Chapter 42: A Mysterious Item
Having successfully lodged the complaint at the front desk, Atlas’s sole objective was to uncover any fragment of evidence that could point him toward the culprit responsible for turning their dorm room into a total disaster zone.
Stepping back inside, the room remained a complete eyesore. Nothing had magically fixed itself — it definitely wasn’t a bad dream he could just wake up from.
’Honestly, I’m so exhausted,’ Atlas sighed heavily, his eyes stinging with fatigue.
He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve before taking a deep, shuddering breath. ’I don’t even have the stamina for this right now...’
He shook off the lingering weakness from his week in the infirmary and summoned Skull.
The shadow wolf materialized smoothly from his shadow, his dark fur absorbing the ambient light of the room as he instinctively lowered his broad head to sniff the stone floor.
Together, they began methodically searching the ruined space for any trace of the intruder.
’It won’t end well for whoever did this when I find them,’ Atlas promised himself internally.
He picked up a stray, wooden-tipped arrow from Claus’s side of the room, using it to poke carefully through the piles of scattered, damp trash near the bookshelf.
Nearby, Skull was surprisingly helpful. Utilizing his sleek, agile frame, the wolf used his nose to nudge overturned chairs out of the way and carefully hooked his claws under flipped desk drawers, dragging them into a neat pile.
Whenever Atlas motioned toward a heavy stack of fallen textbooks, Skull would wedge his shoulder beneath the wood, lifting the weight effortlessly so Atlas could inspect the floorboards beneath without straining his healing back.
Atlas paused, looking at the sheer volume of clutter still covering the floorboards.
’If I leave this here until tonight, the whole floor is going to stink,’ he reasoned, nodding slowly to himself.
’I might as well clean it up now. Even if I do it alone, those three will owe me big time when they see what I dealt with.’
Clearing out the trash while searching for clues felt like the most practical approach.
’Alright, I need proper cleaning supplies. Which means walking all the way back to the reception desk...again’
The trek down the long residential wings felt daunting in his drained state. By the time he finished scrubbing the room, his remaining energy would be completely tapped out.
’Man, this is so stressful,’ Atlas groaned internally, leaning his forehead against the doorframe for a brief second. ’I almost miss the hospital bed. At least I didn’t have to deal with rotten garbage.’
He turned on his heel and headed back toward the reception area. It was early afternoon, which meant Derrick, Eric, and Claus were currently stuck in their respective departmental lectures, completely oblivious to the chaos waiting for them.
’Must be nice,’ Atlas thought wryly as he walked down the stone corridor. ’They don’t have to witness this mess... Wait. Witness. I need a physical witness from the staff.’
Reaching the front desk, he approached the counter where the same junior maid who had taken his complaint was leaning back, organizing parchment files.
"Excuse me again," Atlas said smoothly, leaning his hands against the smooth dark wood. "I need to request a full set of industrial cleaning supplies for Room 150 — brooms, disinfectant, heavy-duty trash bags, and a mop."
The maid raised an eyebrow, pausing her work to stare at him in mild surprise. "Room 150? Isn’t that a four-man suite? Usually, dormitories handle their own light tidying, or you wait for the scheduled weekly deep-clean by the junior staff."
"If you saw the state of the room, you’d know waiting isn’t an option," Atlas replied calmly, maintaining direct eye contact. "Someone completely ransacked the place while I was away."
The maid sighed, stepping back from the desk and disappearing into the outer supply closet located just behind the lobby.
A minute later, she emerged carrying a heavy galvanized bucket filled with coarse scrubbing brushes, rag bundles, mana-purifying spray bottles, and four massive black trash bags.
Before she could set the bucket down on the counter, Atlas spoke up, his voice dropping into a polite, urgent tone.
"Could you actually follow me back to the room for a moment?" he asked. "I need official staff verification for the complaint ledger I filled out earlier."
The maid blinked, her brow furrowing in hesitation as she held the heavy bucket. "Follow you? Look, student, my post is here at the front desk. We aren’t supposed to abandon the lobby unless there’s an active emergency or a direct order from the Head Maid."
"It’s a security breach," Atlas pressed gently, pointing back toward the residential hallway.
"The room was locked, yet the interior is destroyed. If I clean it up right now without a staff member verifying the damage, it becomes my word against whoever did it. It’ll take two minutes, and it ensures the Head Maid has an actual witness when she reviews my file."
The maid looked at the heavy ledger on her desk, then back at Atlas’s serious expression. She let out a long, defeated breath.
"Fine," she muttered, picking up the bucket again. "But if another student comes to the desk while I’m gone, you’re telling the Head Maid I was assisting with an official security check."
"Deal," Atlas said, turning to lead the way.
They walked in silence down the long residential wing, their footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
When they finally reached the open doorway of Room 150, the maid stepped up beside Atlas, and instantly froze.
Her jaw dropped slightly, her eyes widening in sheer disgust as her gaze swept over the overturned wardrobes, shredded papers, and slimy trash piles covering the floorboards.
She took an instinctual step backward, refusing to allow even the toes of her boots to cross the wooden threshold.
’Can’t blame her,’ Atlas thought, watching her reaction. ’If I were getting paid base staff wages, I wouldn’t step inside a boys’ dorm room looking like a war zone either.’
"So you’re telling me someone trashed the entire place, and you have no idea who did it?" she asked, pulling her collar up over her nose to block the pungent smell.
"It was like this the second I walked in after being discharged," Atlas replied, gesturing toward the upturned furniture.
"I wouldn’t have believed you if I hadn’t seen you fill out that ledger earlier," she admitted, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Good luck cleaning that up — they definitely don’t pay me enough to handle a disaster zone like this. I will keep this in mind and treat this as urgent by making sure to relay this to the Head Maid as you requested."
"Thank you. That’s all I needed," Atlas said with a nod.
She dropped the heavy bucket near his feet with a sharp metallic clatter, turned on her heel, and practically sprinted back down the hallway toward the safety of the lobby.
Atlas watched her vanish around the corner before pulling up his communicator device, snapping several clear, high-angle photos of the wreckage from different positions.
"Well, at least now I have an official witness and a picture," he muttered, saving the files.
Setting his device aside, he immediately picked up the supplies and prepared himself.
Taking no chances with lingering odors, mystery fluids, or potential lingering toxins, Atlas suited up thoroughly.
He strapped a thick filter mask over his nose and mouth, pulled heavy rubber gloves over his hands, donned a canvas cleaning coat over his tunic, laced up heavy rubber boots, and adjusted a transparent face shield over his eyes.
"Alright... let’s get to work," he said, his voice muffled behind the mask.
What followed was a grueling, three-hour battle against the mess.
Skull proved to be an invaluable partner throughout the entire process.
While Atlas swept up the shattered glass and paper scraps, Skull used his jaws to carefully grip the handles of the heavy, filled trash bags, dragging them one by one toward the doorway so Atlas didn’t have to strain his back lifting them.
When it came time to right the heavy oak wardrobes that had been flipped onto their sides, Skull wedged his head beneath the frame, applying steady upward force while Atlas pulled from the top, bringing the massive furniture back upright with a heavy thud.
The shadow wolf even used his thin, controlled shadow tendrils to sweep out the tight, hard to reach crevices beneath the bedframes, dragging out hidden clumps of dust, stray wrappers, and debris that Atlas couldn’t reach with a standard broom.
By the time three hours had passed, Atlas had managed to clean almost everything. All that was left was mopping the stone floorboards thoroughly and spraying a heavy dose of mana-purifying air freshener to amplify the clean scent and eliminate the lingering stench.
The four massive black trash bags he had requested were filled to the brim, neatly lined up near the door frame.
Atlas stood near his own bed, his breathing heavy behind the transparent visor.
’This should be the last one...’ he thought, using a gloved hand to pick up a soggy banana peel resting near his pillow and dropping it into the open top of the final bag.
With his mattress finally clear — save for a damp, darkened patch left behind by the garbage — something metallic caught his eye beneath the edge of the ruffled bedsheet.
It was a small, delicate object that had been completely concealed by the trash pile.
Atlas leaned in close, his face shield reflecting the dim afternoon light as he reached down with a gloved hand and gently pulled it out.
It was a bracelet — a dark purple, metallic butterfly bangle that glimmered with a faint, unusual luster under the room lights.
The metal was cool to the touch, finely crafted, and completely out of place in a male dormitory.
Atlas stared at the piece of jewelry resting in his palm, his dark eyes narrowing sharply behind his visor.
’What is this? Who does this bangle belong to? I haven’t seen anything like this on Derrick, Eric, or Claus before...’