ACT II : You arrive at your hotel

You enter the hotel lobby, dragging your suitcase up the stairs behind you. The space is grand but eerily empty, your footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors. Behind the reception desk stands a short Chinese woman, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun, her sharp eyes watching you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She’s petite, with a delicate frame, but her presence is anything but small. A hint of a smile plays on her lips as you approach.

"Passport, please," she says, her voice smooth but firm.

She informs you that your room was canceled yesterday evening.

You insist she check again, carefully spelling out your name. She raises an eyebrow, muttering in Chinese under her breath, "He thinks I’m too stupid to type his name. How many foreigners does he think we check in per day?" Her tone is playful, almost teasing, as if she’s enjoying the back-and-forth.

While she pretends to look again, you pull out your phone. A new notification pops up. You dismiss it without a second thought.

She confirms your room has indeed been canceled and offers a half-hearted apology, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

You ask to book another one.

She shakes her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. The only available room is much more expensive. You can see the calculation in her gaze—she knows you’re probably ****.

You tell her you’ll think about it and come back.

Stepping outside, you pull up the hotel’s website on your phone. Of course, they do have regular rooms available. She was lying to you. You’re about to march back in and confront her when another notification pops up. This one’s from an unknown number.

You open it.

"Fuck." The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. She did cancel your hotel. She actually did it. And now, thanks to the clerk’s little game, you’re standing outside with nowhere to go.