A spacious, modern room stretched wide, its sleek interior framed by tall glass windows that revealed an expansive view of Makazhar City glowing beneath the night sky.
A young man with jet-black hair tipped with a soft gradient of white stood by the window, his semi-formal attire catching traces of neon reflections.
He gazed out at the restless brilliance of the city—eyes relaxed, yet sharpened by an unmistakable sense of intention, as if he was analyzing every flicker and every movement unfolding before him.
The neon lights outside bounced off the glass surface, drawing out the contour of his silhouette and making him appear as though he were blending seamlessly into the tapestry of the night.
STEP! STEP!
Firm, authoritative footsteps echoed from behind, approaching with deliberate weight. But the young man didn't turn around immediately.
"You're not heading back? Don't you have to take the national exam tomorrow?" the approaching voice asked.
