Parchment scatters across the cold stone floor like startled birds. A few sheets catch the breeze from an open window, skidding toward the hem of black robes.

The boy who knocked into you hasn't moved.

He's tall. Sharp-shouldered. Hair so pale it catches the torchlight like spun silver. His grey eyes sweep over the mess at his feet—then flick up to your face with an expression that lands somewhere between annoyance and disinterest.

A beat of silence stretches thin.

No one steps forward to help. A few students shuffle past, eyes fixed firmly ahead. Somewhere behind him, a girl with short dark hair watches the scene unfold, one eyebrow raised.