It’s her indeed!

Hiding herself behind the semi-open elevator door, the girl gives ear to the passage nervously. She doesn't press a single button, she lives here. Does this woman know indeed what she was talking about? The landlord knows that, this room is already inhabited. She is the true resident of 308, the access card is still in her pocket….

Could she be wrong? Or both of them?

Faint grows the footsteps of that woman. The girl tilts her head, endeavoring to identify the direction of footfalls. 27 steps...10 to 15 yards away or so, she counts dumbly in her heart.

This is a straight passage, turns left until Room 315 at the end. Therefore, this distance, plus the adjacent odd room number, should…fall between 307 and 310.

The girl glimpse out from the crack. The woman swipes the room card.

“Clink-”

A pleasant click of unlocking, and a green light lit up. Later, she walks in, switches on the ceiling lamp in the room.

The moment she closes the door, the light therein leaks out, and projected onto an old-fashioned floor clock down the front.

100% sure! This clock stood right in the middle section of the passage, the doorway of Room 308!

The girl’s heart pumps fiercely. She slowly paces to the door, with her ear against the plank while the right hand placed behind her back, griping the dragger tightly. Who is that woman? Weiss Valentine, is that her real name? Or just like hers, it is solely one of the countless avatars? Why did she bend eyes on her? Perhaps she had offended her? Is she a cop, a thief, or a killer for taking her life?

The girl frowns in stress, adjusts her breath, and eavesdrop inside.

A scratching noise of running zipper, follows by crunches of a chair. She's taking off the coat, probably has a seat. The girl keeps listening. If sounds are made, like the loading of pistol, the sheathing of dagger, or the tightening of hemp rope…she will breach the door and kill her at once.

However, nothing happened. There's nothing but a soft moan from inside.

What the heck? The girl changes her direction and tries again with her right ear.

Yep, still moans, accompanies by intermittent sobs.

The girl straightens up, hesitates, raises her left hand, and gently knocks on the door.

The sobs pauses immediately.

"Who... who is outside?”

"Natasha, it's Natasha,” the girl lowers her voice, “You have just seen me.”

The door opens, and Weiss leans against the door.

"Ah, you, please... come in," a reluctant smile on Weiss' face. The girl notices her red eyes, and a bit of tears wells up on the eye corner and fell. “Sorry...,” Weiss rubs her eyes, and sniffed , "My house hasn't been cleaned up yet. Would you... would you please take a seat for a while?”

The girl leaves her aside, walks straight into the house, scrutinizing the surrounding. Closet..... desk... no problem, remains the same. A bulky suitcase lies on the floor, with its key still attached to the lock. She examines the table, which is piled up with stuff: a digital camera placed amid a lamp and a pink hello-kitty laptop. Wet handkerchief, which get crumpled up, thrown to a corner.

Sense of absurdity pours into her mind: Really? She is indeed crying....

“Is there any problem?” Weiss asks cautiously, "Looking for something?"

The girl turns her head back, and stares straight at the woman in sight.

“Listen, I don't know why you came here, and from whom you rented this house. But I’m sure that no landlord in this zone would rent an inhabited house to others. So listen,”

The girl takes a step closer to Weiss, and shakes the room card in hand, “How did you find Room 308? How did you find me?"

"What?" Weiss stares at her. Her hand slowly moves to the back pocket.

"You can spare your pepper-spray,"the girl takes off her hood, shows her aggresive glare at her, "Don't try anything stupid. Answer me, and I won't hurt you."

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Weiss stops. Her face turns pale in an instant. She muffles her mouth tightly, with pupils sharply contracts.

 "YOU? live here?” Her voice is fraught with confusion, as if she was talking to herself, "So you...who are you?"

"Say again?"

“Nothing,” Weiss bows her head, "Yeah, you just menstioned..."

“No use muddling through,” the girl asks, “You haven't answered me yet. Who rented this house to you?”

Weiss points to the floor.

“The second floor.”

Second floor, the landlord, Mr. Chekov's parlour. The girl ponders for a moment, then reaches out her hand and grabs the arms of Weiss.

“What are you doing?” Weiss gets shocked.

“Chekov, right?” The girl drags Weiss, and heads toward the door straightway, “I must check it out. Come with me.”

"Natasha, what a surprise.” Mr. Chekov leans against the seat, putting down the phone when she enters.

This is a very narrow, messy room. Empty beer cans, left-over Lay's chips scattered on the dirty carpet. For such a heavy guy like Mr. Chekov, this house has become his snail-shell. He just needs to sit in a chair, waiting for tenants walking into this shell, then move his beefy fingers, draw a greasy list from the desk, sign up and hand it to the other side. Then he can skim dozens of euro from each person in a week.

As for income, he is among the few in the entire zone, who can truly make money.

She waves her hands in disgust, disperse the smell of smoke.

“What do you want from me?” Chekov says.

“Simple question,” The girl says bluntly, “Why?”

"Reason 1, they said you left, since you didn't show up at six and you know, based on your past credit, there's 70% chance that you will default the rent. Reason 2, as you see, the lady behind you, who serves as the 30%," he points at Weiss with his carrot-like finger, "She is a better resident, highly-educated, easy to get along, and vital thing is, she would not trouble with someone who's fucking 10 blocks far."

Weiss purses her lips, let out a awkward smile. The girl flares up.

"So you just......buy their bullshit? Did they tell you more details, like beat my friend on the ground, and choke me almost to death?"

"Details make no difference to me!" A fat fist thumps the table, causing documents and pieces of paper flying all over the place. "You shouldn't even be there, that was over agitated, youngling! Leave and bring no more conflict to my doors, you little plague!"

Weiss let out a scream. The girl turns her head, sees her ghastly pale face, and involuntarily steps back.

“Doesn't matter,” the girl whispers, “That's.....how we start a conversation daily. Do not interrupt.”

She fixes her mind and turns to Chekov again.

“Well, let's calm down,” the girl raises her hands, picks some cigarret on the table, "Calm down., and have some taste, your favorite one. Look......I'll handle this on my on, OK? I dread them not, always. Remember when your nephew Alex being rubbed by some local punks? He came at your seat, sobbed for help, and I said 'OK, that's all on my hand. Show Natasha who's the bad guy, boy'. Did he tell you after? No? Well......probably those scenes frightened him I guess. He didn't even look at me when I took him your home."

"You sound like I owe you much. But business is business, Natasha." Chekov lights the cigarret, blows the smoke to the girl, "I know you play plenty of tricks. Rent a house, owe the money, leave without a message when the landlord out of their tolerance, and bring the money away with a new identity------come on, it's your drunkard friend who boasted your affairs in the bar. He's really proud of you, just in a stupid way. But I can't keep you like this.......No, don't say I'm ungrateful. You helped Alex, and I haven't count your bill for half a year: house rent, water, electric, internet, laundry......€3,278 in total, let's say, €3,000......."

"I have no more money," the girl still tries her best, "They've stolen most of my cash. Please, spare me some time......don't throw me out."

"Eh, excuse me, sir......" Weiss breaks in, "But it's curfew outside. Where could she go?"

"No one will refuse to do good deeds, but I don't want to be fooled again," Chekov closes his eyes, denies the dirrect eye-contact, "All I can do is to spare a storage for her, tonight, if she pays the bill. Otherwise, I have to call the patrol to take her away, because her residency has already been cancelled......"

A sudden "slap" sound, hit on the table. 

"What's that?" Chekov utters with tremor.

"The pledge," The girl takes off the crescent pendant, hands to him, "For tonight."

Chekov frowns, scrutinizes the texture and material.

"€3,000, kidding me?" He says, "How should I believe it worth?"

"You must believe, because it worths my life!" The girl clenches in ferocity, "I'll pay your bill within a week, and you're gonna keep this like your baby. Throwing me out, and I'll burn your cave to ashes; lost or damage my pendant, and I'll crack your bones in pieces! Choose whatever you want!"

She glares flame at Chekov, same as the way she glares Weiss in the room. Chekov's face turns to deep red. He lowers his head, fully operating his giant oily head. The girl could see the gears inside his brain running with steam.

"Easy, Natasha......Fine, That's the deal."

The girl looks into his eyes in proud, seizes the cigarret from his mouth and throws into trash can. She kicks off the door, without a word to anyone. Tears blur her sight. She has no direction where she need to go. The path to the storage is so long, so cold, as if all her organs are slowly frozen by the chilling air running through her body. 

The clouds outside the window tears into pieces by the cold air. This city would usher in the strongest snowfall in a decade in the next three days, as weather forecast said.

“Hold this pendant on, girl…” a vague voice reverberates through her mind like hallucination, “It will protect you, always...”

The girl looks up, trying to drive her tears.

“Okay, okay...” she mutters, “It won't be long. Just wait and see.”

The girl puts the pendant away, and turns around slowly. At this time, she finds Weiss is standing behind her, hands backwards. She seems anxious.

“What?” The girl replies. Not friendly anymore. Without this woman, she would not end up like this.

“Hey…I am sorry,” Weiss pulls up her hands, "That pendant......must be really important to you, right?”

“Does it matter to you?” the girl almost breaks out— is this woman laughing at her?

Weiss shakes her head, looks at the girl. Then she raises her hands, across the girl's neck, as if she's going to hug her.

“You can keep this," Weiss whispers, “Look......I have it back for you.”

She releases her hands, let the pendant hangs on the girl's neck.