[April 15th, 2024]
"So, this is the place you were talking about?" James muttered, pointing at the modest apartment block. "Hard to believe this is really his home."
Rey nodded, his expression calm. "Yes. If there's any trace of him left, it'll be here."
They pushed through the front gate, the air faintly smelling of dust and rusted metal. A stooped old man shuffled past, and Rey stopped him politely.
"Excuse me, sir. Could you tell us where the landlord lives?"
The man squinted at them before answering in a weary voice. "Apartment 107. Down the hall, ground floor."
"Thank you for your help." Rey bowed slightly, then continued toward the room with James.
James shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, what exactly are we doing here again?"
"I told you—we're here to find a clue," Rey replied. He already knew Evan's secret, but James didn't. Still, he hoped to uncover something tangible to ease their doubts.
James snorted. "You're acting like some detective from TV. Next thing I know, you'll be wearing a trench coat."
In Rey's mind, Aiden chuckled at the joke.
"Both of you, shut it," Rey muttered under his breath.
James blinked. "Both? Dude, there's only me here. You losing it?"
Rey quickly forced a laugh. "Slip of the tongue. Forget it."
They soon reached Apartment 107. James rapped on the door.
"Coming," a woman's voice called from inside.
The door opened to reveal a woman in her fifties, with tired eyes and a wary look. She wore a simple house dress, her grey-streaked hair tied loosely back.
"Yes? What do you want?" she asked sharply.
James stepped forward. "We're here to ask about Evan Windstone. He lives here, right?"
The woman's expression softened just slightly. "Ah, Evan… Come in. It's better to talk inside."
They followed her into a modest living room with worn-out furniture. A faint smell of herbs lingered in the air.
"Please, sit. I'll make some tea—"
"No need, ma'am," Rey interrupted gently. "We only came to ask a few questions. We won't trouble you."
She paused, then lowered herself into the chair across from them, suspicion still flickering in her gaze. "So… who are you boys? Why are you looking for Evan?"
Her tone carried an edge, as if she expected them to say something cruel. A baseball bat leaned beside her chair—one she clearly wasn't afraid to use.
Rey kept his tone steady. "We're Evan's friends. He hasn't been to school in days, and we were worried."
At that, her guarded expression cracked, replaced by a faint smile of relief. She pushed the bat aside.
"Friends? I thought you were bullies. Forgive me for the suspicion."
Both Rey and James swallowed, imagining how close they'd come to being on the receiving end of that bat.
"My name is Rossy," she said warmly. "I am Evan's mother… and his caretaker."
James leaned forward. "Then… do you know where he is right now?"
Her face clouded with sorrow. "He left a few days ago. Said his parents came for him. He's gone abroad."
James's eyes widened. "What? That doesn't make sense! Evan would never leave without telling us!" His voice rose in disbelief.
"James." Rey's hand landed on his shoulder, steadying him. "Let her finish."
Rossy nodded gratefully. Her eyes glistened with tears. "He explained what he could… but yesterday, he left with them. I don't know when he'll return."
James clenched his fists. Rey lowered his gaze, troubled.
'Parents? But Evan never—no… this is a lie. Why is she saying this? Is she also unknown from the truth, but it's obvious that he didn't tell anybody.'
Rossy dabbed her eyes. "Before leaving, he wrote a letter for you both."
But before she could stand, the door swung open. The old man from earlier, who met them first, barged in. His eyes locked on Rossy's tears, then on the two boys sitting in his living room.
"What are you doing to my wife?!" he barked, rushing to her side.
"We didn't—" James began, but the man's glare silenced him.
"Out! Get out before I call the police!"
"Wait," Rossy raised her voice, stopping them as Rey pulled James back. "Honey, they didn't do anything. These boys are Evan's friends. I was just about to give them his letter."
The man froze, anger giving way to weary grief. His eyes were bloodshot, but he hid it behind a scowl.
"Then give it to them," he muttered. His voice cracked as he turned away. "That boy left without even saying goodbye to me… why should we shed tears for him?"
He grabbed an envelope from the table and tossed it across the room. "Here. Take it, and don't come back."
The letter landed at Rey's feet. He picked it up carefully, brushing the imaginary dust from its surface.
Rossy gave them a sorrowful look. "Please don't mind him. Jason is hurting more than he'll admit."
Rey gave her a small bow. "We understand. Thank you."
With that, they left the apartment, stepping out into the cool evening air. The weight of the letter pressed against Rey's palm.
Elsewhere, Jonny and his crew entered a shady building on the far side of town. Guards in black jackets stood before a steel door, their arms folded.
"I'm here to see your boss," Jonny said, smirking.
The guard eyed him, then slipped inside. Moments later, he returned and nodded. "Only you. The others wait."
Jonny clicked his tongue but obeyed. He stepped into the dimly lit room.
A man lounged on a sofa like a king, flanked by two glamorous women with glasses of wine in hand. His slicked-back hair and lazy grin screamed trouble.
"Ah, my old customer," the man said. His voice dripped with false cheer. "Come, sit. Did you like my last job?"
Jonny sat, accepting a glass from one of the women. "Yes. That's why I'm here again. I want another job done."
"Good, good." The man—Vito—snapped his fingers. "Give my boy outside the details. Payment is upfront, as usual."
Jonny smirked. "Twenty thousand Dragon Points once it's done."
"Excellent." Vito leaned back. "Stay, drink with me."
"Another time. Tonight's my last day at school. I've got partying to do."
He stood and left.
As the door closed, Vito's smile vanished. His eyes turned cold, sharp as blades.
"Rich brats," he muttered. "They think they're clever. To me, they're just pigs waiting to be carved up."
He leaned into the women beside him, his laughter low and dangerous.
Jonny, oblivious, walked away with a grin, convinced his enemy would soon be crushed.
-To be continued-