Next to You

The First Step into an Unknown City The announcements in Mandarin and English echoed through the bustling terminal of Taoyuan International Airport. Cookie, a slender young woman with flowing jet-black hair and large, expressive eyes framed by thick lashes and brows, pulled her suitcase out of the gate. Her features were clean and striking, yet her gaze carried the weight of exhaustion—not only from travel, but from the life she had left behind. This was the beginning of her thirties—and it had started in ruins. Her company had gone bankrupt, and she had lost her job. A failed relationship had left her with debts that weren’t hers to pay, and her bond with her family had shattered beyond repair. With the last of her savings, Cookie applied for a graduate-student visa and moved to Taiwan, vowing never to look back. The yellow taxi carried her into the heart of Taipei, a city that never sleeps. Neon lights shimmered against the glass of the high-rises as raindrops streaked down the window like a curtain of silver. The first year of my thirties… what a miserable start, she thought with a faint laugh, even as tears brimmed in her eyes. The car stopped in front of a ten-story building—Linghua Residence, a modern apartment complex she had chosen online. Cookie wheeled her luggage into the lobby and greeted the middle-aged man behind the counter—the homeowner everyone simply called Uncle. “Hello, I’m Cookie. I reserved a room—four-eleven.” He looked up with a kind smile and handed her a small envelope. “Ah, you’ve arrived. Here’s your keycard. Fourth floor—turn left out of the elevator. It’s the first room.” “Thank you.” “Are you here for work or school?” “For school. I’m starting my Master’s here.” “By yourself?” Cookie hesitated, her voice softening. “Yes…” Tears welled the moment her thoughts flickered back to everything—and everyone—she had left behind. The homeowner’s eyes softened. He passed her a tissue. “If you need anything, come to me. You’re not as alone as you think—trust me.” She took the tissue with a trembling hand and bowed slightly. “Thank you so much.” The elevator doors closed, and with them, she swallowed a heavy breath. A few days earlier Taoyuan Airport was just as crowded. A tall man—nearly six-foot-three in a sharp dark suit—strode out of the gate with his luggage. Kirin, a Taiwanese-Canadian in his early thirties with chiseled features that blended East and West and eyes sharp and unyielding, had grown up in Vancouver, earned a master’s in computer engineering and AI, and built a career at a world-leading tech firm. Now headquarters had expanded to Taipei, and Kirin had been sent to lead as the new Chief AI Officer (CAIO). Coming back… doesn’t mean it’s home. The taxi sped him into the city. He chose not to return to his parents’ house, but to live alone in a modest apartment—Linghua Residence, Room 412, fourth floor. Across town in Xinyi District, the skyline glowed. A tower bore the luminous logo of Lumetra, its Taipei branch newly opened. On the top floor, a vast boardroom gleamed with floor-to-ceiling glass, revealing a sea of neon lights outside. The oak conference table stretched long, lined with laptops and folders. The air was tight with tension. Kirin sat at the head of the table, crisp shirt sleeves rolled just so, authority in his posture enough to silence the room. “Mr. Kirin, the fintech specialist position we’ve been recruiting for… no candidate has made it through,” HR reported nervously. “Correct,” another added. “Even the promising hires quit within months. The pressure was too much.” Kirin leaned back in his chair, eyes like steel cutting across the team. “And do you think we have the luxury of more failure?” His deep, even tone made the room fall silent. “…No, sir,” came the hushed reply. “I told you from the beginning, this isn’t just another project. This is the foundation of Lumetra Taipei. If we fail, the parent company’s trust in us will collapse overnight.” He paused, his voice steady but commanding. “Find the right people—even if you have to search across ten more countries.” Silence spread. Pens scratched hurriedly across notepads. Kirin’s gaze shifted to the glowing skyline reflected in the glass. The city’s neon shimmered against the night, and he knew this was only the beginning of a road where failure was not an option. That same night The keycard beeped in Room 412. Kirin returned from the long day of meetings and swiped the door open. Just then, he noticed the warm glow seeping out from the edges of Room 411. So, someone’s already moved in… He thought nothing more of it, tossing his suit onto the sofa. But just as he was about to shower, a sound drifted through the wall—muffled sobs. He froze. Damn it… what the hell is that? A ghost? Pressing his ear to the bathroom wall, he listened. It wasn’t anything supernatural. It was the sound of a woman crying—raw, aching, human. Relief settled in his chest, but curiosity crept in just as quickly. Who is she… and why is she crying? Work still waited. He forced the thought aside, showered, then sat back at his laptop, typing until nearly midnight. Weary, he stepped out onto the balcony, letting the winter air cool his mind—and that’s when he saw her. On the balcony next door, a woman stood quietly. Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders; her pale skin glowed softly in the warm light spilling from her room. She didn’t move—only gazed at the gray night sky with eyes that seemed empty, yet unbearably deep. Kirin stilled. In the hush of the night, he could hear his own heartbeat hammering harder than it should. He didn’t know whether it was her beauty or the sorrow radiating from her that had pulled him in—but he couldn’t look away. After a long moment, he turned back inside without a word. Yet her image clung to him, etched into his mind as though burned there. He sat at the keyboard again, but the screen blurred before his eyes. Only one thought remained, echoing over and over: Who is she…?