The receptionist dialed Justin's room using the front desk phone, but no one picked up.

"I'm sorry, miss. The guest is not answering. He may not be in his room."

Rosalie panicked. "Justin, where are you?"

"Check the surveillance footage," Rosalie immediately told the receptionist. "Please, pull up the footage. I need to see where he went."

"I'm sorry, miss. We can't provide access to our hotel's surveillance footage to unauthorized persons. If you can't reach your friend, you should call the police. If law enforcement requests the footage, we will provide it to them."

Rosalie hesitated. Her first instinct was indeed to call the police, but she was worried as Justin's identity was complicated.

She stumbled out of the hotel entrance, took out her phone, and called him again and again.

By the sixth call, Rosalie collapsed to the ground, crying uncontrollably.

You swore! You're a liar! You never keep your promises!" She was sobbing so hard she could hardly

a familiar voice sounded above

lifted her head and saw

in

down and carried her off the ground. "Why are you sitting here? Did someone bully you? Tell me

tightly, he glanced around, trying to

of emotions-surprise, relief, and anger. Suppressing her fury, she said, "Yes,

you? Tell me. I'll make

a punch on

done, but then he put the

I'm sorry. I just went

chased the person for quite a distance

assumed

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