Chapter 1: Chapter 1: How Did You Know I Was Looking for Mr. Quinn?

June weather was growing hotter by the day. Even though Novaria had its fair share of rain this season, which brought a hint of coolness whenever it fell, the moment the sky cleared, it would become oppressively hot.

Especially around high noon, like now, with the sun shining brightly, the heat was enough to make anyone lose all desire to go outside!

However, the entrance to Novaria’s largest hotel—The Reyton Grand Hotel—was still bustling with people coming and going.

Clara Grant’s electric scooter let out a soft “SQUEAK” before coming to a steady stop at the entrance of The Reyton Grand Hotel.

Clara Grant got off the scooter, took off her helmet, and casually placed it in the front basket. Then, she carefully lifted a large suitcase from the floorboard. The suitcase was a bit heavy, and she subconsciously bit her lip as she lifted it.

She looked up at the towering building before her, her gaze slowly drifting upward until it landed on a specific spot and froze. A few images involuntarily flashed through her mind. Her expression grew complicated, a trace of hesitation and uncertainty appearing on her face.

She had been here a year ago. Only this time, she was here to deliver something to a customer. A year ago, however, was…

But in an instant, Clara Grant’s composure returned. She hid her thoughts and averted her gaze.

The moment she had parked, one of the security guards at the hotel entrance had already started walking toward her. He now stood beside her and asked politely, “Hello, miss. Do you need help with your luggage?”

Clara Grant had just placed one foot on the first step and was lifting the other when she heard the guard. She immediately put her foot back down, looked up at him, and shook her head with a grateful smile. “Oh, no, that’s alright. Thank you. I can manage.”

With that, she continued to lift the suitcase with both hands, stepping onto the stairs with some effort.

“Miss, please, allow me.” The guard walked a couple of steps with her and, before she could protest, reached out and took the suitcase from Clara Grant’s hands. He then added with another polite smile, “Rest assured, I won’t damage your luggage.”

Clara Grant glanced at her empty hands, then at the guard who was lifting the suitcase effortlessly with one hand. She stopped insisting and nodded with a smile. “Then I’ll have to trouble you. Just helping me up the stairs is fine.”

The guard nodded without another word, carrying the suitcase up the steps toward the entrance.

Clara Grant glanced back at the rows of expensive luxury cars in the nearby parking lot, then at her own electric scooter—solitary, lonesome, and utterly out of place. She couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. ’As expected of the city’s largest, most luxurious, and best-reputed hotel. The quality of their staff is impeccable. They didn’t look down on me because of my shabby “ride” at all. Not a single trace of looking down on the poor and fawning over the rich!’

As she mused, she turned and hurried to catch up with the guard.

At the entrance to the main lobby, Clara Grant took back the suitcase and thanked the helpful guard again before carefully wheeling it inside.

Behind her, the guard took out his phone and made a call. “Young Miss, the person has successfully entered the lobby…”

As she walked, Clara Grant pulled a slip of paper from her pants pocket and muttered the words on it under her breath: “The Reyton Hotel, Room 1818. Mr. Quinn.”

Then, clutching the paper in her hand, she walked toward the front desk.

“Hi, excuse me, I’m looking for room 18—”

Before Clara Grant could finish her question, or even the full room number, the receptionist was already beaming at her. “Miss, are you here to see Mr. Quinn? Mr. Quinn is in. You can go straight up.”

Clara Grant was stunned. “How did you know I was looking for Mr. Quinn?”

She hadn’t even finished her sentence. ’Does this receptionist have mind-reading powers? Or super-hearing? Or x-ray vision?’

Hearing her question, a flicker of unease crossed the receptionist’s face, but she quickly hid it, maintaining her polite smile. “Oh, it’s because Mr. Quinn mentioned that someone would be dropping something off for him today. I saw you with the large suitcase and guessed you were the one. It seems I guessed correctly.”

Clara Grant didn’t notice the fleeting, unnatural expression on her face. Hearing the explanation, she nodded with a relieved smile. Just as she was about to say thank you, she heard the receptionist speak again. “Mr. Quinn’s room is to your right when you exit the elevator.”

Once she was sure the receptionist had nothing more to say, Clara Grant finally voiced her “Thank you” and pushed the suitcase toward the elevators.

As she walked, she once again marveled inwardly. ’The Reyton Hotel really lives up to its reputation. The service attitude and quality of the staff are just… top-notch!’

The receptionist watched her enter the elevator before picking up her phone and dialing a number. “Hello, Young Miss… Yes, she’s on her way up now…”

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