The hands of the wall clock in the Purple Sprout classroom ticked slowly and dryly. Tick... tick... tick... The sound of the second hand striking the quiet glass face, blending with the heavy autumn rain pounding on the Gothic corrugated iron roof, created a haunting melody that suffocated the atmosphere.
It was already ten minutes to seven in the evening.
The sallow yellow light from the two remaining fluorescent tubes on the ceiling was only enough to illuminate a small corner of the room; the rest was swallowed by the deep darkness of the hallway stretching all the way to the gate of St. Jude School. The school at this hour was completely devoid of people. The day-shift security guard had left at half-past six, while the night-shift guard was famous for burying his face in the hut drinking alcohol and watching television at the side gate hundreds of meters away.
Maya kneeled on one knee on the rug, meticulously arranging the wooden building blocks neatly into a plastic box. After a long day bracing herself against the vicious rumors from her colleagues, dark circles had visibly appeared under her eyelids.
Beside her, Mark sat clutching his knees on a small rattan chair. The five-year-old child looked frail, swallowed up inside the luxurious school uniform. His two tiny hands tightly clutched the cotton-fabric robot sewn with press studs — the only toy he considered a precious treasure. Mark's ash-grey eyes blinked continuously, his thin lips pressed tightly together, his melancholic gaze occasionally and unconsciously darting toward the rain-soaked window.
The exhaustion and fear accumulated through each day of being picked up late were clearly visible on the child's stubborn forehead.
"Little Mark," Maya softened her voice, her hand patting lightly on his shoulder, trying to pass a bit of warmth to the child amidst the room that was growing cold. "Are you hungry? In my bag there is still half a sweet bread roll."
Mark shook his head lightly. The little boy raised his eyes to look at Maya, his voice raspy and tiny, whispering like the sound of a mosquito buzzing:
"Ms. Maya... why today... hasn't dad sent someone to pick me up yet?"
Maya paused for a moment. That naive question swirled directly into her heart. Communication with Travis had been completely devoid of news for many days past; the messages reporting the situation she sent out only reaped a frightening silence. She stroked the little boy's head lightly, gently reassuring him:
"Surely Mr. Travis... ah no, your dad is busy with an unscheduled meeting. Or perhaps the car is stuck because of the heavy rain. Try to wait a little longer, okay? I will stay here with you."
Mark did not reply, only moving even closer, nestling his tiny shoulder close against Maya's hip. The child lacking affection felt the sole protection from this intern teacher, and she was also the only person helping him dispel the obsession of loneliness amidst the large school submerged in the dark night.
Thud... thud... thud...
A series of sounds thumping down on the marble floor outside the hallway abruptly echoed out, tearing apart the suffocating silence.
The sound of footsteps was neither fast nor slow, the rhythm leisurely yet resolute, creating a spine-chilling echo inside the abyssal hallway corridor. Maya instantly stood bolt upright, the protective instinct from the nights of being stalked by the pervert at her lodging house flaring up fiercely. She pulled Mark behind her back, her eyes pinned tightly onto the half-closed, half-open wooden door.
A tall black silhouette cast long upon the glossy wooden floor of the classroom.
The man walked in. He wore a pitch-black suit cut and tailored perfectly flat, black leather gloves hugging each finger tightly, his hair carefully groomed without a single strand out of place. His face was smooth, without any wrinkles or lively expressions, resembling a perfectly crafted wax mask.
Upon his lips hung a textbook smile, polite to a spine-chilling degree.
"Hello, teacher," the fellow spoke up. His tone was deep and warm, polished, each word uttered extremely gently, yet without a trace of human warmth.
"Apologies for bothering you this late. I am the new driver dispatched personally by Mr. Travis to pick up Young Master Mark. Tonight's corporate meeting ran late unexpectedly, so the boss instructed me to come directly into the classroom to take the boy out to the car."
Having said that, the man reached his hand into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a luxurious gold-plated metal card. The card reflected the flickering fluorescent light, exquisitely engraved on top with the image of an eagle spreading its wings — indeed the symbolic badge Mark had once whispered about to Maya.
"Look, teacher, this is the family's authorization card," the fellow smiled softly, taking a short step forward. "The rain is growing heavier by the minute; please allow me to pick up the boy to avoid wasting any more of your time."
His politeness, decency, along with the expensive identity-proving card eased the tension in the air to some degree. In a brief moment, Maya was about to breathe a sigh of relief. She turned back, stroking Mark's head:
"Mark, your dad's person is here to pick you up..."
But before Maya could finish her sentence, Mark's body abruptly cringed up.
The five-year-old child was like having a high-voltage electric shock run straight along his spine. His ash-grey pupils contracted violently, overflowing with extreme terror. Mark did not step forward at all; on the contrary, the little boy took sharp steps backward, his foot tripping over the chair leg, causing the rattan chair to topple over onto the floor.
Snap!
The cotton-fabric robot in Mark's hand was squeezed so forcefully by him that a press stud ripped off. The little boy cowered deep into the corner of the wall, both hands clutching tightly onto the hem of Maya's skirt, his whole body trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"No... it's not..." Mark panted for breath, the first tear brimming over his eyelid, falling onto his cheek.
Maya was startled, instantly kneeling down to look directly into the child's eyes. She realized this fear was not ordinary pouting or shyness. This was the sacred survival instinct of a child raised in a tycoon family who always had to face danger.
"Mark, what's wrong? He has your dad's badge..." Maya whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Mark used both hands to squeeze Maya's wrist, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He shook his head repeatedly, his voice choked up and broken, yet each word echoed out extremely clearly amidst the dead silent space:
"Teacher... save me! I... I have never met this man before in my life!"
"What?" Maya's mind went blank.
"Dad instructed me..." Mark sobbed once, his ash-grey eyes full of pleading pinned tightly onto Maya, "Dad instructed me that my dad's people who pick me up must be the uncle with the scar on his neck or the uncle with the tattoo on his arm... Dad said never to trust strangers even if they have the eagle card! Dad said that card... can be stolen! This man is not my dad's person! He is lying! Teacher, please don't let him catch me!"
The weeping cries along with the sharp details the child had just revealed hit Maya straight in the face like a bucket of icy water.
The vigilance mode in Maya's head instantly switched open at red alert level. She suddenly remembered the mysterious instructions from Mark a few days ago, remembered the figures stalking her at her lodging house, the prying marks on her door lock... The entire chain of strange events, Travis's disappearance, and the appearance of this unfamiliar man immediately chained together into a dark and ruthless kidnapping picture!
Maya stood bolt upright. She hurriedly took a long step, spreading both arms wide, completely using her slender body to shield Mark behind her in the corner of the wall.
Her gaze transformed entirely — no longer the confusion or fear of an intern teacher, but the resilience and sharpness of someone protecting a child with her very life.
"Pardon me, sir," Maya spoke up, attempting to suppress the trembling in her chest to keep her tone flat and dignified.
"According to the strict regulations of St. Jude School, I cannot hand over a student to someone the child does not recognize, even if you have the badge. Please step back and walk out of the classroom."
The man in the black suit stopped in his tracks. The polite smile on his face did not vanish, but his eyes cooled down in a terrifying manner.
"Teacher," the fellow softly uttered, taking another long step forward,
"You are overcomplicating the issue. I have the official authorization card. The boy is still small and exhausted, so panicking and mistaking a person is a normal matter. Are you intending to defy the request of a tycoon family?"
"I am not defying anyone," Maya shot back immediately, her hand secretly reaching into her apron pocket searching for her phone.
"I am only fulfilling my proper responsibility. If you are truly Mr. Travis's person, please kindly wait outside the door. I will call Mr. Travis directly or the housekeeper to verify right now."
Having said that, Maya pulled out her old phone, holding it up in front of her face.
At that exact moment, the man's polite mask completely shattered.
No longer any fake gentility, his face distorted into a cruel, dark mass of flesh and muscle. His eyes flashed with the cold murderous intent of someone ready to throw away all rules.
Click!
He took a step back, using his leather-gloved hand to firmly lock the inner latch of the heavy wooden door. The dry sound of the lock echoed like the shutting door of a coffin buried alive.
He slowly turned around, untying his tie to loosen it a bit, taking slow yet oppressive steps toward Maya. The sound of leather shoe soles thumping onto the wooden floor — thud... thud... — sounded like death's countdown.
"Clever teacher," the fellow spoke up, his tone now no longer polished but becoming raspy and harsh like the friction of metal.
"However, cleverness at the wrong time will be paid for with your life. Don't force me to resort to strength with a frail girl like you. Hand the child over here right now, if you still want to see tomorrow's sunlight!"
He extended his black leather-gloved hand forward, the distance between him and Maya narrowing down to less than two footsteps. A wave of dangerous air pressure and a suffocating chemical smell from his body rushed straight into Maya's nose.
Behind her back, Mark trembled to the point of being unable to stand firm; the child burst into bitter tears, hugging her legs tightly as if clinging to the sole candle in the middle of a blizzard.
Inside the locked classroom, amidst the deserted school without a single guard in sight, Maya stood facing a cold-blooded kidnapper. Her heart pounded violently as if wanting to burst out of her chest, cold sweat pouring down her temples. She knew that just one wrong decision in the next few seconds, not only Mark's life but her own as well would be swallowed by the darkness.
