Episode 1: The Question Machine
If you ever met Eddy Lim, you would probably notice two things within the first five minutes.
First, he was always carrying a notebook.
Second, he asked far too many questions.
Not ordinary questions, either.
Not questions like, “What time is lunch?” or “Did we have homework?”
Eddy asked questions that made people stop whatever they were doing and stare at him.
“What if clouds are actually giant floating oceans?”
“What if ants have secret roads underneath the pavement?”
“What if the old tree behind the sports hall is older than the school?”
“What if a person could remember every single dream they ever had?”
“What if—”
“Eddy.”
“What?”
“Please stop.”
That was usually his mother.
Or his older sister.
Or one of his teachers.
Or, occasionally, his best friend, Hyuga.
But Eddy could not help it.
His brain was like a room with twenty fans spinning at once. Every answer created another question, and every question opened another door.
He was thirteen years old and studied at a secluded international school tucked away on a leafy hill in Penang. Students came from all sorts of families and backgrounds. They spoke English, Mandarin, Malay, Tamil, Korean, Japanese, and sometimes three or four languages in the same conversation.
The school itself was a mixture of old and new.
There was a modern three-storey classroom building with wide windows, bright corridors, and rooms filled with computers and science equipment.
Then there was the older part of the campus.
A weathered hall with wooden doors.
A tiny library with shelves that seemed to lean slightly to one side.
A covered walkway lined with potted plants.
And, behind the science block, a huge rain tree with twisting branches that stretched almost halfway across the field.
Nobody knew exactly how old the tree was.
That fact fascinated Eddy.
On Monday morning, Eddy arrived at school five minutes before the first bell.
He stopped beside the rain tree.
He looked up.
The leaves trembled gently in the morning breeze.
“What if you could talk?” he whispered.
A boy walking past glanced at him.
“Bro, who are you talking to?”
Eddy pointed at the tree.
“Her.”
“The tree?”
“Maybe.”
The boy stared.
Then he shrugged.
“Okay, bro.”
Eddy opened his notebook.
At the top of a fresh page, he wrote:
WHAT IF THE TREE COULD TALK?
Underneath, he added:
What would she say?
He was about to write another question when the school bell rang.
“Eddy!”
He jumped.
His friend Hyuga stood near the classroom door.
“Come on! Science!”
Eddy shoved his notebook into his bag.
“Coming!”
He ran toward the building.
Then he stopped.
He turned back.
“What if the tree really is listening?”
Hyuga sighed.
“Then I hope she tells you to hurry up.”
Eddy grinned.
And ran.
Episode 2: What If?
The problem with being curious was that sometimes curiosity was useful.
Sometimes it was annoying.
And sometimes it got you into trouble.
That Monday, it was useful during science class.
Their teacher, Mr. Arjun, placed a small sealed container on the desk.
Inside was a strange-looking metal object.
“Today,” he announced, “we’re going to practise observation.”
The students leaned forward.
“You may look at the object. You may sketch it. You may describe it. But you are not allowed to open the container.”
Eddy immediately raised his hand.
“Yes, Eddy?”
“What if we already know what it is?”
“Then you may explain how you know.”
“What if we guess?”
“Guessing is allowed.”
“What if—”
Mr. Arjun smiled.
“Eddy, breathe.”
The class laughed.
Eddy laughed too.
They spent twenty minutes examining the object.
Some students thought it was part of an old machine.
Others thought it was a piece of laboratory equipment.
Eddy noticed something everyone else had missed.
A tiny mark on one side.
It looked like a crescent.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Was this made locally?”
Mr. Arjun looked surprised.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because of the mark.”
He pointed toward it.
Mr. Arjun examined the object.
“Interesting.”
Eddy smiled.
His question had opened another question.
By the end of class, Mr. Arjun explained that the object was part of an old measuring instrument donated to the school years earlier.
Eddy wrote it down.
Old objects carry stories.
Then, underneath:
What if our school has more things with stories?
That thought stayed with him throughout lunch.
The school cafeteria was noisy.
Chairs scraped.
Students laughed.
Someone dropped a spoon.
Hyuga was eating noodles while telling a story about a football match.
Eddy barely heard him.
“Hyuga.”
“Hm?”
“What if our school has a hidden history?”
Hyuga stopped chewing.
“Every school has history.”
“No. I mean hidden history.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“That’s the point.”
Hyuga stared at him.
“You are impossible.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’ll take it anyway.”
At that moment, a sudden gust of wind swept across the open cafeteria.
A sheet of paper flew from a nearby table.
Eddy reached out.
He caught it.
It was old.
Yellowish around the edges.
There were faded pencil marks on it.
At the top was a simple drawing of the school campus.
But something was strange.
The old rain tree was clearly marked with a small circle.
Beside it were three words.
LOOK WHEN IT RAINS.
Eddy’s eyes widened.
Hyuga leaned over.
“What is that?”
Eddy slowly smiled.
“I have a question.”
Hyuga groaned.
“Of course you do.”
Eddy pointed at the message.
“What if this is a clue?”
Episode 3: The Rain
The rain came that afternoon.
Not gently.
Not politely.
It arrived the way Penang rain sometimes did—dark clouds rolling over the hills, wind pushing through the trees, and then suddenly…
WHOOSH.
Rain hammered the roof.
Students crowded beneath the covered walkways.
The field disappeared behind a silver curtain.
Water streamed along the drains.
Eddy stood by the classroom window.
His notebook was open.
The old paper lay beside it.
LOOK WHEN IT RAINS.
He looked at the rain tree.
Drops of water bounced from its leaves.
“Eddy,” said Hyuga, “maybe it means look at the tree when it rains.”
“Yes.”
“So look.”
“I am looking.”
“No, you’re thinking.”
“I can do both.”
Hyuga folded his arms.
“What are we looking for?”
Eddy stared at the tree.
“I don’t know.”
They waited.
Nothing happened.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
The rain became heavier.
Then Eddy noticed something.
Water was running down one particular branch.
It wasn’t flowing randomly.
The branch had a shallow groove in the bark.
Rainwater followed the groove and dropped onto a stone below.
Tap.
A second drop.
Tap.
A third.
Eddy frowned.
He ran outside.
“Eddy!”
Hyuga followed.
They stood beneath the rain tree.
The ground was muddy.
Water dripped from the branches.
Eddy crouched beside the stone.
There was something beneath it.
“Help me move this.”
Hyuga looked around.
“Are we allowed?”
“We’re not breaking anything.”
“That is not the same as being allowed.”
But he helped anyway.
Together they shifted the stone.
Underneath was a small metal box.
Eddy’s heart thumped.
The box was rusty but intact.
There was no lock.
Inside were three things.
A faded photograph.
A small wooden token.
And a folded piece of paper.
Eddy carefully opened the paper.
It contained a message.
If you found this, you are probably someone who asks too many questions.
Good.
Never stop.
Eddy stared.
Hyuga stared.
The rain continued falling.
“Bro,” Hyuga whispered.
“What?”
“This is literally made for you.”
Eddy grinned.
The next line read:
A question can be a door. But only curiosity will make you open it.
Below that was a drawing of the school library.
And one final sentence:
Find the book that doesn’t belong.
Eddy looked at Hyuga.
Hyuga looked at Eddy.
“No,” Hyuga said.
“What?”
“I know that face.”
“What face?”
“The face that says we’re going to spend our afternoon looking for a mysterious book.”
Eddy smiled.
“Correct.”
Hyuga sighed.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Episode 4: The Book That Didn’t Belong
The library was nearly empty after school.
Rain tapped against the windows.
The librarian, Ms. Mei, was sorting returned books at the front desk.
Eddy and Hyuga entered quietly.
“What are you boys looking for?”
“A book.”
Ms. Mei smiled.
“There are about three thousand books in here.”
“A particular book.”
“Which one?”
Eddy hesitated.
“One that doesn’t belong.”
Ms. Mei raised an eyebrow.
“That is… not very specific.”
“I know.”
She laughed.
“Good luck.”
Eddy started searching.
They checked shelves about science, history, travel, animals, inventions, stories, maps, and nature.
Nothing.
After half an hour, Hyuga whispered, “Maybe the clue means a book that belongs somewhere else.”
Eddy stopped.
“What if you’re right?”
They looked around.
Then Eddy noticed a shelf labelled:
PENANG & LOCAL HISTORY
He scanned the books.
Most were old.
One was surprisingly new.
It was a plain green book without a title.
Eddy pulled it out.
Something fell from behind it.
A tiny envelope.
Inside was another note.
You found the wrong book.
But perhaps you found the right place.
Ask why the rain tree matters.
Hyuga groaned.
“Oh, come on.”
Eddy stared at the note.
“Why does the rain tree matter?”
He looked at the shelf.
Then at the old photograph from the metal box.
It showed a group of students standing beside the rain tree.
The photograph looked decades old.
But there was something unusual.
Behind the students was a building that no longer existed.
A small wooden structure.
Eddy studied the picture carefully.
“Hyuga.”
“What?”
“Look at that.”
He pointed.
On the old building was a sign.
THE QUESTION ROOM
Hyuga blinked.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
Eddy felt a strange excitement.
The school had a Question Room?
Why?
What happened to it?
And who had left the clues?
Then Ms. Mei called from the front.
“Eddy?”
“Yes?”
“You might want to ask Mr. Lim.”
“Who?”
“The maintenance supervisor.”
“Why?”
“He has been here longer than almost anyone.”
Eddy’s eyes lit up.
“What if he knows?”
Hyuga groaned again.
“Here we go.”
Episode 5: The Man Who Remembered
Mr. Lim was repairing a loose cabinet door near the old hall.
He listened patiently while Eddy explained everything.
The metal box.
The photograph.
The notes.
The Question Room.
When Eddy finished, Mr. Lim remained silent for several seconds.
Then he smiled.
“I wondered when someone would find it.”
Eddy’s mouth fell open.
“You knew?”
“I knew there was something under the tree.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because nobody asked.”
Hyuga looked at Eddy.
Eddy looked extremely pleased with himself.
Mr. Lim chuckled.
“Many years ago, before this school became what it is today, some students created a little club.”
“A club?”
“They called it the Question Club.”
“What did they do?”
“Ask questions.”
Eddy grinned.
“Obviously.”
Mr. Lim nodded.
“They believed children should never be embarrassed for being curious. They collected unusual questions and tried to investigate them.”
“What happened?”
“The club disappeared when the old wooden building was removed.”
“The Question Room?”
“Yes.”
Eddy looked at the photograph.
“So someone hid the clues?”
“Perhaps.”
“Who?”
Mr. Lim shrugged.
“That’s the mystery.”
Eddy’s mind began racing.
“What if it was a teacher?”
“What if it was a student?”
“What if—”
Mr. Lim laughed.
“You really do have many questions.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Good.”
Mr. Lim pointed toward the old hall.
“There’s one place you haven’t searched.”
“Where?”
“The storage room.”
Hyuga immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Eddy turned.
“Why not?”
“Because every school storage room in the world contains either broken chairs, old sports equipment, or something nobody wants to explain.”
Mr. Lim laughed.
“That is probably true.”
But he gave them permission to look.
The storage room smelled of dust and old wood.
Boxes were stacked against the walls.
They found broken desks.
Old banners.
A collection of plastic cones.
A forgotten musical instrument.
And, behind a pile of folded tables, an old wooden sign.
Eddy pulled it out.
Dust fell everywhere.
He coughed.
Hyuga coughed harder.
The sign read:
QUESTION ROOM
Eddy’s heart jumped.
There was writing on the back.
He turned it over.
The room is gone.
The questions remain.
Find the answer where the school meets the sky.
Hyuga frowned.
“The sky?”
Eddy looked upward.
“The roof?”
“Too easy.”
“The hill?”
“Maybe.”
“The rooftop garden?”
They both froze.
The school had a small rooftop garden above the science building.
Students rarely went there.
Eddy smiled.
“What if that’s it?”
Hyuga sighed.
“I’m starting to hate that sentence.”
Episode 6: Above the School
The rooftop garden was beautiful after the rain.
The air smelled fresh.
Water clung to the leaves.
The distant hills were wrapped in mist.
From up there, Eddy could see rooftops, narrow roads, trees, and glimpses of the sea beyond the city.
For once, he didn’t speak.
He simply looked.
Hyuga noticed.
“Quiet?”
“Just thinking.”
“That is dangerous.”
Eddy laughed.
They searched the garden.
Nothing.
Under a bench.
Nothing.
Inside the plant boxes.
Nothing.
Near the railing.
Nothing.
Then Eddy noticed the water tank.
Beside it was a small stone with a familiar crescent mark.
The same mark from the old measuring instrument.
He lifted the stone.
Another envelope.
Inside was a final note.
You have followed the questions.
Now answer one.
Why do people stop asking questions when they grow older?
Eddy stared at the words.
Hyuga read them.
Neither spoke.
The mystery suddenly felt different.
There was no hidden treasure.
No secret machine.
No magical discovery.
Just a question.
A big one.
Eddy sat on the bench.
“Maybe because people are scared of being wrong.”
Hyuga sat beside him.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe they think asking questions makes them look stupid.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe they get busy.”
“Definitely.”
Eddy looked at the city.
“What if we forget how to be curious?”
Hyuga thought for a moment.
“Then maybe we should remind each other.”
The wind moved through the plants.
Eddy smiled.
Then he noticed something written on the back of the note.
A final line.
Now create your own Question Room.
Episode 7: The Question Wall
The next morning, Eddy went straight to Mr. Arjun.
“Sir.”
“Yes?”
“We want to start something.”
Mr. Arjun looked cautious.
“What exactly?”
“A Question Club.”
Mr. Arjun smiled.
“Why?”
“Because we found out the school used to have one.”
Eddy explained the mystery.
Mr. Arjun listened.
When Eddy finished, the teacher nodded.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But won’t people think we’re weird?”
Mr. Arjun leaned back.
“Eddy, every useful discovery in human history began with someone asking a question that sounded strange to somebody else.”
Eddy smiled.
“Can we have a wall?”
“A wall?”
“For questions.”
Mr. Arjun considered it.
“Find me a suitable space.”
By Friday, they had one.
It was an empty wall near the library.
They called it:
THE WHAT IF? WALL
Students could write questions on small cards and stick them to the wall.
At first, only Eddy contributed.
What if plants could remember every person who touched them?
What if the sea could keep a diary?
What if our school had been built somewhere completely different?
What if every person has one question they are afraid to ask?
Then Hyuga added one.
What if Eddy stops asking questions for one whole day?
Eddy stared at it.
“No.”
Everyone laughed.
Soon other students began adding their own.
Some were funny.
Some were strange.
Some were thoughtful.
One student wrote:
What if the moon looks different from every country?
Another wrote:
What if rain has a smell because the ground is happy to see it?
Another:
What if an old building could remember everyone who ever walked through it?
The wall filled.
Students started talking.
They began researching questions together.
Sometimes they discovered answers.
Sometimes they didn’t.
And that was okay.
Because the point wasn’t always to know.
Sometimes the point was simply to wonder.
Episode 8: The Last Mystery
A week later, Eddy returned to the rain tree.
The afternoon sun was warm.
The leaves whispered above him.
He sat beneath the branches with his notebook.
He had copied all the old clues into it.
The metal box.
The photograph.
The Question Room.
The rooftop garden.
The final question.
He turned to a clean page.
For a long time, he didn’t write anything.
Then he wrote:
What if curiosity isn’t about finding every answer?
He paused.
Then:
What if curiosity is about becoming the kind of person who keeps looking?
He smiled.
Hyuga appeared behind him.
“You’re talking to the tree again?”
“No.”
“What are you doing?”
“Writing.”
“What?”
Eddy closed the notebook.
“Nothing.”
Hyuga sat beside him.
For a few minutes, they listened to the sounds around the school.
A bicycle bell somewhere outside.
Students laughing.
Leaves rustling.
A bird calling from a distant branch.
Then Hyuga asked:
“Eddy?”
“Yeah?”
“What if there are still mysteries around here that we haven’t found?”
Eddy slowly turned toward him.
His eyes widened.
Hyuga immediately laughed.
“I knew that would get you.”
Eddy jumped to his feet.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Eddy looked toward the old hall.
“There’s one thing.”
“What?”
“The old photograph.”
“What about it?”
“It showed the Question Room.”
“Yeah.”
“And the rain tree.”
“Yeah.”
“But there were four students in the picture.”
“So?”
“We only know what happened to the club.”
Hyuga frowned.
“What are you saying?”
Eddy pulled out his notebook.
He opened the photograph.
He pointed at the fourth student.
There was something in the boy’s hand.
A notebook.
On the cover was the same crescent mark.
Eddy’s heart began beating faster.
Hyuga stared.
“Okay.”
He grinned.
“That’s actually interesting.”
Eddy smiled.
“Exactly.”
He opened to a new page.
At the top he wrote:
MYSTERY NUMBER TWO
Then underneath:
What happened to the fourth notebook?
Hyuga looked at him.
“You’re never going to stop, are you?”
Eddy shook his head.
“Nope.”
And that was the truth.
Because Eddy had finally learned something important.
There would always be another question.
Another strange mark.
Another forgotten story.
Another door that looked ordinary until someone became curious enough to open it.
And perhaps that was the greatest adventure of all.
Not knowing everything.
Not solving every mystery.
But looking at the ordinary world and daring to wonder:
“What if?”
The rain tree rustled above Eddy.
He looked up.
For a moment, he imagined the old tree smiling.
Maybe it was only the wind.
Maybe not.
Eddy opened his notebook again.
He added one final sentence:
What if the tree really can talk?
Then he laughed.
“Okay,” Hyuga said. “Now you’re pushing it.”
Eddy grinned.
“Maybe.”
They walked back toward the school together as the late afternoon light spilled across the field.
Behind them, the old rain tree stood quietly.
Watching.
Waiting.
And keeping its secrets.
For now.
The End…
