Chapter 15

As the elevator doors closed, Winnie pressed her slender arms against the walls of the car, burying her face in them. "Ugh…" She's a foolish girl, letting a good opportunity slip away. The elevator didn't ascend. Instead, it made a chime and opened again. Winnie instinctively raised her face, the warm light surrounding her dejected, wronged, and exhausted expression. Van fell silent for a moment. "...The cardigan." Winnie snapped out of her daze, quickly took off the cardigan, adjusted it, and handed it over with both hands. That's how she was— the more awkward it got, the more she forced herself to act composed, with a smile that was flawless. The elevator doors slowly began to close again, at such a slow pace that Winnie felt like the time was dragging on endlessly, unbearably. She kept her gaze lowered, politely avoiding looking up, her eyes only seeing the man's long, well-tailored black suit pants. The scene narrowed as the doors slowly closed. Suddenly, the closing stopped abruptly with a faint tremor from the metal doors. Winnie looked up in surprise. Van had one hand on the doorframe, looking at her calmly as he asked, "The shawl... when do you plan to return it?" The next morning, Eric came to serve Van breakfast. It had rained all night, but the sky was now clear. From the balcony, the endless expanse of the blue sea stretched out before them. The marina was much emptier, with several sailboats already out cruising. However, the superyacht remained docked in the harbor, looking from a distance like a white building floating on the water. Van had three business meetings scheduled for the morning. Eric was double-checking the details with him. Eric, noticing the slight curve of Van's lips, asked, "Was yesterday enjoyable?" Van looked at him, a hint of amusement in his voice. "In what way are you asking?" The old man had gotten better at reading between the lines, interpreting a single sentence in both direct and indirect ways, making all the difference. With a teasing tone, he added, "So, there were indeed enjoyable aspects?" Van put down his knife and fork, and carefully wiped his hands with a warm towel, speaking in a calm and collected manner. "If you're so free to pry into my business, you might as well help me look into someone." Eric, looking ready to serve, nodded and went to the master bedroom to retrieve a pocket watch from the nightstand as Van had instructed. On the smooth black marble surface of the desk, there lay a small pocket watch. The oval-shaped, polished surface gleamed with a metallic shine. When opened, it produced a pleasant mechanical sound, a clear sign of its high value. He picked it up along with the pocket square, then brought it back to Van, confused. "When did you buy this?" "Someone tossed it up to me last night." The hotel was not designed with vertical floors; instead, it was built in layers, one on top of the other, extending outward from the inside, much like a cruise ship. How could he have known that, not long after returning to his room last night, something would be thrown up from the balcony of the executive suite below and land with a thud on the outdoor wooden floor? At first, he thought it was just extreme weather, but Van's curiosity was piqued. Slowly, he made his way out of the bedroom and bent down to pick up the little golden object. It wasn't until he picked it up that he realized it was a pocket watch. Under the moonlight, after the rain, the cigarette smoke mixed with the dampness, softening the edges of the air. He lowered his gaze and studied the item for a moment before carefully unwrapping the velvet band that covered the metal casing. Van patiently peeled away the layers, the texture reminiscent of a woman's hair. A fruity scent, faintly lingering from Winnie's hair, seemed to hang in the air. With practiced fingers, he flicked open the top of the pocket watch, the metallic click of the mechanism both elegant and old-fashioned. Inside, a small white note was hidden. He unfolded it to reveal a line of numbers written in black marker. No need to guess—it was undoubtedly the woman's phone number. "She used the pocket watch like a carrier pigeon?" Eric said, baffled. Having seen many good things, Eric could easily tell the value of the watch. Using it as a message carrier? That seemed a bit wasteful. Van simply muttered a "yeah." Eric, even more confused, hesitated and shook his head in disbelief. "Didn't she think she could just call your room extension?" "I told her," Van replied calmly. Eric raised an eyebrow. "How did you tell her?" Van took a sip of red tea, propped his leg up, and replied, "I called her room extension."