Chapter 7

DYLAN squinted slightly, shielding his eyes from the blazing sunset. It had poured heavily in the morning, but now the sun was merciless. The weather had been unpredictable lately.

A quick glance at the rearview mirror caught his attention—a black, metallic luxury SUV moving slowly in the left lane. It looked like it had been tailing him. Since entering the city, the vehicle hadn’t strayed more than 100 meters behind him.

“Who’s following me this time? After that accident...”

Dylan checked the rearview mirror again, a crooked smile forming on his lips.

“Let’s see how far you wanna play this game. I’ll catch you just like I caught that guy the other day.”

He slowed down, curious to see if the car would do the same or overtake him. Just as he expected, it stayed right behind him.

The slower he drove Kyle’s Volvo, the slower the SUV followed.

“Alright. Let’s take a little joyride.”

Driving through the residential area, Dylan maintained a speed of 40 kilometers per hour. Other cars honked as they overtook him, but he couldn’t care less. His hunch was right. Now he just had to figure out how to trap this person.

After circling around for nearly ten minutes, Dylan pulled over by the roadside. The SUV stopped a short distance behind him.

He waited for a moment inside the car before opening the door and stepping out. His strides were firm and fast as he headed toward the SUV, his right fist clenched tightly. If it came down to a fight, he was ready—even if he had to improvise some self-defense moves he'd never actually learned.

Stopping by the driver’s side, Dylan knocked on the window. No response.

He squinted, trying to see through the dark-tinted glass.

Knocking again, he spoke louder. “Come on, get out. I need to ask you something.”

Silence.

Dylan glanced around, making sure there were no other vehicles nearby. He knocked harder.

“Get out, you coward! Who are you, and what do you want from me?”

His patience was running thin as the driver still showed no reaction. Dylan pounded on the door and tried the handle, but it was locked.

“If you’re a real man, face me! Come on, you—”

Before he could finish, the SUV suddenly revved up and sped off.

Dylan punched his palm in frustration.

“Shit!”

DYLAN sank into the sofa opposite Kyle, unease gnawing at his chest as he thought about the mysterious figure tailing him earlier. For some reason, his gut told him this time felt more dangerous than the last.

Kyle, who had been focused on his laptop screen, lifted his gaze to Dylan, noticing his unusual silence.

Dylan flinched when a crumpled ball of paper hit his face.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, silently asking, 'What’s up?'

“Someone was following me again.”

Kyle’s attention shifted fully from his work. “Who this time?”

“I’m not sure.”

“When?”

“On my way back just now. Black car, looked expensive.”

“Did you catch the license plate?”

“Even if I did, what’s the point? Report it to the police? What can they do?”

“Good point...”

“What if the same accident happens again? What do they want from me?” Dylan touched the pocket of his T-shirt, a frown creasing his forehead. “Maybe it has something to do with my dad. Or... maybe it's about this scale?”

His frown deepened as that thought took hold.

“Scale?” Kyle asked.

Dylan looked at him, tempted to spill the truth about the scale known as the Magic Charms. “I just... thought about my dad, that’s all.”

“Leave it. Walk away. Don’t ever touch that thing.” Kyle repeated the last message Dylan’s father had left—the one he’d read too. “You still haven’t told me what your dad was talking about. How am I supposed to help you if I don’t know what it is?”

“Err... I’m not sure either. That’s why I need to find him, so he can explain.” Dylan forced a weak smile before heading toward his bedroom.

His mind was still preoccupied with the black car.

"If it’s the scale they want, why not just say so? If they want it, they can just take it. I don’t even know where to find its rightful owner. Maybe they know better."

He pulled the Magic Charms from his pocket and placed it on the bed. Then, without another word, he headed to the bathroom to clean up.

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