After a few quiet minutes of walking, William finally turned onto a familiar street.
The worn sign above the corner post greeted him: 'Kalan Street.'
His pace slowed slightly. This was home.
Unlike the polished stone districts closer to the Academy, Kalan Street bore no illusions of wealth. It was modest— lined with narrow, closely packed two-story houses. Here, the scent of hearth-smoke mixed with the distant salt of sea breeze. Windows flickered faintly with gaslight, casting shadows through thin curtains. Laughter echoed faintly from one home, and the quiet hush of a radio hummed from another.
This was where people lived— not with luxury, but with rhythm.
The houses stood shoulder to shoulder like tired friends supporting each other, each built from weathered wood and patched tiles, with some having paint that peeled under the hands of time. William passed by them, one by one, until he stopped in front of the third house from the end— a familiar sight.
His own.
He climbed the short steps to the front door and reached into his bag for the key.
But something was off.
The door— slightly ajar— creaked softly with the wind. Just beside it, the mirror they'd nailed to the frame years ago reflected a faint, warm glow from inside.
His brows furrowed.
Is Wyne home already?
Before he could turn the key or even knock, the door swung open.
Standing there, hand on the knob, was a woman with long jet-black hair that spilled past her shoulders. She wore a simple grey shirt and loose dark pants, her expression blank but tired— exactly how William remembered her after duty.
"Why are you acting surprised?" she said flatly, stepping aside. "Let's eat."
William blinked, then smirked faintly.
"It's a miracle you're early today, Wyne."
She rolled her eyes with the grace only an older sister could perfect.
"We were given a hard task yesterday. My commanding officer gave us a short break—said to go home before we drop dead."
Wyne served in Lilac City's police force— not high-ranking, not decorated, but dutiful. Most nights, she returned home well past midnight, the scent of city dust clinging to her uniform. Night shifts, street patrols, checkpoint assignments— she handled all of them.
So seeing her home this early... was unusual.
"I guess we can eat together, then," William said, his smile softening.
They stepped inside, letting the door close behind them with a wooden thud.
The interior of their house was cramped but warm. The walls were of old cedarwood, sealed over the years but never fully silencing the creaks. The first floor was laid out openly—living room to the left, where two worn-out sofas formed an L-shape around the small fireplace, and an arched entry on the right leading to a combined kitchen and dining area. Between those, a narrow staircase climbed upward, vanishing into the dimness of the second floor, where only two rooms waited—one for William, the other for Wyne.
It wasn't a grand house, but it was theirs.
With the flickering gaslight illuminating the spaces between their footsteps, the two siblings moved without ceremony toward the dining area. The table was already set— plain plates, a half-warmed stew simmering in the corner, and a pot of rice still steaming.
William, still dressed in the same clothes from the academy, didn't bother changing.
He sat beside his sister in the quiet calm of home. At least for now.
...
In the Lilac Academy of Technology, a dark-haired young man quietly stepped into a certain room— the laboratory belonging to Mr. Ralph Hilton.
He paused at the threshold, scanning the dim space with an exhausted gaze. A sigh escaped him. He had been searching for clues for nearly an hour. Thankfully, the lab was located on the first floor; had it been anywhere higher, he would've been forced to scour room after room, floor by floor. The worst case scenario would've been finding it on the farthest room of the farthest floor— a thought that made his shoulders ache just imagining it.
"This… he attempted?" he muttered under his breath.
His eyes had locked onto something carved—no, burned— into the floor: a strange seal composed of twelve eyes, each connected in a circular pattern like the face of a clock.
But that wasn't even the most shocking thing.
What truly stunned him came after he rummaged through the room: ten metal buckets scattered across corners and cupboards, some freshly stained with the dark residue of dried blood.
It took him several seconds to still his racing thoughts, forcing the image out of his mind.
He returned to his purpose— finding the book that matched the strange page he had taken earlier. A game of hide and seek with half-open drawers and dusty cabinets began, but after minutes of searching, nothing in the lab matched the origin or contents of that torn page.
Exhausted, he collapsed onto the old sofa in the corner, burying his face in his hands.
After that seal was found, I thought everything else would come easily...
Only one thing had been confirmed in his search: the name of this lab's owner— Mr. Ralph Hilton. Beyond that, nothing. No journals. No addresses. No diary tucked between shelves. The only items Ralph kept close were the cryptic novel-like book and the journal he'd had in his hands before.
No breadcrumbs left behind.
With no leads and the hour growing late, the young man realized the obvious: he'd have to wait until tomorrow to confront Mr. Ralph himself.
But then, a more pressing issue surfaced in his mind.
"Where do I stay until then…?"
There were far too many hours left before morning. He needed rest— and leaving the academy grounds only to sneak back in tomorrow would be a reckless risk. It was already bold enough that he'd entered this deep illegally.
He looked around again, and then down at where he sat.
The sofa beneath him wasn't the softest, but it was steady. Familiar, even. As he lay back into it, his decision was quietly made. He would remain here for the night.
And in that moment— arms crossed and eyes staring at the ceiling— he almost looked like the room's rightful owner.
The night passed without event.
...
In a modest home on Kalan Street, William stirred from sleep. His room wasn't spacious—just enough for a single bed and a cabinet tucked into the corner. The walls bore faint marks of age, but it was his own space, and that was enough.
It was still early morning when he sat up. As a student, waking up early had become second nature, especially on days when class began early. He stepped out of his room, feet light against the creaky wooden stairs, and made his way to the first floor.
A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed the time— it was six o'clock.
He sighed in relief. His first class wouldn't begin until eight. That meant he had plenty of time to prepare without having to rush. As he moved toward the kitchen, he noticed a familiar sight waiting for him: a plate of breakfast already prepared on the table, neatly covered by a plastic dome.
Before he could wonder who had prepared it, a voice came from behind.
"I forgot to tell you yesterday, but I was tasked to go in early today for a special investigation."
William turned to see his older sister, Wyne, descending the stairs. She was already dressed in a sharp blue collared shirt and fitted trousers, her ID card clipped at her chest. Organized and composed as always.
"Don't worry," she added quickly, catching the flicker of concern on his face. "They said it's nothing dangerous— more of a social inquiry than anything else."
With practiced ease, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her leather wallet. She slipped out a red bill and handed it to William.
His daily allowance.
"Thanks," he said, accepting it with a small nod.
Wyne gave him a light smile before stepping out, heading toward her job without another word. William watched her go, the door clicking shut behind her.
After a moment, he looked down at the bill in his hand.
Red?
Yesterday, he'd been handed an orange bill. A red one was significantly more— worth three oranges. By comparison, an orange was valued at twenty bronze circular coins. Above red were purple bills, twice their value. At the top were the green bills— each one equal to five purples.
The design of the currency was unified in shape, but varied in color and figure. Bronze coins and orange bills bore a single figure—an early ruler of the continent. Reds and purples had two individuals from different reigns, while the rare green bills featured three: the three great rulers who had shaped the continent across generations. The current emperor's youthful face adorned the most recent green prints, his noble bearing unmistakable.
"Maybe… she got a raise?" William muttered, brow furrowed.
It wasn't common for him to receive red bills. Orange was usually the limit.
"Or maybe," he thought, "she expects this to cover today and tomorrow."
Either way, it didn't matter much. He resolved to be cautious. Save, just in case.
He tucked the bill in a visible, safe spot, then made his way to the restroom. For William, bathing always came before breakfast. The splash of cold water helped him shake off the lingering heaviness of sleep.
Once he was clean and dry, he pulled on a plain white shirt and dark trousers— the typical school uniform in his department. After dressing, he packed his bag with what he needed for the day: the red bill, a few notebooks, and the small gears and tools he frequently used in class.
Today was no ordinary day. His professor— Mr. Ralph—had promised something new. A special innovation that would require William's help.
Just as the clock hit 7:40, William stepped out of the house, bag slung over his shoulder and face carrying that rare optimism only reserved for people who actually remembered to brush their teeth and eat breakfast. Traveling from Kalan Street to the academy took roughly fifteen minutes on foot— depending on how much he got distracted by shiny things or cats along the way. Luckily for him, the school was only a few blocks away, separated only by Jundan Street.
Today, he walked without incident. No friendly neighbors to wave at, no unexpected detours, not even the occasional lost flyer being shoved into his hand. Just a straight walk. Peaceful. Boring.
He could've taken a carriage, of course. Many students did. But William prided himself on two things: being financially responsible (translation: cheap) and getting some cardio in. "Financial conservation and physical exercise," he often told himself with a straight face— as if he were training to become a monk or a survivalist.
Reaching the academy gate, he was once again greeted by the marbled grandeur of the school's name carved into stone and the ever-vigilant steel gate. The guard gave a lazy nod as William presented his ID card, its corners slightly frayed but still clinging on to dignity.
Today, he decided to skip the lab for now. Patience was a virtue— he'd save the best for last. Instead, he made his way to class, noting with a dramatic internal sigh that the lecture hall was on the fifth floor. Of course it was.
As he trudged up the stairs, he silently cursed gravity and whoever invented floors.
Once inside, he spotted the familiar duo— Leo and Elise— and beelined toward them.
"Just in time. Good morning, William," Elise said with a composed nod.
Leo gave a sleepy wave. "Two hours of arts. Why are we even doing this again?" he grumbled, forgetting he wasn't thinking inside his head.
Despite the academy's reputation as a hub for technological education, subjects like arts, theater, and music were included in the curriculum. Even history had its place. The founders believed a student shouldn't just know how to build machines— but also understand the world they were building them for.
The rest of the school day rolled on predictably. Two hours of arts, then another two dedicated to the theoretical foundations of technology. After a brief lunch break, the class dove into practical applications for three more hours. It was a full schedule, but William was laser-focused— for one reason only.
Today was the day.
Mr. Ralph had promised something exciting. An experiment. A new innovation. And William, despite trying to look cool and collected, could barely sit still by the end of the last class.
As soon as the lecture ended, he waved a quick goodbye to Elise and Leo and bolted toward the laboratory.
He found the door unlocked— encouraging. That meant Mr. Ralph was probably already inside.
He grinned, adjusted his collar, and swung the door open with the confidence of a man about to co-pilot history.
And stopped.
Inside, sprawled across the sofa like he paid rent, was a stranger.
The guy had dark, medium-length hair, a dark shirt layered under blue blazers, and the audacity to sleep like a baby— with his arms behind his head and one leg lazily dangling off the side like he owned the place.
William blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then tilted his head slightly to the side, as if that would somehow change what he was seeing.
"...Did I just walk into a parallel universe where I'm the intruder?" he muttered under his breath.
He took a slow step inside, eyes narrowed. "Okay, either Mr. Ralph finally got a roommate… or this man just broke into a lab, stole the couch, and passed out mid-villain monologue."
He considered poking him.
Or maybe throwing a pencil.
Or maybe just leaving and pretending this didn't happen.
But then curiosity itched louder than caution.
Who was this guy?
And why did he look so weirdly at home in a place William practically considered a second shrine?
Whatever the reason, William knew one thing: this day just got a lot more complicated.