After seeing my valued client and new customer off to the elevator, I rushed back to the office. I wanted to jot down as many ideas as possible while the image of her was still fresh.

I tossed my phone onto the desk and turned to face the large blackboard mounted on the wall. Then I began scrawling images as they came to me. Colors, shapes, patterns, styles scattered infinitely across the world—and behind them, the vast history and human endeavors stretching back through time. Diving into that ocean, becoming part of it, gathering the necessary materials without conscious thought—this moment was my second favorite part of being an interior designer. The keys I needed were scattered somewhere beyond the horizon of expanded possibilities. At this stage, I still didn't know which key would fit my client's door.

The phone I'd left lying there suddenly yanked me back to reality. The image board before me had somehow become more than half full. Still with one foot in the zone, I quickly pressed the call and speaker buttons.

"Hey, Brian. Which is more philosophical—navy or deep green?"

"Glad to hear you're having fun. Are you free tonight?"

At Brian's words, I glanced at the office clock. Just past four. I was a bit surprised at how much time had passed.

"I'm free after six."

"Okay, I'll come to your apartment at seven."

As he moved to hang up, I slipped in a question.

"Hey, Brian. Want to go out for drinks tonight?"

Brian answered with silence. He seemed reluctant, but couldn't seem to find a reason to refuse.

To convince him, I pressed on.

"I'm in the mood for something lively today. Please? It'd really help if you could keep an eye on me so I don't do anything reckless."

At my heartfelt plea, Brian sighed grudgingly but answered, "Fine."

"Wait for me at the entrance at seven."

"Yes! Thanks!"

I hung up in high spirits and turned back to the image board with renewed enthusiasm.

Now, where was I?

Just as I picked up my pen, my mood further lifted by the prospect of alcohol, the reception call chimed for the second time that day. Somewhat wary, I pressed the intercom.

"Hi, Luke. Popular guy today."

"Hey... I really shouldn't have any more appointments."

As I insisted while mentally cycling through my schedule, Wyatt let out a cheerful laugh.

"Well, these cute visitors apparently want to ambush you without one."

"Cute visitors?"

I lined up acquaintances who might qualify as cute in my head. The only candidate was my half-sister. Who lived in Brazil.

As I puzzled over this, Wyatt muttered "actually, wait" and continued.

"Two of the four aren't that cute on second look. I feel like they're glaring at me."

"Hold on. There are four of them?"

"College students, apparently. So young. Their skin is all so smooth."

"College students?!"

The visitors were so unexpected that I was struck speechless. Having started working right after high school, college students were alien creatures to me. What could members of the smoothie-sipping, lawn-lounging species possibly want with a humble freelancer?

I glanced at the clock again. I still had over two hours until my appointment with Brian. Making time for them wouldn't be a problem, but...

"...Did they say why they're here?"

"They won't answer when I ask."

"Then I'm sorry, but could you turn them away?"

I was afraid they might make me solve advanced mathematics or something.

At my response, Wyatt cheerfully replied "understood" and disappeared from the receiver. He returned moments later, his voice slightly clouded for once.

"Luke, they have a message. They want me to tell you: 'We're friends of Alan Maxwell.'"

His words knocked the air out of me. I nearly crumpled where I stood.

Shock and questions crashed into me all at once, scrambling my thoughts further. Among them, one voice spoke louder than the rest, murmuring in stunned disbelief inside me.

Alan, you were still in college...?

Somehow I weathered the shock, and after a long moment—I accepted their visit.