Then the bus doors closed.
The engine rumbled.
"Huh?!"
She froze as the bus began to move. All she could do was sit down, staring out the window in disbelief. Is this… the end for me? I'm really lost…
[Ding!]
Aisha flinched.
[Host detected. System fully activated.]
"…What now?" she muttered, irritation mingling with fear.
[Host, the system is now fully active. It is time to begin your first mission.]
She clenched her fists tightly. "Can't you see I'm lost? If you're going to appear, at least help me!"
A soft, almost playful chuckle echoed in her mind.
[Host, you must complete a mission first. Only then will assistance be provided.]
Aisha's jaw tightened. "Sneaky, aren't you? Just like the sycophantic ministers in my father's court!"
[Mission: Request help from the only remaining young man on the bus.
Reward: Reuniting with your group.]
Aisha's eyes widened. The only one left?
One by one, the passengers had filtered out. Now, the bus was nearly empty. Her gaze landed on a young man sitting a few rows ahead, head bent over a thick book. His hair fell slightly over his forehead in a careless sweep. His sharp features were composed, his posture calm—someone clearly used to responsibility, perhaps a second-year college student. Only the two of them remained.
"Huh… looks like he hasn't gotten off either," Aisha whispered to herself. "Maybe… he's lost too?"
Without looking up, the young man's calm voice broke the silence. "Do you need help? Staring won't do much. If you want something, just ask."
Aisha stiffened. His tone was calm, yet there was a firmness in it that made her heart flutter uncomfortably. She quickly looked away, cheeks warming. Why am I acting like this?
The young man exhaled softly and rose to step off the bus. No—he's the only one who can help me! Panic surged in her chest.
As the young man stepped toward the door, Aisha hurriedly grabbed the young man's bag and stood up. The young man's eyes widened slightly. Slowly, he turned to face Aisha—the young man's gaze cool and composed, yet oddly captivating. He looked about twenty-two years.
Aisha, on the other hand, stood there flustered but striking—bright eyes, a small sharp nose, soft lips, and a slender face.
"Ah…?" The young man's voice was low, slightly husky, yet his calm gaze remained unshaken.
"I… I got separated from my group," Aisha stammered, words tumbling out before she could mind her courtly manners. "I don't know where the meeting point is. Could… could you help me?"
The young man studied her for a long moment, an eyebrow arching in measured appraisal. "Heh… you have a phone, don't you? Use it to contact your teacher."
Aisha stared at the slim device in her hands, utterly bewildered. "I… I don't know how to command it."
The young man frowned slightly, then turned toward the bus driver.
"Sir, please return to the previous stop."
The driver scoffed. "Heh. You should've said so earlier. Are you going to pay me double?"
"Don't worry," the young man replied firmly. "Just do it."
Aisha's heart warmed despite the situation. This man—calm, composed, yet efficient in his quiet way—A true knight, even without a sword, she thought, admiration threading through her unease.
The journey back was tense, the air stiff with silence. To lighten the mood, Aisha tried to recall the small, amusing rituals the palace servants often used to cheer her up—gestures, jokes, and antics she had seen countless times but never fully appreciated.
The young man continued reading, not responding. Aisha pressed on.
"A goat and a donkey are racing. Who wins?"
The driver, perhaps more out of habit than interest, replied casually, "The donkey. Its legs are longer."
Aisha shook her head, eyes sparkling. "Wrong!"
The young man didn't look up, still reading. But Aisha couldn't stop herself. Her grin widened.
"Second question," she said. "If the goat reaches the finish line first, but the donkey lags behind, chewing grass… who actually loses?"
"The donkey?" the driver offered, uncertain this time.
"Wrong again," Aisha chirped, pausing to relish the moment. "Now, if a donkey stops mid-race because the grass looks tastier—did it lose… or was it just hungry?"
Silence hung in the bus, broken only by the gentle hum of the engine.
Finally, the young man exhaled and looked at her over the top of his book. "It was hungry," he said softly.
Aisha looked at him, surprised—and a little pleased that he finally spoke. And tilted her head, a pleased smile tugging at her lips. "You're wrong too."
The young man raised an eyebrow, finally giving her a sidelong glance. "Then what's the answer?"
"No one loses," she said lightly. "Because the donkey… from the start… wasn't racing at all. It was merely passing by."
For a moment, the bus was quiet. Then Aisha laughed—a clear, bubbling sound that filled the small space. "Hahaha—why are you all so serious?"
Crick… crick…
No one laughed. The moment Aisha realized she had been ignored, she fell silent, her cheeks flushing bright red.
Utterly shameless. > <
When the bus finally returned to the library, the supervising teacher waited outside, arms crossed, scanning the students. Aisha hopped down quickly, glancing back at the young man.
"Thank you! May I know your name?" she called.
He didn't look up, still absorbed in his book. "Ardan," he replied shortly, his tone neutral but with a hint of patience.
"I'm Ruqayyah. Thank you so much, Mr. Ardan. One day, I'll repay your kindness—I don't like relying on others," she said earnestly.
With that, she ran toward the teacher, her heart lightened by the encounter.
Inside the bus, Ardan finally looked out the window. "One day?" he murmured softly, a small, intrigued smile appearing on his face. Why would she say that?
Aisha returned home that evening carrying more than books and souvenirs—she carried a first taste of independence, the thrill of unexpected encounters, and the quiet reminder that courage sometimes comes from accepting help, even when pride whispers otherwise.
Her mind replayed every moment—the soft clatter of the bus, the smell of leather seats, the nervous flutter in her stomach when she first spoke to Ardan. Even the dull hum of the engine seemed alive now, a rhythm marking her first steps into a world that was both strange and exhilarating.