Mick sat on the chair at the desk, hands visibly shaking, trying to regain some control over his nerves. Luke sat on the bed, staring intently at him.

He was exactly as Luke remembered—cute, awkward... no, not cute, Luke shook his head, 'what am I thinking?'

Mick murmured "ghost" under his breath. Luke rolled his eyes.

"If anyone's the ghost, it's you," Luke said.

Mick's head shot up. "Me? The ghost? No... this is my room. How can I be the ghost?"

"Your room?" Luke echoed. "No. This is my room. And I'd like to know how you got in."

Confused, Mick stared at Luke and muttered, "Your room..." His eyes began examining the surroundings.

The cupboard doors bore the same stickers as his own. The chair, desk, lamp, and bed were identical. But the similarities ended there. The bedding was different, plush toys scattered over the bed, pictures hung differently on the walls. Mick realised: this was his room, but it wasn't.

He glanced at the books on the desk and froze. The year on the textbook was last year's. Without thinking, he picked it up. "Why is this dated last year?"

Luke, confused and irritated, snatched the book away. "Last year? This is this year's book! Are you stupid or something?"

Startled, Mick abandoned all reasoning. Pushing Luke aside, he bolted from the bedroom.

Luke, shocked, rushed after him—but when he stepped into the corridor, it was empty. Frustration overtook him as he rubbed his hair vigorously.

"What is going on?" Luke muttered, returning to his room. He picked up the study book and stared at the date, trying—and failing—to shake the image of Mick's face from his mind.

Meanwhile, Mick didn't wait for the lift. He pushed open the exit door, raced down three flights of stairs, and burst out of the dormitory. Once outside, he bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. A glance back at the building sent a shiver down his spine. He had no idea what had happened and there was no way he was returning alone.

He dug his phone from his bag and called Paul.

When Paul arrived, he found Mick across the street, waving him over.

"What's the matter? You look awful," Paul said jokingly. Mick grabbed his arm, squeezing tightly.

"Ghost," Mick said through broken breaths.

"What happened?" Paul asked, confused.

"There was someone in my room... no, wait. I was in his room... no, that can't be right. It was my room, but it wasn't. Paul, I'm confused and scared," Mick said, clinging to him.

Paul noticed he was shaking and took hold of his arms.

"Are you okay? Calm down and tell me what's going on," Paul said gently.

Mick exhaled, trying to steady himself. Under Paul's grip, he could feel his own body trembling.

"It's okay. I'm here. Tell me what happened," Paul said again, concern lacing his voice. Mick stared at him, slowly finding his breath.

"You won't believe me," Mick whispered.

"It doesn't matter if I believe you or not. Just tell me."

Mick inhaled deeply, then let out an even longer exhale. He began to recount the impossible events with his room—the room that wasn't really his.

They now stood at Mick's bedroom door, Mick clutching Paul's arm, terrified to enter.

"Give me the key. I'll check first and make sure it's okay," Paul said, holding out his hand. Trembling, Mick handed it over.

Paul stepped inside without hesitation. Mick panicked and followed, trying to stop him. Once inside, Mick froze. Everything was as it should be—his bed coverings, plush toys scattered on the bed, pictures on the wall.

"I didn't imagine it," Mick whispered, scanning the room again.

"Did you want to sleep in my room tonight?" Paul asked casually.

Mick shook his head. "No... I don't know what happened, but it's fine."

"Are you sure? We can swap rooms if that'll make you feel better," Paul offered.

"I'm fine," Mick replied, still hesitant.

"I'm not sure what's happening here, but I think it's important you find out," Paul said gently.

Mick nodded. "You're right."

"Be brave," Paul said. Mick wasn't feeling brave in the slightest, but he nodded anyway.

"Okay. Call me immediately if it happens again," Paul insisted.

"You believe me, right?" Mick asked, his eyes wide and pleading.

If not for the fear in his friend's expression, Paul might have laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Of course I believe you," Paul said. "Let's talk more tomorrow and try to get to the bottom of this. Maybe it's happened before. We should ask who the previous occupant of the room was—they might know something."

"That's a good idea. Let's do that tomorrow," Mick agreed. "I think I'll go to bed now. I'm exhausted."

Paul said good night before leaving. Standing in the corridor, he stared back at Mick's door, wondering what could have spooked his friend so badly that he thought his own room was haunted.

Here's a polished and tightened version of your Paul, Ken, and Luke scenes. I focused on clarity, pacing, and emotional nuance, while keeping the tension, mystery, and interpersonal dynamics intact:

Paul headed back to his room, but as he reached the door, his eyes flicked down the corridor toward Ken's room. It wasn't that he didn't believe Mick—he had seen how genuinely terrified his friend had been—but something made him hesitate before continuing.

When Ken opened the door, Paul's concern for Mick shifted as he took in the sight of his friend.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked.

Ken looked exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in days. He stepped back, inviting Paul in. It was Paul's first time inside Ken's room, which was surprisingly neat, with only books scattered across every surface. Paul eyed the desk; some of the titles were far too technical for him to understand.

Ken straightened the bedding and gestured toward the bed. "Sit," he said. Paul did, becoming acutely aware of how close they were.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look tired," Paul asked again.

Ken gave a soft smile that made Paul's chest tighten. He lowered his eyes, cheeks faintly pink. "Thank you for being concerned. I'm fine. And you? Are you okay?"

Paul regained his composure. "I'm okay, but I'm worried about Mick."

"Mick?" Ken sat up, alert now. "Is something wrong with your friend?"

Paul found Ken's concern comforting. Placing a hand on Ken's arm, he reassured him, "He's fine, but... some strange things have been happening to him."

Ken's brow furrowed. "Is that why you're here?"

Paul nodded. "It's not that I don't believe him, but he was terrified earlier. It's hard not to believe him."

"Tell me everything that happened," Ken urged. "I promise I won't judge either of you."

Paul recounted Mick's experience in detail. When he finished, he asked, "What do you think I should do?"

Ken exhaled slowly and took Paul's hand. "Don't do anything yet. Let's wait and see if it happens again. Then we can decide how to deal with it."

"You believe me, right? Mick isn't losing it?" Paul asked, gripping Ken's hand.

"I believe you," Ken said firmly. "Something like this is too real not to believe. If you need my help in any way, ask. Please."

Paul nodded, relief flooding him. Ken not only believed them—he was willing to help.

~

During lunch on Tuesday, Luke and Ken met and discussed the incident.

"So you're saying you saw that man again?" Ken asked.

"Yes. He unlocked my bedroom door and came in. He even insisted the room was his. How does that make any sense?" Luke asked, frustration creeping in.

"I have no idea. And it wasn't a ghost?" Ken pressed.

"No. He felt real enough," Luke said.

"You touched him?" Ken asked.

"He fell, and I caught him. Can you catch ghosts?" Luke shot back.

Ken shook his head. "No idea. Did you find out his name?"

"No. It was weird enough—we weren't even considering pleasantries."

"You're not going crazy, are you?" Ken said cautiously. "I know everything with your grandfather and family is stressful, but if they find out you're seeing things that might not exist, it could cause more issues."

"I'm not crazy. I know what I saw and heard. I just... don't have an explanation. Not yet, anyway."

Luke's mind lingered on the study book from the other day. A thought suddenly struck him: could the door to his room be some kind of portal to another time? It made a strange kind of sense, but he didn't dare speak it aloud. That would definitely make him appear insane.

After his last class on Friday, Luke's oldest cousin, Jan, paid him a visit at the dorm. Dressed in a business jacket and skirt, she'd come straight from the office. Luke loved his two older cousins dearly. Jan had always looked after him, along with her younger sister, Jamie. When Jamie had joined Jan in working for their grandfather's business, both had promised Luke he could follow his own dream of becoming a doctor.

"You should have told me you were coming," Luke said as they stood beside her car. "We could have met somewhere."

"It was a last-minute decision. Sorry," Jan replied.

"That's okay. Are you here because of the situation with grandfather?"

"I don't mean to get involved," Jan said. "Mother asked Jamie and I to stay out of it, but it's frustrating. Why would grandfather leave everything to you and not include us?"

Luke couldn't argue—it didn't seem fair.

Realising what she'd said, Jan quickly added, "Sorry, Luke. I don't mean to look down on you. But Jamie and I have worked hard for the business and contributed a lot. I just don't understand why grandfather would do this."

"No, I understand. I'm as confused as everyone else. I've always made it clear I have no interest in the business, and everyone accepted that. So why grandfather did this... I don't know. I'll talk to him again, maybe I can get an answer."

"Can you? It's causing a lot of stress for our mothers too. If we could understand grandfather's plans, maybe we'd have something to work with."

"Okay. I'll let you know after I've spoken to him," Luke replied.

"Thank you. I have something for you, too."

Jan opened the passenger door, retrieved a brown paper bag, and handed it to Luke.

"Your favourite cookies," she said. "The kitchen staff baked them for grandfather and made extras for you."

Luke took the bag, noticing the little post-it note with his name. "Thank you. I didn't get to eat the last one, so I'm looking forward to these."

After Jan left, Luke returned to his room, eager to enjoy the cookies.

~

Mick paced in front of his dorm room as Paul and Ken watched. They had bumped into Ken in the foyer earlier, and after a brief conversation, Paul had reassured Mick that Ken believed him and would help figure out what was happening. Relief washed over Mick. With his two friends beside him, he finally worked up the courage to enter his room.

After several minutes of hesitation, Paul rolled his eyes and took the key from Mick's hand.

"Hey!" Mick protested, but it was half-hearted.

Paul unlocked the door and stepped inside, Mick cautiously following, with Ken entering last.

Paul stood by the bedside table while Mick lingered in the middle of the room. Ken checked the bathroom, moved around the room, examined the desk and cupboard, and glanced over Mick's bed.

"Does everything look okay? It's your room, right?" Ken asked, returning to the entrance.

Mick glanced around and nodded.

"Then I'll get going. Call me if you need me," Ken said.

"Thank you... for believing me," Mick said, uncertain if he truly did.

Ken gave a nod. "If anything seems out of the ordinary, call me. Okay?"

Mick nodded as he walked Ken to the door. As an afterthought, Ken placed a hand on Mick's shoulder. "Best we keep this between us. It's not that I don't believe you, but others might make a big deal over this."

Mick nodded, watching Ken leave. As he closed the door, he found Paul sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a brown paper bag.

"These smell great. Can I have one?" Paul asked.

Mick stared at him. Paul pulled out a cookie and took a bite. Halfway through, he made a face and returned the remainder to the bag.

"Yuck. What kind of cookies are these? Bitter." Paul said.

"They're not mine," Mick replied, staring at the bag. "I don't know where they came from."

Paul's eyes widened as he held up the bag. Slowly, he looked at Mick and said, "I think I know the name of your roommate."

He pulled off the post-it note and handed it to Mick. Mick stared at Paul, then at the note. Taking it carefully, he read, 'For Luke'. His eyes widened—there was no doubt now. Something unexplainable was happening.

"Do you want to stay in my room?" Paul asked.

Mick shook his head. He was confident nothing would happen in his room. From now on, he just had to make sure it was always his room he was entering.

When Paul left, Mick insisted he take the cookies and throw them away. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Mick ran a hand through his hair in frustration. No matter how much he tried, there was no understanding to be had. With a sigh, he grabbed his towel from the cupboard and headed to the bathroom.

~

The bathroom door creaked open, and a thin veil of steam drifted into the bedroom. Luke stepped out, wrapped in his towel, and moved toward the cupboard to get dressed.

Once dressed, he picked up his towel, intending to drape it over the back of his chair—only to find another towel already there. Confused, he stared at the towel in his hand and the one over the chair.

His eyes quickly scanned the room. The brown paper bag was gone from his bedside table. Luke froze, glancing around as confusion tightened its grip.

Then his gaze settled on the bedroom door. A chilling thought struck him: if he remembered correctly, it was possible he had never actually entered his room after returning from speaking with Jan.

The realisation sent a shiver down his spine.

Exhaling slowly, Luke hung the extra towel over the cupboard door. Determined, he whispered to himself that he would find the answers to this mystery—whatever it took.