On the way, the taxi driver excitedly chattered non-stop. If it weren't for the fear of getting a speeding ticket, he would have had the nerve to ask Isabelle to take him for a spin in his car. He too had a dream of racing when he was young.
Isabelle, bathed in the cool moonlight, navigated through the dilapidated residential area.
The faint scent of osmanthus flowers wafted from a distant courtyard, lingering at the tip of her nose, refusing to dissipate.
As Isabelle approached the entrance of the Jenkins Residence, she was about to push the door open when the faintest of breaths from a dark corner made her halt her actions.
Without changing her expression, Isabelle glanced towards the corner of the wall.
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