Chapter 115

Shortly afterward, the Friyxian police arrived. Cynthia didn't speak Fix, but the young man in white from earlier did, fluently negotiating with the officers. The police quickly hauled away the two thugs.

The young man in white sprinted back to Cynthia, who was sitting on a bench in the square. One of her high heels was snapped in two, and her ankle was already swollen.

As Cynthia gently massaged her injured ankle, the young man rushed over, concerned. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

Cynthia looked up, feigning a stern expression. "If it weren't for your heroics, I'd probably be just fine."

The young man's handsome face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were so skilled."

In truth, the young man had realized later that Cynthia wasn't crouching to tie her shoes; she had been waiting for the right moment to strike. If he hadn't intervened, she wouldn't have twisted her ankle.

Seeing the young man's flushed face and guilty look, Cynthia chuckled. "I'm just messing with you, kid."

"It's commendable that you helped," Cynthia added. "You reacted quickly, acted decisively, and showed great courage. I appreciate your help. And you looked pretty cool rushing over like that."

The young man smiled, his face lighting up, a hint of embarrassment remaining. He scratched his head, ruffling his messy golden hair. "I didn't think much. I just figured I couldn't stand by and watch two men bully you."

Cynthia laughed heartily. "What's your name?"

"My name is Preston, but some people call me Eboni. What about you?" Preston asked.

Cynthia flicked a strand of her wavy hair. "I'm Cynthia, but people also call me Yeo. You seem younger than me, but call me whatever you're comfortable with."

"Cynthia, where are you staying? I'll walk you back," Preston offered.

Cynthia's ankle was swollen, making it difficult to walk, so she didn't refuse Preston's offer. "World Hotel, thanks."

Preston's eyes brightened. "What a coincidence. I'm staying at the World Hotel too." Hearing that, Cynthia began to re-evaluate Preston. The World Hotel was the only seven-star hotel in Pillere, not a place just anyone could stay. Even the most basic room cost six figures a night. Only the ultra-rich could afford it.

Yet, the young man was simply dressed in a white T-shirt from a common supermarket sports brand, with equally ordinary pants and shoes. Despite his unremarkable attire, he had a refreshing, clean, and comforting presence.

It wasn't that Cynthia habitually judged people by their appearance; she was simply curious.

As if reading Cynthia's thoughts, Preston tugged at the hem of his plain shirt. "I'm not some rich kid. I sing at the rooftop bar here."

Cynthia chuckled. "Good. I wouldn't want to be friends with a rich kid."

Preston paused, slightly caught off guard, before saying, "Are you saying we're friends now?"

"Yes," Cynthia replied.

Preston offered his hand to help Cynthia to her feet. "Do you dislike rich kids, Cynthia?"

Chapter 115 (continued)

Cynthia thought for a moment. "Not exactly, but there is one I dislike." Jonathan's face suddenly flashed in her mind. Funnily enough, Preston did resemble Jonathan in some ways.

Mentally chiding herself, Cynthia wondered if she was so caught up in her thoughts of Jonathan that she linked every Aplothian face she saw in this foreign land back to him.

Soon, Cynthia returned to the hotel. Preston had already bought her some medicine. After applying it, the pain eased significantly. She figured the swelling would be gone by tomorrow.

"Hey, Cynthia, I have a gig at midnight tonight. Want to come and watch?" Preston asked.

Cynthia waved her hand dismissively. "I'm getting old. It's time for my beauty sleep at 10 p.m. Maybe next time."

Preston didn't press the issue. After exchanging contact details with Cynthia, he left. In truth, Cynthia was far from asleep by midnight, but she simply didn't feel like going out that night.

The design competition was the day after tomorrow, and the venue was across the street from the World Hotel, located in the palace. A short walk would take her there.

The next morning, Cynthia received a message from Preston: "[Cynthia, how's your foot?]"

Cynthia smiled faintly, her mind drifting to the way Preston called her name. His skin was tanned, his frame lean but strong, exuding a clean, refreshing aura. His eyes sparkled like stars in the midnight sky, as if they held a light of their own. His hair was soft, tousled gold—the kind that made you want to run your fingers through it. When he smiled, his eyes curved into gentle crescents, and a small dimple appeared on his left cheek; handsome yet endearingly cute. When he spoke her name, his voice was smooth and pleasant, with a natural boyish charm that was both refreshing and soothing, like a breeze from the mountains. Preston was the kind of boy who seemed impossibly pure and effortlessly adorable.

Cynthia quickly texted back: "[It's all good now.]"

A reply from Preston came almost immediately: "[I'm having breakfast at the restaurant. Wanna join?]"

Without hesitation, Cynthia agreed: "[Sure.]"

Perhaps it was the comfort of meeting someone in a foreign land who shared her language and complexion, a kind of mutual understanding that felt like an old connection. Or perhaps it was Preston's infectious, genuine, and healing smile. Whatever it was, Cynthia found herself enjoying his company.

After breakfast, Preston took Cynthia on a tour of the Epiphany Tower. They sipped coffee by the Shersby River, wandered through a nearby art gallery, and even attended a small concert. Time slipped away, and before they knew it, the day had passed in a pleasant blur. As they sat down for dinner back at the hotel restaurant, Preston sounded excited. "Cynthia, where do you want to go tomorrow?"

Cynthia smiled. "I won't have time tomorrow. I'm here for the designer competition in Pillere."

A small dimple appeared as Preston grinned. "No wonder you have such an elegant vibe, Cynthia. You're a designer." "And you?" Cynthia asked, curious as she ate.

Chapter 115 (continued)

"I'm an exchange student, a junior this year. But I'm broke, so I have to do many part-time jobs to pay for tuition and living expenses—like singing in bars, tutoring, and sometimes modeling or acting," Preston said.

Cynthia nodded. It was much as she had imagined. "After the competition, I'll be heading back home, so we might not get to see each other again."

"But when you return to the country, look me up. I'll treat you to a meal," Cynthia added.

Preston's eyes curved as he smiled, full of charm. "All right. I'll come find you, Cynthia." After finishing dinner, Preston said, "Why don't you come to my performance tonight? It starts at 9 p.m."

Cynthia was slightly surprised and asked, "Didn't you say midnight? In truth, she had already planned to visit the rooftop bar tonight.

Preston scratched his head sheepishly. "The time's been changed. From now on, it'll always be at 9 p.m…"