I M P A C T || N.DRAGNEEL

0.2

The college campus in October presented a picturesque scene of autumnal splendor. As I strolled beneath the overarching branches of ancient trees, their leaves donned vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold, creating a vibrant carpet beneath my feet. The air carried a crisp chill, prompting students to don cozy sweaters and scarves. The scent of fallen leaves, mingled with the aroma of pumpkin spice wafting from a nearby café, filled the air, creating a delightful sensory experience.

Groups of students gathered on the green lawns, engaged in animated conversations, or immersed in study sessions under the dappled sunlight. The iconic campus buildings, draped in ivy, stood as timeless monuments against the backdrop of the changing foliage. The occasional gusts of wind sent leaves swirling around me, adding a playful dance to the autumn ambiance.

A contented sigh escaped my lips as my body tingled from the warmth of the hot beverage coursing into my mouth.

Pumpkin spice latte tastes horrible.

Anticipation filled me with joy as fall drew near, bringing with it the pleasures of coffee, the satisfying crunch of fallen leaves, and bidding farewell to the sweltering heat of summer.

Exiting the coffee shop, I came to a halt as I sensed the vibration of my phone in my pocket,

' I don't know why you drink that when you hate it '

Without delay, I lifted my head, turning to the other side of the street, where I encountered a familiar face waving his phone with a beaming smile. Returning the gesture, I smiled broadly and crossed the street without bothering to check for oncoming traffic.

" Sting!"

He sighed, and his chest vibrated as he reciprocated my hug, " How many times do I have to tell you to look before you cross the street?"

I rolled my eyes, " There weren't any cars anyway" Sting pouted and remarked, "You're lucky there aren't any."

I rolled my eyes once again before we decided to return to the coffee shop to grab him a drink," So, how was the fight?" he inquired as we waited in line. I hushed him, lightly slapping his arm, which elicited a stifled laugh. "It was...fine," I replied, aware that I should have mentioned the Salamander knowing my name, but I didn't want him to think I was incapable of handling a simple job.

"What did he look like?" We both took a step forward as the line progressed. "Still the same?" I raised my brow at his words, "What do you mean by that?" He shook his head, "You know, a boxer?" I slowly nodded, "Yeah, what else would he be?" We took another step forward. "He really is crazy," I admitted, "he managed to knock a guy out with one punch. It's..." My words drifted off; there was no way to explain the raw power and prowess The Salamander possessed.

Sting narrowed his gaze at nothing in particular as if reloading everything in his mind. "Don't go to any more fights," he finally spoke as we moved forward. My eyes widened as I faced him, "Why not? I'm capable of figuring this mess out on my own!" He shook his head, "You saw his strength. If he were to catch on to you, what would happen? I'm telling you to back out now before he notices you!" I flinched, he caught on but ignored my reaction.

"I'm finishing the job," I muttered, "and you're not stopping me. We're not kids anymore. You can't tell me what I can and can't do, Sting." We finally reached the cashier, where he sighed and ordered his drink.

He reached for his wallet, gave the cashier a ten-dollar bill, thanked her, and moved aside to wait for his drink. "Y/n, have I ever mentioned that your stubbornness is both a gift and a curse?" I nodded thoughtfully while folding my arms across my chest. "You've brought it up a few times, yeah."

He sighed and softly smiled, caressing my cheek. "The only reason I'm advising you to step back is because I'm worried about you," he said. "I can't bear to lose you to a bunch of idiots who prefer using their fists over their heads." His smile remained and my entire body warmed. I was only able to nod and avoid making eye contact while saying, "Okay,..." I took in a deep breath, "I won't do anything." He then grinned widely and said, "Good." The barista called his name shortly after, and he accepted his drink while winking and saying "Thank you."

Obviously, I was lying to him. I had dedicated almost a year to thorough research, learning everything there was to know about each match, each fighter, each bartender, each spectator, and much more. I was not going to throw away a year's worth of careful research because Sting couldn't trust me to finish an important job.

While he invested nearly five years in the search for the Salamander, I managed to meet him in under three hours and even engage in conversation. I demonstrated more than enough capability for this job. Perhaps he's the one who should consider retiring.

I've known Sting since middle school. He was renowned for his academic and athletic excellence, while I, on the other hand, was a bit of a troublemaker, picking fights almost every week and skipping. It's not that I was failing; I just didn't enjoy being at school.

They sent Sting my way as a motivational speaker, but I kept dismissing him. I made it clear I wasn't interested, didn't care for what he had to say, and urged him to get lost. However, he persisted. Every day, he greeted me with a bright smile, wishing me a good morning and a good afternoon. Then, one day, I got jumped by some kids from a neighboring school. It was my fault—I couldn't keep my mouth shut and ended up in more trouble than I could handle. Sting wasted no time jumping into the fight, and in the end, we were both a bloody mess. After that incident, we became inseparable. I improved in school; attended regularly, and behaved more like a normal student.

However, when high school came around, he went away, and I was left alone. We reunited for a year in high school before he left again. Currently, he's working as an FBI agent, while I took a different path, working as a reporter while also attending college.

During his three-year absence for training, he worked hard to attain the title of an FBI agent. While I'm proud of his achievements and progression toward his dreams, I've had limited opportunities to spend time with my best friend.

"I'll be staying in Magnolia," he announced abruptly, sipping his overly sweetened coffee with a content hum, " Best coffee I've ever had."

I hurriedly approached him, signaling a rewind with my fingers, asking, "What do you mean you're staying?" He smirked, leaning forward to meet my gaze, and explained, "It means I've been assigned as an agent in this part of Magnolia. You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon." I grinned broadly and exclaimed, "That's great!"

My smile faded as the realization hit me. If he's here permanently, I won't have the freedom to do what I usually do. He'll be involved in my affairs constantly, and with the approaching fight, he'll soon discover the truth and ship me back to my family.

He ruffled my hair before proceeding his walk. I bit my nails once more,

I need to go to that fight.