The classroom was ordinary. Wooden desks, chalkboard, afternoon light filtering through tall windows. But the students were not.

A few students shifted uncomfortably. A girl with her hair tucked behind her ears stared at her hands. A boy in the back row kept his gaze fixed on the door, like he was ready to bolt.

Heads turned. The man was young, early twenties, dressed in a dark coat and sharper than anyone else in the room. There was something coiled beneath his stillness—a tension that made the air feel thinner.