To say they were disappointed was an understatement. Mick and Paul left the manager's office knowing exactly what they had known when they entered: nothing.

"I don't get why they couldn't tell us when or why the last occupant left," Paul huffed.

"Or even confirm his name," Mick added. "It's not like we didn't already know it."

"I mean... I guess if it were me, I wouldn't want anyone snooping into my details," Paul replied.

"I guess. Now what?" Mick asked.

"We know he lived here in these dorms, which means he attended the university. Do you know what year he's in?" Paul asked.

Mick thought back to the study books he'd seen on Luke's desk. "He'd be in second year now."

"So we find a second-year student who's still living in the dorms and ask them." Paul grinned at his own brilliance.

"Great. Do we know any second years living here?" Mick asked.

They both stood in the foyer, thinking, until Paul suddenly snapped his fingers.

"Man, we're idiots. Ken. He's a second year and he lives here. He'd definitely know something."

"You're right. But if he did, wouldn't he have said something? He knows what's going on with the room," Mick pointed out.

"Yeah... maybe. But we could still ask him to look into it for us," Paul suggested. "Let me see if he's in."

Paul pulled his phone from his bag and called Ken. After a brief conversation, he hung up.

"He's in his room. Told us to come up."

They found Ken leaning against his doorframe, waiting for them.

"What's up?" he asked.

"We wanted to ask you something," Paul said. "About the student who had Mick's room last year."

Ken's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He straightened away from the frame.

"Let's talk inside."

He stepped aside to let them in, closing the door behind him.

Paul and Mick sat on Ken's bed while Ken leaned against his desk, arms folded across his chest.

"Has something happened?" Ken asked.

Mick hesitated.

"Go on," Paul nudged.

Mick looked up. "Do you know a student named Luke? He studied here last year."

Ken glanced away, thoughtful. "Luke," he murmured, as if testing the name. After a pause, he looked back and shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell. Why? Was he the other occupant in your room?"

Mick nodded. "Yeah. I was with him last week. He was ill. I stayed the night to make sure he was okay... but I haven't seen him since. I don't even know if he's still here."

"Mmm." Ken's gaze lingered on him a second too long. "I can ask around."

"Could you?" Mick asked, relief flickering across his face.

"Sure. Leave it with me."

Mick let out a slow breath.

"What happened while you were with him?" Ken asked casually.

Mick's face flushed instantly. "Nothing happened. He was ill. I was helping him. I just... fell asleep. Didn't wake up until morning."

Ken and Paul exchanged a look.

Mick noticed.

"If you find out anything," he said quickly, standing, "can you let me know?"

"Of course. I'll walk you out," Ken offered.

"No, it's fine," Mick replied, already heading for the door.

As Paul moved to follow, Ken spoke again.

"Are you busy tonight?"

Paul turned back. "No."

"I'll come by later. We can grab dinner."

Paul's cheeks warmed, and he gave a small nod. "Yeah. Okay."

He left Ken's room and found Mick waiting by the lift.

"You'll be okay?" Paul asked quietly.

Mick nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

Paul gave a small wave as Mick entered the lift.

Alone in the corridor, he headed back to his room, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he thought about dinner with Ken.

Ken closed the door behind Mick and Paul and returned to his bed. Retrieving his phone from the charger, he immediately called Luke.

"Mick was here asking about you," Ken said quietly. "He's started looking for you after the first poisoning. He's getting scared, Luke."

There was silence on the line before Luke finally replied.

"What can I do? We have to follow the timeline, or we'll never get the evidence."

Ken sighed. He knew Luke was right. That didn't make it any easier.

"He's not even five months ahead of me," Luke continued, frustration creeping into his voice. "How does that make any sense? I mean... how?"

"You should try being in my position," Ken muttered. "It's doing my head in."

A pause.

"When are you going to tell him?" Luke asked.

"Tonight. Or maybe tomorrow," Ken replied.

"Good. The next time I see him, he has to warn me."

"I know. I'll find a way to tell him," Ken said, ending the call.

Ken lowered the phone and leaned back against the headboard, staring at the countless books stacked across his desk—volumes on unexplained phenomena, temporal theory, and historical anomalies. None of them had been any help.

The knock at his door made Paul jump. He pushed back from his desk and opened it to find Ken standing there, holding up a plastic bag.

"Hungry?" Ken asked.

Paul smiled and nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Ken placed the bag on the corner of the desk and removed two Styrofoam containers, handing one to Paul, who sat on the floor beside his bed. Ken joined him, passing over cutlery.

They ate in silence until Ken finally said, "I might have found out something about the person Mick asked about."

Paul stopped eating, his fork hovering in midair. "You did? What?"

"I'm not sure if it's related, but there was a death at the end of the school year."

Paul's breath caught. His eyes widened.

"A death?" he repeated under his breath.

"It was never denied or confirmed. It depends on who you talk to. Most people don't mention it because they don't know what happened."

"Did they say who the student was?" Paul asked, his food forgotten.

"No idea. When I asked if anyone knew Luke, most of the students living here now are new. A lot of the others have moved on. But I'll keep asking around tomorrow. If he attended the university, someone may remember him."

Paul nodded slowly. "That's... unexpected. Should we tell Mick?"

Ken paused, considering. "I think it would be best if he knew. Then, at least, if he sees Luke again, he can tell him—if this is the reason any of this is happening."

"You're right. I should tell him? I feel like it would be better coming from me. I don't think he's going to take this well."

Ken studied him. "Are you okay to tell him?"

Paul hesitated. "When should I tell him? Now? Or tomorrow?"

"There'll never be a good time. If you tell him now, he'll worry all night. If you tell him tomorrow, he'll worry all day. Better now. Let him think about it on his own instead of in a crowd."

"But should I wait until you know more?" Paul asked, concern etched in his voice.

"Telling him now will brace him for what might come. For all we know, it might amount to nothing. But it's better he's prepared."

Paul glanced down, deep in thought. It didn't feel right telling Mick.

Ken stood and retrieved Paul's phone from the desk, handing it to him.

For Ken, urging Paul to make the call was agonising. He knew what had to be done. He had promised Luke he would do everything it took to ensure the timeline happened as written. But the more involved he became with Paul, the heavier the deception felt. Guilt pressed against his ribs, but he strengthened his resolve.

"I'll do it if you want me to," Ken said quietly.

Paul shook his head. "No. Let me be the one to tell him."

He dialled Mick's number and waited.

"Hello. I have some news about your situation, but I'm not sure it's related," Paul said, as Ken watched, his own meal pushed aside and forgotten.

"You do? Great. What is it?" Mick replied.

"I'm not sure it's great. There may or may not have been a death at the end of the last school year. No one's sure, and Ken is still investigating."

Silence lingered on the other end of the line.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked.

"I'm fine. Let me know when you find out more," Mick said before the phone went dead.

Paul lowered his phone, his expression disheartened. "Maybe I shouldn't have told him."

Ken took Paul's hand. "It's okay. I'm sure it's nothing. I'll investigate further tomorrow."

Paul nodded, but he couldn't shake the lingering feeling that he had made the wrong decision.

After Ken left Paul's room, he could no longer contain his anger and frustration. Pulling out his phone, he called Luke as he headed toward the elevator.

"Did you tell him?" Luke asked.

"Paul did. I'm on my way to yours now. You better have something strong for me to drink. I'm not in the mood to think about this anymore tonight."

Ken hung up just as the lift doors opened. He stepped inside and jabbed the ground-floor button, determined to get blind drunk before the night was over.

Mick ended the call and slowly lowered his phone onto the desk in front of him.

A death.

No. It had nothing to do with them. It couldn't.

But a small tide of fear began to rise in his chest. There was still no explanation for why they were connected, and the more Mick thought about it, the stronger that fear became. Why would there be a paranormal connection between them if it wasn't something serious—if not deadly?

A shudder ran down his spine. He opened his study book, attempting—and failing—to force the thoughts from his mind.

Paul stared at Mick during class. He looked pale and exhausted, and Paul cursed himself for telling him what Ken had said.

When the class ended, Mick remained seated, staring into space.

Paul pulled out a pen and paper. Turning to Mick, he said, "We should create a timeline of events."

Mick looked at him, then at the pen and paper in his hand.

"How will that help?" he asked.

"Maybe there's a connection. Or something we haven't noticed," Paul replied.

Mick considered this, then nodded and turned toward Paul as he began writing down what they knew.

"It's been around six weeks, and you've met four times?" Paul confirmed.

Mick nodded. "But I think we've entered each other's rooms while the other hasn't been there. I can't confirm how many times that's happened."

"Let's focus on the times you've both been there together. And how long has it been since your last visit?" Paul asked.

"Fifteen days." Mick knew the exact number. He had been counting every day he hadn't seen Luke.

"Do you know what the date is in that world? And do we think it's the same world as ours—or a parallel universe?" Paul asked.

Mick stared at him, wide-eyed, his mouth opening to reply. Paul waited.

"I don't know," Mick finally said. "I don't know anything."

"Okay," Paul replied gently. "Then it's time you did."

"Like what?" Mick asked.

"Anything. Ask Luke about his family. Where he grew up. Anything that might help us find him—if he exists in this world."

"Sure," Mick snapped. "If there's ever another connection."

Paul immediately realised Mick had shut down again when he stood abruptly and stormed out of the room, leaving Paul alone with the unfinished timeline.

~

Luke returned to his room Friday afternoon after class to find the thank-you note and small gift he had prepared for Mick still sitting on his desk where he had left them. It had been over two weeks, and neither of them had crossed over.

Luke couldn't help but feel concerned. He had no way of knowing what the future held—or how to contact Mick.

No sooner had he sat down at his desk, Ken called him.

"Anything?" Ken asked before Luke could even greet him.

"Nothing."

"I think you need to see a doctor. All the stress you've been under is taking its toll," Ken told him.

"I'm not going crazy," Luke replied firmly. "I'm sure there's a reason for all of this, and once I see him again, I'm going to get some answers."

"Good," Ken said. "Because I need those answers as well."

Luke's phone vibrated in his hand. Glancing at the screen, he said, "My mother's calling. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hung up and answered.

"Hello, Mother. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. We're gathering tonight at the main house to discuss this business with your grandfather. Are you free to join us?"

"Yes. I'll make my way there now."

After ending the call, Luke gave one final glance at the gift and card on his desk before leaving his room.

At the main house, everyone had gathered—his parents, his uncle and aunt, and his two cousins. He was greeted warmly, but Luke couldn't shake the discomfort that sat heavily in his chest.

"Don't think too much about it, Luke," his mother told him gently. "We're here tonight for you."

Dinner, prepared by the house staff, passed in general conversation about business and studies. When they adjourned to the sitting room afterward, Luke sat between his parents.

His father leaned closer, rubbing Luke's shoulder reassuringly. "It's going to be okay. Trust your mother."

Luke nodded.

"Luke," his mother said, placing a hand on his leg, "I know this has been an extremely trying time for you—well, for all of us—but we want to reassure you that we will take care of this."

Luke nodded again.

"Your aunt and I have had lengthy conversations with the board members and the lawyers. Everyone understands the current situation. If you're in agreement, we'd like to draw up documents for you to sign stating that you will take no control of the business or its subsidiaries. We believe this is the best way to move forward without forcing you to be directly involved. Are you okay with that?"

Relief washed through him. "Yes. I can do that."

"Good," his mother said, turning to her sister. "Can I ask you to work with the lawyers to have the documents prepared?"

"Of course," his aunt replied. Turning to Luke, she added softly, "I know this must be extremely worrying for you. We're working hard to take this burden from you."

Luke, once more, nodded.

"Do we know why Grandfather did this?" he asked quietly.

His mother shook her head. "Only that he wanted everything handed over to you. He hasn't explained why."

"And what did the doctors say about his health?"

"They say he's well, but it's possible he had another turn a week ago. We're not certain—no one is saying much." She glanced at her sister again.

"We suspect something may be going on," his aunt admitted, "but for now, we can only go by what we're being told."

"Don't think too much about it," his mother said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Let us handle it. If there's any news, we'll inform you immediately."

Luke returned her hug, though her words brought him little comfort.

The evening left him exhausted. He had masked his anxiety all night.

Was his grandfather truly fine? Why had he only learned about the possibility of another turn that evening?

He knew his family was trying to protect him, but that knowledge did nothing to ease the stress tightening around him.

By the time he reached his bedroom late that night, his thoughts were consumed entirely by his grandfather's wellbeing.

So when he opened the door and stepped inside, the sight of Mick sitting at his desk caught him completely off guard.