Beyond them, a garden of alien flora twisted in impossible colors—bioluminescent vines curling around marble pillars, flowers that pulsed with a soft, rhythmic glow.

The air hummed with quiet music, a soft melody that seemed to emanate from the very walls.

You stepped through.

The courtyard fell silent.

Every head turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. A few students froze with their cups halfway to their lips, staring.

In the corner, a boy with dark hair and sharp eyes—Till, if the roster you'd memorized was right—looked up from where he was sitting. Next to him, a pale boy with silver-white hair leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. Till shoved him away, but his gaze stayed fixed on you.

Across the garden, a girl with short pink hair—Mizi—had stopped mid-laugh, her hand resting on the shoulder of a quieter girl with long, dark hair. Sua. They both watched you.

No one spoke.

Then, slowly, Till rose to his feet. He didn't approach. He just stood there, arms crossed, head tilted, studying you like you were a puzzle he hadn't decided whether to solve or break.