"So this building here—you've got the faculty offices, guidance, the chairman's room, and both the Solar and Lunar Class student councils. We do call the office as Dawn Council," he said.
I kept my eyes fixed on the building ahead. Its design is striking, with wide, floor-to-ceiling gaps that make it feel both open and imposing. You see, I wasn't really listening to him—not because what he said didn't matter, but because I was doing everything I could not to look directly at him.
Even now, I could hear the soft drip-drip-drip of water trailing off his uniform. He was completely soaked, and yet his voice remained calm, unaffected, just like before.
We pass a few people in the hallway—some glance once, then do a double take, clearly puzzled by the sight of the president soaked to the bone, though I'm sure he assumes the stares are for me, the transfer student.
He stopped and knocked on a door—still towing my suitcase like a courteous but mysteriously damp bellhop. I glanced at him just in time to catch a few cold droplets flicking off his sleeve and onto me. He didn't even blink.
A deep voice from inside called, "Come in."
He turned to me and smiled. I managed an awkward smile back. He twisted the knob and gestured for me to go first.
The chairman looked up as we entered, setting down his pen. "Ah, you're here. Welcome." He rose from his desk and stepped forward, reaching out to shake my hand—though his gaze shifted quickly to the dripping figure beside me.
"Thank you, Perciv—What happened to you? Don't tell me the East started again."
The president blinked and only now seemed to register his state. His soaked shirt clung to him, hair still dripping. He brushed it back casually, every strand somehow perfect.
"Ah—funny story. It wasn't the East," he said with a laugh.
I immediately grimace. I still feel bad, even though I've apologized to him multiple times for what happened.
You see, it all started when he offered me that candy bar—just a simple gesture of kindness for my screeching stomach. But somehow, the crow that had been lurking around since I arrived saw it as an invitation.
In a fit of hunger-fueled rage—because I truly thought I was finally going to eat something—I hurled my already busted phone at the bird.
And, well... I hit it.
Square on.
The crow let out a sharp squawk and fell, flailing on the ground. The president, meanwhile, stood frozen, blinking at the scene, trembling in shock.
I rushed over to retrieve the snack bar, which now had peck marks and some of the chocolate smeared and spilling out.
But the crow wasn't done.
It shot back up into the air with surprising speed, snatched the bar from my hands before I could rip off the oozing section, and—to top it off—left a bomb squarely on my shoulder as it cawed triumphantly and flew off to feast.
Of course, Mr. President here—ever the gentleman—quickly stepped in. He urged me to walk faster so I could clean off my uniform and maybe finally get something to eat. We passed the shredded remains of the snack bar, only the wrapper fluttering on the ground. The president picked it up without complaint.
He said there was a nearby open field with an outdoor sink. The walk there felt longer than expected. On the way, he gave me a rundown of the campus—trying, I assume, to keep my mind off the literal crap drying on my shoulder.
"Basically, we've got two dorms here, East and West," he explained. "Though both are divided by gender, I suggest you avoid the East wing. They're pretty notorious for pulling pranks."
He also mentioned that the on-campus stores—whether for groceries or just general shopping—were located in the southern part of campus. The sports center and most classrooms were up north. I tried to pay attention, I really did, but once we entered the main grounds, I was too overwhelmed to focus. The campus was massive, and honestly, pretty breathtaking.
But all I cared about in that moment was finding a sink.
We reached the open field, which oddly had its lights on despite the time. I spotted the sink and immediately made a beeline for it. President white-and-gray guy was now the one trailing behind me. After all, he still had my suitcase—which, honestly, contains all sorts of things I'm not even sure about myself.
When I got to the sink, I turned the faucet, without even applying much force— it broke.
"Ah—crap!" I yelp as the faucet suddenly blasts water like a broken fire hydrant.
I lunge back, scrambling to shove the knob back into place, hands flailing uselessly against the spray. In the chaos, I don't notice the suitcase skidding to a stop behind me—or the sharp, sputtering noise just to my left. Eventually, somehow, I manage to fix it. Well… somehow fix it. The faucet now drips instead of firing like a hose. So, improvement.
I glance down at myself—just a few wet patches on my uniform. Not a full disaster. The gunk's still there, but I could probably dab at it with the dripping water and a handkerchief. Realistically, though, this outfit needs to be burned or professionally exorcised. Or maybe I should just give up and buy a new one.
When I finally turn around, satisfied, I lock eyes with Mr. President. He's absolutely soaked. He stares at me in disbelief.
I stare back, expression blank—until it sinks in.
Ah… really?
He's probably convinced I'm doing this on purpose. Like it's some kind of petty revenge for being left outside the gate for hours. But I swear on everything—this is just my life.
Chaos, wrapped in bad timing and terrible plumbing.
But then—he laughs.
He just waves a hand like it's nothing, water droplets flicking off his sleeves. "It's fine, it's fine, sir. We got here just fine."
The chairman clears his throat. "Well… thank you for that, Percival. You may, uh… go dry off."
"Yes, sir. Oh, right! this is..." Percival turns toward me suddenly, his hand raised in realization. "This is—uh…" He pauses, blinking. "Did we… We didn't introduce ourselves, did we?"
He looks mildly horrified.
Honestly, with everything that's happened, I hadn't noticed either. I think we were too busy dodging crows and trying not to flood the school—again, in my case.
The chairman sighs, shaking his head. "You didn't?"
Percival rubs the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "W-Well, this is the first huma—new man—transfer student we've had… I wasn't sure how to go about it!"
The chairman's expression softens. He steps forward and offers his hand towards me. I shake it automatically.
"I'm Ymir Everest," he says warmly. "School chairman. Sorry we couldn't meet sooner."
Mr. President waves from behind. "And I'm Percival Humito—just Percy is fine. Or President, if you want to go formal. That one kinda stuck. I'm from Solar Class 11, and yeah… I'm the student council president for Solar Class. Also, sorry for the late introduction—and for being late picking you up."
I blink at the two of them.
Wow. This might be the first time I've met people who don't act like the disaster around me is my fault. Who aren't scolding or avoiding me. Who… actually apologized.
I offer a small smile at Percy and shake the chairman's hand firmly. "Careina Dione. You can call me Reina. I'll be in your care from now on."
Finally. A proper introduction. No flying objects smacking the hell out of anyone, no glass shattering from nowhere, and no sudden explosions.
Chairman Ymir gives my hand a firm, reassuring squeeze. "Welcome to Lyceum Institute," he says, a glint in his eye. "I'm certain you'll fit right in, Careina Dione."