Chapter 1: The solitude of the road - Part 2

I turned my gaze back to the road and sighed. We just needed to reach that small town that had been haunting my dreams. Hemlock Ridge. Check that everything was in order, leave, and, if everything went smoothly, enjoy the beach of Svadhistana or some other place where the air wasn’t so heavy.

The tightness in my chest returned, that discomfort you feel when something isn’t right. The roads felt... familiar. But I couldn’t remember why. Maybe I didn’t want to remember.

“Mr. Mahayan, are you okay?” Mi Fan asked, her brow furrowed. I couldn’t tell if it was about the mission or if she had noticed something strange as well. The wind had shifted, and her tail had stopped moving.

“Yes. … …. … …Yes, I’m fine, Mi Fan. These old bones aren’t what they used to be,” I responded with a theatrical smile.

She frowned, clearly confused.

“But you look young... what, 38?”

I chuckled, amused. We’ve always been good at hiding the truth.

“How flattering,” I replied, keeping the tone light. “I suppose your great-grandfather didn’t tell you much about me.”

Mi Fan huffed, crossing her arms.

“All I know is you’re an MVP, and my job is always to protect people like you,” she said with the firmness of someone who accepted their destiny without hesitation.

The girl was right. The Fan family had always followed that tradition, generation after generation. I’d told my old friend that the world had changed, that his family could be whatever they wanted. But he always said the same thing: traditions were the most important thing.

And deep down, I couldn’t argue with him. Not with him.

We couldn’t escape who we were either. Traditions didn’t just trap the tigers—they wrapped around me too, an invisible thread that kept me in my role, no matter how many years passed.

The car started to sputter beneath my feet, as if it had lost its breath. When I realized it didn’t want to go any further, I frowned.

“Oh come on, Kit, keep going,” I said dramatically, imitating a voice from an old show. “‘No, sir, I’m done for,’” I added in a metallic tone.

I turned to Mi Fan, hoping she’d at least recognize my clever comment. After all, even in Zhou, they must’ve heard of Knight Rider. But no. She just stared at me, her ears twitching slightly, as if nothing had happened. Her expression was as unyielding as ever, like a statue.

Mi Fan had always been very serious. Not so different from our old tiger friend.

I sighed, stepping out of the car, the warm Manipura wind ruffling my white fur. I walked to the hood and gave it a tug. Everything seemed to be in working order, at least at first glance. I reached inside and pulled out the small stone that powered the chassis. Its glow had dimmed.

“They don’t make these like they used to,” I muttered, holding the stone in the palm of my hand, gazing at it with a mixture of nostalgia and resignation.

Mi Fan approached, her tail swaying with that rare curiosity she seldom showed. She leaned in a bit, studying the stone with her sharp eyes, but said nothing.

“This is a ground stone,” I explained, noticing her interest. “It channels energy from the magnetic fields of earth to power cars. Normally, they don’t fail, but this one... ” I made a grand gesture with my arms, like I was giving a masterclass. “Well, this one did.”

The tiger sighed. She turned around and leaned on the car striking a pose. She glanced over her shoulder, watching me.

Mi Fan didn’t say a word. Her ears twitched again, as if she was listening to something beyond my voice. It was such a subtle movement that most people would’ve missed it, but we always notice.

I placed the stone back carefully. Something about its surface felt familiar. My fingers traced the edges slowly, a habit I couldn’t break whenever I handled something ancient. We’d seen many stones lose their glow, I thought. And this... this wasn’t just a mechanical failure. Something inside it had dimmed, something more than just magnetic pressure.

“Well, time to push,” I said, replacing the stone and closing the hood.

“Mr. Mahayan, I’m the bodyguard. Let me do it,” Mi Fan insisted firmly, but I was already walking around to the back of the car before she finished her sentence.

I couldn’t help but grin as I watched her prepare. I lifted her easily before she could touch the car. Surprisingly light, or maybe I was just too strong for a mere aristocratic cat.

Gently, I set her back in the passenger seat.

“We would never let a lady do this sort of work,” I said, adjusting my clothes as if I’d just saved the day.

Mi Fan crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.

“Mr. Mahayan!” she protested, her brow furrowing. “I can handle it.”

She looked at me with that mix of determination and frustration that was so typical of her.

“I’m as strong as...” I paused dramatically, searching for the perfect reference, “He-Man!” I declared, quite pleased with myself.

But her silence said it all. Mi Fan had no idea who He-Man was.