Chapter 10

Victor entered his room; he was met with a scene of utter disarray. His belongings were scattered haphazardly across the floor, as if a tornado had swept through, leaving chaos in its wake. A wet towel lay draped across his bed, its soggy presence an affront to his sense of order. With a flick of his wrist, Victor picked up the offending towel, holding it between two fingers as if it might contaminate him.

He strode towards the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went, his movements economical and precise. But as he stepped into the bathroom, his foot skidded on a patch of slippery liquid, sending him stumbling. His hand shot out, grasping the sink with a vice-like grip, preventing him from crashing to the floor.

"Little Smith," he muttered, his voice low and even, but with a hint of irritation.

Victor showered, the water pounding against his skin, washing away the fatigue of the day. As he emerged, he felt refreshed, and his mind sharpened. He padded towards his closet, expecting to