He flipped through the various textbooks.

  Kael picked up a book with a strange title:

  “The Fibonacci Sequence and the Golden Ratio.”

  He leafed through it, brows slightly furrowed, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

  He wouldn’t have been able to explain why… but the title appealed to him.

  On the first page, he read softly:

  “The Fibonacci sequence is a mathematical sequence in which each term is the sum of the two preceding ones. It begins as follows: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21…”

  Kael paused on the numbers, trying to reread them silently.

  Then he muttered, intrigued:

  “So… 1 and 1 makes 2… 1 and 2 makes 3… 2 and 3, 5… ah, I think I get it…”

  He turned the page.

  A spiral drawn in black ink filled almost the entire height of the page.

  Beside it, a sentence read:

  “The ratio between two successive terms of the sequence tends toward the golden ratio, denoted φ (phi), approximately equal to 1.618. This ratio is found throughout nature, art, and architecture.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow.

  “Phi… the golden ratio…”

  “Why would a number have value?”

  “Does it shine or something?”

  He studied the spiral. Something about the shape felt strangely familiar.

  Not in his mind.

  In his body.

  Like a sensation etched into his muscle memory.

  He placed his hand on the page.

  “I don’t understand everything…”

  “…but it’s beautiful.”

  Kael picked up a second book—thinner, darker.

  The title was engraved in gold ink on a black cover:

  “The Perfect Shadow Theorem.”

  He frowned.

  “Another theorem…” he murmured.

  He opened it, curious, and read the first sentence printed squarely at the center of the page:

  “Within any closed system—whether material, moral, or symbolic—there exists a projection that eventually reveals the truth of the system.”

  He blinked, then continued, his voice lower now:

  “Even if the system attempts to conceal it, every stable structure ultimately produces a ‘shadow’ faithful to what it truly is. This shadow may take the form of a behavior, a consequence, a resonance, or a measurable effect.”

  Kael froze.

  He reread the last line once. Then a second time. Then a third.

  He slowly closed the textbook, rubbed his temples, and thought:

  “Is this supposed to be mathematics?”

  “This sounds more like a prophecy.”

  He set the book back on the pile, pensive.

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  “This is really strange.”

  Kael picked up another textbook, its title simple and intriguing:

  “Cause.”

  He was about to start reading, focused—

  when a sharp voice made him flinch.

  “What exactly do you think you’re reading?!”

  The woman from the front desk.

  The same strange tone—right on the edge of shouting, without ever actually raising her voice.

  She stepped toward him briskly and, with a sharp motion, snatched the books he had already browsed through.

  “The Fibonacci Sequence and the Golden Ratio, The Perfect Shadow Theorem…”

  She lifted them slightly, like pieces of evidence.

  “What is this supposed to be? This isn’t even on the senior-year curriculum!”

  She tore Cause from his hands and read the title aloud, dripping with contempt:

  “Cause.”

  She looked up at him, eyebrows drawn tight, lips pressed thin.

  “Honestly… don’t you have anything better to do?”

  She turned on her heel and walked away with the books in her arms, as if she had just confiscated weapons.

  Kael straightened, his gaze darkening, and raised his voice:

  “Give those back, damn it! I wasn’t even speaking loudly!”

  No response.

  She had already settled back behind her desk, perfectly calm, as if Kael no longer existed.

  He stood there for a moment—furious, powerless.

  He looked down at the table.

  All that remained were the standard school textbooks—the ones he had picked up at the beginning.

  He opened one of them.

  He read a few lines.

  But his eyes slid over the words without catching them.

  He turned a page. Then another.

  Without much conviction.

  Honestly… the others had been far more interesting.

  The bell rang.

  A sharp, regular sound. Almost unpleasant.

  Kael flinched slightly, then looked down at his phone.

  13:15.

  “Alright… I’m starting to get it,” he thought.

  He stood up, carefully stacked the standard textbooks still on the table, and returned them to where he’d found them. He headed for the exit—

  then froze.

  “But where exactly am I supposed to go?”

  He started walking again, as if he knew.

  He walked straight ahead, gaze fixed, almost determined.

  Other students stepped aside as he passed, as though something in his demeanor discouraged them from getting close.

  As he stepped outside, he spotted Jeff waiting in front of the library, leaning against the wall.

  Jeff raised a hand in greeting.

  Kael returned it.

  “So?” Jeff called out. “What’ve you got now?”

  Kael replied honestly:

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  Jeff burst out laughing.

  “And why would I know?”

  “Check your bag. You’ve probably got your schedule, like everyone else.”

  Kael stopped and rummaged through his half-open bag. He pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, wedged between his sports gear and an old, partially torn book.

  He unfolded it. The corners were damp, the edges warped—but the columns were still readable.

  Days of the week. Time slots. Subjects.

  He ran a finger down the table and frowned.

  “What day is it again?”

  Jeff stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “Seriously, Kael? It’s Thursday.”

  Kael smiled mockingly.

  “Of course it’s Thursday. I just wanted to check if you knew. You never know.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes, amused.

  He ran a finger down the column… stopping at the line corresponding to 1:30 p.m.

  He read it out loud, confused:

  “Philosophy?”

  He looked up at Kael, then pulled a face.

  “Good luck, man. You get used to it. It’s not that complicated.”

  “Where are you going?” Kael asked.

  “Anywhere but philosophy.”

  “I do everything I can to avoid that subject like the plague.”

  And he walked off down the hallway.

  Kael watched him go, puzzled.

  “The plague?”

  He stood there for a moment, frozen in the middle of the corridor, then went and sat down against a wall.

  Back pressed to the cold stone, legs stretched out.

  He let out a long breath.

  “I don’t understand this Trial at all…”

  He paused. His gaze drifted up toward the ceiling.

  “And I don’t understand this world either.”

  Kael stood up.

  He glanced one last time at his schedule, then set off.

  He navigated the school corridors as best he could, hesitating at every intersection.

  But one thing helped: he recognized a few faces—students he’d seen in class that morning.

  He followed them discreetly, watched them enter a classroom.

  Without thinking any further, he stepped into the unknown: philosophy class.

  One hour later.

  He was the last to leave.

  His bag slung over one shoulder, the door slammed shut behind him.

  He stopped dead.

  His body trembled slightly—a shiver rising from his stomach up into his arms.

  He ran a hand over his face, shook his head.

  “I didn’t understand a thing…”

  He paused.

  Then a smile slowly spread across his lips.

  “But I love it.”

  He lifted his head. His eyes were shining.

  “I love this place.”