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"Thank you."

"Not praise."

"I know."

I roll onto my side. "I'm not discussing him."

"Fine."

"Good."

"He's still across the hall."

"Nyra." She laughs.

Then grows quieter. "You seem happy about it."

I look at her. "I'm happy everyone is close."

"Of course."

"Response time matters."

"Definitely."

"You're unbearable."

"Also definitely." I throw a pillow. She ducks.

Later that night, I discover the actual problem. Not Nyra. Not Caelen. Not even Rhyven. Doors. The walls in North Residence are thick. The doors are not.

At eleven eighteen, I hear Caelen say: "You're pacing."

Rhyven answers: "No."

"You're literally walking back and forth." Silence.

Then— "Go to sleep."

Caelen laughs. Quietly. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

I sit upright in bed. Nyra does too. We look at each other. Neither breathes. Across the hall— "Shut up."

Rhyven.

Caelen: "I didn't say anything." I put both hands over my mouth. Nyra collapses silently into her pillow. This is a nightmare.

A few minutes later, the corridor goes quiet. I lie back. Stare at the ceiling. I can hear Nyra still trying not to laugh. "Don't."

She whispers: "I didn't say anything."

"I hate everyone."

"No, you don't."

At midnight, floor accountability happens. A wardkeeper walks the corridor. Checks every room. Everyone accounted for. No alarms. No depletion. No bells. Good. Nyra falls asleep quickly. I don't. Theryn again. Then Rhyven. Then Theryn. Then the fucking wall in Field Three. Excellent. My brain has lost all priorities.

At one fourteen, I give up. I leave bed quietly. Pull on a sweater. Open the door. The corridor is empty. I intend to go to the common room. Tea. Book. Anything. Then Room Three-Zero-Five opens. Of fucking course. Rhyven steps out. Stops. I stop. Neither of us speaks. This is getting ridiculous.