Losing the key to my summoner’s dorm would be a huge security concern since we’re both going to be staying there.

  It’s likely that the reason I’m assigned to stay there is that it’s Mr. Blonde’s way of telling my summoner that he’s responsible for me since he summoned me. The line of reasoning is similar to someone owning up to the responsibility of becoming a pet owner.

  To be treated like that… am I being treated like a nuisance or a potential danger? I’ll think about it later.

  If it weren’t for the old man, I probably would have found the key by now if I had kept tracing back my steps. Now I have to worry about the possibility of the key already being found by someone that isn’t me or my summoner.

  I continued down the halls with growing familiarity until I found Mr. Blonde’s office door.

  Standing in front of it, I did the basic courtesy of knocking a few times to announce my presence before taking a step back.

  The door opened faster than I anticipated, as I saw the lady who had introduced me to the cafeteria standing in the doorway.

  I waved at her, giving my greetings.

  She looked back and forth between me and Mr. Blonde sitting at his desk, speaking syllables as she did.

  Is now a bad time?

  I looked behind her and saw the old man walking into my view through the doorway.

  Definitely.

  The lady shifted in front of me, standing between me and the old man. She must have sensed tension and didn’t want it to escalate.

  I heard Mr. Blonde announce syllables from behind her.

  The way she turned her head told me she wasn’t expecting to hear whatever he had just said.

  She turned to me again, expression contorting. After a good 10 seconds, she stepped back, going further into Mr. Blonde’s office. She made a posture of pointing both her hands towards Mr. Blonde’s deck, as if she begrudgingly stepped aside to allow me to enter.

  I guess whatever he said involved me.

  I accepted her invitation and stepped inside, hearing the door close behind me.

  Mr. Blonde’s expression showcased the same indifferent, stoic, calculating expression. It’s clear he wants me as a witness to whatever was being discussed in this room.

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  The old man’s gaze remained on me.

  You don’t feel bad, do you?

  There wasn’t a hint of remorse on his face. In fact, it feels like he’s treating me as an enemy.

  Fuck you.

  I controlled my emotions and stood in front of Mr. Blonde’s desk. If he wants me here, I’d like to know why.

  Then I could finally discuss the issue about my missing key.

  We stared at each other, neither making an initiative to start a conversation.

  It felt awkward staring at him as he stared at me.

  Does he want me to start a conversation? What am I supposed to say?

  I looked around, seeing how the others saw my presence.

  Ms. Grey seemed a bit nervous.

  The old man still looked like he wanted to kill me.

  Maybe we could start with that.

  I pointed at the old man, showing Mr. Blonde my best look of confusion. It shouldn’t have been that hard, since I have no idea what the old man had against me when he was the one who hospitalized me.

  Mr. Blonde nodded, seemingly understanding my question, and bent down to open a drawer from his desk. He spoke some syllables loud enough for the others to hear.

  Whatever he said got an angry shout of protest from the old man, and a tone of concern from Ms. Grey.

  He sat back up in his chair and placed a folder right in front of me. It looked pretty thick, having a thickness comparable to a pencil.

  Mr. Blonde opened and turned the folder, speaking words while turning pages. I’m sure revealing the folder’s contents would be more meaningful with exposition, but they’ll literally fall on illiterate ears.

  He stopped, revealing a paper depicting the front of a snake, with the rest of their body disappearing in a plume of smoke. This went on for a few more pages.

  Seeing the smoke made me realize.

  Is the reason the old man attacked because smoke is associated with this? But if I’m suspected of possessing this creature that emits smoke, would hospitalizing me be the best approach?

  Whatever questions and scenarios I thought of, looking through the pages changed when I saw one depicting another smoking snake tattooed onto the back of someone.

  Then there was another depicting a snake tattooed on the chest of someone else.

  Another tattoo stretching the length of someone’s arm.

  A leg.

  Wrapping around 2 legs.

  The tattoos were increasingly disturbing, and the bodies they were on were becoming increasingly grotesque, with bits of flesh missing, limbs severed, even a head sliced clean off.

  Mr. Blonde then turned to the end, the last pages featuring mugshot-like depictions of different faces, each of them labeled with what I guessed were their names and dates of when they were found. Some of the faces looked like they belonged to the bodies I saw.

  After seeing the last page, Mr. Blonde closed the folder.

  I turned to the old man.

  His expression was solemn, but still seething with the rage he bore at me when I first entered the office while he was present.

  Does he think I’m associated with the people responsible for their deaths?

  I turned to Mr. Blonde, and he nodded, understanding my unspoken question.

  Ok, I guess I can understand wanting to deal with a potential murderer. The thing is, I’m innocent, as I didn’t exist until the day before. As for proof of my innocence…

  I stretched my hand over his desk and conjured golden particles matching the ones I saw the day my summoner and I were trapped in a bird cage.

  The orbs danced and conversed to form the altar I was summoned on.

  Except the particles were swept away by Mr. Blonde’s hand, like he was swatting dust.

  He hastily spoke some syllables, speaking something to the other occupants in the room, before producing golden particles similar to what I had conjured and used them to usher me out of the room, slamming the door shut.