"Good evening, young Haru. Lovely night, isn't it?"
After giving it some thought while waiting by the car, Dylan had considered a few ways to greet her once she followed him out of the store. But in the end, he went with the simplest approach.
It didn't really matter what he said; after everything that had happened, she was bound to react the same way: with suspicion and a hint of fear.
"...Who the hell are you? How do you know my name? Wait—how did you even know I'd be here? Have you been following me?!"
Her voice was tense, accusatory. And though she tried to maintain composure, her body trembled like a rabbit caught in a hunter's trap.
'So many questions,' Dylan thought as he slowly pushed away from the car he'd been leaning against, straightening his back and letting out a measured breath to calm his own nerves.
"I—"
"Don't come any closer, or I'll call the police!"
She cut him off with a sharp scream, clearly misinterpreting his movement as a threat.
The sudden outburst caught him off guard. Her shrill voice pierced his ears, making his left eye twitch from the mix of stress and exhaustion that clung to his bones. Instinctively, he glanced around, worried that someone might have heard her and come to intervene, which could spiral the whole situation out of control.
Fortunately, the noise of traffic nearby had drowned it out. No one seemed to notice.
Relieved, Dylan turned his gaze back to her. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes still trembled with uncertainty.
As much as he wanted her to calm down so they could speak freely, he understood where her reaction came from: his way of approaching her had looked shady, no doubt about that.
Even so, he couldn't help but feel a certain admiration—perhaps even mild amusement—at her decision to follow him all the way here. He had expected it, of course. Diane had warned him about Haru's impulsive nature back in the other world.
But expecting something and experiencing it were two very different things.
At least they were for him, especially since he needed to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted was to be hated by someone who was bound to become important later on.
With slow, deliberate movements, he placed his coffee cup on the car hood. Then, raising both hands slightly, he spoke in the calmest voice he could manage.
"Easy, easy. No need to freak out. I'm not here to hurt you... Though, yeah, I guess that's exactly what a creep would say."
"..."
Haru said nothing. She kept clutching her phone tightly, her fingers tapping the screen again and again, just to keep it from turning off; as if the lit screen gave her some sense of safety.
Realizing his words hadn't landed the way he'd hoped, Dylan let out a quiet sigh.
He was thankful to his past self for choosing this spot to park. Earlier, while waiting, he'd made sure there were no security cameras nearby. If anyone had seen this encounter out of context, it could've caused him serious trouble in the coming days.
Still holding one hand up in plain sight, he crouched to pick up the bag at his feet and, without much ceremony, he tossed it toward her.
It fell to the ground in between the two with a thud, completely ignored.
"Don't be scared. You can take it."
"Wh-what is this?"
"A gift."
"Oh, right. The one for your 'daughter,' huh? Ha! Yeah, sure. As if someone like you could even have a girlfriend."
With that, Haru let out a forced laugh.
Her mockery was a desperate attempt to regain the courage she'd lost, the courage that had made her follow him instead of calling her dad or the cops right away. But to Dylan, the venom in her words made one of his brows rise.
The contrast with how she had acted before struck him as extreme.
"What happened to respecting your elders, kid?" Dylan shot back—sharper than he intended, slipping too far into the character he'd been playing.
"Respect you? Seriously? You think you deserve that?"
Dylan fell silent.
'She's right. I don't,' he admitted it. Given everything he'd done so far, how could he blame her? From her perspective, he was just some shady guy trying to lure her in with gifts. She had every reason to be on guard.
But that was only the beginning. Now that nothing stood between them, he had to seize the moment to start undoing the awful impression he'd left. All he needed was to keep the lie going a bit longer; just for the rest of this conversation.
"Of course I do, Haru! Or did Hiro never teach you how to treat his old friends with a little respect?"
At the sound of her father's name spoken so casually, Haru's pretty face contorted in disbelief.
"Friend? You? With my dad?"
Her almond-shaped eyes scanned him from head to toe, judging his modest clothes and unimpressive figure with contempt. To her, someone like him didn't belong in the same world as her father, a high-profile, dignified businessman.
Dylan, however, simply smiled.
He hadn't spent all that time wandering through the game section for nothing. That half hour had been more than enough to draft a plan. And now, under the light of the headlights on the side of the road and the lingering bitterness of cheap coffee, he was ready to carry it out.
"That's right," he said smoothly. "I've known Hiro for over twenty years now. Ever since he left Japan, right after the issues he had with your grandparents."
"...Since then, huh?" she murmured under her breath.
'That's better.'
It wasn't much, but Dylan caught the slight change in her expression—barely noticeable, yet there. The mention of that part of her father's past, something only a few people would know, had eased the tension in her face just a little. Even so, she still kept her phone in hand, the distrust lingering.
"Yeah, I was surprised when he told me why he had to leave his country. Honestly, it sounded like something out of a soap opera. Unlike the customs here, his family back there didn't approve of him marrying a foreigner, so he decided to start over elsewhere. He dropped out of university to work at a small trading company, practically killing himself to get ahead. Sad story, but he always told it with a smile. Never seemed bitter, that rascal."
Trying to project a nostalgic look, Dylan cast his eyes downward and paused, as if recalling a distant past, before continuing.
"Anyway, that's where we met. They tasked him with getting replacement parts for a construction firm—COINS, a damn place. I was supposed to supervise the deal on the construction firm side, even though it was way outside my job description. To make it worse, the supplier in China delayed the shipment for weeks, and our bosses nearly made us pay for it out of our own meager salaries. But we pulled through together: running all over, making calls... total chaos. After surviving all that and eventually getting promoted, we became friends. Not that we spent much time together in person. I ended up quitting shortly after. No way I was going to let myself be exploited like that again."
When he finished his story, Dylan looked up. To his relief, she had gone from hostile to something closer to curious.
"I guess I should thank your grandparents, huh? If it weren't for them, I never would've met such a good friend... No, wait, that's not right. It was really thanks to María. She was—" He stopped himself, giving a small shake of the head. "Forget it. Doesn't matter."
The story he'd told wasn't his. Back then, he was still a kid in elementary school. But it wasn't entirely a lie, either. It belonged to another man—one whose life would one day be widely known for how tragically it ended.
Although many of his memories had been lost after returning to the past, Dylan had made sure to record the key events that shaped human history. One of them was the death of Haru's father's friend: a turning point in society. A brutal reminder that the world had changed irreversibly, and only the strong could shape the future…
But that wasn't today's problem. That could be solved later—either by eliminating the man before his fate caught up to him or by completing his plans before the truth came out.
For now, he focused on the present—on her. Haru tilted her head slightly, processing everything she'd just heard.
'Did she buy it?' he wondered, licking his lips nervously.
All signs pointed to yes. The slight tremble in her hands disappeared as she put away her phone. She picked up the bag from the ground, and upon seeing the cover of her favorite manga, a genuine smile lit up her face.
That one image alone was enough to make the tension in Dylan's shoulders finally ease. He wasn't particularly sentimental, but her reaction was endearing.
"So? What now? You want my dad's number so you can hit him up for a loan or something?"
"What? No. Not at all."
Even though he had turned the situation in his favor, he couldn't let his guard down. She was still wary. Her eyes never left him, and her posture remained alert, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.
"I told you, it's a gift. But I never said it was from me. It's from him. From Hiro."
"My dad? Please. He would never get me something like this!"
Dylan realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth. He kept a neutral expression, but inside, he cursed the slip. Even more when he saw Haru take a few steps back, clutching the bag tightly against her chest.
'It's fine. I can fix this.'
He didn't waste time regretting it. Back in the darkest days of his life as a soldier, he'd learned that mistakes were inevitable. What mattered was adapting and improvising.
"You're right. He has no clue what kids your age are into. That's exactly why he asked me for help. He's worried, you know? Afraid you might think he doesn't care about you because he's away from home so much. I told him that was nonsense: working so hard for his family is the biggest proof of love there is. But he insisted. Said I wouldn't get it until I had kids of my own." He let out a wry laugh. "Yeah, like that's happening anytime soon. Anyway, he asked me to come up with something you'd like; he figured I've got the time since I'm currently unemployed. So I checked your social media and... Well, here we are."
"So you're a stalker after all, huh?"
"…"
"But you don't seem like a bad person. That's a relief," she added, letting out a subtle sigh.
Dylan resisted the urge to celebrate as he saw her relax a little. The shift in her tone eased some of the tension in the air, though cold sweat still ran down his back. He had pulled it off.
"Dad… that wasn't necessary, but… thanks."
Watching her hug the bag so fondly was deeply satisfying, even if the whole thing was built on lies. Still, he needed to wrap things up and get home to rest. He had to wake up early tomorrow to meet Roberto.
"Okay, that's my job done. I'll be heading out."
"Wait!"
He stopped just as he was about to open the car door. He turned toward her, curious about what had made her stop him.
"What is it? Don't tell me you want a ride home?"
"No, it's not that. Sorry, but… I still don't trust you that much," she replied, shaking her head.
"Smart girl. Hiro would be proud if he saw how you handle strangers."
'Besides, I don't even know where you live.'
He tried to recall if she had ever mentioned her address in any interview, but nothing came to mind. Maybe the memory had been wiped recently, or maybe it had never happened.
"Your name."
"Huh?"
"Come on, what's your name?"
"Well..."
He hesitated for a moment.
Was it really wise to give her his real name? The thought of lying crossed his mind, but he realized that might backfire later—especially if they ever spoke again.
'Eh, whatever. It's not like I have much to lose, even if she tells her dad.'
"Dylan. Dylan Castro. But I'd advise you not to tell Hiro. Believe me, the poor man would die of embarrassment if he knew his daughter saw through his 'unshakable man' act."
Even to his own ears, the excuse sounded weak, but at this point, anything would do.
"I get it, I get it. I'd be mortified too if someone saw me acting like a kid over a manga. In fact, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him what happened tonight, either."
Her request came with a playful wink, making it clear that he had succeeded in getting through to her.
"Perfect. Anything else?"
She shook her head, her short hair swaying gently with the motion.
"Alright then… Goodbye, Haru. Nice meeting you."
Without waiting for a response, Dylan got into the car and started the engine, throwing one last glance at the rearview mirror. The image of Haru grew smaller and smaller as he drove away.