When the guide has no map, the traveler must learn to read the stars.
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Silence.
Pamela said nothing for nearly five minutes. She just glared, her eyes narrowed like she was trying to read through my skin.
"Yes… Two portions, please. Thank you," I said into the hotel phone before setting it back down.
Leaning back on the soft couch, I let out a long sigh. Sleeping on the floor had left my body stiff and sore. I shut my eyes.
I need to take better care of this body, I thought.
My question was still hanging in the air, unanswered.
"You don't act your age," Pamela finally said, her voice distant and laced with suspicion.
I didn't flinch. It's not like someone was missing. And even if someone had suspicions, there was no proof that I wasn't the real Adam Black.
"What makes you say that?" I asked calmly, eyes still shut.
"You're assertive. Observant. Too well-spoken," she said. "That kind of control—those are traits of someone who's spent years in manipulation and negotiation. You speak like a man who's lived twice your age."
Her logic wasn't wrong. But it didn't matter.
"You don't look your age either," I shrugged. "I guess we both have secrets."
I expected her to get annoyed, but instead, she giggled.
"You know you don't have to flirt with me..."
"I'm not flirting." I frowned, still keeping my eyes closed. "Don't flatter yourself."
Was she trying to annoy me on purpose?
I opened my eyes slowly and looked at her.
"You still haven't answered my question," I said as I leaned forward. "What does it mean to be a true Limitless?"
Pamela's expression hardened. She leaned forward too, eyes locking onto mine.
"Then answer me this first," she said. "What exactly do you want to know about Limitless?"
This girl...
I ran a hand through my hair, rubbing my temple.
"The truth," I muttered. "Not the sugar-coated version. Not the fantasy you tell new recruits."
Pamela shifted, crossing her legs. She was studying me now.
"Why?" she asked.
My left eye twitched. There was a strange feeling bubbling under my skin. An urge. An itch to smash the flower vase and lunge at her for wasting my time. The bloodlust was faint, but it was there.
I clenched my fists.
Why do I feel this way?
A man with a wife and two daughters shouldn't be so impatient. So violent.
I didn't feel this when I was in his mind during the vision.
Shaking the thought off, I focused back on Pamela.
"To win a game, you need to know the rules," I said quietly. "And I'm not asking for the version you give to tourists."
The room went silent Pamela's playful smile slowly faded.
She let out a sigh before shifting to the edge of the bed. The whole time, her eyes never left me.
"There are four roles Limitless take during expeditions. For someone like you, given the nature of your ability, you'll be placed in the Medica role," Pamela said firmly.
"Medica?" I raised an eyebrow.
The name sounded ridiculous.
"They're basically Limitless with support-type [talents], like yours. They're in high demand—government agencies, private teams, even black-market crews all want one. You'll be filthy rich," Pamela added with a wink.
"That's if I survive," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
She giggled.
Ding!
The doorbell rang. I raised an eyebrow.
"If there's a doorbell, why did you knock?" I asked.
Pamela ignored the question, tiptoeing to the door.
It was room service. A middle-aged man in a tux wheeled in a cart, a fake smile stretched across his face—probably from years of customer service.
He didn't seem surprised to see Pamela. Instead, his eyes moved past her and landed on me.
"Lady Pam, I didn't think you'd found a new... boyfriend."
I sat up instantly.
Pamela started coughing loudly, like she was trying to drown out his words. I glanced toward the door and caught her signaling him to shut up. They both flinched when they noticed me watching.
The man pushed the cart forward, loaded with two food trays, a jug of lemon juice, and two bottles of water. Pamela kept glaring at him like a silent threat until he was done and out the door. She shut it with a loud bang.
"Having affairs with your students?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She avoided eye contact and dragged the wooden chair from my reading desk to the table where the food was.
"Not going to answer?" I pushed, trying to keep the heat on while the wound was fresh.
"It doesn't matter. I only dated the older ones. I'm not into teenagers," she replied shamelessly, popping the lid off her tray.
Whoosh!
A mouthwatering aroma filled the room. I actually smiled.
I pulled the lid off mine, revealing a bowl of sweet pork ramen, a small pepperoni pizza, a 12-piece crispy chicken bucket, and a plate of jollof rice with goat meat.
"I didn't take you for the heavy-eater type," Pamela said.
"I'm not. I'm trying to bulk up." I shrugged.
At this point, I realized we had drifted far from the original topic, but I didn't bother to bring it up again. This whole exchange made one thing clear—Pamela was unreliable, both as a person and as a teacher.
She was too carefree and lacked the dedication you'd expect from someone trusted to train others. I was certain the only reason she was putting in this much effort to stay close was because they really needed a human storage bin for the next expedition.
'I'll just have to find out what it means to be a Limitless on my own,' I concluded.
Since I stayed quiet, Pamela didn't try to restart the conversation. So, we ate in silence. I was already full halfway through, but I forced myself to keep eating.
About thirty minutes later, I finally put my fork down. I grabbed a glass of lemonade and chugged it down when Pamela finally spoke again.
"Go take a quick shower. We've got a lot to learn today," she said.