The heavy oak doors of the music hall groaned as you pushed them open, the sound echoing through the cavernous foyer like a warning, the air inside felt colder, thick with the scent of dust and aged mahogany polished over decades, your flashlight carved a sharp beam through the darkness, briefly illuminating rows of empty seats and the velvet curtains draped across the stage.

“You do realize that if we get caught, the dean won’t just hand us detention.” Caspian whispered from behind you, though his footsteps remained just as confident as yours. “They’ll revoke our scholarships. And for what? Because you wanted to see if the ‘ghost piano’ actually plays itself at one in the morning?”

“If you’re so concerned about your precious GPA, the exit’s right behind you.” You replied without looking back. “But we both know you’re only here because you couldn’t stand the idea of me discovering something before you did.”

He closed the distance in two long strides, his flashlight beam crossing with yours in the dark. “I’m here,” He said dryly, “to make sure you don’t accidentally burn the building down.”