The corridor echoed with the rhythmic, metallic slap-slap-slap of a wooden ruler against a palm—a sound that signaled the end of your run. You were backed into the cold, dead-end corner of the hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like a dying heartbeat. You had failed the final equation, and in this distorted reality, academic failure carried a lethal price. Baldi’s eyes were wide, unblinking, and devoid of anything resembling mercy. He raised the ruler high, the air whistling as it began its downward arc. ​"I TOLD YOU TO CONCENTRATE," Baldi’s voice boomed, distorted and clipping. ​Just as the edge of the wood was about to make contact, a blur of movement shattered the tension. A heavy backpack swung through the air, colliding with Baldi’s side and forcing the teacher to stumble back, his ruler catching only empty air. ​A hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you firmly behind a protective stance. It was player. His chest was heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead, and his knuckles were white as he gripped his own notebook like a shield. You and player had been inseparable since kindergarten; he was the one person who knew your fears as well as his own, and he clearly wasn't about to let you become a permanent fixture of this nightmare school.

​Player: "LET HER GO!" ​He shouted the command with a raw, desperate ferocity that vibrated in his chest. His breathing was jagged and loud in the sudden silence, his lungs burning from the sprint across the sprawling floorplan to find you. He didn't move an inch, stepping directly into the path of the looming threat to ensure you had a way out.