Chapter 3

THE woman's face lingered vividly in his mind. One thing was certain—she had been appearing in his dreams ever since he inherited the two enchanted scales from his late grandfather.

"Magic Charms."

That was the only name his grandfather had ever mentioned for the scales.

"Grandpa said these scales have an owner, and I have to find that person and return them. Could it be that woman?"

Dylan jolted as someone patted his shoulder. Kyle was suddenly standing beside him; Dylan hadn’t noticed his silent approach. His friend always moved stealthily, appearing out of nowhere.

Dylan walked over to the recliner on the balcony, their usual hangout spot, and sat down.

"You were spacing out. What's on your mind?" asked Kyle, leaning against the railings.

"Where's Eric?"

"He left after picking up his stuff earlier. What's with you? Daydreaming about that woman in your dreams again?"

Dylan shook his head and placed the scales, known as Magic Charms, on the small table next to the recliner. "I feel like someone’s been following me these past few days. But maybe it’s just my imagination."

"Following you?"

Dylan nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Dylan hesitated. "Not entirely sure. But for three or four days now, the same scooter has been tailing me. That can't be a coincidence."

Kyle fell silent.

"They follow me from the places where I pick up orders, all the way to customer drop-offs. I notice them appearing in crowded areas and the city center," Dylan added.

"Do you remember the license plate?"

Dylan nodded.

"Did you try stopping to ask them?"

"I wanted to see what they'd do, but they did nothing. When I reached the junction out of the city, they turned into another lane."

"Maybe it’s just a coincidence. They might just be using the same route," Kyle reasoned.

Dylan shook his head. "My instincts are rarely wrong. But as long as they don't do anything, I’m not too worried. What scares me is if they have other intentions. What if they want to groom me as a boy toy? That's a nightmare! Or worse, some sex-crazed psycho… ew!"

Kyle burst into laughter. "You don’t want to report it to the police, but you’re scared. If they kidnap you and harvest your organs, that’ll be even worse."

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck.

"Was it a man or a woman?" Kyle asked.

Dylan frowned. "Not sure. They wore a big sweater. Couldn't see their body shape."

"If it’s a woman, maybe she likes you. If it's a man… that’s dangerous, Dylan." Kyle laughed, shaking his head.

"What nonsense!" Dylan laughed along too.

"I told you to work with me, but you refused. Now you're being followed by a psycho. See, told you so."

"Ridiculous."

Kyle’s gaze shifted to the object Dylan had placed on the small table. Whenever Dylan faced any tense situation, he would examine that object—a flat, coin-like item about the size of a 50-cent coin, white with a yellowish hue and a rough, shell-like surface.

"What? What are you staring at?" Dylan asked when he noticed Kyle’s silence.

"I've wanted to ask for a long time, but it never came out. You always dodge the question."

"Ask what?"

"Since I’ve known you, I’ve realized you have some psychic ability, or as you call it, a gift. But you've never told me where it came from."

Dylan frowned. "Is there really such a thing as a psychic power that can come from anywhere?"

"Of course. Most shamans or mystics with supernatural knowledge either gain it through dreams or learn it from someone else—a guru, you could say. So where did you get yours? From the woman you keep dreaming about?" Kyle teased, chuckling.

Dylan fell silent. "You’ve got a point. But that’s unlikely." He shook his head. "It’s hard to explain to you. I don't think you'd understand. I started having these visions when I was a kid, around seven or eight years old. Not from dreams or anyone teaching me."

Kyle squinted. "You’re sure no one taught you?"

"As far as I remember, no."

Kyle just nodded. His eyes returned to the object on the small table. Whenever Dylan mentioned his father, he would gaze at that object, as if it held the key to finding his father, who had disappeared 15 years ago.

Kyle had asked about it before, but Dylan always dodged the question. After secretly observing the object for some time, Kyle was finally certain—that was the very thing he had been searching for all along.

DYLAN turned his motorcycle into the third junction. The scooter rider was still tailing him. This time, he was certain-he was being followed. Now, he just needed to figure out the best way to trap this mysterious person.

Noticing the road ahead, an idea popped into his head. He sped up, turning left at a junction leading toward the outskirts of the city.

After about a kilometer, Dylan veered into a commercial area with shop lots and a mini-mart. He stopped and parked his motorcycle in front of a hardware store. He noticed the scooter had followed him into the same area. Slowly, he walked toward the mini-mart entrance.

As soon as he reached the end of the building, Dylan turned quickly into a narrow alley between two buildings. He waited there, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious person.

Two minutes passed. Hiding behind the staircase at the back of the building, Dylan peeked toward the mini-mart sidewalk.

Less than 30 meters away, he saw the person approaching his hiding spot. Judging by the build, it looked like a man around his age. Half of the man's face was hidden by a cap pulled low over his head.

Dylan took a step back, his mind racing for a plan. He took a deep breath, deciding to confront the guy head-on.

As soon as Dylan stepped out, the man froze in shock before immediately turning to leave. Without hesitation, Dylan dashed after him. Even though he almost got hit by passing vehicles, he didn't let the guy out of his sight.

Reaching a busier road, Dylan had to stop. He watched as the guy skillfully weaved through fast-moving traffic.

A sudden blaring honk jolted Dylan. He glanced to his right, but before he could fully register what was happening, a force from the front shoved him backward.

He lost control of his body and landed hard on the roadside. The blaring honks continued, followed by the screeching of tires dangerously close to his ears.

Dylan quickly turned to his left, eyes wide in shock. He saw the man collapse onto the road after being hit by a truck, which dragged him about 15 meters toward a nearby traffic light.

Dylan's breath caught in his throat as he watched the man's body get completely crushed beneath the truck. Not even a shred of flesh remained, only thick, dark blood smeared across the road. The truck came to a halt in the right lane.

Dylan's brows furrowed when he noticed a reticulated python slithering rapidly out from under the truck, disappearing in the blink of an eye. He stood frozen, hands trembling uncontrollably.

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