Chapter 176: Away
Denzel walked through the alley without looking back.
The Knight followed close behind, the communication device still in her hand.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
The city had grown quieter around them. Most of the shops were already closed, leaving only the occasional light spilling through a window or the distant sound of traffic beyond the buildings.
Denzel kept Sophia’s note between two fingers.
He had memorized the location before they left.
He had also memorized the name on the parchment.
And the message they had received.
Too many pieces.
Too many people.
Not enough answers.
He hated that combination.
"You’re walking faster."
Denzel glanced over his shoulder.
The Knight was half a step behind him.
"I’m walking normally."
"No, you’re not."
"You’re just walking slowly."
She gave him a look.
"I’m keeping up with you."
"Then the problem is solved."
"It isn’t."
Denzel looked ahead again.
A few seconds passed.
"You’re worried."
The Knight’s voice was quieter this time.
Denzel didn’t answer immediately.
"I’m thinking."
"That isn’t what I asked."
"I know."
She watched him for a moment.
Then she smiled faintly.
"You really are terrible at admitting when you care."
Denzel stopped.
She almost walked into him again.
He turned around.
"Care about what?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly."
Denzel stared at her.
She stared back.
Then he sighed and started walking again.
"I preferred you when you were suspicious and quiet."
"I was never quiet."
"You were quieter."
"That’s because I didn’t know you well enough to annoy you."
"You’ve improved."
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
"It wasn’t."
"I’ll still take it."
Denzel couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting.
It disappeared almost immediately.
But she saw it.
Her expression softened.
Neither mentioned it.
They continued down the street.
After another block, the Knight spoke again.
"Are you hungry?"
Denzel glanced at her.
"No."
"You haven’t eaten since earlier."
"I had bread."
"You looked at it."
"I ate some."
"Some?"
"Enough."
She frowned.
"That isn’t an answer."
"It’s the only one you’re getting."
She reached into the small bag hanging from her shoulder.
Denzel noticed.
"What are you doing?"
"Something useful."
She pulled out a wrapped piece of bread.
Denzel looked at it.
Then at her.
"You carry food around?"
"I carry emergency food."
"Why?"
"Because people like you exist."
He stared.
"What does that mean?"
"It means some people forget to eat when they’re thinking."
"I don’t forget."
"You do."
"I prioritize."
"You forget."
"I prioritize aggressively."
She laughed.
It was quiet.
Natural.
Denzel found himself listening to it for a second longer than necessary.
She held the bread toward him.
"Eat."
He looked at her hand.
"No."
"Denzel."
"I said no."
"You’re going to keep walking while thinking yourself into a headache."
"I’ve survived worse."
"And I don’t care."
He looked at her.
She didn’t look away.
There was no teasing in her expression now.
Just quiet stubbornness.
Denzel took the bread.
"Happy?"
"Yes."
He tore off a piece.
She watched until he swallowed.
Only then did she start walking again.
Denzel followed.
"You realize this is annoying."
"I know."
"You’re enjoying it."
"A little."
He took another bite.
She smiled.
For some reason, the road didn’t feel quite as long anymore.
They reached the edge of the district nearly twenty minutes later.
The buildings became older here.
The streets narrowed.
Most of the lamps had gone out, leaving long stretches of darkness between pools of yellow light.
Denzel stopped at the corner.
He looked down at the note.
Then at the building ahead.
A small, abandoned-looking house stood between two larger structures.
Its windows were dark.
The front door was covered with faded paint.
The place looked like it hadn’t been occupied in years.
The Knight looked at it.
"This is the place?"
Denzel nodded.
"How did Sophia know about it?"
"I don’t know."
"Do you think she’s here?"
Denzel studied the building.
"No."
The Knight looked at him.
"That quickly?"
"If she wanted me to find her here, she wouldn’t have left a trail."
He folded the note.
"She wants me to come here first."
"Why?"
"That’s what we’re going to find out."
He walked toward the door.
The Knight caught his sleeve.
"Wait."
Denzel stopped.
She looked down at her hand.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then she released him.
"Sorry."
Denzel glanced at her.
"You can grab me if you think I’m about to do something stupid."
She blinked.
"You’re giving me permission?"
"Don’t make it sound important."
"It is."
"No, it isn’t."
"It really is."
Denzel sighed.
"Fine."
She smiled.
"Good."
He looked at the door again.
Then reached for the handle.
It opened without resistance.
Denzel’s eyes narrowed.
"That’s reassuring."
The Knight stepped closer.
"Trap?"
"Possibly."
"Should we go in?"
Denzel looked at her.
"You’re the one who told me to wait."
"Yes."
"And now you’re asking if we should go in."
"Yes."
"That seems inconsistent."
"I’m allowed to change my mind."
"So am I."
"Then what did you decide?"
Denzel pushed the door wider.
"We’re going in."
They entered together.
The smell of dust hit them immediately.
Denzel waited for his eyes to adjust.
The room was empty.
A table.
Two chairs.
A broken cabinet.
An old fireplace.
Nothing else.
The Knight moved beside him.
"Looks abandoned."
"Looks staged."
She glanced at him.
"Why?"
"Because there’s no dust near the door."
He pointed.
"Someone has been coming in."
The Knight crouched.
She touched the floor.
"You’re right."
Denzel moved deeper into the room.
There were footprints.
Old ones.
New ones.
He followed the newest trail toward the back.
It stopped beside the fireplace.
Denzel looked at the wall.
Then the floor.
Then the fireplace.
His eyes narrowed.
"Of course."
"What?"
He pushed against one of the bricks.
It shifted.
The Knight stepped closer.
"You found something?"
"Maybe."
He pressed harder.
A section of the wall clicked.
The fireplace moved backward by an inch.
The Knight stared.
"You’re kidding."
"No."
Together, they pushed it aside.
A narrow passage appeared behind it.
Cold air drifted through.
The Knight looked at Denzel.
"Well."
Denzel looked into the darkness.
"This is either exactly what Sophia wanted us to find..."
"Or?"
"Someone went to a lot of trouble to make us think that."
The Knight sighed.
"You really know how to ruin a moment."
"I’m consistent."
She took out a small lantern.
Denzel looked at it.
"You brought that?"
"Yes."
"Prepared."
"I was told I’m supposed to be useful."
He looked at her.
"You are."
The words came out before he could reconsider them.
She went still.
Denzel noticed.
"So don’t make me repeat it."
Her cheeks warmed slightly.
"I wasn’t going to."
"Good."
They stepped into the passage.
The stone walls were narrow enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
The Knight walked ahead with the lantern.
Denzel stayed behind her.
After several steps, she slowed down.
"You’re too close."
"You’re walking slowly."
"You’re behind me."
"That’s how walking works."
She glanced back.
"You could give me some space."
"There isn’t any."
She looked around.
He was right.
The passage was barely wide enough for one person.
She turned forward again.
"Fine."
A few steps later, her shoulder touched his chest.
She immediately moved forward.
"Sorry."
Denzel looked at the back of her head.
"You don’t have to apologize every time."
"I didn’t."
"You just did."
"I bumped into you."
"It’s fine."
She was quiet.
Then, softer:
"Okay."
They continued.
The passage eventually opened into a small underground room.
The Knight lifted the lantern.
Denzel stepped inside.
There was a wooden desk in the center.
A chair.
A shelf.
And a single candle.
The candle was still burning.
Denzel stopped.
"That shouldn’t be possible."
The Knight approached it carefully.
"It hasn’t burned all the way down."
Denzel looked at the flame.
Fresh.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
Very recently.
He walked toward the desk.
A folded piece of paper rested on top.
His name was written on it.
Denzel.
Nothing else.
The Knight looked at him.
"That’s for you."
"I noticed."
He reached for it.
Before he could open it, the Knight spoke.
"Do you want me to leave?"
Denzel paused.
He looked at her.
"No."
She seemed surprised.
"No?"
"No."
He picked up the note.
"If Sophia left it for me, you should hear it too."
The Knight’s expression softened.
"You trust me?"
Denzel considered the question.
Then shook his head.
"Not completely."
Her face fell slightly.
"But," he added, "I trust you more than I did an hour ago."
She smiled.
"That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."
"Don’t get used to it."
"I’ll treasure it."
Denzel unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was Sophia’s.
He recognized it immediately.
Denzel,
If you found this, then you probably didn’t trust the people who sent you after me.
Good.
Don’t.
But don’t trust me blindly either.
There are things I can’t explain yet.
The Knight beside you is one of the few people I believe you can trust.
Denzel stopped reading.
His eyes moved back to the sentence.
The Knight noticed.
"What?"
He handed her the paper.
She read.
Her expression shifted as she reached the same line.
"She knew about me?"
Denzel nodded.
"She knew we’d be together."
"Apparently."
The Knight continued reading.
When she reached the end, she looked at him.
"What does it mean?"
Denzel took the paper back.
"It means Sophia expected this."
"Expected us to come here together?"
"Yes."
"And she trusts me?"
Denzel looked at her.
"She does."
The Knight smiled faintly.
"Then maybe you should too."
Denzel folded the paper.
"Don’t push your luck."
She laughed softly.
He looked away.
For some reason, that small laugh made the room feel less cold.
The letter contained one final line.
He unfolded it again.
There was a location.
Another place.
But beneath it, Sophia had written something different.
Not a warning.
Not an instruction.
Just four words.
Take care of her.
Denzel stared at them.
The Knight leaned closer.
"What does that say?"
Denzel folded the paper immediately.
"Nothing."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You’re doing that again."
"It’s private."
"You just said I should hear the letter."
"I changed my mind."
"That line must be important."
"It isn’t."
"You’re blushing."
Denzel looked at her.
"I am not."
"You are."
"The room is warm."
She looked around at the cold stone walls.
"Sure."
Denzel shoved the letter into his coat.
"Are you finished?"
"No."
"Then become finished."
She smiled.
"You’re cute when you’re embarrassed."
"I wasn’t embarrassed."
"Of course."
He turned toward the passage.
"Let’s go."
She followed him.
After a few steps, she spoke.
"Denzel?"
"What?"
"Thank you."
He glanced back.
"For what?"
"For letting me come."
He looked at her for a moment.
Then turned forward again.
"You were going to come anyway."
"Probably."
"So I saved us an argument."
She smiled.
"Still counts."
Denzel didn’t answer.
But when they reached the narrowest part of the passage, he slowed down.
Just enough for her to walk beside him.
Their shoulders touched.
Neither moved away.
When they finally stepped outside, the night air felt warmer.
The Knight looked toward the road.
"Where now?"
Denzel pulled the final location from his coat.
He looked at it.
Then at her.
"Somewhere Sophia thinks we’ll find an answer."
"And if we don’t?"
"We keep looking."
She nodded.
"Together?"
Denzel paused.
The word shouldn’t have mattered.
It did.
He looked at her.
"Yeah."
A small smile appeared on her face.
"Good."
They started walking.
After a few steps, she slipped her hand into his.
Denzel looked down.
Then at her.
She didn’t seem embarrassed.
She simply kept walking.
"What’s this?"
"Emergency support."
"For what?"
"You look like you need it."
Denzel stared at their joined hands.
He could have pulled away.
He didn’t.
"That’s a terrible excuse."
"I know."
He looked ahead.
The city stretched before them, dark and uncertain.
Sophia was still missing.
Someone was lying to them.
And somewhere ahead was another clue waiting to be found.
None of that had changed.
But for the first time that night, Denzel didn’t feel like he was walking into the unknown alone.
His fingers tightened slightly around hers.
The Knight looked up.
She smiled.
Denzel immediately looked away.
"Don’t say anything."
"I wasn’t going to."
"Good."
They kept walking.
Neither let go.