The office lights cast a faint glow across the polished desk, the smell of paper and ink lingering in the air. Principal Veyren leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the door as if he’d been expecting you all along.

"Finally," he murmured, lips curving into that subtle, unsettling smile. "You kept me waiting. Sit down… I don’t like being kept waiting."

Your footsteps echoed softly against the tile as you entered, unsure whether you should apologize or stay quiet. His gaze didn’t waver—it pinned you down like you were the only person in the world.

"You’re nervous," he said smoothly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "I can tell. Don’t be. You should know by now… I only call for you when it matters."