After lunch, Alvano's mood had slightly improved. Though worry over Theo's condition still lingered, at least the gloom on his face had begun to ease. Joshua noticed the small change, but he knew Theo's absence was still weighing heavily on his friend's mind.
When the school bell rang, Alvano moved fast. He packed his books quickly, shoving them into his bag without much thought. He didn't want to waste any time. Only one thing filled his mind—seeing Theo and making sure he was okay.
Joshua, still sitting at his desk, asked, "You heading straight home?"
Alvano nodded slightly. "I'm going to Theo's. Want to see how he's doing."
Joshua was about to offer to come along, but before he could speak, Alvano was already striding toward the door, his steps brisk and firm.
"I'll catch up later if I can," Joshua murmured with a sigh.
Alvano took the elevator down, exited the main building, and walked past the crowd of students heading home. The sky was still overcast, the breeze cold and damp against his skin. He pulled Theo's jacket—still in his arms—closer around him and quickened his pace toward the bus stop.
Even after all these years since middle school, Alvano still remembered exactly where Theo lived. That memory guided his steps steadily forward, driven by the restless urge to see his friend again.
Once seated on the bus, Alvano pulled out his phone, snapped a photo of the bus interior, and sent it to Theo with a short message: "I'm on my way to your place."
But the message stayed on "sent." Not read. No reply.
That made his chest tighten. He leaned back, shut his eyes for a moment, and silently wished Theo would read it before he arrived.
Still, the unease wouldn't fade. His leg kept bouncing, tapping the bus floor nonstop. A few passengers glanced at him, noticing his nervousness, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was making sure Theo was safe.
The bus ride took about twenty-five minutes. When it finally stopped near Theo's neighborhood, Alvano jumped off immediately. The rain had stopped, but the clouds hung low and gray. A chilly wind swept past, deepening the heavy feeling in his chest.
He started jogging down the familiar streets. It had been years since he last came here—back in middle school—but the route was still clear in his memory.
The walk from the bus stop to Theo's house took around fifteen minutes. Along the way, he passed rows of modest homes, their paint faded and walls damp from rain. This wasn't an upscale neighborhood like where their schoolmates lived—but to Alvano, this place felt more real, full of quiet struggle and simplicity.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. At the end of the street stood a small blue house with rusted iron gates. He recognized it immediately. Theo's house.
Without hesitation, he stepped closer, glancing at the curtained windows, hoping to catch some sign of life inside. But the place was silent. Still. His heartbeat started to quicken.
The house was smaller than his own, the paint peeling, the walls dulled by time and rain. In the narrow garage, Theo's motorcycle stood parked—still wet from the drizzle earlier. The sight eased him a little. At least Theo was home.
He pressed the doorbell. The faint chime echoed inside the quiet house. No answer.
"Theo?" he called, knocking softly.
Nothing. The silence pressed heavier. He looked around to make sure he wasn't bothering anyone, then slowly unlatched the small gate and stepped in, closing it carefully behind him.
Standing at the front door again, he knocked harder this time. "Theo, it's Alvano. I came to return your jacket."
Still no response.
Worry crept higher. He reached for the doorknob and turned it. It wasn't locked. The door creaked open.
Alvano froze at the threshold. His breath caught.
A pool of blood spread across the floor—fresh, dark, glistening.
He stood there, paralyzed. His heart pounded violently, his limbs going weak.
"W-Why… is there blood?" he whispered.
He looked down and saw the trail leading deeper into the hallway. Slowly, he followed, careful with each step, as if the floor might collapse beneath him. His hand clutched Theo's jacket tightly, his other hand trembling.
"Theo… where are you?" His voice was shaky, barely audible.
No answer. Only the faint trickle of running water from the bathroom.
Alvano's pulse thundered in his ears as he approached the door. Then, he heard something else—
a faint humming, a low, eerie tune coming from inside.
It wasn't Theo's voice.
It echoed strangely, distant yet near, like someone humming from another place—an unearthly song that didn't sound human.
Alvano's body stiffened, trembling. Slowly, his hand reached for the doorknob.
Just as he was about to turn it—
—the handle moved from the other side. Pulled.
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Instinctively, his body shifted into a defensive stance. He remembered Theo's words during training yesterday:
"Keep your stance firm. When you punch, clench your fist tight. And don't forget—wear your scariest face. It'll make your opponent hesitate."
He planted his left foot back, clenched his right fist, forcing a fierce look despite the tremor in his jaw.
The door creaked open.
Without thinking, Alvano swung his fist.
"Ugh!!"
A voice groaned in pain.