There were four dormitories associated with St. Florin's Academy, each demanding its own detached building and encompassing several floors.

Two were utilised by the nobility. One overlooked a private athletics field, while the other sat somewhere in Carnelian District.

One was recently opened to accommodate the intake of witches. It was apparently an abandoned boarding school in its previous life, which now meant that daring students with nothing to do would have to search elsewhere for a new haunted house to play in.

And finally, one was dedicated to the commoners. It was functional, and thus unremarkable by the academy's grandiose standards. With its white-washed brick walls and lack of presence in the face of the scenic courtyard which it bordered, it would probably be mistaken for a part of the academy battlements were it not for the bay windows which graced it.

There were no overt signboards designating the dormitories by wealth or class, but Mireille was reasonably certain that she wouldn't be running into any princesses outside her room. She was impressed that the academy had managed to so discreetly divide the student population. As far as she knew, nobody had asked her where she felt she was on the social ladder.

Mirielle stood in front of her room. The door was made from the same dark oak as the corridor walls, while its handle was painted in the same grey-blue as the carpet which ran across the floor.

A painted door handle.

Didn't paint wear off easily? How often did it need to be reapplied?

Forget the velvety carpets or the embossed lamps dotting the walls. To Mireille, nothing summed up unnecessary extravagance quite like a painted door handle.

Finally, she entered her room.

Sunlight flooded in to greet her from the window, followed by the sight of a simple bed, a simple desk, a simple chair and a simple bookshelf. There were no traces of whichever girl had formerly inhabited this living space. Only the most basic necessities so far as furnishings were concerned.

It reminded her of her own bedroom. She'd never been one for clutter.

Mirielle smiled in appreciation. She would have smiled a bit more had the sparse furnishings at least included a set of curtains. She'd have to do something about that. Perhaps this was what the store strangely dedicated to interior decoration in the courtyard was for. How sneaky.

She looked at the bed. Her travel bag which had been taken prior to the enrolment ceremony was now sitting beside the freshly rolled duvet.

There was quite a bit to do before she could call this room hers. But first things first, she had a ritual to complete. She was sure it was the same ritual plenty of her schoolmates were also honouring.

Arms raised outwards, she swivelled around and collapsed back onto the bed.

Fwump.

“Ah.”

Not bad.

The bed was a bit bigger than what she was used to. And a bit higher. But neither were causes for complaint.

Yes, Mireille was satisfied.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. For some reason, Principal Priscelia's frown flashed in her head. She still needed to ask her about the reason behind her scholarship. She'd do that when she wasn't grounded.

Grounded.

Just the thought made the fatigue weigh down on her even more.

Well, it could have been worse. All things considering, it hadn't been a bad day. She hadn't been eaten. That was good. Perspective was often said to be a commodity in short supply, but after escaping from Death's eight excessively sharp legs, it was currently something she could sell in bulk.

Mireille decided it was as good a time as any to steal a nap. She'd probably end up accidentally napping into the night. It was still a bit early, but that was okay.

Tomorrow would be the start of a long day.

My name is Mireille Kloeter. I'm pleased to meet you. You can rely on me for the year ahead.

She thought about her new classmates.

“Mm . . . I did well today . . .”