Chapter 110
Dormmates (2)
IAM stepped carefully into the room, scanning his surroundings with a slow, measured look. The dorm room, surprisingly, had a sense of comfort that he hadn't quite expected. It was larger than he thought it would be—spacious, even. Far more spacious than the cramped or militaristic quarters his imagination had conjured up during the long drive over.
Three beds were laid out neatly, each with its own designated space, offering enough room that none of the occupants would feel like they were stepping on each other's toes. There was a respectable distance between each bed, almost like the academy had made a conscious effort to preserve personal space.
Each bed had a desk bolted beside it, the edges sleek, probably metal, with screens integrated into the surface and tiny locked drawers below. IAM assumed this was meant to be a study station, or perhaps a work desk for assignments, path research, or late-night breakdowns.
On the wall beside the door was a smart panel— it was thin, glossy, and humming faintly with energy. It flickered on briefly as if it had detected motion. A welcome screen blinked on for a second before fading to a more utilitarian interface. Probably for announcements, schedules, emergency alerts, and other bureaucratic necessities. The academy didn't miss a beat, it seemed.
To the side of the room, IAM noticed a door. Judging by the placement, and the faint tiled echo that emerged when he leaned slightly toward it, it had to be the bathroom. A shared one, of course, but at least they weren't being forced into communal stalls down the hall. A relief, to say the least.
Near that was a tiny alcove that held—unexpectedly—a compact kitchen. There was a small sink, a mini-fridge, some induction hobs, and a shelf with a few pre-installed utensils. Clearly, the academy didn't expect their students to live like savages. That, or they wanted to see how geniuses cooked under pressure.
He muttered to himself, his voice low with a thread of amusement, "Wow... the place looks far more comfortable than I thought." He glanced around, lips curving faintly. "I thought with the way people were describing the place, we'd be sleeping on the floors or cots or something…"
Yet as he looked more carefully—at the untouched desks, the unused panel, the still-wrapped utensils in the kitchen, and the complete lack of clutter—he couldn't help but feel a faint, subtle wave of disappointment wash over him. There was no signs that anyone had moved in before him.
It was clear: no one else lived here. His dorm mates were likely just as new as he was. And while that wasn't the worst-case scenario, he'd been silently hoping for the opposite. If he had upper-year dorm mates, he might have had the opportunity to learn from them. Maybe glean some insight, or just get a general knowledge of the place.
He walked over to the furthest bed, one tucked into the corner of the room. With a small grunt, he lowered his suitcase beside it and sat down slowly, testing the firmness of the mattress. It was better than average. Definitely better than most cheap motels. Beneath the bed, he noticed a storage compartment—subtle, built-in, and large enough to fit his suitcase and some extras. Personal belongings, maybe. If he had any.
He leaned back, exhaling as his head hit the pillow and his eyes traced the ceiling's smooth, white surface. A quiet moment passed.
Then the door opened.
IAM sat up instinctively.
In walked a tall figure—a young man, broad-shouldered and sturdy, with an unmistakable heritage. A descendant of the Oni.
His dirty blond hair puffed outward in an untamed mushroom shape, giving him a strange mix of chaos and charm. He looked slightly more muscular than IAM, his build suggesting someone who exercised more for discipline than vanity.
What caught IAM's attention, however, was the man's eyes.
Heterochromia.
His left eye was a soft brown, almost warm, while the right was a cold, piercing blue. The contrast was striking, almost unsettling. IAM studied him silently.
The man paused mid-step, eyes locking onto the suitcase beside IAM's bed. "Oh…" he said in a surprised tone, blinking. "You're a first-year too?"
There was a half-smile tugging at his lips as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Hi… My name's Yohan. Yohan Cain. Nice to meet you."
IAM stood, extending a hand out of habit and courtesy. "Nice to meet you too," he replied, "My name is IAM Grimm."
Yohan's posture stiffened slightly at the name. His eyes widened for a flicker of a second. A quiet breath escaped his lips. "IAM… Grimm?" he echoed under his breath, almost like the name triggered something in him.
IAM tilted his head, rubbing the front of his neck casually. "Yes?"
Yohan's response was quick—"Nothing… nothing. I was just thinking."
IAM's gaze lingered. He didn't press further, but he didn't look away either.
An awkward silence seeped into the air like fog. Neither of them quite knew what to say next.
Yohan opened his mouth, as if to bridge the gap—
But before he could speak, the door flew open again.
This time, energy burst into the room like a firecracker.
An individual strolled in with an enormous grin spread across his face, as if he were greeting old friends rather than complete strangers. IAM could tell in an instant—his instincts sharpened over years of reading people.
Every introvert's natural predator.
He was…
AN EXTROVERT.
IAM's internal monologue went into immediate survival mode.
Run!
Hide!
Duck behind the furniture and pretend to be asleep!
He stifled the urge to groan audibly. His instincts were screaming. This wasn't just an extrovert. This was a pure-blooded one. A full-specimen, top-of-the-line model. Probably born smiling and raised on group hugs and icebreakers.
The new arrival was almost glowing. He had porcelain for skin. Brown eyes and jet-black hair with a splash of blue dyed into the front, styled into a modern mullet that somehow, somehow, he pulled off with dangerous charm. His energy was nuclear. His presence impossible to ignore.
He clapped his hands together, loud and cheerful.
"HELLO HELLO!" he bellowed. "What are all of you doing cooped up in here, huh? Come downstairs!"
Yohan blinked, a little startled. "What?"
"Everyone's hanging out downstairs," the extrovert explained with animated hand gestures. "Socialising, you know? Mingling! I actually got so caught up chatting that I forgot to drop off my suitcase, so—here I am."
IAM nodded slowly. That made sense. Each building had 24 other students. He had almost forgotten... How was he supposed to remember all those names?
The boy dropped his suitcase onto the middle bed with a thud, then spun around dramatically.
"My name's Reuel Mire," he declared, bowing with flourish. "Nice to meet you all!"
Yohan smiled awkwardly, opening his mouth to reply. "My name is—"
But Reuel held up a finger. "Wait! Don't tell me." He squinted at Yohan's face like a detective scanning for clues. "Hmm… Hmmmmm… mmm… Ah! I got it! Yohan Cain!"
Yohan blinked. "How do you…?"
"Ha! Because I KNOW everything," Reuel grinned. "Or I will. Because of something magical called connections. This place is the ultimate networking hub. Imagine how many future greats are in this very building. If I manage to befriend all of them…" He licked his lips mischievously. "I'll be living life on easy mode!"
IAM raised an eyebrow. "But… aren't you here to… you know… become one of those future greats yourself?"
Reuel cupped a hand to his ear. "What? What was that? I can't hear you at all!"
Then, turning back, he narrowed his eyes at IAM, studying him hard. Squinting and concentrating.
Silence.
Then: "I give up," he flopped onto his bed. "I have no idea who you are. Respectfully, of course."
IAM nodded. "Of course... I'm IAM Grimm."
Reuel's eyes flared for a second, the name lodging somewhere deep inside his mind. Maybe forever.
Without missing a beat, he shot up again, pointed to the door like it was the portal to paradise. "Let's gooooo! Let's make connections! Socialising instead of staring at each other like you're gonna kiss!"
He marched out, leaving behind a trail of chaotic charisma.
IAM and Yohan looked at each other....
IAM said evenly, "No matter how hard you look at me, I'm not going to kiss you."
Yohan stammered, visibly flustered. "What?! I—I don't… I don't want to kiss you! Why would you say that?!"
IAM smiled faintly, the smallest trace of amusement dancing on his lips. He walked toward the door. "Nice to meet you, Yohan."
Yohan glanced around the room, then at the empty beds, and finally at IAM's back. He sighed, long and low.
"…Nice to meet you too," he said, before following IAM out of the room. The door clicked softly behind them.