The courtyard buzzed like a kicked beehive.
Hundreds of students crowded around the bulletin board, elbowing and shoving for a look at the dorm assignments. Some cursed. Some cheered. One guy actually broke down sobbing when he saw he wasn't paired with his crush.
I, being a naturally efficient and dignified individual, waited until the crowd thinned.
Also, I was short. Elbow-height to most of the student body.
Eventually, I found my name.
"Room 13B – Felix Anderson, Alex Wren."
Alex Wren?
Didn't ring a bell.
I made my way to the dorm complex. Building Thirteen was perched on the north edge of campus, overlooking the cliffside forest. Secluded. Quiet. Suspiciously peaceful.
The kind of building they put protagonists in.
Or sacrifices.
I entered the unit.
Domesticated.
That was the word.
The place looked more like an upscale apartment than a dorm room. Polished floors. Two bedrooms. A shared living space with a circular crystal hovering above the table—probably the magical equivalent of a TV-slash-laptop. There was even a balcony with hanging plants and a view of the horizon.
Honestly? I could get used to this.
Then the door opened.
And he stepped in.
Tall. Like, actually tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing the same uniform as me—white-trimmed jacket, charcoal pants—but looking like he'd been born for it. His hair was a soft, cherry blossom pink. His eyes—cool gray—swept over me like a security scan.
And then narrowed.
"…You're Felix?"
I nodded. "That'd be me. You're Alex?"
"…Yeah."
Voice: low. Smooth. Measured.
Expression: neutral bordering on murder.
They looked me up and down again.
"…We're the same age?"
I blinked. "Technically."
"…Huh."
He—Alex—tossed his bag onto the far bedroom. "Let's set some ground rules," he said, stepping back into the common area. "No weird behavior. No snooping. Don't touch my stuff."
"Fair," I said.
"And don't stare."
"I—what?"
He scowled lightly. "Just don't."
Okay then.
This guy was intense.
And weirdly... graceful?
His movements were too smooth. Too careful. And there was something about his voice—like he was always keeping it a pitch lower than natural.
I frowned. Is he really a guy?
I mean, I wasn't judging. But standing next to him felt like standing next to someone who had both the height advantage and the cheekbone lottery.
Not that I cared. I had bigger problems.
Namely—
I needed more skills.
---
My first instinct was to try what Matteo had done back home.
I remembered the chant. The posture. The mana flow. Matteo used to shout it in the kitchen when trying to light the oven on stormy days.
I held out my hand. Focused.
"Inferno's breath—ignite—fireball!"
Nothing.
Again.
"Fireball!"
Still nothing.
Third time. Maybe more dramatic?
"FIREBALL!"
Silence.
Then Alex's voice came from the other side of the wall.
"WOULD YOU SHUT UP!?"
Then—
[System Notice: Error. You are not compatible with local mana manipulation methods.]
User operates under an independent interface: SYSTEM-BOUND.
Please acquire spells through system-compatible means.
Current Methods: [Skill Copy], [Event Reward], [Special Unlocks].
…Great.
Everyone else could just learn spells like downloading from an app store. I had to jailbreak the system.
Perfect.
At least I still had [Flash].
And the freeloading sword ego.
"You're welcome, by the way."
She yawned. "Tried to tell you. You're special."
"Special in a frustrating way."
"Your face is frustrating."
"…You don't even have a face."
"Details."
---
The door exploded open.
"FEEELIIIX~!!"
By all the gods. Again?
Damian skidded into the room like a toddler on caffeine.
"Why didn't you answer your crystal?! I texted you, like, twenty-five times."
"I don't even know how to check it yet—"
"Also, why is this dorm so nice?" He peered around. "It's better than mine. You have a balcony!"
Then his eyes landed on Alex.
"Ooooh, is this your roommate?"
Alex looked at him like one might look at something stuck to the bottom of a shoe.
"I'm Alex," he said.
"…You're a guy?"
"Unfortunately."
Damian leaned in toward me and whispered, "Are we sure?"
"I was just thinking the same thing."
---
As the chaos settled, my system pinged again.
[New Countdown Initiated]
Event: "A Tired Student"
Time Remaining: 120 Days (Midterms)
Description (Redacted)
One of the top-ranking students will experience a breakdown under the weight of expectations and burn out.
Warning: The outcome may disrupt campus order.
Name: Unknown.
Preventing this incident will reward significant system growth.
I stared at it.
One of the best students would crack.
Break under pressure.
Lose control.
But who? And how?
Was it someone I already knew?
…Was it going to be me?