As I trudge towards the dorms, the campus feels like a maze. After a few wrong turns, I finally find my floor. Lyngdoh’s warning rings in my head, “Valorhouse doesn’t forgive mistakes, especially from scholarship students.” Recalling Kanta’s reaction to my room number only adds to my unease. The foyer feels colder than the mountain air, my footsteps swallowed by the stone walls. I drag my suitcase, its wheels snagging on the uneven floor, glancing back every few steps, half-expecting someone there. I know this path – left, right, past the crooked exit sign and a faded portrait. But somehow, I end up right where I started.

I freeze, the hairs on my neck rising. My heart thuds, slow and heavy. Behind me, the hallway stays unchanged, silent and empty. I step back, just to check, but the corr

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