The word hit me like a cold gust of wind, but I stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

Charlie leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. “Aria, you can’t let anyone on this island know you’re a Trespasser. It’s serious—dead serious. But because Granny brought you here, I’ve kept quiet. That’s the only reason.”

His smile followed, but I couldn’t read it. Was it teasing? A warning? Something in between? My unease grew, and I forced a small, awkward smile in return, taking a slow sip from my cup to cover my nervousness.

Charlie didn’t say what happened to Trespassers, but the weight in his tone told me enough. It wasn’t good. I swallowed hard, silently vowing to keep my head down and my identity a secret.

“Charlie, what’s with the crescent moon? Why is it always part of the tattoos?” I asked curiously.

Charlie, mid-bite, gestured toward me with his right hand, signaling me to wait as he chewed and swallowed his food. He washed it down with a sip from his cup before answering. “That’s a good question. I’ve got a theory,” he said, leaning back slightly. “I think the crescent moon is tied to the ones who govern this island—like it’s their symbol or something. Maybe they’re a cult.”

“A theory?” I repeated, smiling. “So, you’re not sure? You don’t actually know?”

“At least I have an idea,” Charlie shot back with a playful wink, grinning as he returned to his meal.

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, but my mind was still buzzing with thoughts. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out a question that hadn’t fully formed in my head. “Hey, Charlie, you said Characters can move from zone to zone, right? So, why haven’t you gone to other zones?”

The words hung in the air, and I instantly regretted them. Charlie froze for a fraction of a second, then slowly finished chewing. Sky, sensing the shift, meowed softly, almost like a warning.

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Charlie put his fork down, his voice quieter when he finally answered. “After everything I went through that day,” he said, staring at the table, “I’ve never had the courage to be like my mom, Aria.”

It hit me like a slap then guilt flooded me. What was I thinking, asking something so insensitive? Of course, he wouldn’t want to explore other zones—not after what he’d been through. The trauma he carried was probably tied to every corner of this island. I internally berated myself. Why couldn’t I just think before speaking? Nice going, Aria.

I nodded quickly, hoping he’d see the apology in my expression. “I’m sorry, Charlie,” I murmured, but I could already feel the awkwardness settling between us.

Charlie gave me a small, forgiving smile. “It’s fine,” he said gently. “You didn’t mean anything by it.” He picked up his cup and took a long sip, signaling the conversation was over.

I stayed quiet, trying not to make things more awkward. Sky jumped up onto the table, his tail swishing as if to distract us from the heaviness in the room. Charlie smiled at the cat and stood, gathering his plate.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his tone lightening. “It’s been a long day.”

I wanted to protest, to offer to help clean up as a way of redeeming myself, but Charlie gently declined. “Go on. You’ll need your energy,” he insisted.

Reluctantly and with a small nod, I stood and offered a small “goodnight.” He smiled softly in return, and I made my way to my room, Sky trailing behind me briefly before veering off elsewhere

As I walked to my room, I couldn’t help but replay the conversation in my mind. Sometimes I really need to think before I speak, I thought, shaking my head at myself.

Determined to shake off the lingering embarrassment, I moved across the room to the cabinet and pulled out the futon and pillows. The soft glow from the solar light outside filtered into the room, allowing me to see clearly without straining. As I laid out the futon, arranged the pillows and the blanket, the simple, repetitive motions gave me a welcome distraction. The act of smoothing out the fabric and setting up my sleeping area helped calm my mind, letting me focus on the present instead of replaying my earlier awkwardness.

Then it hit me—I hadn’t checked my phone yet. I’d charged it earlier, so it should be good to go now. My heart quickened at the thought. Maybe there would be a message from Aunt Marie.

I walked through the quiet inn, heading to the dining room to retrieve my phone. The warm, golden glow of the lights illuminated the courtyard, hallways, and even the vacant rooms, casting everything in a cozy, inviting hue. This place really was beautifully crafted—simple yet full of charm.

As I made my way, the sounds of the night drifted in through the open windows. The rhythmic chirping of crickets mixed with the occasional croak of a frog, creating a serene backdrop.

As I reached the dining room, I spotted my phone on the table, where I left it. I picked it up, pressing the screen to bring it to life. The bright light flickered for a moment, and I couldn’t help but hope—hope for a message, any kind of update from Aunt Marie or anyone who might offer some reassurance. My fingers hovered over the screen as I waited, feeling a brief flutter of anticipation.