Page 88 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

The driver showed her the route on his map before they arrived, pointing out where they were and where the arena stood, probably assuming she was here for the Beijing qualifiers as well, and she nodded in understanding, thanking him again before stepping out of the car in front of the hotel.

The building rose before her—wide, tall, and impossibly spacious—and that was the first thing that struck her, this sense of scale, and for a moment Tora felt almost small in comparison.

She stepped inside, approached the reception desk, and after a respectful bow spoke clearly, “Hello, I’ve booked a room. Tora Møller. Here is my ID.”

The receptionist smiled, accepted the document with both hands, bowing slightly in return, and within a few minutes, after Tora had taken in the vastness of the lobby, she was checked in and directed to her room on the ninth floor—9-1813.

When she entered, she stopped almost immediately, letting out a quiet breath at the sight of it, the room was large and the windows revealed a clear view of the arena nearby, as if it were placed there deliberately, just within reach of her gaze.

It was beautiful.

She stood by the window for a few moments and then reached for her phone, connecting to the hotel Wi-Fi, trying to message Alisa, but nothing worked at first, until she remembered the VPN she had installed beforehand. Once it was connected, she finally managed to send a message:

Tora: I checked in, room 9-1813. If anything. Are you already at the arena?

There was no reply.

Well… she probably is at the arena. At this hour, they would already be training.

After a moment, Tora typed again:

Tora: Shall we go to lunch together?

Still nothing.

Tora decided to take a shower first, giving herself a moment to reset after the flight, and she immediately noticed how the bathroom itself was almost a separate space, with both a full bath and a glass shower cabin, everything finished in smooth marble that felt cool under her hands.

Afterward, when there was still no reply from Alisa even after thirty minutes, she decided not to wait any longer and go straight to the arena.

The hotel itself felt almost unreal in its scale and comfort, as if it were trying to prove something with every detail, with these wide spaces, the panoramic windows, the enormous bed, the separate sitting area, the polished surfaces that reflected soft light everywhere, and Tora caught herself wondering if this was what “seven stars” was supposed to feel like, because everything around her seemed carefully designed to impress. She liked it.

The arena wasn’t far at all, it was visible from the hotel windows, and she reached it quickly, moving through the unfamiliar surroundings with growing focus.

After passing through security and registration, she received a visitor’s badge and immediately clipped it onto her jacket, adjusting it automatically as she stepped further inside.

When she entered the main arena, she stopped with a slightly opened mouth.

It was enormous and far larger than she had imagined, the ice stretched out under the bright lights, filled with skaters. It took her a moment to find Alisa among them.

But when she did—

She couldn’t take her eyes away.

Alisa had a special skating style; somehow, it touched her soul every time she watched her skate. Although the music playing in the arena was clearly not from her choreography, Tora still felt goosebumps rise on her arms and spine.

She moved to one of the far rows and sat down, blending into the emptiness of the stands, where only a few scattered figures occupied the front rows—coaches, staff, maybe other athletes watching—and from here, among thousands of empty seats, she was almost invisible.

Apparently, they had already rehearsed the programs in the morning and were now continuing the rest of the training and rehearsing the elements they needed.

Tora knew she couldn’t openly call out to Alisa, so she waited instead, slipping out of the arena afterwards and moving toward the back exit where the skaters usually came out after training.

She leaned lightly against the wall, watching, waiting—

And then she saw her.

Alisa stepped out among the others, surrounded by a small group, laughing lightly, and next to her—too close to her—was a girl with cherry-colored hair, their hands brushing as they walked side by side. Something inside Tora tightened instantly.

Who the hell is that?