by TheWeaver
If you are born into a system that works — do you owe it loyalty, or honesty? Bramwell has always known how to recognise its heirs. When four boys arrive at the start of term, the school adjusts around them without comment. Corridors quiet, masters attentive, rumours already certain of themselves. Each carries a name the institution understands: old money, new power, inherited influence, and one past the school would rather not remember. They are watched. They are measured. They are misread. And when one of them disappears, Bramwell does not ask why. Because institutions like Bramwell are not interested in truth, only in what survives.
