Chapter Text
"Mom, I'm home!" Ryan Hayes pushed open the door with a big grin, his voice bouncing off the walls of their cramped apartment.
It was already getting dark outside. After a long, exhausting day at Lincoln High, all he wanted was to crash on his bed and forget about everything. But tomorrow was the big Labor Day weekend, and that put a smile on his face. As a sophomore, he wasn't supposed to get much time off, but his school wasn't exactly the strictest in town—unless you were one of the top ten kids chasing scholarships. Ryan was just trying to survive.
"Hm?" No answer. He looked around the familiar living room. Their old complex hadn't changed in years, but his mom, Olivia, always kept their place spotless and cozy. It smelled like lemon cleaner and home.
He kicked off his sneakers, letting them thud against the wall, and tossed his backpack onto the faded couch. As he walked past her bedroom, he noticed a thin strip of light shining under the door. Curious, he gently pushed it open and peeked inside.
"Not here either?" The room was empty, but the lamp on the dressing table was on. His eyes landed on an old wooden box sitting right in front of the mirror. The carvings on it looked fancy but simple, like something from an antique shop or an old family heirloom he'd never noticed before.
The lock was already undone. Ryan couldn't help himself. He sat down at the table and lifted the lid. Inside were a thick photo album, a tiny glass bottle, and a strange notebook with a metal lock built into the spine.
He grabbed the album first and started flipping through. Most of the pictures showed his mom when she was younger—stunning, with bright eyes and a confident smile that lit up every photo. In the last few, she stood next to a tall man whose face was always turned away, like he was hiding from the camera on purpose.
"Ryan?" His mom's soft voice made him jump. He turned to see Olivia standing in the doorway, her warm eyes crinkling with affection.
"Mom, what's all this?" Ryan held up the album as she walked over.
"Oh, honey, that's me growing up," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She tapped one of the photos with the mystery man. "And that's your father."
Ryan barely remembered him. Dad had died suddenly when he was little—some kind of illness, Mom always said, though the details were always fuzzy.
"Why's his face never showing?" Ryan asked, feeling a weird tightness in his chest.
"His job... it was classified. Government stuff. Even I didn't know everything. Let's not dwell on it." Olivia gently took the album and set it aside.
She pointed to the notebook and the small bottle. "These were left for you. I almost forgot they existed. But now that you're eighteen, it feels right to pass them on."
"For me?" Ryan pointed at his own chest, eyes wide.
"Yeah. I have no idea what's inside the notebook. Your dad said it was important for when you were older." She smiled and turned toward the door. "I'm going to start dinner. Picked up some ribs on the way home—your favorite."
Her words made his heart feel full and a little heavy at the same time. As she walked away, her hips swaying gently in her casual home clothes, Ryan felt his cheeks heat up. He'd had that weird dream about her again last night. He shook his head, embarrassed.
"Left for me..." he muttered. He picked up the notebook and bottle and headed to his own room.
His bedroom was tiny compared to hers—just a desk, chair, bed, and a band poster on the wall. He set everything down and pulled the cork from the bottle first. Two small, clear glass beads rolled around inside. They looked like fancy marbles. Why would Dad keep something like this?
He set the bottle aside and focused on the notebook. The metal lock had a thumbprint spot. Ryan pressed his thumb on it. Click. It opened.
The first page read:
Son, if you're reading this, you're grown now. I'm sorry I couldn't leave you more, but what comes next is more valuable than anything else.
Stop everything and follow these steps exactly. First, press both temples firmly for twenty seconds, then...
It went on with weird instructions that sounded like some shady self-help guru or old meditation ritual. The notebook was short—only three pages—with a detailed diagram of the human body and pressure points on the last page.
Dinner wasn't ready yet, and Mom was busy in the kitchen. Ryan shrugged. Why not try it? It was Dad's last gift.
He followed the first step: pressing his temples hard for twenty seconds and focusing energy toward his eyes. When he finished, something felt... off. His eyes tingled with warmth. He sat there frozen for almost three minutes, staring at nothing.
He kept going, step by step, tracing the points on the diagram, moving some strange inner energy through his body and back to his eyes. It took over ten minutes total.
"Last part... the beads?" He picked up the bottle and held it close to his face.
Suddenly, two dark shadows burst from the bottle and shot straight into his eyes.
"Whoa—ow! Wait... it doesn't even hurt?" Ryan slapped his hands over his eyes, expecting pain that never came. Instead, everything felt clearer, refreshed, like he'd just woken up from the best sleep ever.
"What the heck are these?" He flipped back to the end of the notebook and found one final note under the diagram.
Once the Pupil is activated, anyone who looks into your eyes for more than three seconds can be hypnotized—if you choose to make it happen.
I don't need you to become some big shot. I just hope you find a way to enjoy this world.
Ryan stared at the words, heart pounding. The apartment smelled like barbecue ribs drifting in from the kitchen. Olivia called out, "Dinner's almost ready, sweetie!"
He closed the notebook slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. The beads had done something real. He could feel it deep inside. Power? A gift? A curse? Whatever it was, his life was never going to be the same.