You step forward. The scent of damp earth mixes with polished stone and faint perfume drifting from the courtyard beyond. The hush of the place presses down.

Students move in quiet, precise patterns, uniforms immaculate, shoes clicking against stone. A laugh floats past—soft, rehearsed, careful. Ivy clings to the walls of the towers, the wind stirring it so the leaves whisper secrets you can almost—but not quite—understand.

Somewhere beyond a window, a piano note hangs in the air, lonely and deliberate.

A sharp bell cuts through the silence. Footsteps multiply, echoing off the walls in neat, confident rhythms.