About an hour and a half after leaving him, Mr. Yang, in all his glaring glory, returned to find Matthew on his hands and knees, scrubbing a sticky patch on the floor, alone. Stopping in the doorway for a moment, he stepped onto a still-wet patch of floor. "You work quite quickly, Mr. Robinson," he noted, glancing around the room, “...for someone who appears to have done it alone.”

Several empty plastic bins of toys, stuffed animals, and garbage were scattered about the floor. The toddler furniture pushed to the side, the bikes and easels brought in from the pavilion, and the room's center was clean. Well, getting there, as Matthew would've replied back if the fumes from every cleaning product in existence weren't making his head spin. Pressing the brush harder, he kept scrubbing.

Mr. Yang's footsteps moved slowly, the man humming as he glanced around the room. Patches of mold were exposed. Bits of wood and drywall eaten away by the rodents lost in this room, or destroyed by moisture, collected in a pile on an old dirty blanket. Mildew spread along the wooden trim, eaten away by a long-deceased colony of carpenter ants. "Maybe it would've been best to just demolish this space and rebuild it. Thoughts?"

Stopping to breathe and steady his head, Matthew wiped his brow and finally met the older man's eyes. "You say that like this probably isn't a historically landmarked building," he replied, sticking his now-flavorless gum into the back of his mouth.

Hands clasped behind his back, Mr. Yang turned his eyes away and back to the toys stacks along the walls. "Now, I do believe this assessment involved the children. Yet they..." The man leaned forward, checking every corner as if he could spot them easily. "... don't seem to be here anymore." He sniffed, putting the back of his hand over his mouth. "Good Lord, what smells like bleach?"

"They'll be back," Matthew replied, breath heavy. "Well, one will, at least. The other's outside."

"Really?" he asked, his face unmoving yet appearing more suspicious somehow. "May I ask where the one ran off to, then?"

Matthew didn't answer. He nodded his head back towards the entry to the dining room.

Lilly, covered from head to toe in dust, soot, and a sprinkling of lemon cleaning products dragged in another trash can, just emptied. Her red rain boots covered in grime and scuffs, she smiled when her eyes met her father's. "Hi, Daddy!" she wheezed, propping it in the middle of the room. "It smells nice now, right? Matthew let me pick the smell!"

Indeed, the sickly vinegar-garbage odor was softened by roses and vanilla.

"These're the bins where we put the broken toys," she continued, pointing to a half-filled plastic bin. "This bin's for the toys and books and stuff we don't play with or don't want anymore. Matt says we should donate them to other kids! I like that! But first, they need to get cleaner." Lilly spun and pointed to another bin. "This's garbage, or toys we think were toys before Elliot's snake ate them."

An unsurprised look crossed Mr. Yang's face; he folded his arms over his chest. "A snake?"

Lilly nodded, grinning. "Yeah! And Elliot already found his body, too!"

The older man sighed lowly, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Are there any other dead animals I should know of?"

Matthew opened his mouth to answer but didn't. "Hold on, one second." He turned his head towards the pavilion. "Elliot?"

"Whaat?" came his voice from a distance.

"How many dead things did you find?"

The boy in question climbed over the low railing from the garden and peered into the low plastic container. "Eight. No, no...yeah, eight." He gasped and jumped towards Mr. Yang. "Uncle Jun! I found a bird's skull! And you won't believe all the mold and fungus I got! Wanna see?"

"Mold?" Mr. Yang asked, withdrawing his hand away from Elliot's grasp. His eyes narrowed from what appeared like worry. "What, what kind of mold?"

"I'm going to make so many potions, and, and poisons. And curses." He gasped, spinning back to the pavilion. "If I can find a wart of a newt, I'll have four of, like, nine things for a potion!" He glanced over his shoulder. “Did you find my electrocution stuff yet?”

“Nope,” Lilliana called back, “but we'll keep looking!”

Mr. Yang's expression told Matthew everything he needed to know – he “misplaced” it, most definitely. "Elliot, not tonight," Matthew reminded, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "This is enough physical exercise for you today. Besides, it's not a full moon. We can go hiking down by the creek tomorrow if the weather's good, okay?"

Sighing like a horse, Elliot whined, "Fiiine."

Matthew's eyes returned to Mr. Yang. Standing, he whipped off his disposable gloves, discolored from all the cleaning products. "Concerning the mold, most of it I've gotten rid of with bleach. You're also out of bleach." He nodded his head towards the two empty gallon bottles in the plastic bin of garbage. "I'd recommend calling in a specialist for mold inside the walls, also to ensure there's no mice in the walls. We've found a few mice skeletons, but I wouldn't run it passed them that they're in the walls, too." He shrugged. "This room clearly didn't get used as much as it should have, but I hope that, as soon as it's done, it becomes less of a playroom and more of a workspace for them."