Chapter 108: Chapter 106 The Promise Before the Sea
The walk from the dining hall to the teachers’ lounge was not long, but to Valentina it seemed to contain more of the world than an ordinary afternoon should allow. Óscar walked in front with his hands near his pockets, his dark brown hair tied up in that careless lightness that seemed not to change even when he was guiding others toward a formal decision. He did not look back too much. He advanced as if he knew the way, as if he had already calculated beforehand that Sebastián was not going to stop him while Valentina remained interested, and that calm certainty made his back almost as expressive as his words.
Sebastián walked behind, on the girl’s left side, holding one of her hands with controlled firmness. Virka went on the other side, holding Valentina’s right hand with silent, instinctive attention, as if every step the girl took through the institute’s corridors were something that had to be protected from an invisible danger. Between them, Valentina moved forward with the backpack on her back, somewhat large for her small body, but carried with pride. Inside, Narka remained reduced and hidden, motionless beneath the fabric, keeping that heavy silence that did not belong to the object that seemed to contain him. The girl did not stop looking around. Her different eyes jumped from the windows to the doors, from the information boards to the side corridors, from the students who still remained there to the plaques where the names of departments she could barely read were written. She did not walk like someone fleeing. She walked like someone discovering.
The afternoon continued entering the institute with a more slanted light, warmer, less firm than the one from the morning. The day had not ended, but it was already beginning to withdraw from the edges of things. The shadows stretched across the clean floor, and the noise of the institute had another density: less class, less hurry, more remnants of conversations and scattered movements. Sebastián barely looked at anything. Virka did not either. The two seemed to accompany the journey more than travel through it. Their attention was on Valentina, on the way her fingers squeezed each of their hands, on how her face lifted with contained emotion every time Óscar crossed a door or turned down a new corridor. For anyone else it would have been a procedure. For her, it was a small adventure. And that was enough for both of them to tolerate the rest.
Óscar stopped at the end of a quieter corridor, in front of a refined oak wooden door. The surface was polished with a sober shine, crossed by dark veins that gave it an older air than the rest of the modern surroundings. On one side, a metal plaque indicated the teachers’ lounge. It was not an imposing door, but it did have that silent authority of places where students do not enter without reason. Valentina raised her head to see it better. Then she looked at Virka, then at Sebastián, as if she wanted to confirm that they really could cross through.
Óscar placed a hand on the edge of the door and looked at Sebastián with an almost ironic calm. —It is not an administrative dungeon —he said—. Although some teachers make quite an effort to maintain that reputation.
Sebastián did not respond. Virka only gave him a brief look, enough for Óscar to decide not to add another sentence. Then he opened the door and entered first.
The teachers’ lounge received the group with a strange mixture of modernity and tradition. The space was wide, orderly, illuminated by windows that let the afternoon enter in golden strips across the floor. There were clean tables, comfortable chairs, discreet screens integrated into some walls, and information panels lit with a faint glow; but alongside all of that, a warmer and older presence persisted: wooden shelves, oak filing cabinets, a central table with a traditional finish, small carved details on the edges of certain pieces of furniture, and a coffee maker placed on a side counter that seemed to have seen more adult exhaustion than any classroom. It did not smell like the dining hall. There, the air held paper, coffee, wood, ink, and a more serious stillness.
Valentina entered slowly, without letting go of Sebastián’s and Virka’s hands. Her eyes opened with immediate interest. She observed the shelves, the stacked papers, the cups forgotten beside folders, the empty chairs, and the turned-off screens. She seemed fascinated by the simple idea that teachers also had a place to sit, talk, leave things, and exist outside the classroom. That simple surprise made Virka lower her gaze toward her a little. She did not smile, but her expression lost its hardness for an instant. Sebastián watched her as well, dry, silent, with the same closed attention that prevented him from showing too much and, even so, did not allow him to pull away entirely.
Óscar continued advancing through the room as if he already knew whom he was looking for. He did not touch anything. He did not call out loudly. He only crossed the space with that lightness of his, attentive without seeming so, until he headed toward a corner where the afternoon light arrived more softly. There, beside a desk covered with orderly folders and sheets separated into small piles, there was a woman organizing papers.
She had long black hair, falling forward until it covered part of her face. She wore simple-framed glasses, a large ash-colored sweater that gave her a more reserved appearance, almost hidden inside her own clothes, and a medium-length skirt that reached her knees. Her movements were careful, methodical, as if every sheet had a precise place and altering that order could open a minor crack in the afternoon. She did not seem to be waiting for anyone, but she also did not startle when Óscar approached. She only finished arranging a stack of documents, slid her fingers along the edge to align them, and barely lifted her gaze from behind the glasses.
Óscar stopped at a prudent distance. Sebastián and Virka remained a few steps behind, with Valentina still between them and the backpack resting on her back. The girl looked at the woman with curiosity, squeezing a little more the hands that held her. Narka remained hidden, silent, inside the backpack. The afternoon entered through the windows and fell over that corner of the teachers’ lounge, over the papers, the ash-colored sweater, the black hair, and the small group that had just arrived with a proposal that seemed school-related only on the surface.
Óscar stepped forward one pace without losing his relaxed air. He did not invade the space of the desk or touch the papers the woman had just organized; he simply stopped in front of her with that naturalness of his, as if every place in the institute had an open door for him as long as he knew how to smile at the right moment. The afternoon entered through the windows of the teachers’ lounge and fell over the corner where they were gathered, lighting with a soft glow the edge of the folders, the wood of the desk, and the black hair of the teacher, which still covered part of her face like a curtain too accustomed to protecting her from direct gazes.
—Good afternoon, Professor Luciana —said Óscar, friendly, almost carefree, although the precision in his eyes made it clear that he had not arrived there by accident.
The woman lifted her gaze. First she looked at Óscar from behind her round glasses, then at Sebastián, at Virka, and finally at Valentina, who was still holding both hands in the center of the two. As she raised her face, her appearance was revealed better: she was young, with soft features and a discreet tenderness in the shape of her face, almost childlike from certain angles, although her black eyes carried visible exhaustion, marked dark circles, and a low depth, as if she had slept little for too many days in a row. Beneath her left eye she had a small mole, placed right on the lower part, a minimal detail that made her face more recognizable between the shadow of her hair and the circular frame of her glasses. Her expression was not hard. Nor completely serene. There was in her a withdrawn sweetness, covered by a layer of nerves that could be noticed in the way her fingers touched a corner of the papers before answering.
—Hello, student Óscar... —she said with a sweet, low voice, somewhat trembling at the edge—. How can I help you?
As she spoke, she adjusted her glasses with a quick gesture and blinked twice, as if that small involuntary tic allowed her to recover order within herself. Óscar did not seem surprised. He treated her with a prudent ease, without mocking her nervousness or turning it into the center of the conversation. Sebastián remained behind, observing in silence. Virka kept Valentina close, although the girl had already begun to look at the teacher with clean curiosity, fascinated by that woman who seemed shy and tired, but who still spoke with a kind voice.
—We came for the request for the formation of the club —Óscar answered—. The one I mentioned to you before. It seems that in the end I managed to get participants, although some are still trying to pretend they were not convinced.
Sebastián gave him a dry look. Óscar barely smiled, without insisting. Luciana lowered her gaze toward a folder on the desk, searched among several documents, and then nodded with a small quickness, as if she had finally found an area of the world where she knew exactly what to do. She placed one hand on the edge of the table and stood up. Then Valentina opened her eyes.
Luciana was tall. Much taller than her hunched posture, the large ash-colored sweater, and the timid way she spoke had allowed anyone to imagine while she was sitting down. When she stood, she reached almost two meters, surpassing Óscar, Sebastián, Virka and, of course, making Valentina seem even smaller between the hands that held her. The medium-length skirt fell to her knees with an orderly simplicity, and the loose sweater made her body seem as if it wanted to hide inside the fabric, despite a height impossible to conceal. The contradiction was strange: an enormous woman with a young, sweet, and tired face, moving as if asking permission to occupy the space that her own height already claimed.
—She is very big... —said Valentina, unable to contain herself.
Luciana remained motionless for an instant. Valentina raised her head more, squeezing Sebastián’s and Virka’s hands a little, and added with an innocent emotion that had no intention of hurting or making anyone uncomfortable:
—And pretty.
The blush appeared immediately on Luciana’s face. First on her cheeks, then in the way she lowered her eyes a little and adjusted her glasses again, this time with more clumsiness. Her nervous tic returned in a quick blink, and for a second she seemed not to know whether she should answer as a teacher, as an adult, or as someone who was not used to receiving a phrase like that without malice. Óscar observed the reaction with a minimal smile, but had the good judgment not to comment on anything. Sebastián remained silent. Virka looked at Luciana with attention, measuring whether that shyness hid something more, but she only found real nerves and a simple kindness.
—Thank you... —Luciana finally said, with her voice even lower—. You are also very pretty, little one.
Valentina smiled, and the answer lit up her face in an immediate way. She said nothing else, but that small approval seemed enough for her. Virka gently passed her thumb over the girl’s hand, almost without realizing it, while Sebastián barely turned his gaze toward the documents on the desk, as if he needed to return the scene to something manageable before the warmth became too visible.
Luciana breathed slowly, recovered part of her composure, and took a light blue folder from an orderly pile. Then she walked around the desk with long but careful steps, still somewhat hunched in the shoulders despite her height. The afternoon light touched her black hair and glasses, drawing a brief reflection over the lenses.
—To register a club, you need an assigned room, a general purpose, and at least one responsible person inside the institute —she explained, now with a slightly more professional tone, although the low sweetness was still there—. There are several spaces available after classes. I can show you some so you can choose the most suitable one.
Óscar tilted his head a little, satisfied.
—That would save us from improvising in the dining hall, Professor.
—Yes... it would be better to avoid that —Luciana answered, and then looked at Valentina with a timid softness before returning her attention to the whole group—. Follow me, please.
Professor Luciana advanced toward the exit of the teachers’ lounge with the folder against her chest, tall, reserved, almost contradictory in every movement. Óscar followed her first, relaxed as always. Sebastián and Virka walked behind with Valentina in the middle, still holding their hands and carrying the backpack where Narka remained hidden. The girl looked one last time at the tables, the papers, and the windows before leaving, as if that adult and strange place had just become another part of her small discovery of the institute.
The afternoon continued entering through the windows while the group left the room, guided by a teacher too tall to go unnoticed and too nervous to seem aware of it.
Luciana guided them out of the teachers’ lounge with the light blue folder pressed against her chest. She walked with long but contained steps, as if she were still not used to her height forcing others to raise their gaze when they followed her. Óscar went at her side calmly, attentive without seeming so; Sebastián and Virka advanced a few steps behind with Valentina between them, each holding one of her hands, and the girl walked with the backpack on her back, looking at the corridors as if the institute had decided to open secret doors for her just because she had agreed to enter a club. The afternoon continued falling through the corridor windows, more golden now, lower, stretched over the clean floor like a light that was beginning to withdraw without leaving entirely.
—Before showing you the available rooms —Luciana said, with her low and sweet voice, although more secure when she spoke about procedures—, I must explain something. A club can use a space in the institute, but it does not keep it just by asking for it. It has to demonstrate real activity, consistency, and merit. The idea is for it to help the development of the students, not only as entertainment, but as something that can contribute to their future: cooperation, discipline, creativity, research, practical skills, or responsibility.
Óscar listened with a slight smile, as if he already knew that part and still preferred to let the teacher say it. Sebastián showed no visible interest, but he did not ignore the information. Virka walked in silence, looking more at the doors, exits, and angles of the corridors than at the decorations of the place. Valentina, on the other hand, nodded with absolute seriousness, as if she had been given an important mission.
The first room was near a secondary study area. Luciana opened the door and turned on the lights. It was a small, clean room, with a rectangular table, some chairs, a whiteboard, and a low shelf with basic materials. There was nothing wrong with it. Precisely because of that, it did not stand out. It served for simple meetings, tutoring, or quiet reading, but the space felt too narrow even with them inside. Óscar took a look, calculated the layout in silence, and then looked at Sebastián with an expression that seemed to say that option would die on its own without need for comment. Valentina observed it with curiosity, but not with true emotion. Virka only measured the distance between the door and the window. Sebastián said nothing. Luciana understood the answer before anyone formulated it and closed the room carefully.
The second option was in a more active block of the institute. It was larger, with modular tables, good-quality folding chairs, two boards, a screen integrated into the wall, and side shelves where materials could be stored. It was functional, orderly, and easy to adapt. Luciana explained that many academic clubs started in spaces like that because they were practical and did not require too much merit to keep. Óscar scanned the room with his gaze and this time did seem to consider it for a few seconds. Sebastián observed the screen, the corners, and the open space. Virka noticed that there were too many entry lines from the corridor and little real privacy. Valentina smiled a little, but her gaze dimmed when she saw that it still looked like a common classroom, only kinder. The room served. It did not call.
The third had another atmosphere. It was more comfortable, with gray carpeting, simple sofas, warm lamps, a low table, and shelves with reference books, educational board games, and materials for tutoring. The light entered softly through a side window, and the place seemed designed to stay there for hours without feeling the weight of classes. Valentina squeezed Virka’s hand as soon as she saw it. She did like that room. There was something in the sofas, in the lamps, and in the books that made it seem less strict, almost safe. Luciana smiled shyly when she noticed the girl’s reaction and explained that several small groups requested it for reading, emotional support, and conversation activities. Óscar did not dismiss it immediately, but Sebastián looked at the space with a different stillness. It was comfortable, yes, but limited. Virka did not seem convinced either. It was a small refuge, not a place to grow. Valentina understood it only when she saw that neither of them moved inside.
The fourth room was farther away. It was large, bright, with sturdy tables, tall cabinets, an open area in the center, and a wall prepared to place tools, panels, or work material. It had no luxury, but it did have possibilities. Luciana explained that it served for practical clubs, technical projects, light training activities, or supervised workshops. The place smelled of clean wood, metal, and materials stored for a long time. Óscar stopped longer than in the others. There, there was indeed margin. The tables could be moved, the center could be used, things could be stored, work could be done without bothering anyone. Sebastián noticed it as well. Virka looked at the ceiling, the corners, the exits, the points where someone could enter without being seen. She did not find too many problems. Valentina looked at the spaciousness with interest, but she still did not have the face of someone who had found something of her own. Luciana, seeing them evaluate more carefully, lowered her voice a little.
—This is a solid option —she said—. It usually does not have that much competition. If you want something functional, it could serve you.
Óscar did not answer immediately. He only smiled sideways.
—And the fifth?
Luciana blinked twice, nervous, and adjusted the folder against her chest.
—The fifth is different —she murmured—. But it also demands more.
The last walk was longer. They went up a side section and crossed a corridor where the noise of the institute was left farther away. The afternoon light became more open as they approached the rear facade, and the smell of the sea appeared faintly, filtered through the ventilation systems and through some invisible crack in the building. Valentina noticed it before anyone and raised her head. Narka remained motionless inside the backpack, but something in that stillness seemed to become more attentive. Luciana stopped in front of a wide door, with a light finish, with an access panel more carefully made than the previous ones. She entered a code, passed her credential, and the door opened.
The fifth room made even the silence seem larger.
It was spacious, much more than the others, with refined wooden flooring that reflected the light without losing warmth, clear marble walls with soft veins, and an air-conditioning system that kept the environment cool despite the direct exposure toward the sea. At the back, enormous reinforced windows occupied almost the entire wall, showing the expanse of the water beneath the afternoon. The sea looked immense, dark in certain areas, golden in others, moving behind the glass as if the institute had enclosed a part of the horizon to offer it only to those who could deserve it. It was not a common room. It was a room of prestige. There were elegant tables, comfortable chairs, open spaces, retractable panels, and shelves integrated into the wall. Everything was clean, cared for, almost too perfect for a newly formed group.
Valentina let out a small sound of astonishment. It was not a complete word. Only an excited breath that escaped her before she could contain it. Her eyes remained fixed on the sea. Virka first looked at the windows, then the reinforcements, then the exits and blind spots. Sebastián observed the entire space with dry seriousness. He did not seem impressed by the luxury, but he did understand the usefulness: spaciousness, visibility, distance, control. Óscar, instead, smiled like someone who had expected to arrive exactly there from the beginning.
Luciana remained by the door, somewhat uncomfortable because of the group’s reaction.
—This is one of the most requested rooms in the institute —she explained—. Because of its size, the view, and the maintenance conditions. The windows are reinforced for safety and because of the pressure of the marine environment. The air conditioning works almost all day to protect the interior. The wood, the marble, and the insulation systems require constant inspection. That is why it is not assigned to just any club.
Valentina turned toward her, still with emotion.
—Then we cannot use it?
Luciana lowered her gaze a little toward the girl and her voice softened, but she did not lie.
—You could request it. But to keep it you would have to demonstrate many merits. Constant activities, good results, real contributions to the institute, and a clear purpose. This room is not given just because it is pretty.
Óscar looked at Sebastián. He said nothing. It was not necessary.
The afternoon entered through the giant windows and covered the refined wood, the marble, the empty chairs, and Valentina’s fascinated face. The sea continued moving behind the glass, vast, indifferent, beautiful in an almost cruel way. The room seemed to be waiting for an answer. Not like an available room, but like an expensive promise, one of those things that only remain in the hands of those willing to bear the weight of having chosen it.
Óscar was the first to break the stillness the sea room had left behind. The fifth option still extended before them with a clarity too clean: the refined wooden floor, the clear marble walls, the giant reinforced windows and, behind the glass, the open sea beneath the afternoon. The light entered slanted, golden, touching the edges of the empty tables and Valentina’s face, who was still looking at the horizon as if that room were not a place in the institute, but a window toward something that until that moment she had not known she could desire. Sebastián and Virka remained on both sides of her. They did not seem impressed by the luxury, but neither of them had taken their attention away from the space. Óscar noticed it. Luciana did too.
—Professor Luciana —Óscar said, with that relaxed kindness that in him always seemed to hide an already calculated intention—, we would like to request this room for the club.
Luciana blinked twice, pressing the light blue folder against her chest. She did not seem surprised that they chose that option, but she did seem surprised that they did it so quickly. She looked at the windows, then at Valentina, then at Sebastián and Virka, and finally back at Óscar. Her voice came out low, sweet, with a professional edge that tried to hold itself over her nerves.
—I can start the process to request it —she answered—. But first I need to register the purpose of the club. To request a room of this category, it is not enough to mark an option. You must explain what type of activities you will carry out, how they will help the development of its members, and what merits they could contribute to the institute.
Óscar opened his mouth to answer, but did not manage to.
—Travel through the continent —Sebastián and Virka said at the same time.
The coincidence left a brief silence in the room. Valentina raised her head toward them with her eyes open, as if that phrase had turned the sea behind the glass into a more real promise. Óscar first looked at Sebastián, then at Virka, and smiled with a mixture of amusement and satisfied calculation. Luciana, instead, remained motionless for an instant, with the pen suspended over the folder, processing the answer as if she did not expect two such different people to speak with the same exact dryness.
Sebastián added nothing. Virka did not either. The phrase had been enough for them. Traveling through the continent did not sound like school entertainment in their mouths. It sounded like a route, like a necessity, like something that already existed before Óscar dressed it with the name of club. In Valentina’s backpack, Narka remained still, but that stillness seemed to become deeper, as if the idea of a path had touched an ancient memory within his reduced form.
Óscar intervened before Luciana could ask too much.
—Besides the exploration part —he said, resting one hand on the back of a nearby chair without sitting down—, the club would also have a cultural recording focus. Folklores from different civilizations throughout the continent, local traditions, historical accounts, customs, symbols, regional variations, and everything related to the way each place preserves its memory. Traveling, observing, recording, comparing.
Luciana lowered her gaze toward the folder and began to write. Her handwriting was orderly, small, careful, as if every word needed to settle properly so it would not fail inside the form. As she wrote, she nodded several times, first with caution, then with a clearer interest. Óscar’s explanation had turned that initial answer into something the institute could understand: not only movement, but research; not only a desire to leave, but an academic purpose. Valentina continued looking at the sea, excited by an idea she perhaps still did not understand completely, but that already sounded like the future to her.
—That can work —Luciana murmured—. As a cultural exploration and continental folklore recording club. It could justify research activities, teamwork, development of historical judgment, writing, documentation, and responsibility. The actual outings would have to be approved separately, of course, and under supervision. But as a general purpose... it is quite good.
Óscar tilted his head a little, satisfied without exaggerating.
—Then it did not sound that improvised.
Sebastián gave him a dry look.
—It sounded improvised.
—But useful —Óscar answered, without losing his calm.
Luciana could not help a small smile, barely visible, before returning to the documents. Then she turned a page of the folder and pointed to several empty spaces with the pen.
—To officially form the club, you will need to fill out the formal application. Name of the club, purpose, initial members, academic supervisor, and proposed activities. I can prepare the papers today so you can complete them tomorrow. Regarding this room, I will make the request separately. The answer should be confirmed during the course of the day, depending on the administrative review.
Valentina turned toward her quickly.
—Tomorrow we will know if we can come here?
Luciana bent down a little to be less tall in front of the girl, although even so she still seemed enormous even when she tried to make herself small. The gesture made her look clumsier and kinder at the same time.
—I will try —she said softly—. But you will have to prove that you can care for it and deserve it. A room like this is not only pretty. It is also a responsibility.
Valentina nodded with absolute seriousness, as if she had just been entrusted with protecting a treasure. Virka observed her from above, silent, and Sebastián turned his gaze toward the windows. The sea continued moving behind the glass, vast, indifferent, too large for a school promise and, nevertheless, perfectly placed before them. There was something in that view that did not fully belong to a club room. Something that seemed to remind them that true paths never begin with an open door, but with someone accepting to cross it.
Luciana closed the folder against her chest.
—I am going to prepare the paperwork —she said—. You can stay a few minutes if you want to look at the room, but not too long. I must register that it is still unassigned.
Óscar smiled at her.
—Thank you, Professor Luciana.
She adjusted her glasses with a nervous gesture, looked at Valentina again, and then barely inclined her head before leaving. Her long and careful steps moved away toward the door. When she left, the room remained silent, occupied only by them, by the afternoon light, and by the sea extended behind the reinforced windows.
Valentina slowly let go of Sebastián’s and Virka’s hands and took a step toward the glass. She did not run. She did not touch anything. She only came close enough to look at the water better. The backpack moved slightly on her back, and inside it Narka remained hidden, reduced, keeping silent. Óscar stayed beside a table, satisfied with the result. Virka observed the door through which Luciana had left, then the corners, then the window. Sebastián looked at Valentina.
The decision was no longer only small.
They still did not have signed papers. They still did not have an assigned room. They still did not have a name. But for the first time that idea occupied a real place, a concrete room, an open view toward the sea, and a promise that could hold them inside the institute before the world demanded something darker from them again.
The afternoon continued falling over the refined wood and the clear marble, while the group remained there, in silence, before a room that did not yet belong to them, but that already seemed to have begun waiting for them.
________________________________________
END OF Chapter 106
The path continues...
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