Mike stared at his ceiling for a long time after the call ended.
And then—
Thump.
A slow, heavy footstep in the hallway.
Mike sat up instantly, silent as a ghost.
His aura cooled into something sharp and calculating.
Another footstep.
Slow. Dragging.
One person. Weight leaning on the left side. Tall.
His brain automatically analyzed it.
He listened.
The footsteps passed by his door…
and then—
Stopped.
Right in front of his room.
Mike didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
Whoever was outside… just stood there.
Fifteen seconds passed.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then—
Tap. Tap.
Two soft taps on his door.
Not knocking.
Testing.
As if someone wanted to confirm he was awake.
Mike's heartbeat didn't change.
He remained perfectly still.
After a full minute, the footsteps moved on…
Slowly…
Then the sound faded down the hallway.
Mike finally whispered:
"…That wasn't a teenager."
THE NEXT MORNING
Bright sunlight.
Warm breeze.
Waves crashing in the distance.
The island was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
The rest of their friends were already downstairs in the mansion lobby, excitedly talking over each other.
"Let's go snorkeling!"
"No! The forest looked cool yesterday!"
"Guys! Let's explore the cave on the hill!"
"I'm gonna film EVERYTHING for my channel!"
Mike and Sara walked down at the same time.
Both looked like they hadn't slept.
Justin spotted them immediately.
"Hey!! There you two are! Seriously, why do you guys look dead?"
Sara opened her mouth to answer but Mike cut in instantly:
"Didn't sleep well."
"Oh man SAME!" one of the boys laughed. "I kept hearing weird sounds in the hallway at night. Probably the butler doing rounds."
Mike and Sara exchanged a quick glance.
"No," Mike said under his breath.
"Definitely not the butler," Sara whispered.
But they didn't elaborate.
They couldn't.
If their friends knew, they'd freak out, panic, scatter…
And probably die.
BREAKFAST
The group ate loudly and chaotically.
Like nothing at all was wrong.
Mike quietly scanned the room.
The staff today… looked different from yesterday.
Different people working the tables.
Different people cleaning.
Different people watching them.
Sara noticed it too.
She whispered without looking at him:
"…Didn't Ash say they switch staff yearly?"
"Yeah," Mike whispered back.
"This isn't yearly."
"…What do you think it is?"
"Rotation," Mike said, eyes narrowing.
"Someone wants the staff to stay strangers to the guests."
Sara's spoon paused halfway to her mouth.
"…So no one grows familiar with us. No one forms attachments. No one can answer questions."
Mike nodded.
"That's exactly the point."