Theresa Chang is an undercover agent whose sole motivations in life are anger, hate, and vengeance. She and her teammates are on a mission to uncover the cure for a deadly virus that has spread throughout the world, marked by a rose-shaped rash, pos...
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Theresa gasped. Her head pounding as her eyes fluttered open. She took in her unfamiliar surroundings, squinting in the limited light emitted from a nearby candle. Theresa made out the outline of the small room, which was used for storing who knows what.
She tried to move her body but soon realised her ankles, wrists, and mouth had been restrained with thick ropes and tape. She pawed at the ropes with her nails, hoping to escape the foul-smelling room. However, with her mouth taped shut, any hope of yelling for help wouldn't work. Theresa shuffled around in the dark, hoping to free herself from her restraints or at least call for help, but all her efforts were in vain.
Theresa's hands turned cold and clammy, and a few strands of hair escaped her loose ponytail, sticking to her temples. The room was quite humid, causing her mouth to become parched and perhaps even hotter than a desert.
Last time, Theresa thought anxiously, this didn't turn out very well. Yes. This wasn't her first time being hauled up, made unconscious and then thrown into a room. Her history made sure of that. Theresa is part of a secret—
The door opened, and Theresa covered her eyes from the sudden shine of light. When she blinked, she found a guy about her age standing there, his face streaked with flour and chocolate. His brows shot up at the sight of Theresa in the storeroom, his honey-brown eyes slightly shocked but amused.
For a hot second, Theresa felt embarrassed but quickly brushed it off. She pleaded with her eyes for the man to help her, hoping he wasn't the one who brought her here in the first place. The man with honey-brown eyes strode up to Theresa and knelt before her.
"I'm guessing, this is not a game of hide-and-seek?" he asked humorously, cleverly ripping the tape from Theresa's lips. She rolled her eyes but was relieved that he was there to help her. He seemed strangely at ease as if it was normal seeing young girls locked up in a store room.
The guy then untied Theresa's wrists and they helped each other with the ankle restraints. By the end of it, both of their hands were bloody and cracked, from untangling the thick ropes. The guy stood up and offered his hand to help Theresa up.
She brushed away his kind gesture and got up herself.
"Thank you," Theresa smiled shyly, massaging her sore palms.
"No problem." He grinned cheekily.
Both of them left the storeroom, and Theresa worked out that they were in a deserted cafe, that had most likely been closed down a few hours ago. It was pouring outside. Theresa groaned inwardly not wanting to get her hair wet.
It's not exactly dark yet, Theresa thought, so I could still call for a taxi. She whipped her phone that was—thankfully—still in her pocket. She started browsing and realised there was no connection. Theresa looked around the Cafe and saw the previous guy who had helped her, at the counter decorating a three-tier cake. She mustered up a fake, sales woman smile, "Um, excuse me?" she called, walking to the man and trying to get his attention. After the man sprinkled a few more details onto the cake, he spun around and rested his hands on the counter. The amount of flour on his face has now multiplied, leaving him to look insanely whitewashed.
"How can I help?" The baker boy smiled warmly.
"Do you know the Wi-Fi pass–"
He interrupted Theresa, and said, "No, we don't have a signal this far out. Sorry." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Theresa sighed, but realisation suddenly hit her.
