They walked shoulder to shoulder, their boots thumping against the stone footpath, filled with people lost in their world. While some ladies smiled at Johan from time to time, Johan also waved towards them, making them blush and disperse.
"Tell me something… Do you know why Vane was so suspicious of you?" Leor finally asked Johan, ignoring his shameless behavior, voicing the thought that had been nagging at him.
'Vane was friendly, even with complete strangers. But something about his reaction had been off—like he knew something I didn't.' Leor thought warily. To him Johan seemed trustworthy enough, at least much better than an average human.
Johan shrugged, his expression calm, though his tone carried a hint of sarcasm. "I have no idea. By the way, thank God you finally remembered I exist."
"I know, I know," Leor said with a sheepish grin, trying to defuse the situation. "But you can't really blame me, can you? It was weird."
'I wonder what Vane saw… I should observe him carefully.'
"Of course, I can," Johan shot back.
"You could've just nodded or added something to back me up. But no, you stayed completely silent. Worst thing you could've done. Naturally, no one's going to trust a complete stranger they just met." His tone was accusing.
"I see. So you're saying I shouldn't believe you..." Leor's comment shut him up instantly, forcing him to focus on how beautiful the clouds were instead.
They reached the bustling hub. The carriage road was paved with cobblestone bricks, while the rest was packed dirt, dotted with vibrant yellow dandelions that gave the square an elegant look.
They walked along the stone footpath designated for pedestrians. There weren't many shops—just three on the right: a telegraph office, a decent-looking bar filled with the shouts of rowdy men and some women looking for 'clients', and a flower shop lined with small pots of jasmine, dandelions, and roses. Nervous young men clustered outside, probably planning heartfelt confessions to their sweethearts.
At the square's center stood a wooden pavilion with an open design. Its curved roof, weathered but sturdy, shielded people from the sun, supported by a ring of evenly spaced stone columns.
Beneath its shelter, long wooden benches were bolted to the cobblestone floor. Some people smoked cigarettes, others debated politics, while a group of young students laughed and teased each other to pass the time—all waiting for carriages heading in their desired directions.
As they neared the coach station, Leor spotted a familiar face waiting for a ride. He made his way toward her, Johan trailing silently behind.
"Hey, Georgia! Where you headed?" he called out.
Georgia worked at a bakery and lived in the neighborhood, so he often saw her around.
She appeared to be in her twenties—probably older than Clara. Her pale skin and long black hair, tied back in a ponytail with a few loose strands falling across her forehead, gave her a slightly disheveled look.
A small mole on her right cheek added to her mature charm. She wore a gray woolen ankle-length gown with black floral patterns. Though the fabric looked a bit worn, her well-proportioned figure and refined features gave her an understated allure.
"Leor! What a pleasant surprise. I'm heading back to the bakery. Old lady must be going nuts without me, haha." Her brown eyes softened as she recognized him. Then she turned to Johan. "And who's your handsome friend? Won't you introduce him?" she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.
She had a reputation for making everyone she spoke to regularly fall in love with her—both men and women, though mostly women since she talked to them more.
'Not that I hated it, but even I was dangerously close to being charmed by her. Even though that was not her intensions, some people are just born with that kind of presence…'
Just as he was thinking that, a splitting headache hit him, like a hammer slamming into the back of his skull. His vision blurred, as if he had been staring at the afternoon sun for hours.
His eyes burned, unbearably dry. Strangely, no one noticed his silent cries for help.
"Name's Johan, ma'am," Johan said smoothly, extending his hand toward her.
Georgia blushed, covering her lips with her hand. "What a straightforward young man you are..."
"Um?" Johan looked utterly confused. He had just tried to shake hands. His face screamed, 'What's she on about?'
Georgia laughed, lowering her hand. "I guess you're new to this country, haha. Offering your hand to someone of the opposite sex is basically asking for their hand. Not that I mind..." She smirked teasingly as she shook Johan's hand, making his face go blank. "My name's Georgia. Nice to meet you too."
Johan blushed, not knowing how to reply to this.
"Ah, Leor, why so quiet all of a sudden? What're you thinking? Tell us too!" She nudged him with her elbow.
His chest felt like it weighed two tons. But for some reason, he felt an intense urge to reply.
He looked straight into her eyes and blurted out something that made him wish he were dead.
"I was thinking about which position I'd fuck you in!" he yelled aloud.
The low hum of chatter around them died in an instant.
One by one, heads turned, their gazes locking onto them like they were performers who had stumbled onto the wrong stage.
Johan froze beside him, lips parting slightly as the color drained from his face. His hand twitched as if tempted to flee.
Georgia's playful smirk vanished. Her eyes darted nervously to the crowd, then to Johan, then to Leor, before finally settling on the ground. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her posture stiffening.
'Please kill me now. Why the fuck did I say that? I want to disappear.' Leor thought with some confusion and suicidal thoughts.
"That's not funny, Leor..." Her face finally turned to him, anger flickering behind her eyes, though she looked half-ready to cry. Of course she was.
Gossip spread fast. So many people had heard. Her reputation would be completely ruined. How the hell was he supposed to fix this? Most old folks already didn't like her much.
"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to say that, Georgia." He bowed at a full ninety degrees, apologizing.
'The first thing to do was beg for forgiveness. But seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me today? First at Barbara's, now here. If I kept this up, people would stone him to death.'
'But—At least I remember saying this time.'
To be continued...
TYATE Extras:
Telegraph
The Telegraph is a system used to send messages across the country. In major cities like Wellington, the capital, telegraph offices are commonly found in nearly every square, facilitating easy access. However, in smaller towns, the presence of these offices is much more limited, with only one or two at most. The process involves gathering messages at the telegraph office, where postmen collect them and deliver them to the designated addresses.
Lightning Telegraph
The Lightning Telegraph is an expedited version of the standard telegraph service. Although it is more expensive, it offers significantly faster delivery. When someone sends a Lightning Telegraph, it bypasses the slower processing system. Instead of being grouped with other messages, it is prioritized for immediate collection and delivery.
Specialized postmen, known as "lightmen," handle these messages. To ensure speed, each lightning postman carries a limited number of letters, usually no more than 20–25 at a time, delivering them with urgency. The exclusivity and efficiency of the Lightning Telegraph make it a preferred option for sending critical messages.