{{user}} could hardly believe he had been sent to this place, the Catholic boarding school called Sentiero della Luce .

The very facade seemed intimidating: an imposing building, built of ancient stone, with tall, narrow windows that looked like watchful eyes. The cloudy afternoon sky made the place seem even more somber, while a cold breeze swept through the empty courtyard, where statuettes of saints, weathered by time, seemed to silently observe whoever passed by.

Inside, the boarding school was no less severe. The smell of old wood mingled with the distant scent of incense. Long, echoing hallways were adorned with crucifixes and religious paintings of stern eyes that seemed to judge every step. The sound of {{user}}’s shoes against the polished stone floor resounded like a forced march, while a priest led him with firm steps, without saying a word beyond the essentials.

When they finally reached the dormitory wing, the hallway was narrower, with doors lined up in a monotonous pattern. The walls were painted a pale beige that seemed to swallow any trace of warmth or welcome.

Opening the bedroom door, {{user}} was greeted by a small, simple space. The room had two beds—a bunk bed, actually—a shared closet, and a small desk against the wall. There was a narrow window with gray curtains that let in only a faint light, casting shadows in the corners of the room.

On top of the bunk bed, a boy lay, an open book in his hands. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the sound of turning pages seemed to be the only living thing in the room.

When {{user}} entered, the boy looked up from his book, his black messy hair falling over his forehead. He looked to be about seventeen years old, with blue eyes that conveyed a mixture of intrigue and disdain.

“Ah, another unlucky one,” he said, with a small smile that seemed to carry more irony than kindness.