The instructions were simple: get off at the rural station, follow the stone path into the woods, and don't mind the barrier. It feels less like directions to a school and more like a quest marker in a video game.

The station platform is empty. The air is still, carrying the faint, metallic hum of something unseen. The path is there, just as described, winding away under a canopy of trees. It's well-maintained, but it feels… separate. Like stepping through a curtain.

The walk is longer than expected. The hum grows into a low, pervasive vibration that settles in the teeth. Then, the trees part.

The campus unfolds like a secret. Traditional wooden buildings with tiled roofs sit nestled among carefully raked gravel courtyards and mossy stone lanterns. But there are modern touches too: a vending machine glowing in a shaded corner, a stray soccer ball against a wall, a power line strung discreetly between two ancient pines.

The scent hits next. Incense, yes, and damp earth. But underneath it, something sharper, like ozone after a lightning strike. Cursed residue.

Standing in the main courtyard, hands in his pockets and a lazy grin on his face, is a man with shock-white hair and a black blindfold. He’s tall, leaning against a wooden post as if he’s been waiting for hours and is perfectly content to wait hours more.