About an hour later, the tour bus arrived at the ancient ruins of the Colosseum. The group began slowly disembarking from the bus, with Mr. Anderson anxiously running back and forth, keeping an eye on everyone. He was sweating heavily, making sure none of the elderly tourists encountered any issues. As usual, Miranda was the last to step off the bus. Bert, visibly moved by the sight before him, pointed at the ruins and exclaimed to Miranda, “Emily, I’ve seen this on TV! It looks exactly like this!” Emily? Mr. Satan, who had been following close behind, thought he must have misheard. For a brief moment, it sounded like someone had called out Emily. But then Miranda’s response quickly shattered his hope. “Did you forget my name again? It’s Miranda.” “Oh, right, right, Miranda! Silly me,” Bert replied, chuckling. Mr. Satan, pretending to walk by casually, leaned in and asked quietly, “Miss Carter, do you have a name called Emily?” Miranda shook her head lightly. “My family has a bit of an accent. My nike name is Mia.” “Mia?” Mr. Satan repeated. “Yes, it means 'longing' or 'missing.'” Mr. Satan paused for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. “Mia... That’s a beautiful name.” Miranda smiled faintly. “My mother picked it.” “Was it because she missed your father?” he asked curiously. Her smile turned wistful. “Probably not. ” “Ah, I see,” Mr. Satan murmured. It was a brief, almost pointless conversation—one that started without much meaning and ended just as quietly. Though Mr. Satan concealed it well, Miranda wasn’t naive. She could sense it—he was probing her.But why? She wasn’t sure yet. From their coincidental encounter at the supermarket last night, to his sudden appearance outside her room this morning asking for a bowl of congee, to signing up for this tour without reason—yet showing no interest in the actual sights—it all pointed to one thing: he was here for her. Maybe it was just curiosity. Perhaps because she didn’t relinquish room 2307 to him, he became intrigued? If that was the case, she wished she had switched rooms earlier. She really didn’t want any trouble. “Have you been to Rome before?” Miranda asked, trying to steer the conversation. “A few times,” he responded. “What about you? Is this your first time?” “Yes, it’s my first visit,” Miranda said. “I studied in England and didn’t have much time to travel to other countries.” “Travel is a wonderful thing,” Mr. Satan remarked. “It broadens your horizons, helps you see the world. Roman architecture, in particular, has so many unique elements. There’s a lot that modern architects can learn from it. Is this trip part of your research?” Miranda was taken aback. “How do you know I’m an architect?” Mr. Satan smiled softly. “You might not realize it, but you’re quite famous now, Miss Carter. You’re not even thirty, and you’ve already become the architect to win the Pritzker Prize. The video of your acceptance speech has gone viral online—it’s been viewed over a billion times.” Miranda frowned. She had been so wrapped up in various trivial matters that she hadn’t paid attention to any of this. “I saw the video,” Mr. Satan continued. “I had just landed when the ceremony was happening, so I missed the live broadcast. But I watched the replay on the way here. You’re truly impressive, Miss Carter.” As she suspected, he had joined the tour specifically because of her. “Are you in the architecture business?” Miranda asked. “Hm... It’s hard to say,” he replied, smiling. “I suppose I’m half-involved in the industry.” Miranda looked at him curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you here in Rome to recruit talent for your company?” “What makes you think that?” Mr. Satan asked, raising an eyebrow.Taking a deep breath, Miranda studied his impeccably tailored suit and accessories. “From the way you dress and speak, you seem like someone in a leadership role. And judging by the quality of your clothes, your company must be quite large. You mentioned that you’re ‘half’ involved in architecture, which leads me to think your company has dealings in real estate. Given that the Pritzker Prize is currently the biggest news in Rome, I assume you joined the tour to scout for talented young architects.” Mr. Satan smirked, neither confirming nor denying her theory. “You’re not entirely wrong.” “Well, I’m sorry,” Miranda said firmly. “But I’m in the process of starting my own studio with my business partner. I’m not looking to join any company at the moment.” “Your own studio? Are you opening it here in Rome?” he asked, curious. “We haven’t decided on the location yet,” Miranda replied. “But I like to have control over my life. I don’t enjoy the structure of a typical office job. There are many talented architects who also received the Pritzker Prize this year. If you’re looking for someone to hire, I’d be happy to recommend a few candidates.” Mr. Satan chuckled softly and lowered his gaze. “We’ll see. There’s no rush. Let’s enjoy the trip first.” The Colosseum grounds were vast. To ensure everyone’s safety, Mr. Anderson took another headcount, reminding the group to stay together and rest if needed. He then led the group along the perimeter, offering commentary on the historic site. Bert, enthralled by the architecture, turned to Miranda and said, “Miranda, we’re too far from the guide to hear his explanation. Let’s move closer.” Miranda was grateful for the excuse to end her conversation with Mr. Satan. “Alright.” Mr. Anderson’s voice, amplified through a mic, carried across the group as he shouted out the history of the Colosseum. The elderly tourists listened intently, but after ten minutes of walking, some began to complain about fatigue, while others wanted to keep exploring. In the end, Mr. Anderson called for a break, announcing that the group was free to rest or explore for the next two hours. They would meet back on the bus to head to the next location. Bert had found himself deep in conversation with a group of older men, laughing and chatting away. They invited him to continue exploring with them, and though he hesitated, he turned to Miranda for guidance. “Go ahead,” she told him, smiling. “Enjoy yourself.” “Miranda, are you tired?” Mr. Satan’s voice came from behind her as she stopped to rest. He was still hovering close, maintaining that same subtle distance.