Something was wrong.
That was the first thought that struck me the moment I stepped into Professor Helena's room. A prickling unease slowly worked its way through me, a premonition that wasn't ready to speak. But before I could even begin to understand it, the door behind me closed on its own—then vanished.
It blended into the wall as if it had never been there.
I turned quickly. No door.
Just a smooth, perfect wall.
My chest tightened.
Still trying to remain calm, I followed Professor Helena, who walked lightly as if all of this was part of her daily routine. Her room was obsessively symmetrical.
Crystals, jewelry, and cat ornaments were all arranged neatly, as if every object had been meticulously tested for its angle of inclination.
"Not surprised by what you just saw?" she asked casually, her eyes teasing me as if testing my reaction.
"Not really. I'm used to it," I replied flatly. It was half a lie.
