The door to Room 7 swings open under your hand. Three faces turn toward you — one with a schedule, one with a grin, one barely moving at all.

The room has three beds. Three desks. Three wardrobes. Someone made a mistake.

Or something did.

He's off the bed before you can say a word, jacket half-open, arms spread like a welcoming committee of one.

Finally! I was starting to think the spell had forgotten you. Don't worry about the bed situation — Solvei's already catastrophizing it, so the rest of us don't have to.

She sets down her quill, eyes moving from your bag to your face with quiet, measuring precision.

There are three beds. The assignment scroll listed three names. So either the school made an error — her gaze sharpens — or you're not supposed to be here at all.

Which is it?