Thursday morning, Paul opened his bedroom door and glanced toward Ken's room. The only other person in the corridor, a student making their way to the lift, gave him a nod as they passed. Paul turned, locked his door behind him, and started toward the lift—when Ken suddenly appeared beside him.

"Shi—" Paul jumped in fright. "You scared me."

Ken smiled and, gently rubbing the top of Paul's head, said, "Cute."

"Hey! My hair," Paul protested, brushing Ken's hand away as he tried to tidy it himself.

"Here, let me," Ken said, turning Paul toward him. Stepping closer, he began adjusting Paul's hair carefully. Paul found himself staring at Ken's lips, a sudden flush creeping across his face.

"It's fine," Paul muttered, stepping back to fix the front of his hair while avoiding Ken's gaze.

Ken grinned. "Shall I walk with you?"

Paul tried to hide his smile by turning away. "That's up to you."

Ken caught his expression and let out a quiet laugh as he fell into step beside him.

They walked together in silence toward the lift. As they waited, more students joined them. Once inside, Ken gently guided Paul to the back by the elbow. At each floor, more students entered, until Paul was pressed against Ken, who placed a steadying hand on Paul's waist.

Paul closed his eyes, emotions racing. Near the ground floor, Ken leaned close and whispered, "I'm going to the bar tonight — the one I told you about. Join me."

Paul's breath caught. As the doors opened and the students filed out, Ken's hand remained at his waist, guiding him. Outside the elevator, Ken added, "Invite Mick. I promise, you'll have a good time."

Paul's cheeks burned, and he couldn't meet Ken's eyes. "I'll ask him," he replied awkwardly.

Ken leaned in slightly. "Then have a good day. I'll see you tonight." He gently squeezed Paul's arm and moved past. Paul placed a hand over his heart, feeling it race.

When Mick arrived at the foyer, Paul had regained some composure. They chatted as they walked to campus, Mick none the wiser about Paul's morning encounter. Paul considered telling Mick about his interactions with Ken but decided to wait until his feelings settled.

Thursday evening found Mick and Paul entering the small bar and they immediately fell in love with its vibe. The quiet, modern space was bright and welcoming, with a warm summer atmosphere. Open doors allowed a soft evening breeze to flow through, and padded two-seater cane chairs were scattered to encourage conversation.

"Now this is more like it," Mick said, leading Paul into the seating area.

"Okay, I'll admit — this is good," Paul agreed.

"Paul. Mick," Ken called from the back corner. Both men made their way toward him.

Ken sat alone, which surprised them.

"Why are you here alone? Where are your friends?" Paul asked, sitting beside Mick.

Ken held out his hands. "Here."

Paul frowned. "Not us. Your other friends?"

Ken sighed. "Tonight, it's just us. What would you like to drink? I'll get it for you."

"Whatever you're drinking," Paul replied, and Ken rose to head to the bar.

"Don't you think it's weird it's only us?" Paul asked quietly, leaning toward Mick.

Mick glanced toward the bar. "No. Why? Did he say his friends would be here?"

Paul turned away, heat rising to his cheeks as he remembered Ken's morning invitation. "No... I just assumed there'd be others."

Ken returned with their drinks, and for the next several hours, the three talked about family and their homes. Later than they'd planned, they finally returned to the dormitory, each feeling the warmth of the evening linger.

"You'll be pleased to know class has been cancelled," Paul called to Mick at lunchtime Friday, his voice hoarse and cracked.

As much as Mick and Paul had known they had an afternoon class, somehow they'd ended up drinking far too much the night before and getting home far too late.

"You couldn't have called me twenty minutes ago? I'm on my to your dorm now!" Mick grumbled, stopping mid-step as he struggled to keep his balance.

"Sorry," Paul said. "I just woke up and was about to message the group chat that I wouldn't make it. Then I saw class was cancelled. I didn't see you acknowledge the message, so I figured I'd call."

Mick pulled his phone from his ear to check the messages, then put it back. "Oh... no class. Thanks for calling. I would have gone and sat around waiting before realising it. Are you okay?"

"Mmmm... I don't even remember getting back to my room, but there's a note from Ken saying he sent me home. He even left hangover medicine."

"Same here. Lucky we have him as a friend. But let's not go drinking with him again anytime soon."

"Agreed," Paul replied, a groan creeping into his voice.

Mick hung up, turned around, and stumbled a few steps before righting himself. Dragging his feet, he made his way back to the dorm, each step a reminder of the previous night's excess.

At his dorm room, Mick pulled his key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The lull of his bed tugged at him, but as he stepped inside, the bathroom door opened.

Startled by the sudden appearance of a young man, damp hair dripping water over his broad bare chest, a white towel wrapped low around his waist. Mick froze.

They stared at each other.

"I—" Mick stuttered, before retreating and quickly pulling the door shut behind him.

He pressed a hand to his racing heart, breathing hard, shocked he'd entered the wrong room. Taking several steps back, he looked up at the door number.

He hadn't made a mistake.

It was his room.

Mick returned to the door and hesitated. Cautiously, he pressed his ear against it and listened.

Nothing.

Tentatively, he slid the key back into the lock and slowly opened the door. The bathroom light was now off, the door slightly ajar.

"I don't know who you are," Mick called, his voice tighter than he intended, "but this is my room, and I'm coming in."

He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

Silence.

His gaze darted around, searching for something he could use as a weapon. With nothing that could make a decent weapon, Mick lifted his bag in front of his chest and paused.

The room was empty.

Slowly lowering his bag, he stepped further in the room. He then slowly crouched and checked under the bed.

Nothing.

He straightened and headed to the bathroom. With a quick flick, he turned on the light, ready to confront whoever might be inside.

The bathroom was empty too.

Back in the bedroom, Mick scratched his head. He was sure he'd seen someone. Or maybe exhaustion was finally catching up with him.

After one last sweep of the room, he convinced himself no one was there — that it had to be his imagination and the likelihood of the hangover that lingered.

~

Luke stared at the man who had entered his room — and then left.

Startled by the brazen intrusion, Luke lunged for the door, only to find it locked. The situation made no sense. He dressed quickly and stepped into the corridor. A glance in both directions revealed nothing but the empty hallway.

He tested the lock from the outside. It worked perfectly.

That didn't explain how a stranger had entered.

The young man's expression had mirrored his own shock. Had he walked into the wrong room by mistake? Did he somehow have a key cut the same as Luke's? That didn't seem possible. To be certain, Luke had gone straight to the front desk.

"So he entered your room and left when he saw you coming out of the bathroom?" Ken asked, failing to hide his grin.

"There's nothing funny about this," Luke replied, irritated by his best friend's reaction.

"Of course not. I mean, I'd be shocked too if I saw you half-naked."

Luke swiped at Ken, clipping him across the back of the head.

"Hey! Did I deserve that?" Ken cried in exaggerated agony.

"Yes. You did."

"Okay, okay. So did you find out what happened?" Ken asked as they walked toward their Monday morning class.

"I spoke to the dormitory manager. They said every key is specially cut and can't be copied without authorisation."

"Then how do they explain someone entering your room?"

"They can't. According to them, it's not possible."

Ken suddenly stopped, finger raised, mouth open wide. "I know the answer."

Luke already suspected it wouldn't be the right one, but he paused anyway. "What?"

Ken leaned closer, lowering his voice dramatically. "Ghost."

Luke let out a long, frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes before continuing down the path.

"Come on," Ken said, jogging to catch up. "It's a possibility."

"I don't believe in ghosts."

"Can you ask for security footage? Maybe it'll show who it was."

Luke didn't respond immediately. He'd already asked. The footage had shown nothing — only Luke leaving his room to check the door.

"I don't know who it was," Luke said finally, unwilling to admit the full truth. It would only make the situation sound even more absurd.

Ken slung an arm around his neck. "Then don't dwell on it. Whoever it was has probably been scarred for life."

Luke elbowed him in the ribs.

Ken doubled over. "Why is my best friend so violent? I need new friends."

"I'm not stopping you."

"Wow. How can you say that? What would you do without me?" Ken asked, straightening and falling back into step beside him.

Luke huffed but didn't answer.

Just then, his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and saw his mother's name on the screen. He showed Ken before answering.

"Hello, Mother."

"Luke, I'm at the hospital. Your grandfather collapsed this afternoon. We've admitted him."

Luke stopped walking. Ken turned, concern replacing his earlier humour.

"Is he okay?"

"They're running tests now. I wanted you to know. If you want to come, the rest of the family is here."

"Okay. I'll be there shortly."

He ended the call and looked at Ken. "My grandfather collapsed. They've taken him to the hospital."

"You should go. I'll cover you in class."

Luke nodded. "Thanks."

Outside the private hospital room, Luke found his father waiting for him.

"Is grandfather okay?" Luke asked with concern.

"It would seem so. The doctors don't know why he collapse but they are running test now to find a cause. Your cousins and uncle left not long ago. Mother and aunt are still in with him. I was waiting for you because I knew you would be concerned." Father rubbed Luke's arm offering reassurance.

"Thank you, Father. Can I go in and see him." Luke asked.

Father nodded and indicated for Luke to enter but did not follow his son in.

When Luke entered the luxurious hospital room, he was met by the jovial tone of his grandfather's voice. On first impression, nothing seemed wrong. His grandfather sat comfortably propped up in the large bed, chatting with Luke's mother and aunt.

All three turned as Luke stepped inside.

His grandfather's face lit up. He gestured for Luke to sit beside him. Luke did, taking his grandfather's outstretched hand.

"Grandfather, are you unwell?" Luke asked, hoping for reassurance.

"I'm fine. As well as can be for someone my age," his grandfather replied with a chuckle.

Luke glanced at his mother and aunt. Both gave him polite, strained smiles.

He looked down at his grandfather's hands wrapped around his own. They were still remarkably strong. It was hard to imagine anything seriously wrong.

"Now that you're all here," his grandfather continued, his tone shifting slightly, "I have something important to tell you."

Luke's eyes flicked again to his mother. This time, her concern wasn't masked as well.

"I'm handing over the business and all its subsidiaries to Luke," his grandfather said. "Effective as soon as the paperwork is finalised."

Luke's head snapped up. "But Grandfather—"

"It has always been my intention to leave the business to you," the old man interrupted gently. "While I am still of sound mind, I've decided it's time to formalise the arrangements. You don't need to worry. I plan on being around for many years yet. I simply don't want anyone shocked when the time comes."

He paused, squeezing Luke's hand.

"I understand your mother and aunt currently manage operations, and I'm not taking that from them. And I know it has never been your desire to involve yourself in the business. However, you are the only living male heir. Everything I own will go to you one day. How you choose to manage it — or delegate it — will be up to you and the family."

Luke swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at his mother again. She gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head — a silent instruction not to argue here.

Outside the hospital room, Luke took his mother's hand and said pleadingly, "I don't want the business or grandfather's money."

"I know." His mother squeezed his hand in understanding. "Let your aunt and I discuss what's happened with the board members. We'll take care of everything. You focus on your studies. Don't let this concern you."

Luke nodded and embraced his mother and aunt.

"Is everything okay?" his father approached, concern etched on his face.

"Can you accompany Luke to his car?" his mother asked, taking father's hand in hers.

"Of course. Will Grandfather okay?"

She nodded. "He will be. It doesn't appear to be anything serious, but he's made a decision that may create some issues. It's okay. Aunt and I will handle it."

His father nodded, then turned to Luke. "I'll walk you out."

After Luke and his departed, his mother turned to her sister. "What was father thinking, making Luke the sole benefactor?"

Her aunt shook her head. "It's concerning. Father has suddenly decided that Luke will inherit everything. Since when has 'the only living male heir' been a thing?"

They both stared at each other. "Something's not right," mother said and aunt nodded in agreement.