"Five people were found dead last night. No traces, no wounds, no signs of struggle. From the investigation, authorities confirmed a local worker witnessed something... strange. He described it as a shadow-like organism, but he's currently hospitalized and in shock—repeating the same phrase: 'Protect them… protect them!'"
The voice of the news anchor echoed through the living room. Rain pelted the windows, and the curtains danced violently in the strong wind.
"Bah, what nonsense!" Grandpa muttered, glancing at the door and then at the flickering window. "They think this is some comic book world. People these days…"
He sighed, stepping forward to shut the window. "He's late today. Must be the rain… I hope he found some shelter."
Just as he reached for the door, it flung open with a creak.
"Hah! You scared me!—Wait… what the hell is that in your hands?" Grandpa nearly stumbled back.
"Ahaha, sorry!" Xavier laughed, stepping inside, drenched. "Oh, this? It's an old box I found up in the mountains. I went hiking there with my seniors today. It was... pretty cool."
As he kicked off his shoes, he shook water from his hair like a dog, then started retelling his little adventure.
"I thought you said you didn't have friends at school?" Grandpa raised an eyebrow, but he couldn't hide the smile growing on his face. "I'm glad you had fun. See? Making friends isn't that hard. Now go change your clothes—dinner's ready."
Yeah… making friends isn't the hard part. Trusting them is.
Xavier didn't say that out loud. If Grandpa knew he'd gone up there alone just to find something… different, he'd be furious.
He quietly went upstairs to change. Standing in front of the mirror, he admired his reflection. "No wonder girls go crazy over me," he smirked. His skin gleamed under the light like polished crystal.
Then he froze.
His eyes… just for a moment… glowed faintly.
"What the hell…?" He blinked. "I must be more tired than I thought. Seeing things in the middle of the night now…"
"XAVIER! Dinner's ready!" Grandpa called out.
"Coming!"
Downstairs, his grandpa greeted him with a warm hug.
"Happy birthday, Xavier."
"As usual, you remembered," he smiled.
"Come on, let's eat. I made your favorite—mushrooms."
"Oh! Speaking of that…" Xavier said with a mouthful, "That museum I'm going to tomorrow? It's in Italy."
Grandpa nearly dropped his spoon. "What?! Why are you going? Who are you going with? Where are the tickets? When did this happen?!"
Xavier groaned, "Here comes the questionnaire. Relax! No one's gonna murder me. The crime scene they're talking about is miles away. And I'm going with my school juniors. I'm their guide—punishment duty, actually, 'cause I broke a window last week."
Grandpa narrowed his eyes, then sighed.
"And lately…" Xavier added quietly, "I don't know what's happening to me. Everything I touch—if I press even a little—it breaks. Is that… normal?"
"It's called being clumsy," Grandpa deadpanned. "But fine. If you're going with others, I'll allow it. Just be careful. And come back in two days—no more."
"YES!" Xavier jumped up and hugged him. "I'll bring back tons of souvenirs! Maybe even a painting of you, grandpa!"
"Just go to bed now," he chuckled, "or you will miss that flight."
"Oh! Don't worry about money, by the way. School's paying!"