Underground. There's a jewelry store, of sorts, near the school. It seemed a bit nicer than simply using rocks, no?

[He picks up one of the rubies, the one he'd labeled Kn, and rolls it absently between his fingers. He wouldn't say he's anxious, far from it. But the muscles in his back are tightening the same way they used to when he was preparing to be scolded by whomever his foster parent of the week was, the sense that he's done something wrong without realizing.]

It's good to see you, Damien-san.