For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The air in the study felt heavier now—thick with a quiet dread neither boy could name. Palo tried to steady his breathing, but the room felt too small, too full of things they didn't understand.
Ash held the logbook tightly, his knuckles pale.
Palo whispered, "Ash… if he's after you, then why involve me? Why leave warnings where I can see them too?"
Ash looked down at the open pages—at the photos, the notes, the words his mother wrote when she was alive.
"He's not just following me," Ash said quietly. "He's watching everything around me."
"And I'm… around you," Palo said softly.
Ash hesitated.
"Yes."
Palo felt his stomach twist, not from fear of the creature, but from the realization that he was entangled in something that had started long before they ever met.
Suddenly, Ash flipped through the logbook more urgently.
"Something's missing," he murmured.
Palo stepped closer. "What do you mean?"
Ash turned to the back of the book—where pages were torn out.
Completely ripped. Jagged edges still clung to the spine.
Palo's breath caught. "Someone tore out the end?"
Ash nodded.
"There should've been pages after the photographs. My mother wouldn't stop her notes on a warning."
Palo swallowed. "Do you think the missing pages were taken by the boy who looks like you?"
Ash shook his head slowly.
"No. His intentions are… strange. But not destructive."
He looked at the torn edges again.
"These pages were removed by someone who wanted to hide information."
Palo's heartbeat picked up. "So the man who chased us?"
Ash's voice dropped.
"Maybe. Or someone else entirely."
---
The Clock Starts Ticking
A soft ticking sound echoed across the room.
Palo jumped. "What was that?"
Ash turned toward the desk.
There was an old analog clock sitting on the corner—one Palo hadn't noticed before. The second hand moved steadily, almost too loudly in the quiet room.
Ash frowned. "That… wasn't ticking a minute ago."
Palo stepped back. "You're sure?"
Ash nodded once.
He walked toward it.
But before he reached the desk, the clock made a faint click—
—then its faceplate slid open like a hidden compartment.
Palo's eyes widened. "Ash… I don't think that's a real clock."
Ash reached into the compartment and pulled something out.
A folded piece of paper.
Old, yellowing, and creased.
Palo whispered, "Is that one of the missing pages?"
Ash unfolded it carefully.
But what he found wasn't a full page torn from the logbook—it was smaller, more fragmented, like a secret message.
He read it silently.
Palo watched his expression shift from confusion… to horror.
"Ash… what does it say?"
Ash handed it to him with shaking fingers.
Palo read it.
"The original is unstable.
If the copy finds him first, the result will be irreversible."
Palo's stomach dropped.
"Ash… original? That's… you."
Ash didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Palo's voice cracked. "What does 'unstable' mean?"
Ash closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again—calm on the surface, but burning beneath.
"It means whatever they did to me when I was younger… it's not done."
---
Something Watches
Before Palo could ask anything else, a soft thud echoed from downstairs.
Then another.
Ash's head snapped toward the door.
Palo whispered, "Is that—"
"Someone's in the house," Ash said, voice tight. "Again."
The thudding shifted into slow, deliberate footsteps.
Ascending the stairs.
Palo felt his chest tighten. "Ash… is it him?"
Ash shook his head. "Too heavy."
The footsteps grew louder.
Palo grabbed Ash's arm. "We need to hide."
Ash scanned the study quickly.
"There," he whispered, pointing to a narrow crawlspace behind the bookshelf—just wide enough to squeeze into.
They ducked behind the shelf and slipped into the dark, cramped space. Ash pulled the shelf slightly forward, giving them a slit of a view into the room.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs.
Palo's pulse hammered.
A shadow stretched across the hallway.
Long.
Wide.
Not the boy-copy.
Not the man from the greenhouse.
Something else.
Palo whispered, barely breathing, "Ash… who is that?"
Ash's eyes narrowed.
"I don't know."
The shadow stopped right outside the study.
Then a voice—deep, unfamiliar, calm—spoke through the crack in the door:
"Subject Eleven?"
Ash tensed violently beside him.
The voice continued, closer now.
"I know you're in this room."
Palo covered his mouth to keep silent.
The doorknob turned.
The study door began to open—
Slow.
Quiet.
Intentional.
Ash grabbed Palo's hand—not romantically, just desperately—to keep him still.
The voice spoke again.
"You can't hide forever."
The door creaked fully open.
A tall silhouette stepped inside.
And then—
Something behind the figure moved.
Fast.
Gray.
Blurred.
Small.
The boy-copy.
Palo's eyes widened in horror.
He appeared behind the intruder silently, head tilted, like a reflection watching a stranger.
The tall figure paused, as if sensing it.
Then the copy raised one hand—
And everything went dark.
---