Time: 11:00 AM
[Tobey, muttering to himself]
"Now, back to square one… Tonight, we steal the key and supplies."
He nodded to himself like a tiny general concluding a war council.
"I'll need my strength tonight," he whispered.
With that declaration, he stripped down to just his underwear and dove into bed like it was a tactical retreat.
After that, he went to sleep in his underwear—or to make things cozier, let's say it like this:
Outside, rain whispered in soft sheets, every drop tapping gently on the window. It sounded like the sky itself was humming a lullaby, coaxing the world into quiet. The room was dim, lit only by the pale morning light slipping through the curtains and the glow of a streetlamp still clinging to life outside.
A lazy breeze carried the fresh scent of rain and faint hints of detergent from the clean bedsheets—a soft, nostalgic smell that made everything feel safe.
Tobey slipped beneath the thick blanket, his bare skin brushing the cool sheets before the warmth wrapped around him like a sleepy cocoon.
—in this cave of warmth and fabric—
—it was heaven—
He stretched, one leg inside and one out, toes curling slightly as the blanket adjusted to his weight.
The hush of the room, the steady rhythm of rain, and the gentle chill merged into one perfect lullaby.
Despite the secret mission ahead, he felt nothing but peace.
The boy who plotted in the shadows… now basked in light, warmth, and silence.
A soft sigh escaped his lips.
Warm. Safe. Barely clothed.
Wrapped in comfort while the world outside drowned in gray.
Then—
creak—
A faint sound, deep in the house. A shift in the air.
But Tobey was already drifting. The blanket tugged him closer, and sleep welcomed him in.
Tonight… the breakout begins.
Dream Fragment: -
The keys dangled just out of reach, spinning slowly in a beam of moonlight.
Rope slithered across the floor like a snake.
A door opened, creaking—
but beyond it, only darkness… and the sound of rain.
Then came a whisper, soft and urgent:
"Go now."
[Mother, knocking gently on the door]
"Tobey, get up. It's 6:00 PM."
[Tobey, barely conscious, voice muffled under the blanket]
"Yes… I'm up."
[Mother]
"Come for dinner."
[Tobey, still half-asleep]
"Yeah… coming."
After slipping out from under the blanket, Tobey paused. The chill clung to his skin—only now remembering he was still in nothing but his underwear. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the basket of clothes by the door. He grabbed the ones he had worn in the basement and tugged them on without a second thought.
Time: 6:30 PM
Everyone was seated at the dinner table, quietly eating. The comforting clinks of cutlery filled the room.
[Tobey]
"Dad, what do you do when something's bothering you?"
[Father, mid-slurp]
"Depressed?"
[Mother]
"Tell us, please."
[Father]
"Okay, okay. First, write it down. If it can be fixed, then try to fix it. If it gets fixed, put a check mark in front of it. If it can't be fixed, cross it out and write how it can be ignored next to it."
[Father, in his mind]
"More surveillance over my son. If he actually does what I told him, I'll know what's bothering him. If I get the book he writes in… I can be a better father."
[Tobey, eyes on his plate, half-smirking]
"Sounds like a lot of work... What if I'm too lazy to write?"
[Father, still sipping soup]
"Then stay bothered, I guess."
[Tobey]
"Heh... fair."
He kept his tone light, but something about the answer lingered in his mind. Maybe he would try it. Not tonight, not with everyone watching. But maybe... someday.
[Mother, in her mind while watching the two]
"I should do that as well."
[Tobey, in his mind]
"Knowing my dad… he'll peek at the book anyway."
A sudden memory of the frog popped into Tobey's head. He snapped back to reality and began eating at lightning speed.
[Father]
"Slow down there! Food's not running away."
[Tobey]
"Yes, Master."
[Father]
"And drop the 'Master' act."
[Tobey]
"Okay, sir."
[Father]
"'Dad' will do the trick."
[Mother]
"He's just pulling your leg."
[Father sighs, wiping his mouth with a napkin before standing]
"Dinner therapy session's over. Next time, I charge a fee."
[Mother rolling her eyes]
"Your cooking's the fee."
The clicking of cutlery quieted.
Tobey pushed his chair back and stood, carrying his plate to the sink without a word. Nothing was said after that, but in his chest, the weight of his plan pounded louder than his heartbeat.
Steal the key. Steal the supplies. Steal freedom.
Tonight.
[Tobey]
"I'll head back to my room now and study."
[Father / Mother](in sync)
"That's our boy."
[Tobey, dryly]
"Stop copying each other."
Mother and Father glance at each other, a silent challenge in their eyes
[Father]
"Coffee."
[Mother]
"Substance 8."
[Father]
"What is that?"
[Mother]
"I don't know, it just came up in my brain." She shrugs.
"Anyway—good job, Tobey."
[Tobey]
"See you in the morning. Good night."
[Mother]
"Yes. Good night, honey."
[Father]
"Sweet dreams."
Tobey left the kitchen.
[Father]
"I'll help you with the dishes."
[Mother]
"Aww."
Let's leave Mom and Dad alone now and see what Tobey's up to. He's walking toward his room, quiet steps against the wooden floor, mind already racing.
[Tobey, muttering to himself]
"Let's check on the frog."
But the moment he entered his room, he froze.
There it was—a disturbingly familiar sight.
The same cat that once took shelter from the rain now crouched beside his bed, pawing at the container beneath it. Inside, the frogs flinched and leapt in panic, just like last time.
Same cat. Same frogs. Same chaos.
Tobey dashed forward and grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, lifting it with practiced irritation.
[Tobey]
"You again. Can't you harass something else for once?"
He glared at the smug feline, its tail swishing as if proud of the mischief.
[Tobey, walking toward the kitchen]
"You need a job. Pest control or therapy. Maybe both."
The cat blinked at him slowly, purring like a villain.
[Tobey]
"Don't give me that face. You're not getting away with it this time."
He marched down the hallway, holding the cat up by the scruff like a piece of stolen evidence.
Now let's peek at what was happening between [Mother] and [Father]...
The kitchen had gone soft, quiet. Warm.
Their shoulders had drawn close—eyes meeting, breaths slow, hearts syncing for just a moment.
Lips barely inches away.
Then—
sudden footsteps approaching, followed by a soft meow
They sprang apart like guilty teenagers.
[Father, in his mind]
"I just wanted to kiss my love for once..."
He cleared his throat stiffly.
[Father]
"Darling son is coming."
[Mother]
"As usual."
Tobey stepped in, expression blank, cat still dangling like a fuzzy report card.
[Tobey]
"This thing was… playing with my studies."
It was a line spoken like truth. But smelled like lie.
[Father] turned to the sink, scrubbing dishes with oddly focused intensity.
sharp clatter of dishes as one slips and bangs
[Mother]
"What? Did you mean books?"
[Tobey]
"Yes."
[Tobey, turning to leave]
"I'm heading back to my dungeon."
[Mother]
"Sure."
He paused at the door.
[Tobey]
"What's up with Dad?"
—Bang— loud bang of plate against metal sink
[Mother]
"Nothing."
After returning to his room, Tobey set the cat aside gently, closed the door, and knelt beside the frog container like it was a sacred lab bench. The frog sat still, unbothered, as if it too understood the importance of the moment.
He didn't speak at first. Instead, he reached into his drawer, pulled out his tattered notebook—the one he nearly lost during the basement mission—and flipped to a fresh page. The cover still had a smudge of X9000 Floor Cleaner on it.
He titled the page:
"FROG-1: Ongoing Observation."
Click. Flashlight on. Beam steady. His eyes scanned the frog's posture, its calm blinking, the subtle rise and fall of its breath.
"No signs of trauma from the relocation," he whispered, tapping the side of the container. "Subject seems... weirdly calm."
He scribbled a quick note:
No visible injuries.Container poked with holes—oxygen stable.Subject has not attempted escape. Possible psychological link?
He leaned in closer, placing a paper towel roll to the container like a stethoscope. It didn't help, but that wasn't the point. He had to try.
Then his eyes flicked to the wall—right where he'd hung the bedsheet rope earlier. His secret escape route, the one that almost killed him. He smirked faintly.
"All of that... and I ended up with a frog in a jar."
He turned back to the frog.
"I don't know what you are yet, but you're part of this. Somehow."
Another line entered the notebook:
Potential key to Phase Two.(Still need the shed key tonight.)
He studied the frog's reflection in the container—tiny, still, unreadable.
"Let's just hope you're on my side," he muttered.
And with that, he capped his pen, sat back, and stared at the frog like a detective staring at a suspect. The quiet hum of the rain outside only made it feel more serious.
This wasn't just a science project anymore.
This was part of the mission.
[Tobey]
"At 11:00, I get the key."
He reached beside his notes and unfolded a napkin like it held treasure. Inside, stiff and shriveled, was the former resident of his desk drawer—Subject 1. A cockroach.
[Tobey]
"Anyway, your name will be Subject 10. Here—"
He dropped the insect remains in front of the frog.
"—the remains of Subject 1. Eat it."
The frog just blinked. Unimpressed. Maybe offended.
[Tobey, nodding]
"Right. You're not hungry. Respect."
He turned back to his notebook and scribbled a line:
Subject 10 introduced to Subject 1 remains. No interest. Possible pacifist?
He leaned back, flashlight tilted upward like a stage light beneath his chin, casting shadows up the wall. His voice dropped into documentary mode.
[Tobey]
"Phase Two begins in T-minus one hour. Subject 10, prepare yourself. You're in this now."
Behind him, unseen, a sudden flick of movement—
sharp hissing sound hissssss, followed by a crunch.
The cockroach was gone.
Tobey froze, mid-sentence, then whipped around.
The frog sat still, smug, licking its eye with terrifying nonchalance.
[Tobey]
"…You…"
He leaned in, eyes wide.
"You ate him?"
He stared at the empty spot where Subject 1 had been.
[Tobey, quietly impressed]
"Okay. Ruthless. I respect that."
He opened his notebook with a new kind of urgency.
Subject 10 devoured Subject 1 when unobserved. Natural instincts intact.May require additional containment protocols.Possibly… secretly evil?
[Tobey, smirking]
"You just made this personal."
He leaned closer to the frog's container, nose almost touching the container.
[Tobey]
"Don't worry. That just made you ten times more interesting."
He underlined the word "Subject 10" three times.