Full summary: "The Utonium name come and go. Having been such a dark mysterious family labeled by the neighborhood. No one seemed to know the truth, not even someone who inherited their blood. It was all up to Brick, with the help of 5 other people living in the past, who was just as curious as he was. They started from the very bottom, where it all came, the ominous murder of the first Utonium child ever been born, Blossom."

Warning: Rated T for obvious violence and maybe swearing. No romance, sorry PPGxRRB lovers, I'm intending on making this a murder mystery without any relationship whatsoever, some only for the sake of empty plots. Make sure to leave out an opinion, it's really helpful if you do.

It was located on the darkest part of the neighborhood, where only people with shady background lives. He didn't mind, although, his parents seemed very eager to find a new suitable place for them to live in.

His mother, Mrs. Jojo was standing right besides him; holding an identical box he currently wielded in both of his grasp. Her mouth held on to a frown, drawing out all of the negative thoughts she has in mind.

"Looks like we're stuck here." He swiped his head towards the all too familiar accent and found his father, Mojo closing in behind them. Frigid yet calm, his steps weren't generally used to that. He joined them on their gaze and let out a mocking sneer.

"Why in the world should we live in this dump? Look at it! I bet it's stashed with dirt and layers of dust," he complained with a spiteful tone lacing his voice. It didn't took a genius to know that he disapprove to the idea of residing the rotting brick of a mansion. "And look at the neighbor! This is clearly not a supporting environment for students Brick's age!"

Mrs. Jojo mouthed a disappointed sigh. "Don't be so harsh, Mojo," she retorted with the nicest voice she could ever find. "It's a family tradition. You should be happy to inherit such luxury, not many people have such luck." She sounded sincere, yet Brick couldn't help to note at the sly edge.

"Where do you want this boxes, mister Jojo?" One of the workers they hired asked to the tall bearded man, one of the many traits he dislikes from his father. He lightly whistles as his mothers eyes shifted to him.

"How about it Brick? What do you think of this house?" He merely shrugged. Besides how murky it looks from the outside, Brick never did care about decorations. Neither living in a five-star apartment or a creepy haunted mansion, in which this house in some term are.

There aren't much exterior either, besides some oak trees and bushes. Oh, and that broken fountain, there's nothing else but tall grass waiting to be mowed.

The wall was covered with moss and the black paint almost gone throughout ages, showing out the red molding inner brick. There was even a big splodge on the far end of the wall, like a huge impact came and was made unsuspecting. Lucky enough for them, the last residence left the window and the notable gigantic double door untouched despite having dust covering every part of it.

Brick wonders how long has it been since the last people living here. Millennia sounded a bit too far off.

"I don't care." He replied in his usual blunt attitude. His mother gave him a small wholehearted grin before turning her head to come face to face with her husband.

"Dear, do you think they'll allow us to redecorate?" The black haired man ordered the workers around before he set his eyes towards his wife's blue astonishing pairs of light irises with his own dark blazing red one.

"My great grandfather aren't against replacing some broken stuff," Brick took a glance towards one of the mansion's many windows and saw his reflections as his father went on. "But he prohibited us to touch any family related thing, meaning their own private objects that was left in the house," his shoulder-length auburn hair was tied to a low ponytail. The strand was sticking out all over the places, especially the one that he tucked under his signature red backward cap. "We were only allowed to clean it every once in a while."

"Brick?" It seemed like his mother called his name. He was too distracted to listen.

"Hm.."

"Did you hear that?" Yes, his mind persisted. "Yes." His parents were always so hectic with anything that involved following rules. He find himself just going along with anything they wished. Like living in this family mansion when their child reaches a limited age of fifteen for example. He bit his inner cheeks.

The silhouette of the red head glisten on the rusty glass, catching his attention. Blood red eyes started him back, a sharp look it held, he found himself enticed by his own orbs. Before... something mildly bizarre seemed to occur. He saw a person, his own shadow, moving with a mind of its own. His mouth left agape, his eyes slightly widen. Brick was left flabbergasted.

He turned sharply with a frantic look on his face towards his mothers side. "Mom," he called her gently. Mrs. Jojo thorn her gaze the second his deep raspy voice reached her ears. "Who's that?" He pointed towards where he last saw the shadow.

"Who's who?" His mother asked back. Now, he was definitely bewildered, and a little freaked out by his mothers response.

"That girl!" He checked again for any signs of it. There was nothing, it was gone in a blink of an eye. Is he hallucinating? No, that's definitely not it. Brick had a sharp mind and was a quick thinker, he was too smart to be fooled by shadows with many colors that caught his eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows and subconsciously put a finger to his heart-shaped chin, in a way of thinking. He closed his eyes, welcoming the dark that soon emitted, seemingly, forever. He tried opening them again, but all he saw was the same empty void.

What happened?

Then, he saw it again. He saw her again. Right in front of his very eyes. Her beautiful quartz stared into his soul, her face was a blank canvas. Her appearance intimidate him in a way. Of course, this really didn't felt foreign to him. He often received a similar expression from his father.

Then why? Why was he so scared of this girl? Maybe the fact that he saw her in an isolated mansion that only exist for him and his family, and the fact that she disappeared just before he realized she was nothing but an illusion of his imagination.

Or, is it? He wasn't sure. Really, who wouldn't be afraid?

"Achoo!" The air was cold for a morning breath, even with a warm cozy blanket that was wrapped around her bare shoulder and a hot cup of steaming coco resting comfortably in her grasp. She shivered. Maybe wearing a thin silky nightgown wasn't the best choice. It's finally autumn, after all.

She could've spared her time to properly change. But she just couldn't miss this experience, a habit she developed ever since she was little. Especially gazing through the glass door of her balcony on her new room, she just couldn't miss it.

Sadly, she have to break her tradition of catching the first leaf that landed on her palm and keeping it in a book specified for it only. She wouldn't dare to welcome a new found cold air if she made a choice to open the glass door.

A knock came from her dark oak double door, which she was certain that she locked tightly last night as her parents instructed her to. She should probably get it. "Who is it?" She peeked through her slight gap. It was one of the maids.

"Breakfast's almost ready, Miss Blossom." She said, a light bow for a greeting to a higher rank hierarchy. Her rose colored eyes blinked. "Oh! Of course. Thank you for telling me." The maid bowed again before leaving her to get ready as the red haired girl closed the door behind her.

She let out an exaggerated sigh and began her new morning routine on her new bedroom.

The pink clad girl reached the dining room approximately 10 minutes afterwards with a simpler new schedule of bath, pick a cloth and do her hair. A new record for her, too bad nobody's around to give her a light applause. Upon her arrival, she was met with pearly white smiles and delightful chatter among her small family, consisting of her parents and her only sister.

It felt foreign. The way her father always kept a straight expression, who was now grinning from one of the joke her sister made. That too, her sister never found humor in one of her personality. Perhaps it's a new habit she greatly welcomed. She couldn't said the same with her mother.

"Good morning." She hesitantly greeted. All of their heads turned to her. The usually cold look they pulled on her... was now changed with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Blossom," her mother was the first one to answer her. "How did you sleep? Spontaneous isn't it?!" Her smile twisted glee written all over her face. She couldn't help to find it suspicious. Spontaneous isn't a word to describe such thing, she corrected. How did she slept? Pretty well if you might ask. She didn't know that a more expensive furniture could be such a heavenly experience.

"Y-yeah, sure." She scratched the back of her neck in an awkward attempt, a mindless effort. The red head sat in one of the many chairs their new dining room served and take a look at today's breakfast menu.

It was a marvelous sight. Commoners would drool at the sight of it. If it weren't because her parents strict behavioral rules, she would be clarify as one no doubt.

Bowls of diced fruits as far as the eye can see. Light meat of bacon stacked in their respective plates, along with sunny side up eggs. Various types of bread, categorized by the way they were cooked or jammed, and a small oat meal bowl rested beside her plate. They were free to choose any types of drinks consisting of juice and milk.

Lets just hope the taste is the same as how it looks. She was wrong, it was better.

The girl stared at her half eaten egg as thoughts rushed into her mind, her mouth still filled with chewed food. This new life felt content, until it'll be regretful afterwards, she could tell. The fork tightened in her grasp as she clenched it with all of strength, she gritted her teeth.

Ruby eyes shot open. The first thing he saw was white ceiling and a beautiful yellow chandelier. Sitting up, the pressure of his body seemed to balanced out the soft material underneath. It was silky, yet it was able to soothe the temperature of a mere living beings body when wrapped inside it. Two pillows supported his fragile skull, taking away tiredness with it.

Did he blacked out? He realized. When? Probably yesterday, or better yet, a few hours ago. He couldn't be asleep for more than 24 hours, at least it depends on whatever things that had caused him to laid unconscious.

A knock was heard from the room's door. He just now realize he was in a red painted bedroom. The furniture nearly consist of polished woods. There was a desk, a mirror, a sliding door that he presumably thought was a way to a closet. Another door to his left, he'll check that out later. And of course, a bed, a big one to say the least.

Who's room is this? He wonders. Apparently his, a small hopeful voice deep inside his mind persuade.

There was another knock, a harder one when it made contact with the hard wooden door. He grunted in a displeasure tone and got up to reach it. "Coming." He called.

It was his mother, holding a small cardboard box in her hand. "Good morning sleepy head," he gazed her with a blank expression, a hard one to read. Maybe he was angry? Who knows. "You know it's not healthy to sleep in all day, even if it's the weekend!" She nagged, ignoring his looks. "Come down for breakfast. Oh, and this is for you." She handed him the item as he willingly receive.

"Okay," she nodded. "Mom, what happened... yesterday?" He asked nonchalantly. His mother shot him a questioning look.

"Did you get amnesia or something? We moved in and unpacked our stuff, remember?" He scratched his head. Her mother's statement puzzled him. He didn't liked it.

"R-really?" He uncharacteristically stammered. Mrs. Jojo shot him another look.

"Yes!" She patted his shoulder, causing her to lean upwards because of his tall posture. "What's up with your head, deary?" She lightly giggled, finding the situation humorous. He popped an annoyed vein.

"Just come downstairs to the dining room when you finish, alright?" He nodded his head, and the middle aged woman left. When she finally disappeared out of sights, he realized he didn't asked the direction of said room. Well, that's just great. Incredible.

"Urgh. What's wrong with me this past day?" He muttered to himself.

After a warm relaxing shower, Brick took note to open the package after he got dressed. A simple red, long-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans would do for a lazy day. Without any more delay, he tore it open with his bare hands. The muscle of his palm didn't even flinch.

A smell of rancid air filled his nose, dusting over what's left of the white carpet floor. He got too excited, prior to a curious mind his intelligent brain have. He'll worry about the mess later.

There's no doubt that all of it was old, like it was stored in the deepest part of your basement, just waiting to be seen again for the sake of memory lane. The sheets of neatly stacked papers was heavily wrinkled, a disgusting stain that he wouldn't bother to smell, was everywhere. The owner was probably a slob. A worn out newspaper, he wasn't sure which time it was due to the lack of unknown date. And a piece of brown fabric, filled with holes and burned marks. He wasn't sure what's the source of the smell. Is it the cloth? Is it the stained paper?

Brick scratched his newly washed up carrot hair. "What is this stuff?"