Raven's POV:
It took what felt like hours, but eventually, I found the girls' dorm. It wasn't anything like the boys' dorm. For one, it was quieter, and the air didn't reek of cologne and testosterone. I stepped inside and immediately felt a sense of calm—though, to be honest, it wasn't much better than the chaos I'd just escaped.
The common room was peaceful, though still not exactly what I'd call welcoming. A few girls sat on the warm comfortable-looking couches, some buried in books, others half-heartedly doing their nails while muttering to one another. It felt... ordinary. It didn't have the aggressive energy of the boys' dorm, but I wasn't exactly feeling the "sisterhood" vibe either.
At the far end of the room, a grand staircase curved upward, the polished wood steps gleaming under the overhead lights. The staircase was elegant, almost regal, the kind of thing you'd expect in a mansion—not a dormitory. The iron banister twisted like vines, intricate and almost too beautiful for a school. The stairs led up to the rooms, and I assumed—no, hoped—that mine was up there.
I rolled my suitcase toward the stairs, my head held high, and pretended like I wasn't hyper-aware of the way every pair of eyes in the room was on me. The girls stared at me as if I were some sort of ghost, their eyes wide with curiosity, disbelief, or maybe even judgment. Great. This was going to be fun.
Not a word was spoken, though, and I didn't care. I wasn't here to make friends, especially not with a bunch of girls who had already decided I was weird. I ignored the stares, my face set in a neutral expression, and pushed my suitcase up the stairs with all the dignity I could muster.
The upper floor was quieter still, and as I walked down the hallway, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of... freedom. No more walking on eggshells in my father's palace. No more fake smiles. At least here, I could breathe—at least for now.
The hallway on the second floor was just as grand as the rest of the dorm—luxurious, but sterile. The kind of place that made you feel like you were in a magazine spread. The walls were a soft cream color, and the carpet beneath my feet was plush, almost too soft. I kept walking, ignoring the occasional door that opened and slammed shut as I passed, until I finally reached the door to my room.
I found my room without much trouble. It was at the end of the hall, tucked away from the other rooms, which gave me a strange sense of relief. I didn't want to be near anyone right now, especially not after my spectacular entrance.
I stepped in cautiously, eyes scanning the space. The first thing I noticed was how it was split into two distinct areas: a small living room with a couch and a kitchenette on one side, and two bedrooms off to the other side. It looked like a small, self-contained apartment.
I rolled my suitcase further in, and there was my new roommate. She was sitting on the couch, her back to me, humming something to herself as she lazily flipped through a magazine. The room was neat—borderline pristine—and it was clear from the get-go that my new roommate was the type who had everything in order. Every cushion was arranged just so, every magazine perfectly aligned on the coffee table.
Her eyes flicked up for a second when I walked in, and I immediately knew I was in for a treat. Her face twisted in disgust, as if she'd just caught a whiff of something rancid.
"Ugh," she muttered, barely even looking at me. "I didn't expect to get stuck with you."
I froze for a moment, still processing her tone. It wasn't the warm, welcoming reaction I was hoping for.
I could already tell—this girl had "brat" written all over her.
She muttered something under her breath about "sickness entering her space," clearly trying to imply I was some sort of contagious disaster. Well, I guess I'd just have to add "untouchable freak" to my ever-growing list of titles.
"You know," I said, finally speaking to her, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "if you're that worried about my 'sickness,' maybe you should find a new room. I'm sure you could find something a bit more... sanitary. Don't want you catching my abomination."
She covered her nose dramatically, standing up went to one of the bedroom. I didn't give a care. I went on to continue looking around.
The furniture was simple but elegant, the kind of minimalist design that screamed "expensive" without being gaudy. There was a small living area in the center of the room with two chairs and a low coffee table, perfect for when I wanted to pretend I had friends who might come over (though I doubted that would ever happen).
But the best part? The kitchen. Okay, so it wasn't a full-blown chef's kitchen, but it was more than I'd ever hoped for. A compact counter, a fridge, a stove, and even a tiny sink. It was like my own little apartment—a self-contained two-bedroom suite. I could practically hear my father's voice in my head, screaming about how "disgusting" it was for me to live in a place like this, but I couldn't care less. I loved it.
She later came out with her suitcase with exaggerated care, as if she were handling a bomb. It was pathetic.
"I'm not sharing a room with that," she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. "Sorry, but you're contagious. I'm not about to get sick just because you've got some pathetic illness."
And with that, she started dragging her suitcase toward the door, throwing a final look of disgust at me.
"Don't touch anything of mine," she added, slamming the door behind her as she stormed off down the hallway.
I blinked, dumbfounded for a second. What just happened? She had barely even given me a chance to say anything.
But then, as if the universe were playing some cruel joke on her, I started to laugh.
"Oh, goddess, thank you," I muttered to myself, barely able to hold back my grin.
She had just given me the entire room. No roommate, no one to share space with, just me, myself, and I.
I stood there for a moment, taking it in. The room was split—on one side, the small living room with the couch and kitchenette, and on the other, the two separate bedrooms. There was a small, private bathroom that I could already tell was going to be a lifesaver. It was sleek, with marble counters and a shower large enough for two people (not that anyone was going to join me).
The living area had a couple of couches, a coffee table with a few magazines scattered on it, and a little kitchenette in the corner. It wasn't huge, but it felt cozy and intimate, just the way I liked it.
I walked past the living room and entered the first bedroom on the left. It was mine, and I was going to make it my sanctuary. The bed was already neatly made—somewhere between comfy and sterile, but that was easy to fix. A small dresser sat in the corner, and a few hooks on the wall for jackets or whatever else. It wasn't massive, but it was enough for me.
Then, I turned to the second bedroom, the one my now-absent roommate had been so eager to vacate. It was nearly identical to mine, save for a few personal touches. There were bright pink accents, a vanity with a full-length mirror, and what looked like half a dozen skincare products scattered across the counter.
I smirked. The contrast between this room and mine was going to be hilarious.
"Well, thanks for the upgrade," I muttered, turning back to my own space.
Grinning to myself as I set my suitcase down on the bed, my mood already improving. I couldn't wait to organize this place to my liking.
I took a moment to look around, taking in the spacious room. No more noisy, obnoxious roommates. No more cramped spaces. It was all mine. I could finally breathe.
"Thanks for the room, bratty roommate," I muttered under my breath, smiling to myself as I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the bed. "This isn't so bad after all."
The best part? The whole place was mine. No one to share it with, no bratty roommate who'd turn her nose up at me. I could finally breathe.
I flopped down onto my bed in my room, stretching out my arms. This was way better than what I'd expected, even if it had come with a side of drama.
Maybe things here weren't going to be so bad after all.