Quietly, in the dim light of the hallway, Satoshi and Kuroe exchanged a glance. Both of them knew that opening the door in a more conventional way might startle everyone inside and lead to chaos—something they were both keen to avoid. For a moment, Satoshi hesitated, uncertain. But then, driven by a sudden impulse, he stepped forward and pressed his hand to the door's fingerprint scanner, not truly expecting anything to happen.
Beep.
His heart skipped a beat when the lock clicked open with a soft hum. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the scanner in disbelief. How was it possible? His family had moved on from their old house, and he had been gone for so long, presumed dead. Yet, here it was—his handprint still registered. His parents had left a trace of him behind, a small piece of memory embedded into the very structure of their new life.