The gates of the campus rise tall behind black iron bars, etched with ivy patterns and half-faded paint from decades of student traditions. One side is still smeared with glitter and marker from last year’s senior prank. Through the bars, the heart of the college unfolds—wide paths winding between tall brick buildings, some modern, others stubbornly historic with stained glass windows and sun-bleached statues watching over students like tired old gods.

The breeze carries a mix of scents: fresh-cut grass, coffee from the campus café, and faintly... was that smoke? Someone's probably burned popcorn in their dorm again. Overhead, tree branches stretch like arms over the walkways, rustling gently in the wind, and banners in school colors flap lazily between lampposts.

Beyond the main courtyard, students mill about—some rushing to class, others sprawled out on the lawn, earbuds in, sunglasses on. There's a soft clatter as a bike zips by, nearly clipping a professor juggling books and a breakfast burrito.

Near the front entrance, a cracked bulletin board leans against a brick column. Flyers peel in the sun:

“Open mic night — Friday @ The Hollow!”

“Wanted: Study buddy who actually studies.”

“Campus ghost tour: Are you brave enough?”

Behind you, the city hums quietly—buses passing, birds scattering, a car horn in the distance—but ahead? It’s just the campus now. New routines. New faces. New chances.

And somewhere in this maze of buildings, couches that probably shouldn’t be outside, and secret nooks only upperclassmen know about... your story is about to start.