Chapter 12
Time passed, and our new roommates trickled in one by one. Each of them looked as pitiful as us—scrawny, weak, and malnourished. Some were younger, some older. A few seemed to have been here longer than others, their hollow eyes carrying a weight of familiarity as they glanced around the room. Occasionally, I noticed their gazes linger on certain empty beds with a strange melancholic expression.
It didn't take a genius to figure out why. Those beds didn't belong to anyone anymore—not because their owners left for a better life, but because they didn't make it.
A chill ran down my spine. But I forced myself to think positively. They probably turned sixteen and became workers, right? I tried to console myself with that thought. Being from Earth—a modern world where death was more of a news headline than a daily reality—made it harder to swallow the grimness of this place.
I chose a bed near the window, where the light was good, and it was conveniently close to the bookshelf. The upper bunk felt more spacious and free, so I claimed it. Organizing the toiletries left on the bed, I noticed Blondie still pacing around, trying to decide which bed to pick.
"Just pick one," I sighed, exasperated.
But he only scratched his head, muttering something about "finding the right vibe."
I ignored him and carried my toiletries over to the lockers, noticing a small square cupboard beneath the bunk beds. The locker number matched the one on my bed, and tucked inside the toiletries was a key engraved with the same number. Opening the locker, I found two clean sets of the same dull uniform I was wearing.
Laundry? I wondered to myself. Should I wash my dirty clothes by hand, or was there some system in place? I decided to put off the thought for later, arranging my toiletries neatly inside the locker before locking it again.
The room wasn't as lively as it should've been. A handful of new arrivals lingered, gawking at the space like it was some luxury hotel. Some left as quickly as they came, escorted away by staff. A few of the older ones barely acknowledged us, lost in their own heads.
It also became clear that this was a boys-only dorm. Like a boarding school, minus the fun.
The sight brought back memories of my own high school days—being forced to wake up at ungodly hours for chores: cutting vegetables, cleaning, serving food, scrubbing toilets. It wasn't a fond memory, but it was tolerable when friends were there to share in the misery.
I facepalmed. "Why am I even reminiscing about that?"
Shaking off the nostalgia, I wandered over to the door I presumed led to the bathroom. As soon as I stepped inside, I was taken aback.
The bathroom was surprisingly well-kept. Shiny basins lined one wall, complete with large mirrors that reflected my bedraggled state. Toilets were on one side, and showers occupied the other. As I ventured further, I stumbled upon something that truly amazed me—washing machines.
Not just any washing machines. These were powered by runes, their glowing inscriptions humming faintly with mana.
"A mana-powered washing machine," I muttered to myself. "Didn't see that coming."
If this place wasn't a lab of horrors, I might've been impressed enough to enjoy it here. The facilities were better than I had expected—shame the food couldn't live up to the same standard.
"Who's cooking in this place? Satan?" I muttered under my breath as I stepped into a shower.
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After a quick rinse, I slipped back into the same uniform from earlier. It was still clean, so there was no point in wasting the fresh set just yet.
As I exited the bathroom, towel-drying my hair, I spotted Blondie chatting animatedly with a small group of newbies. He waved me over, grinning ear to ear.
"Hey, this is my friend A—" Blondie abruptly stopped mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. Names weren't allowed here.
"No. 4271," I interjected smoothly, saving him from fumbling further. "Nice to meet you."
I tried to smile, but I must've forgotten my face didn't work like that. The result was more of a grimace than anything warm or inviting.
Their reactions weren't what I expected. A few of them flinched, and others shifted uncomfortably, their expressions ranging from nervous to downright scared.
I tilted my head in confusion. "What?"
Blondie scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh… Maybe it's your face?"
I blinked. "What's wrong with my face?"
One of the braver ones muttered, "You don't… look very friendly."
"That's just his face!" Blondie said cheerfully, as if that would help. "He's nice, I swear!"
"Thank you for that glowing endorsement," I deadpanned.
The group chuckled nervously, still keeping their distance. I sighed internally. Well, this is off to a great start.