"Now," she resumed after swallowing, returning to her professional tone, "we'll proceed with the exercise. Phase one: creation of a regular cube, three centimeter sides. Phase two: dimension verification. Phase three: recording deviations on the evaluation form. Proceed in pairs, one creates, the other measures and records. Then you'll switch roles. The exact dimensions will be reported on a form."

  The students divided into pairs in unusual silence. Ferretti's revelation had transformed the atmosphere, and now even the most arrogant seemed to look at their ice with attention. Brando and Giordano naturally formed a pair, positioning themselves in a corner of the classroom.

  "Fuck," Giordano murmured, observing his hands while trying to create a perfect cube. "Now I understand why she's so obsessed with precision."

  "And also why she's so nervous," Brando added quietly. "She's seen real things out there, not the exaggerated stories they tell in the rich zones of the Polis."

  "Did you notice she said her partner was a [Green Three]?" Giordano glanced at Ferretti, who was checking the work of two students a few desks away. "That's Esposito's rank. Yet he still died against a Glacial. What level was it? Maybe level four or even five."

  Brando nodded, understanding the implication. A Green Stage was considered powerful, and Esposito was proof of that. Yet, out there existed threats capable of killing him like it was nothing.

  "About the library," Brando murmured, pretending to concentrate on his ice.

  Giordano nodded imperceptibly, lowering his voice. "I checked the route. The east entrance has fewer cameras and the night guard, old Martelli, always does the same round at 11:15 before returning to his post and falling asleep."

  "The library is really divided into two sections?" Brando asked, now concentrating to improve the cube's shape.

  "Yes," Giordano confirmed. "The main section is open to all students during the day. Textbooks, manuals, that kind of thing. But the restricted section is accessible only with special permission signed by a high-ranking instructor. There are classified documents, private research, uncensored historical texts."

  "And how do we get to the restricted section?" Brando asked, correcting a corner of the cube.

  "There's a door with an electronic lock," Giordano explained. "But I noticed the ventilation system passes over both sections. If we can get into the ducts, we're golden."

  "We could pass without touching the door," Brando concluded. "Not bad. But once inside, what exactly are we looking for? We can't spend hours browsing thousands of books."

  It was a critical point they had discussed only superficially. The Academy library was notoriously vast, with decades of research, reports, and documents. Looking for something specific without a precise idea would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  "That's the problem," Giordano admitted. "We have fragments of what we need to know but we don't know how to connect everything."

  "It's a blind search, and we can't stay there for hours. If they catch us, we're fucked," Brando murmured, frustrated.

  "Mr. Casadei."

  Ferretti's voice made them both jump. The woman had appeared beside them without making a sound, her eyes observing what the two were doing.

  Crunch. Crunch.

  "This cube," she said, taking the object from Brando's hands, measuring it with a precision caliper. "shows irregularities not conforming to standard parameters. 0.4 millimeter deviation in the northwest corner."

  Ferretti then made a note on her form and returned the cube to Brando with an impersonal gesture.

  "Try again," she ordered curtly. "And this time, focus on the corner. The shape must be perfect."

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  Crunch. Crunch.

  She moved away to the next desk, with the same rigidity with which she had arrived.

  "Hey," Giordano whispered once Ferretti was far away, "I bet she measures her boyfriend's dick with that caliper too - 'hmm, 0.4 millimeter deviation, unacceptable!'"

  Brando almost choked trying to hold back a laugh. "How exactly do these things come to you?" he said while looking toward Ferretti who was examining Marco Ruocco's work as if she were evaluating a diamond under a microscope.

  "I'm telling you she does it," Giordano insisted. "She's got like an entire log with all the measurements and standard deviations. That's why she seems so rigid and pissed off."

  "Please, stop... if she makes me repeat the exercise because of you, I'll bust your balls."

  The hour dragged with the slowness of a river flowing uphill. Ferretti passed between the desks like a ghost. Occasionally she stopped beside a student, measuring, evaluating, and noting with a surgeon's precision.

  "Two minutes to the end of the exercise," Ferretti announced, meticulously checking her KryoWatch. "Complete the measurements and submit the forms."

  Brando completed the last measurement and began gathering his notes. It was at that moment he noticed it: a tiny piece of paper folded very precisely, wedged in the corner of his desk. It wasn't there a second before. He was certain.

  Where did it come from?

  He looked around cautiously, scrutinizing his classmates' faces for some clue, but everyone seemed focused on their exercises. No one was looking at him. No one seemed to have noticed anything.

  With a fluid movement, Brando slid the note into his palm while pretending to pick up his pen. He hid it in his closed fist and making it disappear right after.

  "Time's up," Ferretti declared. "Submit the forms at the desk before leaving."

  Students began to move, forming a small crowd in front of the desk. Brando took advantage of the confusion to discreetly open the note under the desk. The handwriting was elegant and precise, almost unnaturally perfect. A single message, written with dark blue ink that seemed to glow slightly:

  Main library, east wing, shelf 42.

  Nothing else. No signature, no explanation.

  "You okay?" Giordano whispered, noticing his tense expression. "You look like you've seen a walking corpse."

  "Later," Brando murmured, quickly stuffing the note into his jacket's inner pocket. "I'll tell you later."

  Crunch. Crunch.

  The sound of ice crushed by Ferretti's teeth filled the silence as the last students submitted their forms. Her gaze rested briefly on Brando, but there was nothing unusual in her expression: the usual professional coldness.

  "For the next lesson," she announced as students prepared to leave, "I want a perfect hexagonal crystal model. Three centimeters in diameter, exact 60-degree angles, with maximum tolerance of 0.1 millimeters. Study the diagram on page 47 of the manual. Good day."

  The swarm of students poured into the corridor, releasing a wave of voices and laughter that until shortly before had been contained within the classroom. Brando and Giordano remained apart, watching the others walk away.

  "So?" Giordano asked as soon as they were alone. "What the fuck happened in there? You froze like you'd seen Ripa in his underwear."

  Brando extracted the note and showed it to Giordano, keeping it hidden in his palm. "It appeared on my desk. I have no idea how it got there."

  Giordano studied the message, frowning. "Main library, east wing, shelf 42? What the fuck does that mean?"

  "I have no idea," Brando replied, putting the note back in his pocket. "But it appeared out of nowhere. No one approached my desk, yet here it is."

  "Could be a trick," Giordano lowered his voice, looking around nervously. "Maybe Esposito trying to frame you again. Or maybe..."

  "Or maybe someone wants to help us," Brando completed. "Someone knows we want to go to the library and is suggesting where to look."

  Giordano ran a hand through his red hair, a gesture he always made when nervous. "Who could know? We haven't told anyone. Unless..."

  "Unless someone is watching us," Brando concluded. "Or worse, listening. The Academy walls might have ears."

  A shiver ran through both of them. The idea that someone could have intercepted their private conversations opened disturbing scenarios. But at the same time, the note was too specific, too targeted to be a coincidence.

  "Do you think we should trust it?" Giordano asked.

  Brando reflected for a moment, weighing the options. The risk was high, but without that suggestion they would still be stuck in a blind search among thousands of volumes.

  "I don't see alternatives," he finally said. "If we go to the library without knowing what to look for, we might end up browsing books at random. At least now we have a starting point."

  "So we're doing it anyway?" Giordano smiled, regaining some of his adventurous spirit. "Tonight, after curfew?"

  "Yes," Brando confirmed. "But we need to be even more careful. If someone knows about our plans, it could be a trap."

  "Or an ally," Giordano suggested.

  Brando absentmindedly petted Rusty's head. The puppy seemed to sense the tension, with all three eyes scanning the corridor as if looking for a hidden presence.

  "We'll bring Rusty," Brando decided. "His third eye can see things we can't. If there's something strange, he'll sense it."

  "Perfect," Giordano nodded. "I'll bring the frequency disruptor and wait for you at the east entrance at 11:00, as agreed."

  "And we'll see what's hidden at shelf 42," Brando concluded, touching the note in his pocket.