The system flickered.
[SUB-QUEST 3] TIME REMAINING: 23 HOURS
Across the parking lot, Mark was already walking toward him.
---
The gym buddy followed a few steps behind. Bigger, broader, silent. The white sedan sat at the edge of the lot, engine ticking as it cooled.
Mark stopped a few feet away. His jaw was tight. He cracked his knuckles.
Third floor. End of hallway.
"Let's not waste time."
"I know what happened at the gym."
"With Danielle."
Dorian finally spoke.
"Cool."
Mark's face flushed. He checked over his shoulder. The gym buddy was still watching.
"You serious?"
"Yeah."
Mark stepped closer. "You think this is funny?"
A pause.
"I'm talking to you."
"I know."
"Then say something."
Dorian held his silence.
Mark exhaled through his nose. He glanced at the gym buddy, then back. His eyes narrowed. "I'm only gonna say this once." He took another step, close enough that Dorian could smell his cologne. "Stay away from her. You hear me?"
No reaction.
Mark's shoulders squared instinctively, like he was trying to make himself bigger. He held the stare for a beat, then looked away first. He turned, walked to the sedan, and paused with his hand on the door handle. He glanced back once, said nothing, and got in. The gym buddy followed. The engine started.
Dorian was already walking away.
---
He found the philosophy department's bulletin board on the second floor. Office hours posted in a glass case: Mondays and Tuesdays, 2-4 PM. Dr. Helen Vance, Room 304.
Nearby, a girl with a stack of flyers was handing them out to a small group arguing over a project. Dorian glanced at her as he passed. She looked up, eyes meeting his for a moment, then looked away quickly, cheeks flushing. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned back to the group.
Dorian climbed to the third floor. End of hallway. Room 304. The door was closed. A sliver of light underneath.
He knocked. No response.
He tried the handle. Locked.
He listened. Nothing.
He turned and walked back toward the stairs.
---
Dorian walked past the bulletin board area again. The flyer girl was packing up her remaining flyers, tucking them into a canvas bag. She saw him approach and straightened.
"Hey," she said. "You were looking at the board earlier, right?"
Dorian stopped.
"I'm—" She laughed, nervous, overtalking. "I'm probably bothering you. Sorry. It's just—you look familiar. You were at the big party, weren't you? Dancing with that girl with the—" She gestured vaguely at her own backside, then caught herself, cheeks flushing. "I mean. You just stood out."
She held out a flyer. Her fingers trembled slightly.
Dorian took it without looking down at it.
She shifted her weight back, tightening her grip on the remaining flyers.
"Sorry. I just thought I'd ask."
Dorian walked past.
"Okay," she said.
Then, quieter:
"Cool."
---
The quad was crowded. Late afternoon. Students drifted between buildings in clusters, voices overlapping, phones out. Someone called across the lawn. A burst of laughter followed.
"Wagwan, fam!"
Kofi's voice boomed across the path. Heads turned.
Someone called his name from the library steps. Kofi half-turned, dapped them mid-step, laughed at something they said, and kept moving without breaking pace.
"Later, fam."
Then he was striding toward Dorian, arms wide, wearing a bright yellow hoodie over a T-shirt with a cartoon cat flipping double birds.
"Nice jacket," Kofi said, nodding at Dorian's dark coat. "Very serious. Like yuh goin' to a funeral or a heist. Same energy."
Dorian kept his pace.
"Mi need advice."
"Okay."
"Let's say, hypothetically."
"Okay."
"Yuh got a terrible idea."
A pause.
"Yuh know it's terrible."
A few steps.
"And if yuh do it, everybody involved gets hurt."
Dorian glanced at him.
Kofi pointed, theatrical, arm fully extended. "See? Dat look right dere."
"What idea?"
"Rachel wants an apology."
Dorian looked away.
Kofi dragged out the moment. "Exactly."
"For what?"
"Mi don't know."
"Then apologize."
Kofi leaned sideways to catch Dorian's expression. Blinked twice.
"Rah. Dat's actually worse advice than mine."
The grin faded a little.
"Yuh movin' like a man on di edge of a felony."
He veered off toward a bench. Halfway there, he paused.
"If yuh get arrested, though, dat jacket mine, fam."
He kept walking, already pulled into another conversation before he even reached the bench.
Dorian continued across the quad alone.
The library was quieter than usual.
Dorian took a seat by the windows overlooking the philosophy building. An open textbook sat in front of him. He never turned a page.
---
His phone buzzed.
Priya: I shouldn't have come.
Priya: Forget it.
Priya: Seriously.
Priya: Don't answer.
He read the messages.
The notification disappeared with a swipe of his thumb.
The sun dropped lower.
He glanced up from the untouched textbook.
Across the quad, the third-floor lights in the philosophy building flicked off one by one.
A few minutes later, he was already on his feet, crossing the quiet stretch between buildings.
---
The building was mostly empty. He climbed the stairs. End of hallway. Room 304.
The door was closed. No light underneath.
He knocked once.
No answer.
He tried the handle. Locked.
He waited. Footsteps approached from the stairwell.
Student voices drifted up from somewhere below. Then a door slammed on another floor, and the building settled back into silence.
Dr. Vance turned the corner, keys in hand. Dark sweater, hair down. She stopped when she saw him.
"Mr. Blimp."
She unlocked the door, pushed it open. The office was dark. She stepped inside and flipped the light switch.
"Come in."
His phone buzzed.
Unknown: You're not nervous.
Unknown: That's interesting.
He didn't look at the screen. The phone vibrated again. He let it die in his pocket.
He looked at the open door. At Dr. Vance inside.
Then he stepped forward.
She sat behind her desk. "You had a question?"
The door was still open.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 48]