Nervous

Chapter - 32

They faced each other, exchanging glances, both reluctant to start the conversation, as if something were forcibly sealing their mouths shut.

Moreira cleared his throat twice, breaking the tension for a moment, then spoke while his eyes flicked left and right, "I haven’t introduced myself yet. My name is Moreira Lounge."

He extended his hand. They shook hands briefly, then Zavi spoke in a calm tone, "Oh... my name is Slamet Kopling." A faint smile formed on his face. He recalled using the name of his former neighbor back when he was still on Earth, and to Zavi, the name sounded strange enough in this world as well. He figured that if Moreira doubted such a name, it would only help conceal his real identity.

Strangely enough, Moreira believed him, nodding with visible curiosity, as if it were his first time hearing such a unique name. He smiled, released the handshake, straightened his posture, and continued asking about the cooperation.

"Please forgive me, Mr. Kopling. I do not mean to doubt this cooperation."

Zavi gave a small nod in response, signaling him to continue.

"So, once the cooperation is finished, will I need to pay any additional fees?" Moreira added calmly, his expression unchanged.

Zavi’s eyes widened.

What kind of question is that? Wasn’t the letter I wrote clear enough? Zavi thought irritably.

Didn’t I already write it in the letter? The only conditions were coming alone, not betraying each other, and once the cooperation ends, that’s it. He muttered inwardly, annoyed, unable to understand what Moreira was thinking.

Instead of correcting himself, Moreira laughed, only now remembering those conditions after Zavi mentioned them.

"Sorry, I wasn’t focused. I’ve been too nervous today. I dropped out of school at eleven, and I can only read and write a little," Moreira said while scratching his cheek, openly sharing personal information without hesitation.

Isn’t that dangerous? You could easily be taken advantage of.

Zavi thought, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

"Oh. I’m only eighteen years old, so you can just address me normally, Mr. Kopling," Moreira added calmly.

Zavi nodded while resting his chin on his hand.

So that’s how it is. He’s the same age as Isabelle. If he were still in school, he would have graduated next year and started working.

He thought, only now learning about Moreira’s life.

"Alright," Zavi said after thinking for a moment.

A few seconds later, both of their orders arrived. A large plate of grilled beef, still releasing hot steam and an appetizing aroma, was placed on the table by a man dressed in standard kitchen attire.

"Please enjoy, sir," the man said with a polite smile.

After they finished their meals, the atmosphere suddenly grew tense once more. A cold draft slipped through the ventilation gaps, gently crawling across their skin.

The silence was broken again when a woman suddenly entered the café. She wore a simple black dress that fell neatly along her body, without any flashy adornments. A wide-brimmed black hat rested atop her head, its shadow obscuring part of her face, giving her an unfamiliar and unreadable impression. Her steps were slow, yet her presence was immediately felt, as if she brought a different air into the room.

They both turned their heads, coincidentally seated near the entrance.

"Sir," Moreira whispered while covering the left side of his face with his left hand. "That woman gives me chills. Can we leave as soon as possible?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"Ah. Alright." Zavi wasn’t sure what Moreira was feeling. He stood up, took out his wallet, and walked toward the cashier to pay for everything.

After paying, Zavi made a simple hand gesture. Moreira noticed it, and the two of them quietly exited the café.

The woman, now seated in the left corner of the room facing the entrance, observed Moreira’s strange behavior, noticing his visible wariness and fear toward her presence.

One of the female café workers approached from behind the cashier counter to take her order, but the mysterious woman stood up immediately, her cold gaze locking onto the worker as she approached.

"I’m sorry if I did something wrong," the worker said nervously, intimidated by that sharp stare.

The woman in the black dress passed her without uttering a single word. The door bell chimed, signaling the door opening, then rang again as it closed on its own.

"Hey, what was wrong with that customer?" asked a man standing behind the cashier counter.

The female worker turned toward him and shrugged slightly. "I don’t know. Maybe she was in a bad mood?"

"Could be," the man muttered with a faint smile. "Forget it. Just get back to work. The manager will start yelling again. I can’t stand that crazy businessman’s nagging either."

"Alright," the female worker murmured weakly before staggering through the swing door behind the counter.

...

The two of them walked along No. 10 Street, counting intersections while discussing what Moreira had felt earlier.

Yes. For some reason, when the woman arrived, more precisely when the café door opened accompanied by the ringing bell, Moreira’s body had stiffened, goosebumps rising along his skin.

He did not know what had happened, but instinctively, following his thoughts, he said what he had said earlier. Leave that place as quickly as possible if he wanted to survive.

That evil spirit, the mysterious woman, was in fact a third-level evil spirit, Nammeridya, capable of disguising itself as any animal at will, or perfectly mimicking a human without a single flaw. At that level, they were adept at manipulating emotions, and if their target let their guard down, the spirit would drain the spiritual energy from their body, growing stronger in the process.

Like one of the strange death cases. A bearded man known as a violent heavy drinker was found dead at dawn by the roadside, his body resembling a withered leaf in autumn.

That death had occurred a month ago, and even now, the police and seasoned detectives were unable to determine the cause.

However, the Receivers and Hollows knew exactly what had happened to that unfortunate man. According to rumors, he was a businessman with many subordinates, frequently changed women, and often abused innocent people under the excuse of "having fun."

Because of that, they were certain a third-level evil spirit had killed him. What triggered the attack was unknown. What was certain was their conclusion: he died after encountering an evil spirit disguised as a beautiful woman who lured him, or something related to his own actions. Revenge.

"Don’t tell me you’re sick or something?" Zavi asked with a faint smile.

"Sir. Can you listen to my explanation?" Moreira’s body stiffened, his face filled with fear. "That woman looked like she wanted to eat me."

Not taking the remark seriously, and unaware of how this world truly worked, Zavi stopped walking, grabbed both of Moreira’s shoulders, and spoke with an incredulous expression.

"There’s no way a beautiful woman like that would want to eat you."

Moreira did not believe him. He was experienced. His instincts could not be wrong.

"You’re wrong, Mr. Kopling. You don’t understand." He brushed Zavi’s hands off his shoulders and continued walking, his expression dark with anger.

Zavi stared sharply at Moreira’s back as he walked ahead.

"Excuse me..."

The words were cold, calm, and empty.

"What?!"

Amid the crowd of people passing along the street and sidewalk, the woman who had been in the same place earlier now walked past him calmly, completely ignoring his presence.

Zavi’s eyes widened. He realized that in this world, laws and logic did not function properly.

"That woman... That woman... Her feet aren’t touching the ground?!"

Zavi stammered.

Knowing how strange this world was, yet foolishly allowing Moreira to walk away alone, filled him with regret.

"Damn it."

Zavi immediately moved forward, weaving through passing pedestrians. On the other side, the woman hurried toward Moreira, who continued walking calmly, unaware that danger was already upon him.

"Moreira...."

A shout echoed through the streets, causing the bustle of passersby—horse-drawn caravans, supply transports, trade goods, and equipment—to slow the horses’ pace.

His body froze, but his eyes darted rapidly, searching for the source of the shout.

Meanwhile, Moreira heard the voice clearly. Without fully realizing it, he walked until he reached No. 11 Street, CanYu.

Without any warning, a woman—the third-level evil spirit Nammeridya—slammed into his body with great force. The impact sent Moreira crashing onto the stone sidewalk. The two locked eyes for a brief moment.

The woman’s hair fell loose, covering part of her face and obscuring Moreira’s view. What he saw was only a beauty that was both alluring and terrifying.

People nearby halted, their attention drawn by the woman’s strange behavior.

Unpleasant murmurs followed.

"Hey, is that guy trying to do something indecent?"

"I can’t believe it. Is that some kind of long-hidden love?"

"Damn it, you two are making me jealous in broad daylight!"

"Isn’t that a bit too much?"

Moreira’s eyes widened.

'Shut up, you useless people.'

He thought angrily.

Moreira’s eyes widened further.

"What do you want?" He took a deep breath, steadying his trembling hands.

"Don’t tell me you want to absorb my spiritual energy? Because I failed, right?" he asked, trying to confirm.