Stalin's fingers trembled slightly as he opened Smily's locker. The metal door creaked softly, the sound echoing louder than it should have in the empty corridor. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
Inside, the locker looked ordinary at first glance—books, a few scattered papers, nothing unusual.
But then his eyes caught something hidden toward the back.
A small box.
And beside it, a red-colored file.
Something about them felt… out of place.
Stalin reached in slowly, pulling them out with cautious hands. The box was small, neatly kept, almost like it was meant to be hidden rather than stored.
Then he noticed the name engraved on it.
Tay.
For a moment, everything around him seemed to stop.
His breath hitched.
"Tay…?" he whispered.
Confusion flooded his mind.
Why would Smily have a box with his brother's name on it?
It didn't make sense.
Not at all.
A strange unease crept into his chest as questions began to pile up. Had Tay and Smily known each other more closely than he thought? Or was there something else behind it?
Stalin tightened his grip on the box.
He needed answers.
Without wasting time, he tried to open it.
But it didn't move.
The box was locked.
He frowned, trying again, applying more pressure, but it remained firmly shut.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath.
Whatever was inside… it was important enough to be secured.
And that only made it more suspicious.
Footsteps suddenly echoed down the hallway.
Stalin froze.
The sound was getting closer.
The security guard.
Panic surged through him instantly.
If he got caught here, with Smily's belongings in his hands, there would be too many questions—questions he couldn't answer.
Quickly, he shoved the box and file into his bag and closed the locker as quietly as possible.
The footsteps were just around the corner now.
Without looking back, Stalin slipped into the shadows and made his way out of the corridor, his heart racing.
Later that night, Stalin reached home, but his mind was far from calm.
The box.
The name.
Tay.
Everything replayed over and over again in his head.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
As he entered the house, he noticed that Tay was in the bathroom. The sound of running water echoed faintly through the hallway.
This was his chance.
Without hesitation, Stalin walked toward Tay's room.
His steps were slow, careful.
He pushed the door open gently and stepped inside.
The room was neat.
Organized.
Nothing looked out of place.
But Stalin's instincts told him otherwise.
He began searching.
Drawers.
Shelves.
Closets.
His movements were quick but cautious, his ears alert for any sound outside.
Then—
"Stalin?"
His heart nearly stopped.
He turned around sharply.
Tay stood at the doorway, looking at him with confusion.
"What are you doing in my room?" Tay asked.
For a moment, Stalin couldn't speak.
His mind raced, trying to find an explanation.
"Oh—uh…" he stammered, forcing a casual tone. "I was just… looking for something."
Tay narrowed his eyes slightly. "Looking for what?"
Stalin swallowed.
"Just checking if you borrowed something of mine," he said quickly. "Thought I might have left it here."
Tay stared at him for a few seconds.
Those seconds felt endless.
But then, unexpectedly, Tay sighed.
"Alright," he said. "Let me know if you can't find it. I'll help."
Relief washed over Stalin instantly.
"Yeah… thanks," he replied, forcing a smile.
As Tay turned away, Stalin let out a quiet breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
He had been dangerously close to getting caught.
Later that night, Stalin made another move.
"Hey," he said casually. "It's been a while since we talked properly. Want to sleep together tonight?"
Tay looked slightly surprised but didn't refuse.
"Sure," he said.
They lay side by side in silence.
The room was dark, but Stalin's mind was wide awake.
After a few minutes, he spoke again.
"You should get a girlfriend," he said lightly. "Might make your life less boring."
Tay chuckled softly.
"As for that…" he said, "I just haven't found the right one yet."
His tone was relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Stalin stared at the ceiling, his suspicion growing stronger.
Something about Tay's answers felt rehearsed.
Carefully controlled.
The next morning, Lovely arrived.
Her presence immediately shifted the atmosphere in the house.
After everything that had happened, there was no time to waste.
Stalin quickly brought out the red file and the locked box.
"This is what I found," he said.
Lovely took them, examining each item carefully.
Her expression slowly darkened.
"This isn't normal," she said.
Roxy frowned. "What do you see?"
Lovely looked up at them.
"There's more going on here than we thought," she said seriously.
Stalin hesitated before speaking again.
"I think Tay might be involved," he admitted.
The room fell silent.
Roxy's expression hardened.
Lovely didn't react immediately.
Instead, she placed the items down carefully.
"We don't jump to conclusions," she said firmly. "Not without proof."
"But we don't ignore this either."
Stalin nodded slowly.
The doubt in his heart hadn't disappeared.
If anything—
It had only grown stronger.
The box with Tay's name sat quietly on the table.
Unopened.
Unrevealed.
But heavy with meaning.
Whatever was inside it…
Would change everything.