Gareth opened the door with theatrical flair, extending his arm as he welcomed Tristan into the dormitory. The room was not particularly spacious; in the far left corner rested a single bed draped in white sheets, beside which stood a casement window framed in age-worn wood. Tristan stepped cautiously into the room, his sharp eyes scanning every detail—his gaze drifting from the creaking wooden floorboards beneath his feet to the aged ceiling above, then across the walls that bore the faint stain of time. With a resigned sigh, he dropped his bag onto the bed, stirring a thick cloud of dust that danced into the air like ash disturbed by wind.
"Apologies," Gareth said with a sheepish grin. "This room hasn't been used in years—thirty years to be precise. Or so the seniors from last year claimed."
Tristan waved the dust away with a few sweeps of his hand, then crossed the room to open the window wide, allowing the breeze to carry the lingering particles out into the night.
"I'll leave you to unpack," Gareth offered, then exited with a nod, leaving Tristan alone in the dusty silence.
He retrieved his bag from the bed and began shaking the sheets clean, snapping them out the window as gusts of wind scattered the debris into the void. Once satisfied, he laid the sheets back in place, shut the window, and turned to the real reason he had longed for solitude: The Remnant.
He closed the door then sat on his bed.
"So how exactly does this work?" he murmured aloud. "Do I just call out its name the same way I do with Killington?"
He inhaled deeply to calm his racing thoughts, then gave the command.
"Bring me the Remnant," he said softly.
[Unable to access Celestial Forge.]
[Participant does not meet the requirements.]
"What requirements?" Tristan snapped, his voice sharp with frustration.
[Participant requires the rank of 2 Stars before gaining access to Celestial Forge.]
"You have to be shitting me."
Tristan's jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with suppressed rage. That horn had been the only tangible clue he had—the closest lead to uncovering Mary's killer—and now, it was locked behind an arbitrary rank. He had no way of knowing how long it would take to reach Two Stars, and in the meantime, he was utterly adrift.
He collapsed onto the bed, lying flat on his back and his two hands behind his head as he stared up at the cracked ceiling.
"What should I do now?" he whispered. "I don't suppose you know, Killington?"
Killington's calm, masculine voice responded at once. "Apologies, my Lord. I do not."
As Tristan lay upon the surprisingly soft mattress, his eyelids began to grow heavy.
"Yawn... It's been a while since I've slept in an actual bed," he muttered as sleep overtook him.
—
Tristan awoke from his slumber with a soft groan, still nestled in the comfort of his single bed. Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, cracked his neck, and drew in a long breath.
"How long was I out?" he asked himself, turning toward the window.
Through the glass, he saw the sky cloaked in darkness, scattered with stars.
"It's night," he observed, rising from the bed and stretching. Once limbered up, he left his room and made his way downstairs, following the faint sounds of conversation and clinking cutlery. The voices guided him to the kitchen, where he saw Garfield, Gareth and Harrison gathered.
The kitchen was modest, its decor functional rather than lavish—fitting for those considered lower on the social ladder. A gas stove and a sink stood to the left, beneath which were several cupboards filled with plates and cutlery. At the center of the room stood a long table, large enough to accommodate all the dorm's residents.
Tristan entered as they were halfway through their meal, the warmth and laughter stark against the cold silence of his earlier solitude. Harrison noticed him immediately and waved him in.
"Good to see you're awake!" he said brightly. "We grabbed dinner from a nearby restaurant, but you were fast asleep, and we didn't want to disturb you."
"I only meant to rest for an hour," Tristan replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I guess I slept longer than I thought."
He glanced at the table and saw a plate set aside for him. As the scent of the dish wafted up, his stomach growled in anticipation.
"Haha! Don't worry—it's for you. Dig in!" Harrison said with a wide grin.
Tristan walked over and took a seat as Garfield approached, grinning from ear to ear.
"You have to try this, brother! They called it Turkey Galantine. Apparently, it's poultry breast stuffed with forcemeat made from the thighs," Garfield explained excitedly.
Using the knife and fork, Tristan cut a piece and placed it into his mouth. The meat was exquisite—flavorful, tender, and seasoned to perfection. His expression softened in satisfaction, similar to when he had tasted the pastries.
"I knew you'd like it," Garfield beamed, sipping from a glass in his hand.
Tristan eyed the glass curiously.
"Garfield… is that alcohol?" he asked, a brow raised.
Garfield glanced down, then laughed. "No, we're still too young to drink. Harrison got us a bunch of juice instead. We've got orange, apple, grape—what do you want?"
Tristan sighed, a bit deflated. "Right… too young to drink."
He returned to his food, muttering under his breath:
"Can't these children break the rules just once? A drink would've been nice…"
Garfield placed a glass before him and poured the juice as Tristan devoured the Galantine. Harrison tapped his glass with a fork to gather attention, then cleared his throat.
"Ahem. On behalf of the entire dorm, I'd like to welcome both of you. Some members might be missing tonight, but that won't stop us from making you feel at home. Now… there is one small tradition we uphold for new dorm members."
Tristan and Garfield shared a cautious glance.
"You see," Harrison continued, "we usually have a cleaning schedule. But whenever new members arrive, they get the honor of cleaning the entire dormitory—for a week."
Tristan stared blankly at him, then down at his food.
"I'm not doing that," he said flatly.
Harrison chuckled. "Unfortunately, that's not up for debate. As acting House Master, I can kick you out if you break the rules."
Tristan clenched his jaw. 'This place is already getting on my nerves.'
"My Lord, shall I handle the matter?" Killington offered.
Tristan abruptly stood up, startling the room.
"No!" he shouted.
Everyone turned to him, stunned.
"What do you mean by 'no'?" Harrison asked, confused.
Tristan quickly composed himself. "Nothing. It's fine. I'll do your initiation ceremony."
Harrison clapped his hands joyfully and began making his way upstairs.
"You two can rest tonight. Tomorrow, your week begins. See you then!" he called cheerfully over his shoulder.
Tristan watched him disappear up the stairs, then muttered under his breath.
"I really hate that guy."