I looked dumbly at Akira for a moment, not really knowing what to make of her. She lifted the sunglasses, revealing eyes with dark purple contacts that inspect my withered torso.

“Someone is looking for you,” Akira continued, using the formal word anata when referring to me. She appeared just as confounded by my appearance as I was hers. “Although I’m not sure why.”

“How do you know who I am?” I asked, my tired heart pumping anxiously, “And how do you know I’m being pursued?”

“As if there’s such thing as privacy anymore,” Akira said with an air of sarcasm, “anybody can know anything they want about you. For instance, the fact that you just flew in from Hungary,” she added with a smirk, “avoiding som...

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