[POV: Caspian]
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Caspian stepped into his room.
There was a quiet stillness to it now.
The scent of fresh polish lingered. The bed was neatly tucked, the desk wiped spotless, the shredded curtains replaced with brand new fabric.
Everything was where it should be—maybe even better than before.
"…They cleaned everything," Caspian muttered.
But he didn't smile.
His hands moved calmly, unfazed, as he walked to the walls—tapping along wooden panels, frames, and one of the legs of his desk.
One by one, he retrieved three tiny lenses, each no bigger than a button.
He slid the memory cards into his terminal.
Moments later, the screen blinked alive.
The footage began to play.
Second-year students. Four of them. Laughing as they tore books apart, one urinating in the corner. Another drew obscenities with paint across his walls. One of them spat.
He watched the entire thing in silence, hands resting neatly on his lap.
Then, the second feed began.
