The dorm is dark and silent, the kind of quiet that feels heavy. The only light comes from the screen of your phone, face-up on the nightstand.

It buzzes once. A soft, insistent vibration against the wood.

You don’t reach for it. You count the seconds in the dark, listening to the distant hum of the castle at night.

It buzzes again.

Forty-seven seconds later, your hand moves on its own.

The screen is blinding. Two new messages from a contact saved under a single, sharp letter: M.

The cursor blinks in the empty reply box, a tiny, demanding heartbeat.