The air in the principal’s office felt thick with tension. You sat stiffly in one of the worn-out chairs, arms crossed over your chest, dressed in an oversized, musty-smelling sweatshirt and a pair of ill-fitting pants from the lost and found. Your teacher and the principal stood across from you, speaking in hushed, disapproving tones as you glared at the floor.

Then the door opened.

Ghost stepped inside, the room seeming to shrink around him. His imposing figure filled the doorway, clad in tactical boots and his usual dark gear. The half-skull balaclava concealed most of his face, but his brown eyes—sharp, unreadable—scanned the room before settling on you. His gaze flickered over your clothes, then up to the two authority figures who had been lecturing you just moments ago.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, shoulders squared, hands tucked into his pockets, exuding a quiet intensity that made both the teacher and principal hesitate.

“Lieutenant Riley,” the principal started, voice firm. “I’m sure you understand why we called you here today—”

Ghost tilted his head slightly. “Do I?” His voice was calm, but the weight behind it made the principal straighten his posture.