food?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
"It was very good, Madam."
She set her plate down and turned to me, her eyes suddenly serious, piercing mine. "Can I ask you something, Avi?"
"Yes, of course," I managed, though my voice sounded hollow in my own ears.
"Did you take a book from here?"
A cold, sickening wave of fear washed over me, draining the heat from my body. My heart slammed against my ribs. I stiffened, fighting the urge to run. "No, Madam," I said, my voice betraying me by coming out too loud and defensive. "I didn't take any book. If I needed one, I would have asked you."
"Okay," she said slowly, her eyes searching my face, lingering on my own frantic gaze. "Maybe I misplaced it."
"Was it a special book?" I asked, my voice shaky despite my effort to appear calm.
"Not really," she said, giving a small, dismissive shrug. "But I read it every night."
"Was it a storybook?" I pressed, desperately clinging to the lie. "I have some storybooks. I can bring them for you."
"No, don't worry about it," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "I'll get it when I go back to the city."
I felt a sudden, huge flood of relief, but a thought immediately sliced through it, freezing the relief in place: She's testing me. She's sure the book is with me. No one else comes here. She knows I lied.
"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, her voice returning to its normal, warm tone, as if the entire interrogation had never happened.
"Yes, why not?"
After drinking the familiar, comforting bitterness of the coffee, I left for home. On the way, the anxiety returned full force. The dinner invitation, the coffee, the compliments—all of it felt like an elaborate mask over the dangerous knowledge she held. I had been caught in a lie by the only person who offered me comfort and education. Now, she held a dangerous secret over me.
---
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)