Evan’s house was darker than Silas expected.
Not abandoned—just… restrained. The lights were dim. The furniture old but carefully kept, like no one wanted to disturb the way things used to be.
Elena was led to the couch, exhaustion written into every movement.
“You can take my room,” Evan said. “I’ll sleep out here.”
She shook her head weakly. “I’m fine here.”
While Evan fetched water, Silas wandered.
That’s when he heard it.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
An analog clock hung above the doorway, its wooden casing worn smooth. The second hand snapped into place with mechanical precision.
Silas checked his phone.
8:42.
The clock read 8:43.
One minute fast.
Tick.
He shrugged, thinking it was just an old clock. However, something was off, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.
Evan came back with the water and some snacks.
Silas hesitated, then glanced around.
“Your dad won’t mind?”
Evan froze for half a second.
Just half—but Silas caught it.
“My dad’s not around,” Evan said casually, too casually. “Hasn’t been for years.”
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Silas waited.
“He left?” Silas asked.
Evan shrugged. “That’s what people say.”
People.
Not me. Not I think.
Silas leaned against the wall. “And you believe that?”
Another shrug. This one was sharper.
“There wasn’t a body,” Evan said. “No note. No goodbye speech. Just—gone.” He forced a grin. “Guess he liked disappearing acts.”
Silas didn’t smile.
Evan continued, staring at the floor now. “Police said he was ‘highly intelligent’ and ‘unpredictable.’ Like that was supposed to make it make sense.”
Silas nodded, but his eyes drifted past Evan—to a shelf near the hallway.
Blueprints.
Rolled neatly, edges yellowed with age. Next to them sat a brass key, heavier than it needed to be, stamped faintly with a number.
13.
Silas’s breath caught.
“Your dad into… architecture?” Silas asked casually.
Evan followed his gaze. “Engineering,” he said. “Systems design. Locks, security stuff. He liked puzzles.”
Of course he did.
Silas looked away before Evan could see his expression.
Highly intelligent.
Unpredictable.
Tick.
Silas suddenly understood something he wasn’t ready to accept. However, he couldn't be sure.
"So who's taking care of you?" Silas threw out a question.
"Oh, my helper, Maria. She's out right now." Evan answered casually.
Silas nodded, not asking any more. When Evan left to the toilet, Silas looked at the key once more, and he tried his best to remember where he had seen this same number, 13. Same font, same size. Silas shook his head, ignoring the voices in his head.
However, right beside the key, was the blueprints. Silas rolled them out, and saw it. The room he was trapped in. Deep inside the library. It was all there. The chest, the passageway and the bookshelf riddles. Silas looked closer, and noticed a date. 15/8/1996. This project was 30 years ago.
"Silas, what are you doing?" Evan's voice sounded across the room.
"Looking through these. What's wrong?" Silas didn't look up.
Evan pushed Silas away and rolled up the blueprints carefully. "These things are the last things I have to remember my dad of, and now you're looking through them? What if you break them?"
"Do you really believe he's dead? Have you not questioned the lies they fed you even once?" Silas retorted.
"If he wasn't dead, he would come back. I know that." Evan snapped.
"Well, hate to break it to you, but he's not dead, and he is the one that has been trying to kill the both of us, for whatever sick reason he has." The words slipped out so fast Silas didn't have a chance to think.
Evan's eyes widened. He walked up to Silas. "You come into my house and accuse my dad of being a serial killer? Who's trying to kill his own son? Are you out of your mind? You know what? That's it. You can show yourself out."
Silas was speechless. He knew he was right. But he probably shouldn't have blurted it out like that.
Evan walked away and spoke without turning back. "She can stay."
