As if sensing someone watching her, Miranda suddenly turned her head—right as Bryan was looking her way. Their eyes met before he could look away, and he felt his heart skip.
Fortunately, his composure held. He betrayed nothing, appearing to casually meet her gaze for a second before shifting his attention back to Devin's menacing face.
But though his eyes were on Devin, his peripheral vision remained fixed on Miranda. Thankfully, she only glanced at him briefly before looking away, showing no special interest. He let out an imperceptible breath of relief.
Bryan and the other boys then followed Devin into the male dormitory.
Watching them disappear inside, Miranda pulled out her roster again and flipped to Bryan's page. Looking at the boy's clean-cut features in the photo, her lips curved slightly. She crossed out everything she'd written earlier and began writing anew.
...
Inside the dormitory, Devin led the boys up to the third floor. He assigned the youngest—a boy of about seven or eight—to the room at the very end of the hall. "This is where you'll be staying."
When the door opened, Bryan, standing at the entrance, took the opportunity to observe the interior. He was surprised to find only two beds inside, not the four-person room he'd expected.
"After you've settled in, come down to the first floor to pick up your things."
Before Bryan could look further, Devin finished settling the child and left those instructions before leading the remaining boys higher.
Dick and Allen were assigned to a room in the middle of the fifth floor. They already knew each other and had plenty to talk about, so at least they'd have company.
Another boy was placed on the sixth floor. This time the door was locked—Devin had to use a set of keys to open it. Judging by the belongings on the other bed, someone else already lived there.
As for Bryan, he was stuck on the eighth floor. He could only sigh at his luck. Lots of stair-climbing ahead.
On the bright side, he got a room to himself. It was filthy and would need a thorough cleaning, but at least he had no roommate for now—small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
After Devin left, Bryan began examining his new home. Besides two beds, two wardrobes, a private bathroom, and a balcony, there was nothing else.
When he opened the wardrobe, he found it crammed with miscellaneous junk the previous occupant hadn't bothered to clear out. Rummaging through it, he even found several condoms tumble out.
"Whatever. Time to clean."
Shaking his head at the absurdity, Bryan stripped off his jacket and backpack, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a broom and mop from the bathroom, and got to work.
He was a neat freak. Using a torn rag, he cleaned every nook and cranny of the room.
While sorting through the wardrobes, he unexpectedly found a lighter and a butterfly knife. God knows why there'd be a knife in a closet. The previous occupant must have been quite the character.
After a busy hour, Bryan gathered all the trash into a tattered bag and surveyed his now-spotless room with satisfaction. Carrying the garbage, he headed downstairs.
On the fifth floor, he paused and peeked down the hallway. From one of the rooms came the sound of chatter and laughter. Those two clearly weren't focused on cleaning.
"Kids will be kids."
Bryan shook his head with a wry smile and continued downstairs. He had no intention of helping them—this was something they needed to learn to do themselves.
Back on the first floor, he scanned the area, looking for Devin's quarters. To his surprise, the man was standing ramrod-straight in the hallway, hands clasped behind his back.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Devin turned. Seeing the bag of garbage in Bryan's hand, he gave an approving nod. "Follow me."
He led Bryan around the first floor, showing him where to dispose of trash, where Devin's own room was, and explaining that he could come to him with serious problems—but trivial matters should never bother him.
After the tour, Devin opened a room at the very back. Inside was a stockpile of supplies.
He walked in, grabbed a small box, and thrust it into Bryan's hands. Then he pulled out bedding from a larger crate—thick blankets, thin sheets, everything—and piled it all on top.
Standing there with bedding stacked on his arms and a box in his hands, Bryan felt the weight pressing down on him. From inside the room, he heard Devin say:
"These supplies are daily necessities—your first free distribution upon entering the QZ. At the end of each month, you'll receive a fixed allotment. If you want anything else, you'll need to use credits to obtain it. But that's all future business. For now, put your things away, then come back down to the first floor and wait for the others."
"Got it."
Bryan mentally filed away the information. This was clearly some kind of incentive system, though it apparently hadn't been implemented yet.
He didn't know how credits were earned, but it wasn't hard to guess it would be tied to performance. Those who excelled would enjoy better lives after meeting their own needs, while the mediocre would receive only their monthly rations until they turned eighteen, left school, and became laborers or ordinary technicians contributing to the QZ.
Understanding this, Bryan realized that even within the school, survival of the fittest was the rule.
Back in his room, he set the bedding on the bed and opened the box to examine its contents.
Everything was daily necessities: toothbrush, toothpaste, several towels, soap, body wash, toilet paper, a small mirror, some hangers, two sets of new clothes, and a door lock. Everything he needed.
Bryan arranged everything, then—feeling sticky with sweat—wet one of the new towels and wiped himself down.
After finishing, he used the new lock to secure his door, then strolled downstairs with his hands in his pockets.
The boy assigned to the sixth floor was already waiting on the first floor. Bryan checked the time—nearly eleven, almost noon—and found a spot to sit.
He struck up a conversation with the boy. Though the kid was shy, they managed to chat here and there.
Twenty minutes later, Dick and Allen came racing down, sweaty and animated, talking and laughing with each other. Spotting Bryan, they sat beside him, turning the two-person conversation into four.
Another ten minutes passed before the last boy finally came down from the third floor. Being so young, cleaning an entire room alone had been tough work—he looked thoroughly disheveled.
As if on cue, the moment the boy appeared, Devin emerged. Without a word, he simply looked at them and gestured with his eyes for them to follow, then turned and walked outside.
The boys exchanged glances but asked no questions. They stood and followed silently.
Leaving the dormitory, they walked along pathways until they reached a standalone building elsewhere on campus. Devin knocked several times, and after receiving permission from inside, opened the door and entered.
It was a sparsely furnished office—just a desk, chairs, and a few storage cabinets.
Behind the desk sat a small, elderly man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, wearing large-framed glasses and writing something. When they entered, he barely spared them a glance before returning to his work, showing no intention of acknowledging them.
Devin seemed accustomed to this attitude. He walked straight to the desk, glanced at eight white keycards lying at the edge, picked up a roster beside them, and matched the card numbers to names, selecting five.
He then approached the boys and handed each one their corresponding card.
Bryan accepted his and examined it. Apart from a long string of numbers in the upper left corner, both sides were completely blank.
Watching the children study their new possessions, Devin's lips curved slightly. He spoke in a measured tone: "This card is going to be the most important thing in your life here. Any credits you earn will be recorded on it. Consider it your wealth. You might not understand now, but you will eventually."
His expression suddenly turned mischievous. "Don't say I didn't warn you—these cards don't have passwords. Keep them on you at all times and don't lose them. You only get one... heh heh... trust me, you don't want to find out what happens if you lose it."
...
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