That afternoon, Mike sat slouched by the third-floor dormitory window, flipping through a worn notebook, brow furrowed as if wringing out an unfinished answer. Kuro leaned against the railing, squinting in the sunlight.
"Damn it.." Mike flipped another page, murmuring. "I left my calculator back at the apartment."
Kuro didn't even turn his head. "How many times this month is that now?"
Mike sighed. "Not my fault. Ezra borrowed it yesterday and didn't return it to the same spot."
"Lucky we only have one class this morning," Kuro replied lazily.
"I'm not walking all the way to the library either," he added, turning around. "How about this: I'll go grab it for you. In the meantime, you start filtering those materials."
Mike gave a grateful nod. "Thanks... You sure it's not a bother?"
"Nah," Kuro said, sounding indifferent though his eyes were sharp. "But if you see Cerin while you're at it, ask him to join us. We're planning to invite him in anyway."
Mike hesitated, then nodded. "Alright."
The route back to the apartment was the same as usual, only Kuro's mood was different. He pedaled slowly up the familiar slope, passing flickering electronic ads and faint murmurs of radio chatter from roadside cafés. The wind blew against him, carrying a metallic tang from the elevated data processing station nearby.
He thought about Mike's notebook, where strange symbols were often scribbled,probably buried under a pile of lab manuals. Kuro pressed his lips. A thought crossed his mind: If something was hidden in those diagrams... would Mike notice? Would Cerin?
Swish.
A grey electric bike zipped across the intersection, no horn, no slowdown. The impact wasn't hard, but enough to throw Kuro's wheel off track. He toppled, palm scraping the pavement, skin torn.
The bike vanished like it had never existed. Kuro lay there a moment. A child nearby started to approach, only to be pulled away by their mother. No one stopped.
Gritting his teeth, he stood and lifted his bike. His mood, already drifting, now fractured.
Mike's house was empty when Kuro arrived. He helped himself inside, rinsed the blood under cold water in the bathroom, dried off, and wrapped the scrape with bandages from the medicine cabinet.
While taping it up, a detail from the accident returned, Kuro had noticed everything. The boy. The mother. The timing. Despite the shock, he had remained aware.
Maybe there was something to that day in the hollow after all.
He flexed his leg, checking for bruises, then stepped outside to the back garden.
Sitting on the steps, he closed his eyes and focused on his breath. Something faint pulsed near his skin, not wind, not warmth. A subtle current, sweeping across the edges of space.
Kuro opened his eyes slowly. "This is... strange."
He sat still, then pulled out his phone and texted Mike:
"We might need to review the notes and photos again. Last time... felt real."
Mike replied with a single word: "Coming."
Kuro stared at the screen for a second, tucked it in his bag, shut the gate behind him, and rode.
Mike spent fifteen minutes loitering in front of the main campus building. He wasn't sure how to ask, he needed Cerin's library card to access the restricted archives.
He spotted Cerin seated alone near the enrgy map projector on the ground floor and walked over.
"Hey... do you have your library pass on you?" Mike asked, quieter than usual.
Cerin looked at him, then reached into his pocket. But before handing it over, he asked:
"Planning to go alone?"
Mike paused, unsure how to respond.
Cerin stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Let's go together. Could use the break."
Mike was mildly surprised but didn't object. They walked side by side, afternoon light streaking through the glass, forming quiet bands across the old tiled floor.
"Why'd you want to come along?" Mike asked, half curious, half wary.
Cerin shrugged, eyes forward. "Not busy. Might as well keep you company."
Mike lowered his gaze, exhaling. Relieved, but unused to the company.
"Yeah... works for me."
In the lower levels of the library, they stood before dusty shelves near a small iron door almost no one used. Cerin crouched and pulled out yellowed leather-bound files.
"These... aren't even part of the catalog. No codes. No classification. No records."
Mike nodded. "The forgotten stuff's sometimes where the gold is."
Cerin looked up. "Where did you two disappear to the other day?"
Mike jerked his head back. "What? How,?"
Cerin raised a brow. "A friend saw you both dressed like you escaped a quarantine zone. Said it looked like a sci-fi movie."
Mike laughed awkwardly. Cerin didn't press. Instead, he flipped through a thin notebook, most pages were damaged.
"What are you two thinking of doing after graduation?" Cerin asked.
Mike blinked, then shrugged. "Electrical engineering, probably. Kuro... not sure. He's a bit of a drifter."
Mike hesitated, then added, "We're thinking of going back."
Cerin raised a brow.
Mike told him, briefly, about the carvings, the disorientation, and the sudden blackout. Cerin listened, occasionally nodding, not questioning,just absorbing.
"Sounds crazier than science fiction," Cerin muttered.
"Do you believe it?" Mike asked.
"Not completely," Cerin said. "But I believe you're not making it up."
They opened more drawers. Among the debris, Mike found a folded silk-paper map. Hand-drawn. Faint outlines.
"Wait, this symbol..." Mike pointed, comparing it to their old scans. "Matches the ones from the hollow. I'll check it tonight."
Cerin didn't reply, eyes scanning deeper into the cabinet.
He pulled out another old map, torn diagonally. A wartime layout of Noctis's underground zones, marked with sealed shelters and interrupted energy circuits. At the bottom: a yellowed notebook, scribbled and frayed.
"These glyphs... never seen these before," Cerin murmured.
Mike pocketed them carefully. "We need to start connecting all these dots."
As they left the archive, Mike paused.
"Hey... we're gathering at Kuro's place tonight to review everything. You in?"
Cerin turned briefly. "Yeah."
"Really?"
"You still need to ask?"
Mike chuckled.
By six, they arrived at Kuro's small, tin-roofed apartment. The walls were chipped, but the light was warm.
Kuro opened the door, leaning on the frame. "You two are early."
"Fulfilling an invitation," Mike grinned.
"That car crash real, or bait?" Cerin teased.
"Half and half," Kuro smiled. "But I figured we should double-check those sensations... before they fade."
The place buzzed with energy.
Mike laid out the map from earlier. "The symbols here, identical to our hollow scans. Not just the position. Even the repeating patterns match."
He showed thermal photos and seismic graphs. Cerin leaned in.
"You think this shape's organic? A creature? A... person?"
Kuro exhaled. "Cerin, compare the wave charts to the thermal images. If it's alive, or was, there should be a trace in the energy variance."
They analyzed. Kuro sat back.
"This afternoon, after that car hit me... I felt something. Like a current. On my skin. Not wind, not heat. A kind of... reaction."
Mike looked over. "What do you mean?"
Cerin asked, quietly, "That energy, describe it."
Kuro hesitated, then spoke.
Silence followed.
Then Mike: "Maybe... we return. Not to poke around. To truly investigate."
Cerin nodded. "I agree."
Kuro added, "We'll need protection this time. We still don't know what happened last time."
A pause.
Then all three nodded, in sync, as if the decision had already been made. Just waiting to be spoken.