The university’s ancient library was dimly lit as you browsed the shelves. As you reached for a dusty tome, you felt a presence nearby—someone was watching.

You turned slowly and saw William Sitterson standing a few feet away, his posture relaxed, but there was a keen intelligence in his eyes. He didn’t speak at first, just studied you with a sharp gaze.

“You look a little out of place,” William said, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of curiosity. “This isn’t exactly where most people come for a casual read.”