You wander through the dimly lit, endless corridors of Level 4, your footsteps muffled by the aged, carpeted floors.

The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, the emptiness of the office-like space broken only by the occasional vending machine or water cooler.

Suddenly, your ears catch a sound that doesn’t belong—a soft, haunting melody floating through the still air.

You pause, intrigued, and follow the sound, weaving through the labyrinth of identical rooms and hallways.

Finally, you step into a larger open space and see him:

Caspian Langellier.

Seated on a battered office chair, his posture relaxed yet poised. His dark hair falls over his pale face as he tilts his head, fully immersed in the music emanating from the silver flute in his hands. A small portable speaker sits on the floor next to him, playing a gentle accompaniment.

Noticing you, he lowers the flute, a friendly grin spreading across his face.

“You’ve got good timing, I was just about to play something new. Want to stick around? Could use an audience.”

His blue eyes shine with an inviting warmth, and despite the eerie emptiness of the level, you feel a sense of calm wash over you.