The Enigma Of A Day Novels & Stories

He explained, "So no matter what, I'll be drawn to you." "Oh like a curse?" He laughs at me saying, "Yeah maybe." That day I learned the word enigma, it was strange and deep for me to understand and I don't know whether it's a good thing to be or not. The way he said it though, made me blush. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking that day but I was too happy to dwell on it that long. I remebered how Angelo's eyes were a little bit swollen that day.

Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow is the day where two clans will fight life and death, defending the honor of their group even if it costs them life and blood. And this morning, Angel chose to be a normal human being, at least he wanted to spend time happily with his mother. Because no one knows what will happen tomorrow, whether he will live or die. "Mom, let's go!" Mrs. Matthew frowned. "Mommy is off today." "Therefore, I want to take mommy for a walk today."

That ignorance was bliss in some cases. I was obviously shell-shocked since I chose porridge that morning—and I hate porridge. I forced it down anyway; it wasn’t too bad, at least it wasn’t lumpy. My dad had a knack for making it like wet cement at home. And my stomach was heavy enough already.

” “You mean to tell me that Enigma I pronounced a figure eight. “Likewise, he knows what you know, but we still have to decipher his identity… I have to interrogate him.” “How are we supposed to do that?” “I have a plan while they clarify the video.” “How long will that take?” her daughter asked, interested. “About five days.” "Five days!" we both shouted. “It won't be easy, the tapes are very damaged and the video resolution is a headache.” “Okay, no way to be patient.” I shrugged my pessimistic attitude. “As for my plan to unmask Enigma X is to make him your friend.” "Sorry?" I blurted out in disbelief.

--- On the balcony— Iden, usually stoic, wore an unusual expression—one of curiosity. A woman stood in the darkest corner, leaning lazily against the wall. Her black dress swayed in the wind. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed half her face. She sipped wine with one hand, cigarette glowing in the other. The chiaroscuro of the moonlight painted her in haunting beauty. She was a riddle. A mystery. An enigma. And he intended to solve her. But one question gnawed at him:

But the doorknob wouldn’t budge— she had locked it from the outside! "Open the door! Ruby—!" I pounded with all my strength. Her voice, cold and detached, floated from the other side. "Don't act pitiful. I don't want anyone thinking I'm hurting you." She walked away. I was in the small room, alone. Lively music drifted from the banquet hall, and I felt nothing but despair. I dialed Xavier, but there was no signal at all. I felt something was wrong—something dangerous. A deep unease rose in my chest.

“This is his punishment. Not fire or chains. Just…endless days.” One night, while she lay stiff next to him, he took her hand in his, and he softly said. “Camela, I know you’re still in there. You can fight this.” Her fingers curled slightly as if they were almost human. For a brief moment, he saw tears glimmer behind her mask. Then she whispered the same phrase as always. “Good night, Vincent.” His heart sank at the response. On what felt like the thirteenth day—or maybe the thirtieth; he couldn’t tell—Vincent noticed something new.

On New Year's Eve, I was working late and got locked inside the office. I leaned weakly against the glass wall, staring at the pitch-black corridor as nausea churned violently in my stomach. It was supposed to be a night of reunion, with my family waiting for me at home, yet I didn't have the strength to return. Even though my phone had power, the office had internet, and all it would've taken was a single call for me to leave, I had already been worn down to the point of exhaustion. … After the New Year, I submitted my resignation to Mitchell.

I slipped the IOU Mom's loan-shark boss had repeatedly reminded her to keep safe for him inside the envelope. The amount was over 1.7 million dollars. If that got burned, Mom would probably get burned alive by the ruthless Mr. Abel Jarrell right along with it. By the time I returned to the dining table, Mom was already red-eyed with fury. She pointed right at me and yelled, "Are you even listening to me, Frank? Bring me the envelope yourself! Don't make me say it twice!" Resigned, Aunt Tiffany nudged Dad to say something. But instead, he said, "Just burn it. What's the big deal? Frank can reapply again next year. I don't want my sweetheart to be upset.

I wandered through unfamiliar cities alone— shopping, sitting in quiet cafés, enjoying slow afternoons with no one demanding anything from me. And when the day was done—we always went home together.