Mrs Adebayo had retired from Unity Secondary School six years earlier.
Unfortunately, retirement had done nothing to improve her opinion of unexpected visitors.
"Who gave you this number?"
Tobi straightened in his chair.
"Good morning, ma. Mrs Oladipo—"
"I asked who gave you my number, not whether the morning is good."
Kade covered his mouth.
Tobi glared at him.
"Mrs Oladipo, ma."
"Why?"
"We’re former students. We’re trying to confirm something about an old teacher."
"Go to the school."
"We tried contacting the office."
"Then contact them again."
The call ended.
Tobi stared at his phone.
Kade nodded sympathetically.
"That went well."
"Say one more word."
"Your communication skills are inspirational."
Tobi threw a pillow at him.
Kade caught it.
A small victory.
Considering the state of his ankle, he was taking whatever victories he could get.
Mama Efe insisted on checking his injury before breakfast.
The swelling had reduced slightly, but putting weight on the ankle still hurt.
"You’re improving," she said.
"Excellent. I’ll be leaving."
"You’re improving, not graduating."
Tobi laughed.
Kade pointed at him.
"One day, you’ll need medical attention."
"And I’ll behave like a sensible patient."
Mama Efe smiled.
"Unlikely."
Kade settled back against the pillow.
His walking aid stood beside the examination bed.
He hated needing it.
He hated being dependent on other people.
But he’d begun to understand that the alternative wasn’t independence.
It was another injury.
And he couldn’t afford one.
Not physically.
Not financially.
Not while Adunni remained missing.
Mrs Oladipo called an hour later.
"I spoke with Mrs Adebayo."
Tobi immediately sat upright.
"And?"
"She says you were rude."
Tobi looked personally wounded.
"Me?"
"Apparently."
Kade turned away before he started laughing.
Mrs Oladipo continued.
"She’s willing to answer a few questions. But she won’t release confidential student records."
"We understand, ma," Kade said.
"Good. She’ll call you herself."
The call ended.
Tobi stared at Kade.
"How was I rude?"
"You greeted her."
"Exactly!"
"Reckless behaviour."
Mrs Adebayo called at eleven seventeen.
This time, Kade answered.
"Good morning, ma."
"Are you Kade Adeyemi?"
"Yes, ma."
"Adunni’s son?"
Kade’s heart gave a sudden, painful beat.
"Yes."
A pause.
"How is your mother?"
"She’s missing."
Silence.
Then the older woman’s voice changed.
"When?"
"Two nights ago."
"Have you reported it?"
Kade hesitated.
"Not formally yet."
"Then you should. Don’t wait for a mystery to become a tragedy before involving the proper authorities."
Kade lowered his eyes.
"Yes, ma."
He had been so occupied with supernatural threats that he’d neglected an ordinary step that might still matter.
Mrs Adebayo continued.
"Mrs Oladipo says you’re asking about an old teacher."
"Mr Akin."
"I remember him."
Kade sat straighter.
"Do you know his full name?"
"Akin was the name he used at school. I can’t give you personnel information from memory as though it’s verified."
"Do you remember when he worked there?"
"During your final year."
"Did he leave suddenly?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"That isn’t something I’m prepared to discuss over the telephone."
Kade glanced at Tobi.
Mrs Adebayo didn’t answer immediately.
Then she asked, "Why do you want to know?"
"Because someone claiming to be him visited my friend’s house."
"What did he want?"
"An envelope my mother gave Tobi."
Another silence.
This one lasted longer.
When Mrs Adebayo finally spoke, her voice had become very careful.
"Did your mother give it to him recently?"
"Yes."
"Have you opened it?"
"No."
"Then I suggest you don’t make decisions about it based on messages from strangers."
Kade went still.
"How did you know we’d received messages?"
"I didn’t."
The answer came immediately.
"You told me someone came asking for it. That is enough reason to be cautious."
Kade felt foolish.
He’d nearly turned an ordinary warning into evidence of secret knowledge.
"You’re right," he admitted.
Mrs Adebayo sighed.
"Your mother was a careful woman, Kade."
"You knew her?"
"She came to the school often enough."
"Was she investigating Mr Akin?"
"I don’t know."
"Did she ever seem frightened?"
"Concerned, perhaps. But parents become concerned for many reasons."
Kade swallowed his frustration.
"Can we meet you?"
"Not today."
"Tomorrow?"
"Possibly."
"Please, ma."
The woman sighed again.
"Let me speak with Mrs Oladipo first."
Then she ended the call.
Kade lowered the phone.
Tobi watched him.
"Well?"
"She remembers him."
"Anything else?"
"She won’t discuss why he left."
Tobi frowned.
"That sounds suspicious."
"Or private."
"You’re no fun anymore."
Kade opened his notebook.
Under WHAT WE KNOW, he wrote:
Mrs Adebayo remembers Mr Akin working at the school.
Under WHAT WE DON’T KNOW:
Why he left.
He paused.
Then added:
Whether the visitor is the same man.
Tobi leaned over.
"Mrs Balogun recognized him."
"From a photograph."
"Yes."
"That’s useful. But we still haven’t met him ourselves."
Tobi nodded reluctantly.
"Fine."
Kade stared at the page.
They were collecting fragments.
Some were important.
Some might mean nothing.
The difficult part was learning the difference.
At noon, Bamidele arrived carrying a plastic bag.
Inside were two meat pies and a bottle of water.
Tobi reached for one.
Bamidele slapped his hand away.
"For the patient."
Tobi looked outraged.
"I’m emotionally injured."
"Then eat your emotions."
Kade laughed.
Bamidele sat beside the examination bed.
"Any progress?"
Kade explained the calls.
The repairman listened carefully.
When Kade finished, he nodded.
"Good."
Tobi blinked.
"Good?"
"You asked questions. Nobody chased you. Nobody broke a window."
Kade considered that.
"An unusually successful day."
Bamidele looked at the notebook.
"What’s next?"
"Report my mother missing," Kade said.
Bamidele nodded.
"And?"
"Try to speak with Mrs Adebayo in person."
"And the envelope?"
Kade looked at Tobi.
"We leave it alone until we can retrieve it safely."
Bamidele seemed satisfied.
Then his expression grew serious.
Kade waited.
"Being powerless doesn’t mean you have no choices."
Kade looked down at his ankle.
"Feels like it sometimes."
"I know."
Bamidele leaned forward.
"But the people who frightened you weren’t frightening because they had Ase."
Kade frowned.
"They could cut through walls."
"Yes. And you survived because they couldn’t use that power everywhere, all the time, without consequences."
Kade remembered the hunter refusing to attack openly in the crowded market.
The woman in grey losing concentration when distracted.
The limits mattered.
Bamidele continued.
"Power has conditions. Learn them."
Kade considered that.
Then he asked, "Can someone without an Ase Core learn to fight cultivators?"
Bamidele stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because running isn’t always going to work."
"Neither is fighting."
"I know."
The repairman studied him for a long moment.
"Then start with what your body can actually do."
Kade glanced at his injured ankle.
"Currently?"
"Currently, you can sit down and heal."
Tobi raised both hands.
"Finally. A training programme I support."
That afternoon, Mrs Balogun sent photographs of the front of her house.
She had reached her sister’s place safely.
The white card remained where the visitor had left it.
She hadn’t touched it.
Kade studied the photograph.
The split-eye symbol.
The short line beneath it.
He compared it with the symbol on Adunni’s folded paper.
The difference was small.
But deliberate-looking.
He couldn’t determine its meaning from an image.
And he had no reason to assume it represented a new faction, a warning, or a threat.
It was simply another detail to verify.
He saved both photographs.
Then Tobi’s phone rang.
Mrs Adebayo.
Tobi answered quickly.
"Good afternoon, ma."
"Is Kade there?"
"Yes, ma."
"Put me on speaker."
Tobi obeyed.
The woman’s voice filled the room.
"I spoke with Mrs Oladipo."
Kade sat upright.
"And?"
"There’s something I think you should know before we meet."
Kade waited.
"Mr Akin wasn’t hired through our normal process."
"What does that mean?"
"He arrived with a recommendation from someone outside the teaching staff."
"Who?"
"I don’t remember the name."
"Was it written down?"
"It should have been."
Kade’s pulse quickened.
"Can we check?"
"The school may still have the old correspondence. I can’t promise anything."
Tobi leaned forward.
"Ma, did anything happen while he worked there?"
Mrs Adebayo hesitated.
Then said, "A student complained about him."
Kade felt his stomach tighten.
"What complaint?"
"That he kept asking questions about the student’s family."
"Which student?"
"I can’t disclose that."
"Was the complaint investigated?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Mr Akin stopped coming to school shortly afterward."
Kade looked at Tobi.
The story matched part of Mrs Oladipo’s recollection.
But one question remained.
"Ma, did the complaint come from someone in our class?"
Mrs Adebayo paused.
"I won’t identify the student."
Kade nodded, although she couldn’t see him.
"Understood."
Then she added, "But I can tell you something else."
"What?"
"The student wasn’t the first person to complain."
Kade went still.
"Who was?"
Mrs Adebayo’s voice lowered.
"A parent."
Kade stared at the phone.
"Whose parent?"
Another pause.
Then she said, "Your mother."