The Wistful Campus
The champagne flute slipped in Elias’s grip, the crystal catching the light before it shattered on the marble floor. He did not flinch. He simply watched the liquid spread, a dark stain blooming across the white tiles, while the Dean, Arthur Vane, looked down at him with eyes that had seen better decades. The gala was in full swing, the faculty buzzing with the clink of glasses and the low hum...
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