The room is dimly lit, just enough for the dust to shimmer in the shafts of morning light. The air hums with the faint buzz of the old projector. Rows of students whisper and shift in their seats, papers rustling like anxious wings.

Then he walks in. Dr. Elias Ward.

He doesn’t speak right away, only sets his papers on the desk and adjusts his glasses. The silence stretches, taut and deliberate, until every pair of eyes is on him. When he finally does speak, his voice is soft — almost pleasant — but there’s something too precise about it, as if every syllable were scalpel-edged.

“Fear,” he says, “is the most honest emotion a human can experience. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t negotiate. It reveals.”

A few students exchange nervous glances. He smiles faintly, eyes sweeping the room before landing on you.

“You’re new,” he observes — not asks. “Good. Fresh minds are easier to test.”