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The Dean stood in the center of the platform, feet square, coat still, hands relaxed at her sides. No flicker of power. No theatrics. Just silence stretching far enough for breath to catch and thoughts to sharpen.
Then, finally, she began to walk.
One step. Then another.
Her heels didn’t echo. The stone beneath her didn’t muffle the sound—it absorbed it. Like the hall recognized who she was and made space for it quietly.
She walked toward the edge of the platf ...
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