Children of Gambit

Keith's fingers curled around the wooden shelf, his cat-like eyes glinting with anticipation. His enthusiasm was infectious, though I wasn't about to admit it. My hands were already positioned to assist.

Without a word, we counted down in silent sync. One. Two. Three.

The shelf moved far too easily. The oil-lubricated grooves ensured its smooth passage, as if someone had been expecting this moment—or had prepared for it in advance.

Keith let out a small chuckle. "Oof, that wasn't heavy at all." His grin was practically blinding in the dim light.

"Yeah, whatever…" My attention had already shifted beyond the passage we had just uncovered.

A long corridor stretched ahead, its walls reclaimed by nature. Moss climbed its damp surfaces, vines curling in through unseen cracks. The air was thick with the scent of mildew, a stark contrast to the crisp, artificial scent of old books in the main library. The atmosphere had shifted entirely, as if we had stepped out of one world and into another.

Keith exhaled, his breath a quiet laugh. "Bro—this is some straight horror movie stuff." His golden eyes flickered between me and the yawning darkness ahead. "So? We going in or what?"

"No. My work ends here." I turned, already heading toward the west exit of the building. "There was no deal about going inside."

Keith didn't even try to hide his smirk. "C'mon, you're just gonna walk away now? You sure?"

I scoffed. "I didn't solve anything. The facts were already there. If whoever left those clues in the book titles didn't have memory issues, this case would've been a dead end from Miss Deborah's behavior alone."

Keith tilted his head. "Yeah, but no normal person would go through all that trouble just for fun. You were into this, weren't you?"

I had no response for that. Because, in truth… maybe he was right.

"…I guess—"

"Great. Let's get moving."

Keith didn't wait for confirmation before stepping inside.

What a hassle. I sighed, following close behind.

---

The passage swallowed us whole, the dim light barely penetrating its depths. Each step felt heavier, the air thick with something old and undisturbed.

Time became a strange concept. Maybe it was the length of the corridor, or maybe it was the way the darkness pressed in, but it felt like we had been walking for far longer than we actually had.

Then, finally, we reached an imposing wooden door.

Its surface was worn but still solid. Age had robbed it of its refinement, but not its strength. Moss curled at its base, creeping up as if trying to reclaim it.

A tarnished brass plate, dulled with time, bore the words:

Library Records.

Keith and I exchanged a glance. Then, without hesitation, he pushed it open.

Creeeaakk!

The door groaned, its rusted hinges screaming in protest.

"The hell is wrong with you?" I hissed, though my tone lacked real annoyance.

Keith simply shrugged. "Relax, bro. We're too far in for anyone to hear."

I exhaled sharply. "Precautions, Keith. Precautions."

He merely smirked, already stepping inside.

The room was dense with dust, particles dancing in the dim glow of our phone lights. Tall shelves stretched toward the ceiling, filled with aged, crumbling documents. Some sections of the room were in disarray, drawers half-open, files scattered as if someone had searched in a hurry… or left in one.

"Yo, check this out." Keith called, crouching near an overturned file.

I walked over, glancing down at what had caught his attention. It was a photograph.

Faded, edges curling, but still intact. The figures in the image were identifiable—a group of six. Three women, one younger man in his mid-twenties, and two older men, likely in their early thirties. Their attire suggested corporate or administrative roles.

I flipped it over.

A single date, written in red marker, stared back at me.

1996.

There was no month. No day. Just the year.

"Looks like some worker's day group photo," I muttered.

Keith was already rifling through a nearby cabinet. A locked cabinet.

"Keith."

No response.

"Keith."

His head snapped up, blinking at me. "Huh?"

"Nevermind." I turned back to the shelves.

Something felt off.

I dragged open a few drawers, each one revealing old, forgotten documents. Then, my fingers brushed against something labeled:

Students' Records.

"Keith. Come look at this."

I heard him groan. "You just said it wasn't important—"

"It is now. So come look."

"Fineee." He dragged himself over.

I placed the dust-covered file into his hands. Keith made a face, waving away the dust before opening it. His eyes scanned the names inside.

"These guys are probably married by now."

"How are you so sure?"

"You know. Grown up, university, job, marriage, kids. The cycle." Keith sighed. "Man, adult life sucks for real."

"Or they're dead."

Keith's face shifted. His easygoing demeanor flickered, something serious passing over his features. "…Bro. That's a little—"

"It's realistic," I cut in. "Not everyone gets that 'adult life' you're talking about."

A pause.

Keith didn't argue.

Instead, he exhaled through his nose, looking back at the file. The quiet stretched between us, filled only with the weight of forgotten names and the dust of abandoned records.

"…We should head back before someone notices we're missing," I finally said. "Let's take pictures of the important stuff and leave."

Keith nodded. He walked back to grab the photograph, while I reached for my phone.

Then, it happened.

The moment I pulled out my phone, it slipped.

Damp. Thud.

I froze.

Keith turned. "Oh damn, you good?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "I got it."

I crouched, reaching for my phone—

And saw them.

Footprints.

Not ours.

Fresh imprints in the dust, leading toward the very cabinet Keith had tried to open earlier.

Someone had been here. Recently.

Keith noticed my sudden stillness. "Klein?"

I took a slow, controlled breath. Then, I lifted my phone and snapped a picture of the footprints.

"…Let's go," I said quietly.

Keith didn't argue.

As we left the room, the door creaking closed behind us, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were no longer just uncovering a mystery.

We had just stepped into it.