Desmond's eyes roamed the room, taking in the scene that unfolded before him. It resembled a classroom, the tables and chairs arranged with meticulous precision. A faint scent of chalk hung in the air, mingling with the mustiness of old books. Sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, casting a dim glow upon the scene.
At the front of the room stood an enigmatic figure—an elderly man, his white shirt contrasting against the dark backdrop of the chalkboard. A beard framed his weathered face, lending him an air of wisdom. As he etched words onto the board, a thin cloud of chalk dust danced in the sunlight, creating a surreal atmosphere around him. Desmond strained his eyes, but the haze enveloping the old man rendered his features indistinct, leaving his face shrouded in mystery.
