Chapter 2

DYLAN stepped into the living room of Wester Villa.

The moment Kyle saw him, he frowned and scanned Dylan from head to toe. “What’s with your weird limping? Looks like you've got a bruise on your face.” He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Dylan’s face.

“Don’t ask. I'm just lucky to be alive.” Dylan slumped onto the sofa facing Kyle.

Kyle crossed his arms. “That's the danger of being a rider. I told you to get a different job, but you wouldn't listen.” He shook his head with a small grin.

“What are you rambling about? I wasn’t in an accident. I got beaten up.”

Kyle straightened up immediately. “Who beat you up?” His previously casual tone turned serious.

“Some guys from the village. I went to the river earlier and ran into them. They beat me up, accusing me of killing that guy.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, falling silent for a moment. “But you did run into that guy, right?”

Dylan just nodded.

“When you met him, did you stare into his eyes? See anything?”

“Even if I did, what could I do to change his fate? You know my so-called ‘gift’ is just a useless talent. Yeah, I stared into his eyes, and yeah, I saw what was going to happen. I knew he was going to die and where it would happen. But I had no idea why or who was with him at that time. End of story.”

Kyle shook his head weakly. “Have you ever tried upgrading your gift? You know, so you can control it better and get more details?”

Dylan burst out laughing, clutching his stomach despite the pain. “You think this kind of gift can be upgraded like a video game? And besides, I don’t know any shamans who can help. Also, please don’t suggest weird stuff that’s beyond my understanding, okay?” He slowly got up from the sofa. “I’m gonna use your shower before I head home.”

“Why don’t you work here?”

Kyle’s suggestion stopped Dylan in his tracks. He turned to look at his friend.

Kyle nodded. “Be the manager of this place.”

Dylan looked around the guesthouse owned by Kyle. His gaze returned to his friend. “I have no experience. You sure you want me to manage this place? Won’t you lose money?”

Kyle stood up as well. “I won’t. I know you can handle it. I still have my gallery to manage, and I don’t have time to run both. Just be the manager, Dylan. I’m not asking you to paint landscapes or make a masterpiece like the Monalisa.”

Dylan chuckled.

“Wester Villa is still new. You can learn from scratch how to run this place. Managing a guesthouse isn’t hard. You don’t have to find customers; you just manage things when guests check in. That’s it.”

Dylan stayed silent, thinking about Kyle’s suggestion. That was just how Kyle was—never stingy when it came to helping his friends. He even offered Dylan a job without hesitation. Still, Dylan felt hesitant because they were already close, like brothers. Relationships like that often led to bigger issues when it came to formal work matters.

“I’m giving you an opportunity here. How many times have you come to Bamboo Village looking for your dad? It’s been two months of investigation, and you’ve found nothing except folklore about this place. Since you’re not giving up, why not stay here and dig deeper? I want to help make it easier for you.”

“You want me to quit being a rider?” Dylan muttered.

“Quit for now—or quit for good. While you’re looking for a job that matches your qualifications, be the manager of Wester Villa. Don’t worry about the pay. I’ll match it to your qualifications.”

“It’s not about the pay…”

“Stop making excuses, okay? I’m your friend. I also want to help you find your dad. I worked hard to get this land and build this place. It wasn’t easy getting the owner to agree. Now that I have this chance, let's find your dad together. Once we’re done, you can work wherever you want.”

Dylan nodded slightly. “Okay. I’ll go along with your plan, but let me finish up this month first. I don’t like leaving work halfway.”

Kyle nodded and smiled in relief.

THE melody of the flute echoed again, enchanting and lulling the mind into a deep, long dream. The music was serene, its rhythm slow and captivating.

Dylan raised his right hand, trying to touch the delicate swirling mist in front of him.

Same place. Same situation. Same music.

"Same dream," he muttered to himself.

His eyes darted around, searching for the same woman. He was certain she would appear again.

Dylan stopped searching when he saw a white figure moving like a wave across the water's surface. Gradually, the figure became clearer, revealing a woman standing right in front of him.

Her face resembled a human’s, but strange patterns covered her skin—patterns reminiscent of a snake’s scales. Her wavy hair was neatly combed, adorned with what looked like gems or crystals.

Her appearance was peculiar. She wore a complete garment that covered her entire body, with a cloak fastened at her shoulders and billowing down to the ground. In her right hand, she held a flute made of clear crystal.

Dylan was mesmerized as the woman smiled. He wanted to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. He could only stare as her figure vanished. Looking around, he felt lost.

His movements froze when the flute's melody played again. A cold gust of wind made him shut his eyes tightly. He felt someone gently holding his right hand.

When he opened his eyes again, the scene had changed to the living room. Dylan realized he was lying on the sofa. He let out a small sigh. Yet, strangely, it felt like he was still holding someone's hand.

Turning to his right, he blinked in surprise at the sight of Eric standing stiffly beside him. Dylan immediately let go of Eric's hand. He sat up, leaning against the backrest.

Eric chuckled and shook his head. "Who were you dating in your dream, holding hands and all?" he teased while moving to sit on the adjacent sofa.

Dylan stretched to adjust his posture.

Kyle appeared with two glasses of water, setting them on the small table in the center. He sat next to Eric. "That dream again?" he asked.

Dylan simply nodded and grabbed one of the glasses. He sipped the hot black coffee, feeling his drowsiness lift.

"What dream? The two of you living together, must be something else—sharing dreams too now?" Eric quipped with a playful scowl.

"Even if I told you, it’s not like you could help me," Dylan retorted.

The second sip of Kyle’s brewed coffee revived Dylan a little. Sometimes, Kyle was just like a big brother, always looking after him attentively.

"Why does that woman only appear in my dreams? Kyle, I think I’ve fallen for her."

Kyle and Eric exchanged glances upon hearing Dylan’s words.

"Careful, Dylan. Dreams can mess with your head. Don’t lose the ability to distinguish dreams from reality," Eric warned, picking up his cup of coffee.

Dylan grinned sheepishly. "Maybe it’s just her face, but I bet if her skin wasn’t like that, she’d be really beautiful, right?"

Eric placed his half-empty cup back on the table. "Dreams are just illusions. Don’t get carried away. Remember that." He walked off to the kitchen after dropping the advice.

Dylan looked at Kyle. Kyle just shrugged.

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