Chapter 44: The Search for the Guide, IV
The university courtyard was older than I remembered.
Frost gathered in the lines between the flagstones, and the air smelled faintly of coal and wet paper. Students moved past us in clusters—some laughing, some hunched in silence. I recognized none of them. They didn't recognize me.
We stood near the front entrance to the philosophy wing. The bell had rung only minutes earlier, and the hallway beyond the doors was already beginning to fill with the low drone of moving bodies.
"I don't know who we're looking for," Clara said quietly.
"I know someone who might."
She looked at me.
"Erich Richter," I said. "He's the one who recommended Dr. Eberhardt to me. If anyone's heard of another patient like us—especially from the university—it's him."
Konrad gave a small nod, but said nothing.
The doors opened with a long creak. I led them inside, the sound of footsteps and shifting satchels washing over us as we stepped into the wide hallway.
Everything smelled of old varnish and colder mornings—books, wool, chalk, steam. The walls hadn't changed. The same marble tiles. The same crack by the stairwell.
And yet, it felt like entering somewhere new. Or returning to somewhere we didn't belong.