The morning dew in Duskvale was thick, clinging to the windowpanes like wet curtains that refused to be drawn back. Mocca was getting ready to go to the mysterious institution. She was determined to go there. Who knows, she might find something interesting to use as evidence and show her father. She was convinced there was something there.
"If there really was nothing there, there wouldn't be that stupid letter tucked into my clothes," she muttered as she smoothed her hair.
After finishing her appearance, she immediately rushed down the stairs. Was she afraid her father was still at home or maybe hadn't come home yet? She didn't know.
"Where are you going?"
Mocca stopped in her tracks. Her body tensed, and she slowly turned around. She saw her father staring at her, standing with his hands on his hips in the kitchen. He was making coffee. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, proving that he had just returned from the police station.
"Really? Are you kidding?"
"No, im not."
"I'm still going. Don't stop me from continuing my education," she continued, walking away without paying attention to her father. Khan took a deep breath.
"Fine! I'll take you." Finally, Khan gave up. It was better that way because he knew very well that his daughter was as stubborn as he was. Khan took his car keys and jacket, ready to take his daughter to that awful institution.
The morning dew was still thick as Khan's black car drove slowly along the rocky road. The tires occasionally broke through small puddles, the windows reflecting the silhouettes of tall trees. In the distance, a rusty iron gate loomed with the faded words "Eastfield" written on it. Some of the letters were covered with vines.
The car stopped right in front of the gate. Khan turned off the engine, but didn't speak immediately. His gaze was fixed on the large building behind the high fence, old, yet feeling too quiet for something that called itself an educational institution. Actually, it wasn't that which bothered Khan; he was a little disappointed with Mocca's seemingly sudden decision. If only his son had accepted his offer two years ago, Mocca wouldn't have had to move to this strange city. Living in the best university dormitory in the city with a promising career ahead, living peacefully in the city spending his money without worrying about his daughter being hunted by that serial killer.
"Thanks for driving me, Daddy," Mocca said, kissing her father on the cheek. Her hand opened the car door handle.
Khan turned to his daughter. "Be careful, honey. If anything strange happens, you know who to call."
Mocca got out of the car after responding to her father with a brief nod. The morning air pierced her skin, cold and damp. She took a deep breath, staring at the gate that seemed to be watching her. As she approached, the gate slowly opened on its own, creaking loudly, as if giving a subtle warning.
Milky was already waiting behind the gate when Mocca entered the building. She was neatly dressed in skinny jeans and a thick green sweater with a red scarf draped around her neck. "You took a long time, miss!" she said with her arms folded across her chest.
"Oh, sorry, there was a little argument at home, so..."
Milky rolled her eyes lazily. Then she walked side by side with Mocca into the building lobby. The interior of Eastfield felt like another world. The high stone walls were covered with dark paintings staring out from dull gold frames. The marble floor reflected their shadows, but the echo of their footsteps made the place sound too big, too empty. The air inside the building smelled of old candles and invisible fine dust.
Behind a long wooden table, a young man with black hair and a long coat greeted them. His hair was neatly combed back, his face expressionless.
"What do you need?" he asked. Mocca glanced at the name tag on his chest, Jame.
"Um, preliminary registration."
"Name?" he asked again, his voice almost tone-less.
"Monica Valenne Khan and Melisa Ainsley," Mocca replied politely.
The officer named James recorded their names in a thick, old ledger. The paper was also worn out from age. He glanced at them briefly before handing a leaflet to Mocca and Milky.
The two glanced at the paper. "This is a list of fields you can take. Please choose the field you are interested in." The paper read:
• Human Behavioral Psychology
• Study of Symbols, Signs, and Meaning Representation
• Social Cultural Anthropology
• Applied Linguistics Narrative Analysis
• History of Hidden Civilizations
• Modern Social Interaction
• Collective Rituals of Ancient Societies
• Study of Collective Meaning Structures
Mocca and Milky each checked the boxes for the fields they chose and handed them to the officer.
"Your fields have been recorded. Follow the right corridor to the second-floor hall. Orientation is today."
They both immediately followed James' instructions. Mocca looked around, noticing the building's interior, which resembled the Middle Ages. She felt that this building was more suited to being called a museum than a university-style institution for someone like her, a city girl.
"What did you choose?" asked Milky.
"Psychology."
"Oh my gosh. Are you serious!?" Milky stopped in her tracks, causing Mocca to stop as well.
"Why?"
"I thought you took the symbol, so I took that field," said Milky. Both of them sighed heavily, walking towards the hall, realizing that they were about to part ways in this unfamiliar building.
The second-floor hall felt different, brighter, but that didn't mean it was warmer. Several young men and women were already sitting on long benches, some whispering to each other, some just sitting quietly. No one was holding a cell phone. There was no small laughter. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something uncertain.
Mocca and Milky sat on the back bench because it was the only one left. The hall was very grand, really similar to the castle of the Marry Antoinette family.
"I think this place is the castle of the Royal family, but since there are no more successors, it became an institutional building," whispered Milky, who turned out to have thoughts similar to hers.
"It's not the Royal family, it's Dracula. Didn't you see how creepy the lobby is!" replied Mocca.
"And that officer is the vampire who bit your neck in class!" Milky chuckled softly, followed by Mocca's light laughter.
Shortly thereafter, a man entered with a calm gait. His brown hair was neatly combed, his hazelnut eyes bright, his gaze calm yet sharp. His suit was immaculate, fragrant and dignified.
Mocca recognized him immediately. He was the man from last night, she murmured to herself, her heartbeat quickening slightly.
"He's so handsome," whispered Milky, who was staring at the man, which Mocca could hear. She nudged Milky's elbow, signaling the girl to be quiet.
Arlan stood in front of the crowd of new participants with an unforced authority. His eyes scanned each participant there, including Mocca and Milky. "Welcome to Eastfield."
"From this moment on, your steps are under our watchful eye. Every choice you make will open different doors, some bright, some... not always so. We don't ask for much. Just the courage to move forward and the determination to stand firm when everything starts to test you." His gaze swept across the hall, sharp, as if weighing each face staring back at him.
After the class division according to the chosen fields was complete, all participants dispersed. Mocca took a step towards the west of the building towards her class after parting with Milky. She followed a group of other participants with the same field as hers towards a narrower, darker hallway. The stone walls on the left and right were covered with paintings of nameless, unfamiliar faces. Each painting seemed to be watching them, the eyes in each painting seemed to follow every step the group of participants took.
In front of the door labeled E-3, Mocca stopped. He took a deep breath, then pushed the door open. The smell of old books and almost extinguished candles greeted him. Rows of wooden tables were neatly arranged, each equipped with a small lamp and ink in a pot. Several students were already sitting quietly, looking ahead or simply staring at the table. Mocca chose to sit in the middle seat, because that was the only one left. It was just like in the Harry Potter movies. All he had to do was read a magic book and wave a wand. Oh my, it was so old-fashioned.
Five minutes later, Arlan entered. All the participants sat up straight in surprise. He placed thick books on the table, then closed the door with a deafening creak.
"Welcome to your class. We meet again," he said flatly, but his voice carried a creeping tension.
"I am your mentor for psychology. Today, we will not talk about theory. Today, I want to get to know you."
"One by one, introduce yourselves. Name. Origin. And if you want, you can share anything, hobbies or whatever."
Soon, unfamiliar names began to be heard.
"Asterina Lox, from Morhaven. I like solving puzzles."
"Gideon Harrow, from Braxton. I came here because I had nowhere else to go."
Each participant introduced themselves according to their seat. Mocca sighed deeply, she was a bit shy and didn't know what to say. Her body trembled slightly and she broke out in a cold sweat as her turn approached. Mocca stood up slowly. She could hear her heartbeat more clearly in her own ears. She took a deep breath before finally speaking.
"Monica Valenne Khan. From Eldenbourg."
Mocca paused for a moment, then took another breath, realizing that everyone was waiting for her to continue. Yes, because she was the only girl who had moved from the city. "To be honest, I don't have anything to tell," said Mocca. She looked at Arlan, who was staring at her with an unreadable expression.
Several people looked at each other after hearing Mocca's words. Some smiled slightly, some looked dismissive. Others didn't react at all. But Mocca tried to remain calm. Arlan stared at her for a long time, then said, "Then tell us about your habits in Eldenbourg. We here rarely know about life outside Duskvale."
Mocca nodded slightly. "I like to go for walks. Sometimes to the mall, sometimes to a cafe, but what I like most is exploring new places that are rarely visited by people. Small alleys, benches in the corner of the city square, places that are unfamiliar but full of stories. Then, I'll write them down on my personal website or in a small notebook as memories," Mocca said smoothly. As if the nervousness she felt had vanished the moment she finished talking.
"Exploring? An interesting trait." Arlan wrote something down in his book before turning his attention to the next student.
Mocca sat back down. There was a strange feeling of relief. The classroom remained silent after the last few students introduced themselves. The sound of Arlan's chalk scratching on the board was the only sound to be heard. He wrote slowly, letter by letter.
"Psychology is not just about the mind. It is the art of reading what is never said." Arlan began to explain the theory.
"What we see and hear is nothing compared to human behavior. We can judge the truth through behavior, even from the way they knock on the table, walk, and even their facial expressions before answering questions. All of that speaks louder than words."
Arlan put down the chalk, then turned around, his hands clasped behind his back. "From now on, you will learn to observe in the right way." He walked slowly between the rows of tables. His footsteps sounded firm, each thud like a deliberate echo. His hazel eyes occasionally stopped on one participant, as if testing their composure.
When Arlan passed Mocca's desk, their eyes met. It was a difficult gaze to interpret, not intimidating but enough to make Mocca's courage shrink. She quickly looked down.
"Your attention is easily distracted," Arlan said suddenly, as if he could read her mind. His voice was calm, but piercing. "From now on, learn to focus. Not all distractions are worth paying attention to, but some can save your lives."
Mocca felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She wasn't sure if those words were coincidental or meant for her. Yes, of course, because they had just looked at each other.
Arlan returned to the front of the class. "That's enough for today. You are free to explore the building. But remember, don't try to enter any locked rooms."
Some participants glanced at each other, some wrote quickly in their notebooks. Others whispered as if they wanted to break the rule.
Mocca remained silent. His mind was still replaying the same questions. Who was the person wearing the boots? And why was the warning directed at him? He looked around for the person wearing the boots. Several participants were wearing them, but who should he be wary of?
The class slowly dispersed. The sound of chairs being moved, books being closed, and footsteps echoed on the stone floor. However, there was no noisy conversation like in a normal school, only soft murmurs and questioning glances exchanged silently.
Mocca packed her books, which she had barely touched, and slipped her pen into her bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gideon, a young man with red hair and a half-lazy, half-observant expression, standing up and picking up his shoulder bag.
As he passed Mocca, Gideon paused for a moment. "First time here?" he asked in a light tone, almost like small talk. Mocca glanced back. "Yes."
Gideon smirked slightly. "Welcome to the maze." He tapped the table lightly, then walked away. His brown boots made a heavy sound every time they touched the stone floor.
Mocca watched for a moment, her gaze automatically falling to his boots. A vague memory of the strange letter from last night flashed through her mind again. Be careful of someone wearing boots. Mocca held her breath for a split second. But she quickly dismissed the thought. It's impossible that I just met him. Don't be stupid, Mocca.
"Everyone here seems strange, doesn't it?" a soft voice came from her left.
Mocca turned her head. Asterina Lox, the blonde girl who had introduced herself earlier, was carefully tidying up her books. Her blue eyes stared at Mocca without much expression.
"Not really," Mocca replied, smiling faintly. "But maybe I look strange too."
Asterina shrugged her thin shoulders, almost imperceptibly, then said briefly, "Maybe." She turned and walked out without looking back.
Mocca slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out into the hallway. The air outside the classroom was fresher, carrying away the awkward and strange atmosphere that had accompanied it earlier. The sunlight from the large window in the corridor cast long shadows on the stone floor, the silhouette of the window reflected on the stone wall.
At the end of the corridor, Milky was sitting on the edge of a large window that faced directly onto the Eastfield courtyard, swinging her legs like a child. The scarf she was wearing had come loose, and in her hand was a half-eaten piece of bread as she stared at the blurry view outside. From here, Mocca saw a gloomy child who had been left out.
"Hey!"
"You finally came out," Milky greeted her with her mouth full of bread. "How was your class?"
Mocca stood in front of her, looking at her friend. "I don't know."
"My class is boring! The mentor is an old man with glasses. It's so annoying, why doesn't he just retire!" Milky sneered, making Mocca laugh lightly.
"If my mentor was a handsome man, my class wouldn't be boring," Mocca replied in an annoying tone and then laughed.
Milky rolled her eyes in annoyance, "Yeah, yeah, whatever." She jumped down from the window sill lightly. "Great. Because I have an idea. We're going to explore this building. They say there are corridors that aren't on the official floor plan."
She winked mischievously. "And if we're lucky... maybe we'll see something we shouldn't see." Then she chuckled evilly.
Mocca just sighed softly, but her lips curved slightly. "You really do like to stir up trouble."
Milky rolled her eyes, pretending not to care. "An interesting problem is better than a boring first day."
They walked side by side down the long, increasingly quiet corridor. Behind them, the classrooms were slowly emptying. Eastfield, with all its old elegance and silence, seemed to be waiting, as if it needed just one more step to reveal its secrets.