He led me up the stairs to the last door on the right. Though he hesitated before he opened the door.

“This room is vacant at the moment. However, it used to belong to an old friend of ours, so please try not to touch many things in the room.”

“Of course.” I agreed and then added. “As long as you bring what I asked for.”

Amusement sparked across his face. Making him an open book compared to the other man. He stood as tall as the other man, easily over 6’4"; however, the first man had the build of a hardened soldier.

But his movements seemed more restless. As if his mind was always three steps ahead of his body. His hair was a wild mess of white. Sticking out in untamed tufts like he’d either just rolled out of bed or had been too deep in a project to bother smoothing it down.

Smudges of grease streaked across his face and hands. Evidence of long hours spent working with machines or technology. His sharp blue eyes were striking against the grime. Flickering with intelligence and an almost manic curiosity, constantly darting around as if assessing everything in the room at once. His clothes had clearly seen better days.

Patched together from different fabrics. Reinforced in places where the seams had probably given out long ago. The sleeves of his jacket were uneven. One rolled up to the elbow while the other hung loose, both stained with oil and soot. His boots had scuff marks.

The years of use had worn down the leather, along with his gloves. If they even started as a matching pair. They were now tattered, barely holding together at the fingertips. Despite his rough appearance, there was something alive about him. An energy crackled beneath the surface, like he was always one thought away from a new invention or a reckless decision.

Basically, he was a taller version of me when I dived deep into one of my inventions. Though I have at least never let myself go as much as he seemed to have. My inventions are a big part of who I am. But they’re not everything to me like they seem to be to this guy. I gave him a nod before I slipped into the room, closing the door behind me.

I didn’t even bother to sit down before I started glancing around the room. The air was thick with dust. The kind that clung to everything like a second skin. It swirled in lazy patterns with every step I took. It was obvious no one had been in here for years.

The stillness in the air felt heavy, untouched, as if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for someone to disturb it. Drawings covered the walls. Some pinned haphazardly. Others were curling at the edges where the adhesive had failed. They depicted all kinds of things.

But the majority were creatures. Twisted, nightmarish things with too many limbs, hollow eyes, and gaping mouths lined with jagged teeth. Among them were strange landscapes. The places looked warped and wrong, as if reality had stretched too thin. There were also people.

Some are drawn in meticulous detail. Others sketched so hastily they were barely more than silhouettes. The sheer number of them made the room feel crowded. As if I weren’t alone but were being silently watched by a hundred faceless eyes. Near the bed, a pair of boots sat neatly on the floor, coated in a thick layer of dust.

Years of use cracked and wore the leather. Yet they remained in their place as if waiting for someone to slip them on again. The bed itself was made. But the sheets and blanket were stiff with age. A fine layer of dust covers every inch of the fabric.

Dulling its original color until it was something lifeless and gray. Against one wall stood a desk, just as dusty as everything else. Its surface is littered with unfinished drawings. Some were half-erased. Others abandoned mid-stroke.

The pencil still rested where someone had left it. As if its owner had planned to return at any moment but never did. Faint smudges of graphite and ink stained the wood. In the dim light, I could make out the faded outline of a handprint. As if someone had once leaned there for hours, lost in their work.

The entire room carried an eerie sense of abandonment. Not just a space left to gather dust. But of a life interrupted of someone who had once lived here. Breathed here. Created here.

Then simply… stopped. Though most of the drawings were of nightmarish things. Which, from the little I’ve seen of this place, is probably just the artist drawing everyday things.

******

As I watched the surveillance from one of my curfew nightmares, I couldn’t help but smirk. “It seems your brother is finally back, my little nightmare maker.”

I told the sweet little thing who knelt in front of me. His head jerked up from the bowed position he usually stayed in, and his usually dead eyes widened in surprise when they saw the image in front of him.

“Though from the look of him, our mutual friend must have taken away his memories and his old abilities. I wonder how she expects him to survive in this world like that. Hmm, no matter, I should probably move up the day of the trials to honor his return. What do you think, my little nightmare maker?”

He turned his head to face me. Any emotions I had seen earlier were long gone, and a familiar deadness filled them. I wasn’t surprised, but I had hoped they would remain for a little longer. It makes me miss the spitfire he was when I first imprisoned him. The curses he used to spit out, along with the glares he would send me, would secretly make me grin.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave someone this close to me unbroken. Especially when I took him as a punishment for his brother. My first nightmare maker is disappearing. Actually, I was going to steal this sweet little one first. But he ran home to his brother, who took his place.

Usually, I wouldn’t be so keen to let my true target switch places. However, his brother was willing to do anything. To keep this sweet little one out of my hands. I decided to indulge him until I grew bored. Then replace him with his brother.

He, however, had to be stolen by her. Which pissed me off to no end. Especially when he didn’t come back. She would never keep against his will. Which meant he thought his being stolen wouldn’t be a breach of our contract.