’Just... what do I even start with?’

Blake dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly before he scratched the back of his head, eyes roaming slowly across the room again.

The first impression hadn’t been misleading, if anything, the longer he looked, the more overwhelming it became.

There was just too much.

Stacks of books piled unevenly, some leaning dangerously as if one wrong movement would send them collapsing.

Papers layered over papers, some neatly clipped, others half-crumpled like they’d been abandoned mid-thought.

Posters covered most of the walls, overlapping in places... schematics, diagrams, abstract designs of machinery that looked like they belonged in a research facility rather than a teenager’s bedroom.

’Their interests are quite scary.’

And then there were the objects themselves.

Loose wires, circuit boards., tools. Small mechanical parts scattered like breadcrumbs of unfinished ideas.

Blake exhaled quietly.

’Anything could be hidden in here.’

Something small could vanish between the pages of a book and never be found again. A folded document could slip behind a poster and sit there for years.

Even something slightly larger could be disguised as just another piece of clutter in this mess.

His gaze narrowed slightly.

’But then again...’

He leaned back just a fraction, folding his arms loosely.

’This isn’t Asher’s house.’

That mattered, of course.

If Asher had something important, truly important, he wouldn’t just leave it lying around in someone else’s room.

Not without some kind of precaution or without control over the space, that would be sloppy.

’And yet...’

Blake’s lips twitched faintly.

’He is naive, so who knows.’

Not stupid, definitely not, but naive in a way that made him trust people too easily.

More specifically, trust Blake.

So maybe, just maybe, he would leave something behind without realizing the risk.

Before Blake could follow that thought any further, the door opened.

Anthony’s father stepped inside, balancing a tray in his hands.

The scent of something sweet reached Blake first... cookies! Followed by the sharper saltiness of popcorns. Three glasses of orange juice sat neatly arranged beside them.

"I’ll just leave this here," he said, voice warm and easy as he set the tray down on a nearby surface. "You boys enjoy yourselves." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"Thanks, dad," Anthony replied without hesitation.

The man gave a small nod, his smile lingering for a second longer as his gaze flicked briefly toward Blake.

"Make yourself at home," he added.

Then he stepped out, closing the door gently behind him.

It was silent again.

Blake’s eyes followed the door for a moment before drifting back into the room.

Even with the added distraction of snacks, the atmosphere hadn’t changed much. It was still pretty cluttered.

Still very... them.

It was almost funny, in a way, because the room truly did scream their personalities.

Obsessive and curious. Focused on things most people wouldn’t even bother trying to understand.

Blake tilted his head slightly, letting his gaze linger on one particular section of the wall.

AL-TECH.

The name showed up more than once.

Posters, printed articles and even handwritten notes referencing it.

And, of course, Alfred Hicth.

Blake sighed slightly at the mere sight. That smile was truly fake.

"So," he said, shifting slightly on the bed, "which one of you got into AL-TECH first?"

Anthony blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"Ah?" He tilted his head. "I think Asher did. I mean, I was more into the tech itself. I didn’t really care about the companies behind it at first."

Asher shook his head lightly.

"Not really," he said. "We got interested in it around the same time. Maybe a month apart."

Blake nodded slowly.

So it wasn’t influence, or not directly, at least.

They hadn’t dragged each other into it, it had happened independently, which made it more natural and genuine.

And a bit scarier, since that means there were two geniuses in the family.

"I see," Blake murmured. "I never really cared that much about AL-TECH itself. More like... the visuals. That kind of thing."

Asher chuckled softly.

"That explains what you said," he said.

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"Ah?"

"You said earlier you didn’t understand much of what I said," Asher continued, a faint teasing edge in his tone. "So I guess your research wasn’t really about technical systems, right? Or am I wrong?"

Blake let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"No, you’re right."

His gaze flickered briefly, something sharper passing through it.

’Woukd you look at that. Does he think that I don’t know he knows?’

There was no doubt about that.

He knew, or at least had a very good idea, what Blake had written in that research.

And yet he was still playing it down, still acting like he didn’t.

A bit naive with people? Sure. But not entirely honest.

Anthony nodded, leaning forward slightly.

"Yeah, I never actually asked," he admitted. "I just assumed you wrote something about tech. I mean, you’re smart."

Blake snorted.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" he said with a laugh. "Compared to you two?"

"You’re consistent," he said. "You don’t mess up. Everytime you complain, it’s about a 90. That’s more than enough."

Blake hummed.

He couldn’t argue with that but...

’I mean, I just need to be as average as possible to match with Myles, since I kinda ruined our... averageness.’

But even then, the reason why he got good grades wasn’t exactly... impressive.

In his previous life, he’d already been through most of this. He was was basically almost done with senior year, the foundation was there.

So even if things here were presented differently, completely different approaches to math, variations in how physics problems were framed, the concepts themselves hadn’t changed.

It was just a matter of adjusting, and he’d done that quickly.

Asher tilted his head, watching him.

"Do you want to share what you wrote?" he asked. "It’s not that common to get a tour at SSRT Tower without your research being heavily technical."

Blake exhaled quietly. There was no point in dodging.

Even if Asher wasn’t pretending, he could always ask a certain someone who did know about his research.

"It wasn’t about tech," Blake said. "I analyzed Trail-X."

Anthony’s eyes widened instantly.

"Trail-X?"

"Yeah," Blake nodded. "More like their persona. Behavior patterns. Public presence. I tried to build a profile."

Asher’s reaction was subtle, maybe a little too subtle.

His eyes widened just enough to suggest surprise, but it didn’t quite reach the rest of his expression.

"I didn’t even think I’d get anything out of it," Blake added casually. "I submitted it late. Like, two days before the deadline."

Anthony frowned slightly.

"Why so late?"

Blake shrugged.

"Got stuck," he said. "I couldn’t make it coherent. It felt off."

That part, at least, wasn’t entirely a lie.

"What made you finish it then?" Anthony asked.

Blake paused.

"Alfred Hicth, I happened to see him in person."

Anthony’s reaction was immediate.

"No way, you’ve seen him in person?!"

Asher, meanwhile was still not convincingly surprised.

Blake almost smiled.

’Go ahead,’ he thought. ’Ask about it. I won’t slip.’

"I just saw him from afar," Blake added.

It was a lie, of course, and a pretty ignorable one, at that.

But a reasonable one and, more importantly, a safe one. It’s not like he could just say he was the bastard child of an affluent family and that he casually spoke with one of the most important men in the world. It was supposed to be a secret, basically.

Anthony nodded anyway, clearly impressed.

"That’s still impressive," he said.

Then he glanced at Asher.

"Hey, want to grab some chips?"

Asher nodded.

"Sure."

The two of them stood, heading toward the door.

The moment it closed behind them, Blake moved.

The shift was immediate, the relaxed posture was gone. He stood up, scanning the room again, this time more intently.

He moved to the nearest stack of books, flipping one open.

Notes.

Another had equations.

Another had draft sketches, truly nothing useful. But even if they were, he couldn’t understand half of it.

He clicked his tongue quietly, moving on.

One drawer was empty.

Another had some tools and looked messy.

Then, an album.

Blake paused, that stood out.

He picked it up, flipping it open.

There were normal childhood photos of Anthony, mostly.

Then, he stopped.

Two babies held by the same man, maybe Anthony and Asher.

Blake frowned slightly, he didn’t recognize him.

Not from anything he’d seen so far.

’Strange.’

For a moment, he just looked at it.

Then, he closed the album and placed it back exactly where it had been.

He stepped back, lowering himself into the chair Asher had been sitting in earlier.

From here, everything was visible: from the door to the windows, the shelves and angles.

If something moved, he’d know.

Blake leaned back slightly, stretching his neck as his gaze drifted upward towards the lightbulb.

He squinted his eyes slightly.

There were no visible camera or lens.

Either way, nothing obvious really.

Still, something caught his attention inside the fixture. It was thin and barely noticeable.

Like... a strip of paper.

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

’Ah, so there was something.’

Before he could investigate further the door opened, so he shifted instantly, posture relaxing as he moved back onto the bed.

Anthony and Asher walked in, carrying a bowl of chips.

"Got the good ones," Anthony said proudly.

Blake smirked faintly, leaning back.

’Well,’ he thought, glancing briefly toward the light before looking back at them.

’For something that comes with a coin reward...’

He picked up a chip, crunching it thoughtfully.

’...this isn’t too bad.’