3——Her response was a brief, crackling attempt at speech, akin to a broken record. Frowning slightly, she tried again, but the same issue persisted. It seemed like her attempts at forming words were constantly interrupted, leaving only fragments behind.Looking closer I noticed cold breaths escaped her mouth as she spoke. Her breath was visible, forming wisps. A lot like the temperature around her was cold, but knowing the actual temperature, it was probably that her breath lacked warmth.Undeterred, I continued, "It's okay. You don't need to force yourself to speak. We can find other ways to communicate." I gestured with my hands, indicating that we could try different forms of expression.Despite her initial struggle, it appeared she had given up on vocalizing her thoughts. I decided to change my approach and attempted to call out her name. However, a moment of realization struck me—I didn't know her name.Recalling the information provided by Mr. Cat about the blue tags that identified the residents of the plant, I pointed to her neck. "There's a tag under your neck, right? It has a number. Can I take a peek to know which number you are? It'll help me address you properly."In response to my request, she instinctively moved back, her hair providing a protective curtain, concealing all her facial features. Attempting to reassure her, I tried to gently reach for a glimpse of the tag, but she continued to evade my attempts.Growing frustrated with my repeated failed attempts made it seem like I was on the verge of assaulting someone. I took a step back, looked into her eyes and said, "Hair, tag, neck." I hoped she would understand my intention, and not misread the situation. But there was still no sight of her losing her guard on me. "There is a tag under your neck, but your hair's in the way. I thought I could take a peek to know which number you are so I could call you," I said as I stretched out his hand. A silent offer of comfort. "Its okay, let me help," I murmured gently. For a moment, her hand hovered in hesitation, and then it moved—slowly finding its place in mine. As our hands met, a chill ran down my spine. Her touch was different, not just cold, but an unnatural coldness that lacked the very concept called warmth.Questions raced through my mind—Why did her body feel like this? What could cause such an unusual chill? —however, as I saw her hands tremble, those inquiries faded into the background. In that moment, what I saw was a frail little girl before me, probably struggling with something beyond the ordinary.Her hand in mine, I couldn't ignore the profound chill, yet I chose not to let it no bother my thoughts or decide what she was. Instead, I led her into a gentle hug, hoping to share the warmth that she seemed to lack."It's okay," I whispered, holding her close. Attempting to convey reassurance and understanding.Her tears flowed as I embraced her, letting her release the pent-up emotions. The weight of her pain and sorrow resonated in the gentle and silent sobs that echoed through the quiet library. —Gradually, the storm within her subsided, and she nestled into the comfort of my arms.Amidst her fragility, I noticed the tag on her neck, revealing the number 102—a digit closer to my own, 101. It wasn't just luck; maybe the plant brought her here for a reason, right after I arrived.I felt it—a silent conspiracy about the peculiar timing that connected us. "102," I murmured, gesturing towards the tag.I couldn't bear the thought of addressing her solely by a number; it felt impersonal, perhaps even cold. But her number was all I knew of her. She gazed at me, her blue eyes reflecting a mix of emotions, and repeated after me, "1...0...2." Her attempts at forming words were hesitant, like fragments of a melody struggling to find harmony. In response, I introduced myself with a soft smile, "I'm 101, but you can call me Blur." She echoed, "10...1, bl...ur."In that delicate moment, it felt like guiding someone through the steps of regaining a lost voice. I praised her gradual progress, acknowledging the courage it took to reclaim something that seemed temporarily elusive. I understood that with time her eventual recovery was to happen, and there was a subtle reassurance in witnessing her silent determination.Encouraging her with a gentle touch, I proposed, "Why don't we choose a name for you? It's much more personal than being called by numbers. What do you think, Mr. Cat?—"
However, as I turned to share my thoughts with Mr. Cat—the self-proclaimed guardian of the plant and a feline companion—was nowhere to be found.
An eerie silence lingered in his absence, leaving me puzzled and a bit concerned. "Mr. Cat, where are you?" I called out, but the library seemed to hold only echoes of the unanswered question. His abrupt vanishing was unexpected—a prelude. His actions earlier strongly suggested that something was amiss.As the mystery of Mr. Cat's disappearance lingered, swirling with unanswered questions. Why would he choose this moment to play hide-and-seek within the confines of the enigmatic plant? The uncertainty weighed on me, pressing on the need to figure out his whereabouts fueled confusion.102, with an air of vulnerability, tugged gently at my shirt, her eyes seeking mine. Suddenly, the reality of my role in this peculiar place hit me—I was the only one with her in the library.A probable sense of responsibility washed over me, "What should I do?" echoed in my mind like an anxious drumbeat."Bl..." she murmured, a subtle note of sadness in her voice. Her gaze conveyed a silent plea, as if I were the anchor in a labyrinthine.Amidst the uncertainty, my attention shifted to her disheveled hair—a cascade of unruly strands framing her face. Observing this, a thought crossed my mind: perhaps a moment of ordinary care could bring a sense of normalcy to our peculiar circumstances. A forced smile played on my lips as I gently broached the topic."You know, your hair is quite... unique," I commented, carefully choosing my words. "How about we head to the dressing room? I could help you with it, if you'd like." The offer extended as a warm gesture in the midst of the awkward situation.
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