Sheer Indications

In the pursuit of our shared purpose, Aural and I scoured every nook and cranny of the school. Undeterred by the odd looks we received, we pressed on, driven by our determination to uncover the identity of the person with the twisted finger. The art festival buzzed around us as students proudly displayed their creative works, turning the atmosphere into a symphony of artistic expression.

Amid the whirlwind of students showcasing their creativity, Aural and I pressed on in our quest, our shared purpose propelling us forward. With every male student we encountered, my gaze seemed to fixate on their hands, earning me a mix of curious and bemused looks. Some exchanged puzzled glances, while others delivered annoyed punches from irritated seniors. On the other hand, Aural managed the investigation more subtly, her gender possibly granting her an advantage in this discreet examination.

Despite our efforts, the twisted-fingered individual remained elusive. The frustration of our fruitless search mounted as the days passed, and it was only a matter of time before our paths led us to the bustling canteen, seeking a moment of respite and a chance to regroup.

As we leaned against the vending machine, each selecting our preferred beverages, I couldn't help but voice my disappointment. "So, no luck for you either, huh?" I questioned Aural, my voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

Aural sighed, her expression mirroring my sentiments. "Yeah, it's like he's vanished into thin air. Where could he possibly be?"

In the bustling atmosphere of the canteen, Aural and I selected our drinks from the vending machine, the metallic clinks of cans harmonizing with the chatter around us. As I opened my can and took a sip, the taste of cool juice provided a fleeting distraction from our mounting frustrations.

Between sips, I couldn't help but voice my curiosity once more, my inquiry laced with a touch of hopelessness. "So, Aural, did you happen to catch any glimpse of his face during your encounter or something like that?"

Aural's brow furrowed slightly as she mulled over my question, her features a canvas of contemplation. After a brief pause, she responded, "Hm… Nope. His face was hidden beneath a hoodie."

Just as the atmosphere seemed to settle into a rhythm of shared understanding, a call echoed from behind, disrupting our conversation. The urgency of the voice didn't immediately register, and before we could react, a swift kick landed on my backside, propelling me forward.

The unexpected impact left me startled, my attention swiftly turning to the source of the disturbance. I faced quite an elegant lady with quite long hair and a well-displayed scarf around her shoulder, who stood with irritation etched across her features.

Her voice dripped with annoyance as she chastised us, her agitation palpable. "Get away from the vending machine! My patience has worn thin, and you two are completely oblivious."

Her irritation was palpable as she admonished us for our apparent disregard for her presence. Aural and I exchanged apologetic glances, recognizing our oversight and attempting to defuse the situation with sincere apologies.

“We are sorry,” I said.

However, rather than accepting our apologies gracefully, her frustration seemed to amplify. Her words dripped with condescension, as she belittled us for our perceived inferiority as students, “You Inferior Students will never learn to grace your senior. Such a dimwit.”

She emphasized her seniority, demanding respect and insinuating that we should know our place. The tension in the air was thick, and it appeared that this encounter was spiraling out of control.

But just as the situation seemed to be escalating, a timely intervention shattered the atmosphere of discord. A familiar figure materialized beside us, Shena, whose arrival carried a sense of authority. She addressed her, Erla, with a firm yet composed tone, "Hey, Erla. Don't snap out that easily. Fix this habit of yours."

As Shena took control of the situation, she turned towards me, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry about this. Erla can be a handful sometimes."

Despite taking the kick, I smiled and said, “Oh it’s fine, Shena.”

With Erla's and Shena's departure, the canteen regained its normal atmosphere, the incident leaving a residue of confusion and disbelief. I let out a mutter under my breath, "Ah, seriously?"

Aural's voice carried a hint of curiosity as she muttered beside me, "Habit?"

Her words prompted me to turn my attention to her, seeking an explanation for her remark. But then, Aural's tone shifted, growing louder and more animated as she continued, "From habit, I remember one thing about that guy."

In the wake of Aural's tantalizing revelation, my curiosity was piqued. The canteen's chatter served as a backdrop to our conversation as I pressed her for more information. "Oh! What is it?" I inquired eagerly, anticipation lacing my words.

Aural leaned in, her voice dropping to a hushed tone as she shared the crucial detail.

My eyes widened at the significance of her revelation. It was a breadcrumb of information, a clue that could potentially lead us closer to unraveling the mystery. With newfound purpose, Aural and I decided to depart from the canteen, the sky casting a warm orange hue as the day transitioned toward evening.

As we walked separate paths to our respective residences, a sense of shared mission settled over us. The next day held the promise of the finale for the person who had disrupted my group, and I couldn't shake off the enigma surrounding Pam's connection to it all. The thought of visiting his home crossed my mind, but the lack of clarity held me back. With a plan forming in my mind, I resolved to make the most of the day and headed home, determined to be prepared for whatever lay ahead.

As night descended, I found myself once again grappling with the canvas of incompletion. The task seemed daunting, the colors and lines refusing to align with my intentions. Frustration mounted as the hours passed, and fatigue eventually pulled me into slumber without my conscious consent.

The new morning arrived with a clarity that had been missing the previous day. A renewed determination propelled me out of bed and toward the library, the early hour ensuring a quieter environment.

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the reading lamps casting a cozy ambiance. I muttered to myself, "Well, this spot needed inspection yesterday. Anyway, let's see."

Navigating the aisles, I made my way to the second row of seats, my gaze fixed on an early riser who was already engrossed in his studies. He managed his glasses with his left hand, a seemingly innocuous action that carried a newfound significance in the light of recent revelations.

I cleared my throat, my voice carrying a subtle tension as I approached him. "So it was you?" I said, my words tinged with a mix of assertion and curiosity. He looked up from his book, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. The air between us seemed to crackle with uncertainty, a silent challenge hanging in the balance.