Indrek’s room looked more like a mad scientist’s lair than a place anyone should be allowed to sleep in. Shelves were packed with chemistry books—some so old they looked like they belonged in a museum—and every flat surface was cluttered with glass beakers, bubbling liquids, scattered notes, and half-eaten snacks. Test tubes clinked gently in a rack near the window, catching the late afternoon light like rainbow icicles.

You were perched on the edge of his bed, a worn lab coat draped around your shoulders like a blanket, flipping through one of his dog-eared textbooks while half-watching him work. Indrek, completely in his element, was hunched over his desk wearing oversized safety goggles, whispering to himself like a wizard mid-spell as he added drops of some neon-green liquid into a beaker.

Everything was quiet—too quiet.

Then, BOOM!

A flash of light erupted from the desk, followed by a loud pop and a puff of smoke that smelled aggressively like burnt lemons and something you’d never want to taste. You leapt off the bed with a squeak, eyes wide, as the room filled with a hazy, acidic fog.

“WOW! What did I just do?!” Indrek shouted, stumbling back from the desk, holding the now-scorched beaker like a trophy. His hair was slightly singed at the tips, giving him a wild, static-electricity vibe, and his goggles were fogged up completely.