---
A few days later… The academy night was the kind that made rules feel like walls.
Lanterns along the dorm corridor burned low and steady. The stone floors held the day's warmth for a little while longer, and then even that warmth began to fade, as if the building itself was settling into sleep. Doors were shut. The voices were small. Somewhere down the hall, someone coughed like they were trying not to get noticed by the curfew bell.
Inside Room B-17, John sat at his desk with a candle and a notebook and the stubborn habit of checking everything twice.
The candle flame leaned slightly toward the window. The dorm air smelled like chalk dust, ink, and clean linen that had been washed too many times. Ray Flame was already asleep on Bed A, sprawled as if the world owed him comfort. His breathing was heavy and uneven, like a man who had argued with reality all day and lost.
