Mr. Always Right turned out to be right about one thing - tea. Valerie sipped the specially made red tea and let out a deep breath. She wasn’t an expert on tea but it did taste good. Better than anything she got off the supermarket racks or from Richard’s imported collection from all over the world. Or perhaps she was biased.

“Good?” Mr. Always Right or rather Mr. Balding Old Man rasped.

Valerie nodded. Her eyes roved around the small, dimly lit shop. Shelves of dusty containers and teapots lined the walls. Some of them looked extremely ancient. There were two long countertops on each side of the shop littered with sieves and other tea-making equipment that Valerie didn’t know the name of.

“So who recommended my shop to you?” 

“My younger sister.” Valerie eyed the old man as he took a seat opposite her after shuffling around his shop to gather things.

“I see.” The old man grunted as he dropped into his chair. “How is Mr. Goldchild?”

Valerie paused mid-sip. Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Richard. “What?”

He peered over his wide-rimmed glasses at her. “The marriage is today, right?”

Suspicion swept over her. She placed her cup down. “How do you know who I am?”

Shrugging, the old man took out a dusty old leather-bound book and placed it on the table. With one hand, he flipped the pages while the other grabbed a back scratcher and ran it up and down his skinny frame.

“How do you know my identity?” Valerie repeated, fear rising in her voice.

“Your clothes give you away.”

“My-my clothes?”

“Designer brand clothes. Freshly styled head of hair. Yet you don’t have the pompous aura of someone used to throwing money around. And you bothered to come to this sketchy area.”

Valerie studied the old man in a stained singlet. At a quick glance, he seemed like a normal elderly person who continued to work because he was bored of retirement. But his sharp eyes betrayed his gaunt face and weak physique. His keen observation of her spoke to decades of experience and life lessons.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Just call me Rambo,” he said with a wink.

Scoffing, she raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Time did a number on me.”

Valerie let out a small sigh. “Time did that to me too.”

“Why do you say that?”

Humming, Valerie thought hard about how she felt. She watched as the old man continued flipping pages back and forth as if in search of something.

“I feel like my old self gets buried deeper and deeper,” she said finally.

“Sometimes that’s good. And sometimes that’s bad.”

She sipped the last bit of tea and handed the cup over to Rambo. “I’m done.”

He took the cup from her and studied the swirling tea leaves. “Do you like your new self?”

Her new self. She couldn’t deny that being in high society made her proud. Isn’t this what she dreamt of after all? Wearing fashionable clothes and being rich and famous?

It wasn't the journey she thought she would take to reach this point. She had taken a shortcut. A one-way ticket straight to her destination. Besides, she had a guy who loved her so much. A bonus package.

Yet the words “I don’t know” slipped out of her lips before she knew it. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Logically, the answer should have been “Yes, of course.”

Rambo chuckled. “Maybe you need a little reminder after all.”

“Why? Do you see something in the leaves?” Valerie leaned forward, curious about what he saw.

Rambo handed the cup back to her. “You see the circle?”

She looked down at the base of the cup. Tea leaves were scattered all around but she could vaguely see a circle.

“And you see the lines crisscrossing the circle?”

“Uh-huh.” Valerie fought back a laugh. To her, the tea leaves were randomly cast everywhere so that they could be a line or a squiggly wave.

“Looks like you’re going to have an adventure with time,” Rambo said triumphantly. “Congratulations.”

Unable to bite back her amusement, Valerie let out a short scoff. “W-What?”

Rambo’s lips morphed into a devious smirk. “The tea should be taking effect right now.”

Her veins turned cold. She shot up from her seat, staggering to her feet. “What did you say?”

Before her, Rambo’s skinny frame blurred out of focus. Panic rose in her chest. She had to get out. She had to run. Spinning around, she took one step before her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor, her breath coming out in short gasps.

“It’s no use.” Rambo’s voice echoed as if he was using some voice distortion tool. “You’ll thank me, don’t worry.”

Scrambling to get to her feet, she groaned as darkness blanketed her vision. Her body felt heavier and heavier until she could no longer lift her hand. The scrabbling of her nails on the dusty floor slowed to a stop. 

The last thought that scurried through her mind was of her younger sister, Kyler.