Mila Emila

5; Part 5: Going to Rental Agencies to See if She Rented an Apartment

Reiks stood outside the small rental agency, feeling the weight of his mission settle over him. The building’s facade, worn but inviting, blended in with the neighboring shops and cafes, giving it a modest charm. He adjusted his collar, a quiet attempt to compose himself, and took a deep breath. He was ready for another long day of conversations, his mind already rehearsing the words he would say, the questions he’d ask, and the story he would repeat until it became second nature.

As he stepped inside, he took in the agency’s atmosphere. It was quieter than he’d expected. A bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, momentarily breaking the calm hum of an office filled with quiet conversations and the occasional rustling of papers. The floor was tiled in shades of beige, scuffed in places by countless visitors, a testament to the agency’s long-standing presence in the neighborhood. At the front desk, a young woman typed away at her computer, barely glancing up as he approached.

Reiks hesitated for a moment, allowing himself to take in the scene. There was a neat stack of pamphlets on the counter advertising nearby apartments, each one promising the allure of city living, of fresh starts. The thought struck him—how many people had come here seeking change, a new chapter? It was ironic, he thought, that while others arrived here to begin anew, he was here to find the past, to recover something lost. The familiarity of the search, however, fueled him, grounding him as he stepped forward.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the now-familiar photograph of Mila. Her face, captured in a candid smile, looked up at him. It was the same smile that had first captivated him, a look that held mystery and warmth all at once. He stared at it briefly, his heart tightening, then slipped the photo back into his hand as he approached the receptionist.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with the slightest edge of urgency. The woman looked up, giving him a polite but detached smile.

“How can I help you today?” she asked, her tone professional, trained for efficiency.

“I was wondering if you could assist me,” Reiks replied, carefully choosing his words. “I’m trying to locate someone—a loved one, actually. I believe she may have stayed in this area recently. This is her.” He extended the photograph toward her, waiting for her reaction as she looked down at Mila’s face.

The woman’s gaze lingered for a brief moment, her brows knitting together as if she were searching her memory. But then, just as quickly, she shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t recognize her. But I can check with our records to see if there’s a listing under her name.”

He nodded, a hint of disappointment shadowing his face, though he masked it quickly. “Thank you. I’d appreciate any help you could give.” As she turned to her computer, Reiks allowed himself a brief scan of the room. The agency was functional, a no-nonsense place focused on transactions, contracts, and schedules. The walls were adorned with framed maps of the city, showing districts and neighborhoods in neat, compartmentalized blocks. To him, each map was a reminder of how vast the city was, of how easily a person could blend into its rhythms, vanishing in plain sight.

After a few clicks and glances at the screen, the receptionist looked back at him. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see her name in our recent records.” Her voice held a polite finality, as if accustomed to closing inquiries that couldn’t be fulfilled.

Reiks nodded, swallowing back a mix of frustration and determination. This was the routine now—the photo, the polite inquiries, the hopeful pauses, and the inevitable shake of the head. He had to remind himself that this was only one stop, that the day had just begun. And he couldn’t let disappointment settle in so early.

He straightened his posture, trying to exude an air of resilience as he gave her a small, appreciative nod. “Thank you. I understand it’s a long shot.” He forced a brief, grateful smile. “But if by chance anything does come up, please keep me in mind.”