Finn sat at his desk, tilting his head slightly to continue gazing out of the window.
He muttered, "Seriously, there are so many mysteries, including who killed the original Finn... but the problem is, no clues were left apart from the note that literally leads nowhere. It's as if I was summoned here. But why kill the original person just to bring me here to complete his own goals? It sounds like the most foolish thing ever, something out of a fantasy book.
"On the other hand, I don't have the resources and connections needed to investigate, and at the same time, I can't use those students as they mustn't know about me. Everything is in total chaos; I can only figure out a way to defend myself... and..."
Suddenly, Finn's phone began ringing. He checked who was calling and saw it was the original Finn's uncle.
He maintained a calm demeanour and cleared his throat as he quickly picked up the call, forcing a smile onto his face.
An old, weakened voice came through the phone. "Hey Finn, how are you doing, my boy?"
"I'm managing, Uncle. Just keeping busy with everything," Finn replied, trying to sound upbeat.
"Good to hear. How's everything over there? The Academy treating you well?"
"It's... interesting. Lots to learn, but I'm getting the hang of it. How about you? How's everything back there?"
Finn didn't reply with much energy, much like the original Finn would have done. There was a weakness in his voice, and he didn't like to ask many questions, hoping to keep the conversation short.
Any differences in his responses might raise suspicions if his uncle was a clever man.
"Oh, you know, same old. Just trying to stay busy. It's been a bit quiet without you around, but I'm keeping myself occupied. I've picked up a new job, actually."
"That's great! What kind of job?"
"It's in project management. The pay is decent, and it keeps me on my toes. Speaking of which, I'll be increasing your monthly allowance to £3,000 starting next month."
"Wow, that's amazing! Thank you so much, Uncle!" Finn said, genuinely surprised and happy.
That's some good amount of money... hehehe!
"Just make sure you use it wisely. Focus on your studies and magic, and don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything else."
"I will. I really appreciate it. Is there anything you need from me?"
"Just keep me updated on how you're doing. I worry about you, you know."
"I will, Uncle. I promise. Take care of yourself, too."
"Always. Talk soon, Finn."
"Talk soon, Uncle."
Finn ended the call, overjoyed.
With the extra support, perhaps he could finally start to piece things together.
He realised that he could actually save about £2,000 from the money and continue surviving on the remaining £1,000, as Finn had always done.
If he could also successfully find a part-time job, it would increase his earnings, and soon he would be out of poverty at least.
Finn opened his messages app and saw an unknown number that had sent a message. He opened it.
It read: "Hi Finn, it's me, Daphne. I thought it would be better to send you the address to my house, so we can go together... what do you think?"
Finn stared at the message for a while, wondering how to reply. He finally composed himself...
"Sure, that sounds great. I'll come over to yours then."
He tapped on "send" and switched off his phone.
Instantly, a ding sounded from his phone. It was Daphne; he had replied quicker than expected.
"Nice, that's so amazing! :) Be here at 6:30. My address is: 45 Elm Street, Camden, London, NW1 1AA."
Finn left the message on seen, adding only a thumbs-up emoji underneath it.
He then switched off his phone again and decided to take a shower, as it was almost 6:30.
He wondered what to wear, but Finn didn't have any decent clothes for going out, so what could he do?
A bizarre idea suddenly came to him, and he opted to wear the tracksuit he was currently in, along with the white sneakers Finn had.
Of course, that was terrible for attending a party with so many wealthy children, so how would he even socialise?
He didn't care, though; as a police officer, he had never had time to dress up, so how would he know about fashion trends? It was normal for him to have poor fashion taste.
Finn stood up and undressed, then wrapped a towel around his waist. He glanced at the cleaning equipment he had borrowed, deciding to return it.
He picked up the mop and bucket, balancing them carefully as he left his room and made his way to the bathroom.
Upon entering the bathroom, he placed the cleaning supplies in the corner before moving to the sink.
He spotted a toothbrush resting on the side, recalling that it belonged to the original Finn. He picked it up, rinsed it under the tap, and began to brush his teeth, staring into the mirror.
The reflection showed a frail young man with tired eyes.
After rinsing his mouth, he set the toothbrush back down and turned his attention to the shower.
He reached for the taps, twisting them until the water began to flow.
The sound of rushing water filled the small space, and he adjusted the temperature until it was pleasantly hot.
Stepping into the shower, Finn felt the warmth envelop him, easing the tension in his muscles. He closed his eyes, letting the water cascade over him.
The steam filled the room, creating a moment of solitude as he took a deep breath, allowing himself to relax for a few minutes.
After a while, he finished his shower, turned off the taps, and glanced at himself in the mirror again.
His hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes now held a distant expression.
Finn was now back in his room, putting on his tracksuit and white sneakers. He picked up his phone to inform Daphne that he was on his way.
Just a few seconds after sending the message, he received a reply:
"Excellent! You'll need to take a cab, as I don't think any buses run to this location."
Finn left the message on seen again, having nothing to reply with. He simply nodded and headed out of his room.
Finn stepped out of his building and made his way towards the public stairs. He descended, the cool evening air brushing against his face.
As he reached the highway, he hailed a cab and told the driver the address:
"45 Elm Street, Camden, London, NW1 1AA."
The cab driver took a moment to assess Finn through the dashboard mirror before starting the drive.
Few minutes later, the cab slowly approached a narrow route flanked by tall pine trees on both sides, leading straight ahead along a nicely paved road.
The cab driver glanced at Finn.
"So, lad, what are you off to do tonight?"
Finn hesitated, considering his response.
"I'm going to a party."
The driver raised an eyebrow, taking in Finn's outfit.
He thought, 'A party? Dressed like you're going for a jog? Is he an undercover cop? That's how they usually dress—terribly. But I only had a couple of drinks and smoked a bit with some hard substance taken in before starting work this evening. Is that enough to get tracked by an undercover? He doesn't seem like he's after me; I shouldn't show my fears.
Finn casually glanced at the driver before looking out the window.
Looks like he's taken something hard drugs; it's evident in his eyes. He's definitely high. Well, as long as he doesn't kill me and drives normally, I'm fine. It's not like I'm a cop in this world who can arrest him or do anything.
The cab continued down the winding road, the trees casting long shadows in the fading light, as the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Seconds later, the cab driver glanced at the reader on his dashboard and said, "We've arrived..."
___
Hi, it's me, DoomCelestial.
I wanted to say that I'm not very good at human conversation as I'm autistic and have several other mental health issues as prescribed by my therapist.
I should add that the discussions and slice-of-life elements in this novel might not be very realistic, as I haven't had much experience with them; I'm a teenager, under 17.
Most of what I write will be based on my experiences from movies (the action and magic), K-dramas (the romance and slice of life), animes (other themes), music (for inspiration), English textbooks, and personal online lectures (for my grammar and edits).
I have my own personal writing style.