“Welcome!” Rachael greeted as Mike got home. “Have you guys settled?”

Mike sighed, shook his head, and sat next to her on the couch. He dug his hand inside the tub she was holding and brought out a handful of popcorn.

"We are blessed with a two-week suspension." Mike remarked, grating the popcorn in his mouth.

“You're also spending the rest of the month at home with me,” Rachael said with a smile. “But… Why are you eating my popcorn?”

“Just because… It's delicious by the way. Cut out sugar! Rachael!”

“Mind your business, busy bones!”

Just then, the door creaked and opened, and Stefan came inside, zipping up.

He looked up, flinching at the sight of Rachael. “Who…”

“I'm Rachael. I'm Mike's younger sister.”

“What!? You're Rachael? The last time I saw you were...” he gestured, trying to envision how short she was the last time they met.

“Stop with your silly exaggeration, idiot. You're only two years older than her.” Mike cut in.

“Those two years can never be bought, silly!” Stefan retorted.

“Been a while,” Rachael said and waved.

“Yeah…it's…really been a while,” Stefan stammered, still surprised.

With her back propped up on the couch, Rachael continued watching the movie showing on the TV.

She suddenly turned to Mike. “By the way, I don't like the book I took last night, I'd probably come to your room to get the one you just finished,” she said.

“No problem!” Mike replied and stood up, “Let's go to my room,” he said to Stefan and headed upstairs. Stefan followed, stealing glances at Rachael.

Stefan's eyes widened in awe as he stepped into Mike's room. "Wow, I had no idea you had such a stunning sister!" he exclaimed.

"Close the door before your words get you into even more trouble,” Mike swiftly cautioned and threw himself onto his bed.

Stefan couldn't contain his admiration. "She's absolutely breathtaking!" he said as he slammed the door shut.

"Yes, people often react that way, it's a common occurrence,” Mike nonchalantly replied.

"Incredible... she was just a little girl, and now..." Stefan's words trailed off as he marveled at Mike's sister's transformation. His gaze met Mike's stern expression, and Stefan's speech faltered.

Mike rose from the bed, his raised eyebrow and shaking head serving as a warning. "Tread carefully, Stefan. You're heading for trouble. My sister's not someone to trifle with – she's hazardous to your well-being. So save yourself and don't fall for my sister.”

Stefan began to protest, "I didn't say I—"

"Good, just drop it," Mike interrupted.

“Whatever!” Stefan hissed and rolled his eyes, sitting on the chair beside Mike's bed. His curiosity shifted to the mysterious box on Mike's closet. "What's that?"

Mike shrugged. "Just an old box."

Stefan stood up and approached the box, intrigued. "What's inside?" he inquired, inspecting it.

"Wish I knew. It's secured with some sort of antiquated lock," Mike admitted.

"Want me to smash it open?" Stefan proposed and Mike erupted into laughter, clearly amused by Stefan's suggestion.

Stefan's curiosity was piqued. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Is the box too hard to break open?" he inquired, eyeing the mysterious container.

Mike's expression turned serious. "Just make sure you secure life insurance before attempting to break it. You'll need it, trust me.”

“Why?”

“Because my sister will send you to a peaceful eternal rest. Don't worry, I'll be sure to mourn at your funeral, what are friends for?” Mike replied, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Stefan looked perplexed. "Is that meant to have any significance?" he asked incoherently.

"Never mind. Just remember to steer clear of her. The prettier, the deadlier," Mike advised.

Stefan's eyes widened in shock. "Are you intentionally trying to tarnish her reputation?"

Mike's gaze locked onto Stefan's, his sigh heavy with concern. "You're misunderstanding this entirely. This isn't good."

“Why do you want me to distrust your sister so intensely?" Stefan pressed for clarification.

Mike's expression turned grave. "You don't understand me. Why do you think she's staying home?"

Stefan's curiosity deepened. "Why?"

"Hers was three weeks," Mike revealed.

Stefan's eyes widened further. "Suspension? What happened?"

Mike's voice dropped to a serious tone. "She threatened to throw a classmate off the junior year three-story building," he replied. "It was a threat in reality, but even threats have their limits."

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Stefan's face fell, his voice barely above a whisper. "Dammit..."

Mike's expression turned solemn. "Rachael has a volatile temper, like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. When it does, she transforms into a force to be reckoned with – even more intense than Christina. I fear for your safety, Stefan."

Stefan's eyes widened in alarm. Mike continued, "She's unaware of her own fury, so please, don't remind her. It's better left unspoken."

Stefan was disappointed. "Oh my goodness, I think it's wiser to leave my feelings unrequited,” he said in sadness.

Mike pulled Stefan into a reassuring hug. "Don't worry, I've got your back." He patted Stefan's back gently and raised the corner of his lip into a sardonic grin.

Unbeknownst to Stefan, Rachael's school suspension stemmed from a fierce altercation with a classmate, where she wielded a broken chair, inflicting minor injuries. Not really going as far as to practically toss someone from the building.

While Rachael's temper was formidable, Mike's account was an exaggeration. His motive was clear: preventing potential conflict by keeping Stefan and Rachael apart.

What if they clashed after starting a relationship?

Whose side would he take?

His best friend? Or his sister?

Though his methods were unorthodox, his intention was to protect Stefan and his sister from potential heartbreak.

In addition to eliminating future disagreement and heartaches, one issue has been resolved thanks to his exaggeration.

*****

Stefan departed as evening descended, leaving Mike alone after an afternoon of Xbox gaming.

Mike grabbed the second book on his bedside shelf, diving into its contents despite the initial boredom. His rapid reading pace devoured page after page, seeking a thrilling twist. As he turned the pages, a hard object caught his attention, concealed between the next three pages.

Mike's eyes widened, his breath caught in surprise as he beheld what was there.

A golden key lay hidden.

Mike held the key aloft, inspecting its intricate design.

"Your parents are back!" Rachael's contralto voice broke the silence.

Mike's thoughts flickered. What did she mean? Weren't they her parents too?

Rachael's quirks often left him perplexed.

"Okay! I'm coming!" Mike called out.

He abandoned the mysterious key, rushing downstairs.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith work in one of the state's largest companies. Mr Smith was a Marketing director while Mrs Smith, a General manager in the company. Despite their wealth they wanted their children to walk their own ways to their success, rather than having eyes on their parents’ wealth.

Mike finally descended the stairs and was surprised to find everyone in the dining room, seated. "Welcome, Mom, Dad!" he greeted. "When did you arrive?"

"About five minutes ago. Come join us," Mr. Smith replied.

Mike's eyes narrowed. "How did dinner get prepared so quickly?"

Mrs. Smith smiled warmly at Rachael. "I have Rachael to thank for relieving me of dinner stress."

Mike's gaze shifted to Rachael, incredulous. "Why? Just...why?"

"Did you threaten her or something, Mom?" he teased.

Mrs. Smith chuckled. "Of course not!" she replied innocently.

Mike turned to Rachael, serious. "Are you sick? You never cook voluntarily."

Rachael savored her pasta, unfazed. "Seems you're not hungry, judging by your nonsense."

Mike grinned, joining the meal. As they ate, Mike pondered Rachael's unusual culinary endeavor.

Mr. Smith began, "So, Mike, take your two-week suspension as time to recuperate and learn how to avoid your problematic girlf—" His words faltered as Mrs. Smith discreetly nudged his leg under the table, probably to stop him from getting on Mike's nerves.

Mike's eyes met his father's, sensing the unspoken warning.

"What he meant was… Don't cause trouble during your holiday or…whatever it's called, okay?" Mrs. Smith said, seeking Mike's assurance.

"Yes, mom!" Mike replied, nodding. He turned to Rachael, who fixed him with an intense stare.

"What? Why are you staring at me?" he asked.

Rachael's voice dripped with sarcasm. "She doesn't know the kind of son she has. You'll definitely cause trouble, maybe even bigger."

Mike's whisper held a warning. "Shut up if you don't have a death wish!" His gaze lingered on Rachael.

Undeterred, Rachael shrugged. "I reserve my comment. I'll just eat my pasta in peace."

Their parents remained indifferent to the exchange. After dinner, Mike retreated to his room and collapsed onto his bed.

Minutes passed before he recalled the earlier mystery.

He sprang up.

The book.

The golden key.

Mike retrieved both. He inspected it again for a minute and his eyes widened in realization.

The box!

Mike rushed to the closet, retrieved the box, and placed it on his bed. He examined it, locating the keyhole. With trembling hands, Mike gently slid the golden key inside. He turned and twisted the key, but the box remained sealed, he tried to open it severally and eventually, the key got stuck.

Mike's frustration grew. "Perhaps I was wrong, I just stuck in the wrong key," he conceded, self-doubt creeping in. Defeated, he returned the box to the closet and sat back on his bed.

Suddenly, just as he sat down a sharp click echoed from the closet. Mike swiveled, his heart racing. The box had opened of its own accord and radiating an intense, ethereal light.

Cautious, Mike approached the box with slow, deliberate steps. As he drew near, the light flickered and died. "What the...?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. He hesitated, then tapped the box with his index finger, ensuring it was harmless.

With bated breath, Mike cautiously lifted the box's lid, revealing a book with a worn, wooden cover. The title, "The Legend of Perebia," was etched in elegant, curved letters.

As he opened the book, Mike's astonishment deepened. This was no ordinary book. Its pages lacked a traditional layout, instead featuring a kaleidoscope of characters and symbols from various languages, blurred and clustered together.

Mike's eyes widened. "What kind of book is this?" he whispered.

As he leaned in, the book seemed to sense his proximity, casting a soft, orange glow on his face. The dim light illuminated Mike's features, highlighting his fascination and trepidation.

Mike, still startled, tried to pull his head away but couldn't, his muscles frozen in a state of petrified immobility.

A piercing, ear-shattering ring assaulted his senses, accompanied by a debilitating headache. It felt as if a thousand wild horses galloped through his mind.

Memories flashed before his eyes like a frenzied slideshow: childhood laughter, Rachael's mischievous grin, and cryptic whispers. Followed by screeches, war cries and unfamiliar voices.

The book's radiant glow began to fade. As the light dissipated, the mental grip released Mike. Gasping, he flung the book to the floor. "What kind of cursed book is this?" he exclaimed.

Breathless, he stared at the mysterious tome. Moments passed and the book cover creaked open on it's own, letters and symbols began to swirl.

Chaos transformed into order. Intricate symbols began to shift, rearranging themselves. Incomprehensible languages merged into lucid text.

Mike's trepidation wrestled with curiosity. Fear urged him to flee, but intrigue anchored him.

An insatiable hunger to unravel the mystery drove him.