The brown uniform itched.
That was Shin's first thought as he dragged his feet toward the far side of the academy grounds, where the Root Dorm supposedly stood. His jacket felt like it was made from burlap sacks stolen from a farmer's barn. The color didn't help either—an uninspired shade of "mud brown," the exact tone you'd expect to see smeared on the bottom of a boot." Brown," Shin muttered, tugging at his sleeve. "The color of mud, poop, dirt... Why not just embroider 'failure' across the chest while they're at it?" Beside him, Newton adjusted his cracked glasses. The fresh academy-issued replacement hadn't arrived yet, so he still wore the one that had been split during their exam. A thin piece of tape kept the frame together. It somehow made him look both pitiful and smarter at the same time." You're exaggerating," Newton said in his calm, analytical tone. "Brown symbolizes stability. Roots. The foundation of growth." Shin squinted at him. "Newton, you seem to be coping." Newton shrugged. "Maybe. But coping is just strategic optimism." The two trudged along the gravel path, passing groups of laughing nobles in blue, black, and white uniforms. Apex Dorm students strolled like royalty, white jackets gleaming. Omega kids looked like assassins in sleek black. Even Alpha's bright blues carried dignity. Every time Shin caught sight of their smug faces, he tugged his potato-colored jacket tighter around himself and sighed. Finally, after what felt like a ten-year walk of shame, they reached the edge of the grounds. The Root Dorm stood alone. And by "stood," Shin meant "looked like it was surviving through sheer stubbornness." The building sagged like a tired old man. Wooden beams were weathered gray. Half the shingles on the roof had either fallen off or were threatening to. The walls leaned slightly to the left, as if the whole structure was considering collapsing but hadn't quite committed yet. A faded sign hung crooked above the door, reading in peeling paint: ROOT DORM. Shin stared. "… This isn't a dorm. This is a condemned tavern. I swear I'll see a rat playing the lute in there, and I will leave." Newton, however, smiled faintly. "It has umm... a distinct...""It has termites." The door creaked open before Shin could add more complaints. Out stepped a man who looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in at least a decade. His beard was uneven, his robe frayed at the edges. He carried a steaming mug in one hand and smelled faintly of strong tea—or possibly warm alcohol. His eyes, droopy and uninterested, drifted lazily over Shin and Newton." New recruits?" His voice was gravelly, like he'd been gargling rocks. "Welcome to Root Dorm. Try not to die." And with that heartfelt greeting, he turned and shuffled back inside. Shin blinked. "… Was that the dorm head? Or a homeless guy who squats here?" Newton followed without hesitation. "Either way, we should introduce ourselves properly." Inside, Root Dorm was… better. Not by much, but better. The common hall smelled faintly of dust and old wood, but it was warm. A mismatched collection of couches surrounded a sputtering fireplace. A noticeboard sagged under the weight of poorly tacked-up announcements: LOST SOCKS, DO NOT FEED THE SLIMES, PLEASE FIX THE ROOF. Shin muttered, "I've seen better setups in tutorial villages." A few heads turned at their entrance. Other Root Dorm students lounged about, each one carrying the same aura: misfits, rejects, people who had clearly been chewed up by the academy system already. One boy with arms thicker than Shin's torso was doing pushups in the corner, counting loudly. "Ninety-eight! Ninety-nine! —Ugh, what comes after ninety-nine? Another kid hunched over a pile of books at a table, muttering equations under his breath. Shin watched as the kid tried to light a candle with a shaky fire spell… and accidentally blew the whole candle to pieces." Oops. Again." At the back of the hall, a girl sat alone by the window. Hood pulled low, black hair shadowing her face, she ignored everyone else. Something about her aura made Shin shiver—it was restraint. Newton nudged him. "Don't stare. She might notice." Shin whispered back. "Notice what? That I'm wearing the color of depression?" The scruffy dorm head shuffled into the room again, scratching his beard. "Alright, listen up. We've got two new Rootlings. Try not to haze them too hard. Bed assignments are upstairs. Curfew is whenever I say. Oh, and if the ceiling collapses, just… move to a different room." He sipped from his mug. "That's all." He turned and left again. Shin raised a hand. "Uh… shouldn't he, like, give us encouragement or something?" The musclehead doing pushups shouted, "He gave me encouragement once! He said, 'Don't get expelled.' Best advice I ever got!" Shin rubbed his face. "We're doomed." The dorm rooms weren't much better than the outside. Shin and Newton were given a two-bed chamber with creaky wooden floors, a cracked window, and two rickety cots that looked like they'd collapse under a sneeze. Still, Shin flopped onto his bed dramatically. "I survived six months of training and nobles. This bed is heaven." Newton inspected his own bed carefully. "… Infested with mana-mites. See the little shimmer?" Shin shot upright. "Heaven is overrated anyway." Newton unpacked his things in neat order: a small notebook, his revolver, spare gears, and a tiny toolkit. Shin, meanwhile, tossed his brown jacket onto the bedpost and collapsed again." This place sucks," Shin muttered." It's temporary," Newton replied. "Think of it as a training arc." The cafeteria was even worse. Shin stared down at his tray. A bowl of stew that looked—and smelled—like wet dirt. Bread so hard it could deflect bullets. A single shriveled carrot." … This isn't food. This is punishment." Newton poked the bread experimentally. "It has… structure."" Newton, it's a brick. They literally served us construction materials." Around them, other Root Dorm students ate without complaint, clearly used to it. Meanwhile, nobles from the higher dorms sat at separate tables with lavish meals. Golden soup, roasted meats, fruit trays—all steaming and fragrant. The contrast was painful. And the sneering looks from the nobles made it worse. One Omega student called out, "Hey, peasants! How's the mud soup?" A chorus of laughter followed. Shin clenched his fists, ready to fire back with something snappy. But before he could stand, the dorm head's gravelly voice cut across the hall:"Sit down, Rootling." Shin froze. The old man hadn't even looked up from his mug. The nobles snickered and turned away. Shin sat back down, grinding his teeth. Just you wait." Newton ate calmly. "Good plan." Later that night, Shin and Newton stood by their window. Outside, the academy towers glowed with magical lights. The higher dorms shone brilliantly, while their Root building sat in shadow. Shin crossed his arms. "… You think we'll really make it here?" Newton adjusted his glasses, serious for once. "If we don't, we're stuck here. We don't have the luxury of failing." Shin blinked at him. "… Wow. That was actually cool. Did you practice that in the mirror?" Newton coughed lightly. "… Maybe." Shin grinned despite himself.
The first real shock came the next morning.
Shin stretched awake to the sound of pipes groaning somewhere in the walls. He blinked blearily and followed a few yawning dormmates down the hall—only to freeze at the entrance of the so-called bathroom.
It wasn't a bathroom. It was a battlefield.
A long row of cracked basins, some with rust creeping up their sides, lined one wall. Two showers sputtered water unevenly, alternating between scalding hot and freezing cold. The floor was perpetually damp, as if the tiles had long since given up on the concept of being dry. There was one mirror, barely intact, its surface fogged and scratched to the point where Shin could only make out vague silhouettes.
"...This is where we're supposed to wash?" Shin muttered.
Newton adjusted his glasses, staring at the dripping ceiling like he was observing a failed experiment. "Correction: this is where we attempt to wash. There's a difference." Shin blinked at Newton. He was wearing glasses with nothing but a towel around his waist like that was normal.
They weren't alone in their suffering. Other Root Dorm students crowded around the sinks, elbowing each other for space as they brushed their teeth. A tall boy with messy hair was filling a bucket because one of the showers had broken entirely. Another student was arguing with someone hogging the mirror.
The smell of cheap soap and damp cloth hung thick in the air.
Meanwhile, from a cracked window, they could glimpse the pristine white marble bathhouse across the courtyard—the one belonging to Apex Dorm. Steam rose gracefully from its perfectly carved chimneys, and faint laughter echoed from within.
"Unbelievable," Shin said, tearing his eyes away. "They get a spa, and we get… this."
Newton dipped his hands under the sputtering faucet, only to be rewarded with a sharp blast of icy water. His glasses fogged instantly. "Mhm. I'd call this a design flaw, but honestly? I think it's intentional. If Root students start their day miserable, they're easier to keep at the bottom."
Shin splashed water on his face anyway, teeth chattering. "So basically, even our morning routine is a test of survival."
"Congratulations," Newton deadpanned. "You've grasped the curriculum."
A smaller boy with tangled brown hair leaned in from the next sink, flashing a grim smile. "Welcome to Root Dorm. Survive this bathroom for a year, and the rest of the world will feel like paradise."
Shin let out a groan. Newton just pushed up his glasses, already giving up hope.