Scuola Phobia always kept a vacant seat ready, but not for the reasons one might hope. It was a calculated cruelty. Rumors whispered that the vacancy existed solely to break the newcomers, subjecting them to both mental and physical torment. The stories that bled out of the campus were horrifying, yet the government never lifted a finger. Even when students ended up in catatonic states or worse.
The school's immunity was a testament to its power. Despite its reputation, it remained a premier institution, its influence weaving deeply through the world's elite. To the public, it was a clearly a nightmare. But to the powerful, it was a necessary forge.
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It was the first day of the term. Paul was nearly fifteen, an age that should have been marked by celebration. Instead, he was walking toward the only place in the world that would take him.
"Paul, you have to send me a message," his mother pleaded, her hands trembling as she adjusted his collar. "At nine, then ten, then eleven... just... just give me a regular sign that you're still alive, okay?"
Paul looked into her eyes, which were as green as his own, and tried to force a smile. "I'll do my best, Mom. Don't worry. I'm not going to die."
He said it to reassure her, but mostly, he said it to convince himself.
As he began the long walk toward the academy, a heavy, ominous weight settled in his chest. The school sat at the end of a long, gray boulevard, but it wasn't the architecture that stopped his breath. Lining the street, like silent sentinels, were dozens of psychiatric hospitals. Their proximity to the school wasn't a coincidence. It was a warning.
Paul's heart hammered against his ribs. The rumors were one thing, but seeing the infrastructure of madness laid out before him made the danger feel sickeningly real.
Then, he saw it. The Great Pentagonal Building. Huge, jagged towers rose from every corner like black claws reaching for the sky. It was as fascinating as it was terrifying. Paul stood frozen, staring at the sheer scale of the fortress, until a movement to his right caught his eye.
In the window of a nearby crumbling house, an old woman stood in the shadows. She was staring directly at him. Her face was so deep in the dark that her eyes appeared like two hollow, pitch-black voids.
The fear Paul had been suppressing all morning finally crested. His vision blurred, his knees turned to water, and the world gradually started to go black before he even reached the gate.