The Dormitory's Cold Shoulder

The looks I got back were full of disbelief, as if they couldn’t quite believe their ears, but I kept going anyway.

“Especially the part where you keep ignoring lights-out rules.”

Quinton frowned, the expression on his face clearly asking, What kind of nonsense is this?

“We’re in the same dormitory, after all.”

“We?”

He immediately objected.

Yeah… okay, maybe “we” was pushing it. Definitely.

“Anyway, the important thing is making sure we both keep our points up. For the sake of some healthy competition, at least.”

Right. There was no reason for either of us to lose points over something stupid.

I put on the polite, sociable smile I used to wear back at the palace. I knew it didn’t suit the current me at all, but it was still better than scowling.

“So, about lights-out again…”

“You don’t even need to listen to that. Just let it go in one ear and out the other, Quinton.”

The words I’d struggled to bring up were suddenly cut off by someone butting in.

“The class president ran straight here the second she saw her points had been docked.”

I turned my head. A girl wearing elegant black shoes was clicking her way toward us.

Joy Carter.

My roommate—the one I’d given a rather unfriendly look to this morning.

Was there anyone in this school the phrase “only daughter of a prestigious family” fit better than her?

She didn’t even wear the standard uniform the school mass-produced. Hers had been custom-made by her family’s personal tailor to her exact preferences, and even the cut was completely different from the one I wore.

Joy didn’t wear it the same way every day, either. She changed headbands and accessories daily, practically creating a fashion portfolio around the theme of “school uniform.”

Oh, and one more important thing.

Joy didn’t talk to me or Cyrus.

She barely talked to anyone else, either.

Which meant her interrupting our conversation was an extremely big deal.

Naturally, every student from Dormitory 3 who had been hanging around the common room was now staring in our direction.

This wasn’t good.

I forced a smile at Joy.

“Hi, Carter. There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? Class president, you should choose your words more carefully.”

Joy closed the remaining distance and smoothly snatched the dorm rules printout from my hands.

“For everyone’s point improvement? Oh my god, if only you were better at hiding your real intentions.”

I gripped the stack of papers tightly.

“I heard you got called out in the counseling office for acting like a class president. The seniors waiting outside said your voice carried through the walls and all the way down the hallway.”

“…!”

“So now we all have to live like priests or something? Just to protect our dear class president’s precious points?”

Her cool gray eyes, full of hostility, pierced right through me.

“What I meant was…”

I started to raise my voice, then let out a small sigh and answered in a softer tone.

“I just thought we could try getting along. The rules aren’t that hard to follow.”

“Ohhh, try getting along?”

Joy let out a dry laugh.

“That’s rich coming from the roommate who looked at me like I was pathetic just this morning.”

“Carter.”

“And it’s not just me. You’ve been looking down on our entire dormitory this whole time, haven’t you?”

“Th-that’s not…”

“It’s not?”

Her rapid-fire words left me with nothing to say.

“…I’m sorry, Carter.”

I chose to apologize instead. There was no point in denying it—over the past few months, I really had been completely indifferent to Dormitory 3.

No. I had looked at them with cold eyes.

“Luckily for you, there’s no need to apologize, class president. We’ve been looking at you—the one who’s obsessed with points—like you’re pathetic too.”

Joy dramatically ripped the dorm rules sheet in half with a loud riip.

“Don’t start acting like a parent all of a sudden. It’s gross.”

She flung the torn paper at me and strode past without another glance.

The other students followed right behind her, each one throwing their copy of the rules at my feet before disappearing from the common room.

The once-crowded hall emptied in an instant. The printouts lay scattered around my feet like discarded festival flyers.

I stared at them for a long moment, then silently crouched down and began picking them up.

It wasn’t exactly pleasant to see the result of a whole day’s effort turned into trash.

“Underwood.”

Quinton, the only one who hadn’t gone back to his room, picked up one of the sheets and handed it to me.

“…”

Since when did he bother with other people’s business?

No. I had to stop thinking like that. If I’d learned anything from my conversation with Joy, it was that.

“Thank…”

I was about to express my honest gratitude and take the paper when Quinton pulled out a pen and drew a big red circle on it.

“Here. And here.”

He had circled the words “diming” and “curfew.” Typos for “lighting” and “curfew.”

“Next time, proofread before you mass-print them.”

What incredibly helpful, practical advice.

Instead of saying thank you, I shot Cyrus a light glare.

Of course, he showed no particular reaction—as usual—simply handed the stack of papers back and left the hall.

That four-eyed nerd really made me want to die from sheer annoyance.

When I returned to my dorm room, the air inside was so thick it made me want to throw up.

Joy was on the phone with someone and spoke loud enough for me to hear on purpose.

“I don’t know, it’s so annoying. Our mom’s a total joke.”

This wave of criticism wasn’t limited to our room. It was spreading like wildfire across the unofficial anonymous community used by the dormitory students.

The comments were multiplying at an alarming rate. I couldn’t even read them all before I closed the screen.

I thought about writing a new post to explain myself, but decided against it. There was no need.

The part about emphasizing the rules for everyone’s points was the truth. All of it.

After watching even more new comments pop up, I tossed my phone onto the bed. When I checked the clock, lights-out was almost here.

Since I’d declared myself class president, I figured I should at least do what the other dorm presidents did. So I stepped out into the hallway of the now-dark dormitory.

I patrolled the third-floor hallway like I was on guard duty.

The students who spotted me whispered among themselves, but I tried not to pay attention.

Or rather, I tried not to let it bother me.

“The dorm supervisor will be doing rounds soon. Can you turn down your desk lamp and close the curtains?”

It was a little embarrassing, but it worked. Even though they looked annoyed, the students still followed my request.

I could already imagine what was being posted on the anonymous board right now.

Well, what could I do? I’d just have to call it karma.

As I passed by the nearly dark rooms one by one, I noticed a window still pouring out bright light.

Knock knock.

I rapped on the firmly closed door. After a moment, it opened.

The person who opened it with a deeply furrowed brow was…

“Quinton.”

“What do you want?”

He didn’t even try to hide how annoyed he was at having his important work interrupted.

“Lights-out is coming up, so I came to give you a heads-up.”

At my words, he checked his wristwatch. He really hadn’t noticed how much time had passed.

That’s actually impressive.

I’d heard there were rare people in the world who genuinely loved studying, but I hadn’t realized someone could get so absorbed they lost track of time completely.

“If you’re going to keep studying, at least turn your desk lamp down. The supervisor will usually let it slide if you do.”

Turning the light down would make it hard to see the book, but since the textbooks were also on his tablet, it wouldn’t affect his studying.

“No.”

“Even if you don’t like it, you have to. It’s a dormitory rule. Just pretend to follow it, at least.”

“I’ll say it again.”

Cyrus adjusted his glasses and answered in a calm voice.

“No.”