The Room That Wasn't His

The sound of footsteps tapped softly against the wooden floor as the three of them ascended the staircase.

Lucius said nothing.

He walked silently down the second-floor corridor, then stopped in front of one particular door.

His hand gently touched the knob.

"This was his room…" he murmured, then slowly turned the handle and opened the door.

Inside, silence reigned.

Ethan and Billy stepped in cautiously, their eyes scanning the space with curiosity.

It was too clean.Too orderly.

So pristine… it felt less like a teenager's bedroom and more like a furniture showroom.

Ethan walked over to the desk.

He ran a finger across the surface—not even a trace of dust.

"You sure he actually lived here?" he asked, glancing back at Lucius.

Lucius stood still in the doorway.He didn't respond.

Ethan opened the desk drawers.They were empty.

Except for a single slip of paper.

We are not what we are.

Ethan frowned and picked it up, turning to ask,

"Is this his handwriting?"

Lucius looked at the note, then shook his head faintly.

"I don't know…"

Billy wandered toward the wardrobe and opened it—then froze.

Inside hung only clothes in shades of gray, black, and white, arranged like lifeless mannequins in a boutique.

No scent of cologne.No trace of sweat.No sign of human presence.

"Did he always dress like this?" Billy asked softly.

"He dressed formally… always," Lucius replied.

Ethan moved to the bed.

It was perfectly made.So tightly tucked it looked either just made—or never used at all.

He inhaled quietly and spoke under his breath.

"Every inch of this room is too clean, too polished… as if the boy never even existed."

Lucius remained silent.

Billy turned to him with another question.

"Did he have any toys when he was little?"

"…I don't remember," Lucius answered instantly.

Ethan stepped toward a mirror covered in black cloth.

"This cloth—did he cover it himself?"

Lucius fell silent for a long time.

Then answered quietly,

"…He didn't like mirrors."

"Why?" Billy asked.

Lucius didn't reply.

He simply turned his back… and walked out, leaving them behind in the stillness.

Ethan stood motionless in the middle of the room.

He slowly pulled a ziplock bag from his coat pocket and slipped the note inside.

But deep down, he already knew—He was leaving empty-handed.

No evidence.No clues.No answers.

Only… more questions.

This room was too sterile for any real teenager to live in.Maybe the parents had ordered it cleaned—but even then, it didn't feel lived in.

Ethan turned to Billy and said,

"We're done here. Let's go."

As Ethan opened the door to leave, Billy followed quietly, his eyes still scanning the room one last time.

Suddenly—clink!

A soft sound beneath Billy's foot.

He stopped, looked down.

Something was rolling across the floor.

Billy frowned and crouched, trying to get a better look.

"Wait—hold on," the boy said.

Ethan stopped and turned.

Billy slowly reached down and picked up the object:a small amber glass vial, with a faded label on the front.

He turned it over in his hand, reading softly,

"…Dysmoril?"

Ethan stepped closer, hand outstretched.

"Let me see that."

Billy handed it over carefully.

Ethan took it, pulled out his reading glasses, and examined the label.

It was faded, but still legible:

Name: Dysmoril

Type:Selective Endocrine Response Modulator (S.E.R.M.)

Instructions:– Take after breakfast– Do not exceed 1ml per day– Do not combine with hormones or steroids

Warning:– May cause unexpected psychological or emotional reactions– For use only under supervision of research staff

Produced by:Calloway Therapeutics – Division of Private Biomedical Research

Ethan's brow tightened.

"…I've never seen this drug before," he said, voice shifting.

"It doesn't seem like something from your average pharmacy," Billy whispered.

Ethan muttered under his breath.

"Calloway Therapeutics…? What kind of company is that?"

He fell into a brief silence, thinking.

Then spoke slowly.

"We have two options."

"One—confront Lucius directly.Ask him about the drug. See what he says."

"Or two—take this to someone who knows what it is.A pharmacist, or a lab technician."

Billy swallowed hard.

"Which one do you want to go with?"

Ethan didn't answer right away.

"…I'm not sure he'd tell the truth."

"Better to get this checked out somewhere we can trust."

He turned to Billy, gaze sharp.

"Silas… Don't mention this to anyone. Not until we know what we're dealing with. Got it?"

Billy nodded quickly.

Ethan slipped the vial into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

He was no longer leaving this house empty-handed.

He now had something else to take with him—

A new question.

Ethan turned toward the door, hand brushing the pocket where the vial now rested.

He opened the door and stepped out.Billy followed close behind.

But just a few steps down the hall—

Footsteps.

Light. Deliberate.

Lucius J. Calloway appeared silently from the stairwell.

He stood there, half-shrouded in the hallway's shadow.

His eyes were calm. Cold. But a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I do hope… you didn't find too much in his room," he said softly.

His tone slow, smooth—but laced with something… slippery.

Ethan paused.He kept his expression unreadable.

"A shame, really," he replied.

"There was nothing in there that helped me at all."

Lucius gave a small nod, but his eyes drifted—down to Ethan's suit pocket.

The very one holding the vial.

Then he spoke, voice dreamy.

"Teenagers always have their little secrets…"

"Things even you wouldn't expect them to need."

His gaze lingered on Billy.

Stared at him for several seconds too long.

"Sometimes… secrets are meant to be kept, aren't they?""They're not for adults to uncover."

Ethan's expression darkened, growing tense.

"…Don't you want to know what your son was hiding?"

Lucius gave a soft, dry laugh.

A thin smile on his face.

"Some things… aren't meant to be known, Mr. Freeman."

"They're meant to be… forgotten."

And with that, he turned and walked away—as though nothing had happened.

Billy turned to Ethan, eyes filled with unspoken questions.

"…He knows, doesn't he?"

Ethan didn't answer right away.He gave a small nod, then whispered:

"And he definitely doesn't want us to know more than we already do…"

He pressed his hand against the pocket where the vial rested—just a little tighter.

Then followed Lucius down the stairs, Billy walking beside him.

But in Ethan's mind,only one word was repeating, over and over—

Dysmoril.