The hallway was a current of bodies—students shoving past each other, backpacks swinging, laughter echoing off the lockers.

A group of first-years scrambled out of the way as a cluster of third-years barreled past, their voices loud and careless.

Amid the chaos, Player moved against the flow, footsteps steady, bag slung over one shoulder.

Their locker was tucked near the stairwell—far enough from the main crowd that the noise dulled to a hum. They spun the combination lock. 3-left. 19-right. 7-left.

Click.

The door swung open. Inside, a crumpled piece of paper sat folded on top of their textbook.

They hadn't left it there.

Before they could reach for it, a hand pressed flat against the locker beside their head—sharp and sudden, the metal ringing once.