Morningstar Academy's student dormitories were divided into two buildings: Sparkfire Hall and Silverwing Hall. Silverwing Hall housed the nobles, its marble exterior walls carved with vines and stars, and featured wide windows. Sparkfire Hall housed the commoners; its gray stone walls had no decorations, but it was neat and clean.
The two buildings were not far apart, separated by a neatly manicured lawn.
Although the boarding fees for the two buildings differed by several times, in truth, the amenities inside weren't that different. Single rooms, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a private bathroom—everything one needed was there. Morningstar Academy was, after all, the largest magic academy in the empire, so it wouldn't mistreat its students when it came to accommodation.
However, Erich's dormitory was an exception.
At the end of the corridor on the first floor of Sparkfire Hall, right next to the utility room, was a room that had likely been a storage room originally. Later, four beds had been squeezed into it, making it the only four-person room in the entire building. Still, it was much more spacious than the four-person university dorm rooms Erich had lived in before transmigrating.
Erich first helped Irene carry her luggage up to the second floor. Irene didn't have many things, so he finished carrying them in a single trip.
“I'll start unpacking then,” Irene said, standing at the door and cradling her cloth bag in her arms.
“Mhm.”
Erich turned and headed downstairs. He didn't have much luggage; a single backpack held all his worldly possessions. This was the only good thing about being kicked out of his family—his material belongings were pitifully few.
He walked to the end of the corridor and pushed open the dormitory door.
Two of the beds in the room were already occupied.
On the bed near the window, a beastkin sat cross-legged. He was massive, forced to slouch to keep his head from hitting the ceiling. A thick magic textbook was spread across his knees, and he was completely absorbed in it.
At the desk near the door sat an elf with delicate features and long golden hair cascading down to his waist. Holding a skewer of grilled meat, he was taking small, delicate bites in an affectation of elegance.
Both of them looked up when Erich entered the room.
The elf stood up and performed an extravagant hand-on-chest bow. “Greetings, human youth. I am Yser, an elven prince from the distant Forest Whisper Kingdom. But please, do not be overly formal. This prince is actually quite approachable.”
The beastkin closed his textbook. His gaze wasn't fierce like other beastkin; instead, it was very gentle. “Hello. I am Ragg. I like magic.”
“Hello, everyone. I'm Erich. Looking forward to getting along with you.”
Erich walked over to his own bed against the wall. He tossed his backpack onto the mattress and began cleaning up. He didn't have many things, but he wiped everything down meticulously. As his hands stayed busy, his mind started to wander.
A beastkin interested in magic?
An elf eating grilled meat?
Erich vaguely recalled that in the games he played in his past life, beastkin tribes pursued pure physical strength, while elves viewed meat as “food tainted by the aura of death.”
These two roommates were weirder than the next.
Still, he didn't dwell on it. He wasn't exactly normal himself.
After tidying his bed and desk, Erich pulled a clean shirt from his backpack. He took off his dust-stained coat and was about to slip the shirt on when the door was kicked open.
A dwarf stood at the doorway. He wasn't tall, but his shoulders were ridiculously broad, his arms were as thick as tree trunks, and he had a face full of bushy beard.
The dwarf swept his gaze across the room and spoke very rudely:
“A greasy elf,” he pointed at Yser, then at Ragg, “a brain-damaged beastkin,” and finally looked at Erich, “and a skinny monkey of a human. It's my absolute misfortune to be roommates with you guys.”
Ragg glanced at the dwarf and went back to his textbook. Yser didn't even look at him, continuing to eat his grilled meat.
Looking at this hot-tempered little thing, Erich couldn't help but blurt out, “Do you know why dwarfs are called dwarfs and not flats?”
“Because most dwarfs aren't just short—they're also wide.”
Ragg couldn't hold back and burst out laughing. Yser ended up choking on his grilled meat, coughing while slamming the table, tears almost coming out of his eyes.
The dwarf's face turned from red to purple.
“You're dead!”
He swung his fist and charged. Erich sidestepped, and Balin's fist slammed into the bedpost behind him. Erich leaped to the other side of the desk, his mouth still running: “Actually, in the past, the armor of all races only consisted of breastplates and bracers...”
Balin grabbed a stool and hurled it over. Erich ducked to avoid it.
“...Until dwarfs appeared, and armor finally required knee guards!”
The cheerful laughter in the room grew even louder.
Balin completely lost his mind. Howling, he lunged at Erich, swinging a fist at his knee—after all, that was the only place he could reach.
Then, he was hoisted into the air. Ragg had gotten off his bed, and with one massive hand, he grabbed Balin by the collar and lifted him like a chicken. Balin's short legs kicked wildly in the air, his fists flailing, but he couldn't reach anyone.
“Alright, alright,” Ragg's voice was peaceful. “Don't be rash. We're all roommates now, so we should get along. Right, Erich?”
Erich was quick to adapt and wiped the smile off his face. “My apologies, I was just joking earlier. I'm Erich. Let's get along from now on.”
“I am Ragg.”
“Yser.”
Balin, still suspended in the air, struggled a few times before giving up. He muttered gruffly, “I'm Balin.”
Then his gaze fell upon Erich's torso. Erich hadn't put on his shirt yet, leaving the dark red patterns around his waist and abdomen exposed to the air.
Balin's eyes widened, and he pointed a finger at the patterns. “You skinny monkey actually have Battle Scars? You actually have Battle Scars!”
Erich looked down at his abdomen, then raised his head. Smirking, he struck a dashing pose.
“Handsome, isn't it?”
Ragg and Yser burst into laughter again. Suspended in midair, Balin's mouth twitched a couple of times, but in the end, he couldn't keep a straight face either.
“Put me down,” Balin muttered.
Ragg set him down. The dwarf adjusted his leather armor and glared at Erich. “You'll get what's coming to you.” With that, he scrambled with some difficulty onto the last empty bed and began organizing his gear.
...
On the fourth floor of Silverwing Hall.
The south-facing room at the end of the corridor was twice the size of the other single rooms. The curtains were emerald-green silk, the bedsheets were matching velvet, and a round, pearl-encrusted mirror sat on the vanity.
Margaret stood in the center of the room. A young girl sat before her.
Her long purple hair cascaded down to her waist, tied at the ends with an emerald-green ribbon. Her hazel eyes, bright like autumn fruit on the verge of ripening, stood out vividly against her pale skin. The young lady wore a green dress, and the Wayne family crest was embroidered on her corset.
Erich's former fiancée, Alicia Wayne, held a cup of black tea and asked,
“So, Erich has already completed his registration at the academy, has he?”
Margaret bowed. “My deepest apologies, Lady Alicia. I failed to complete the task. Please punish me.”
Alicia set down her teacup, her icy expression suddenly melting into a smile.
“How could I blame you?” She stood up and walked over to Margaret. “To encounter those lunatics from the Silent Order and still return unscathed is already an incredible feat.”
“As for Erich...” Alicia walked to the window, gazing out at Sparkfire Hall across the lawn. “He's nothing but trash. I will make him regret ever coming to this academy.”
Margaret lowered her head. She had not yet told her young mistress that it was Erich who had dealt with the Silent Order. In the report she had written on the train, she had only mentioned the general outline of the incident.
From the look of things now, there probably wouldn't be much of an opportunity to speak of it anyway.
“What's wrong? Your face is a bit red.”
Alicia turned back, looking at Margaret's face.
Margaret lowered her head even further. “It's nothing, My Lady. I'm just a bit warm.”
Alicia tilted her head and smiled. “Then let's lower the room temperature a bit. Oh, right. Tomorrow is the opening ceremony. Help me prepare that light green gown.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Margaret bowed and withdrew.
Stepping out of the room and closing the door, she reached up to touch her cheek.
It was indeed very hot.
Rate on N.U.
