The first building rose in pale brick, sun-warmed and clean, ivy stubbornly climbing its flank like it refused to be ignored.
Luca followed the agent up the narrow stairwell, each step clicking softly, old wood sighing under his weight.
"Second floor," the man said, jingling the keys. "Small but bright. A lot of students favor this location—close to Crescent Hill, coffee shops just around the corner."
The lock turned, the door swung open.
Light poured in from tall windows, dust drifting like slow sparks in the air.
The faint tang of fresh paint clung to the walls, sharp but new.
"So, here's the living room." The agent stepped aside, letting Luca in first.
Luca stepped inside, and immediately his imagination betrayed him:
Noel sprawled across the floor, textbooks everywhere, muttering about deadlines.
The image tugged a smile from him before he could stop it.
"It's… nice," Luca murmured, trying to sound neutral.
