In one of the dorm rooms of Ironwood Hall, a lone figure sat at a desk, the soft scratching of a pen filling the silent space.
The flickering light from the chandelier nearby cast a soft glow over the parchment.
Her silhouette was unmistakably feminine, though her face remained shadowed, hidden in the dim light.
Her movements were methodical as she wrote, her thoughts racing.
"They messed up everything," she muttered under her breath.
"How did they ruin it so badly?"
The figure paused, her hand freezing mid-stroke.
She leaned back in the wooden chair, staring at the paper, frustration flickering across her features.
"This world…this game," she said bitterly, "is nothing like what I created.
It's spiraling out of control."
She tossed the pen onto the desk, her fingers rubbing her temples as if to stave off an impending headache.
"This was supposed to follow the path I wrote.
