[Time]: One Hour After the Entrance Duel

  [Location]: Yggdrasil Academy · Golden Bough Apartments · Room 302

  Hathaway stood before the heavy black walnut door, clutching the brass key in her hand.

  This was [The Golden Bough], the most exclusive residential area in Yggdrasil Academy.

  Behind every door lay an independent Demi-plane Bubble. Here, you weren't buying "square footage," you were buying "Spatial Laws." As long as your mana could support it, you could even raise a humpback whale in your dorm.

  But right now, Hathaway felt like she wasn't holding a key, but the pin to Pandora's Box.

  "Phew... it's fine, Hathaway."

  She mentally prepped herself: "You are the winner. According to the Witch's Law of the Jungle, you are now one of the owners here. Show some Lion-like spirit."

  She took a deep breath, inserted the key, and infused her mana.

  Click.

  The hum of spatial folding resonated.

  Creeeeeak—

  The door opened.

  Welcoming Hathaway was not a cozy student dorm, but a Gothic Great Hall that looked like it belonged in a vampire's castle.

  Expansion Charms had stretched the area behind the door into a high-ceilinged hall of at least three hundred square meters. Heavy deep black velvet curtains blocked out all light sources. There were no lamps lit in the room; only a few Necrotic Ghostlights floating in mid-air emitted a faint, chilly glow.

  The air was filled with an expensive, stale scent mixed with myrrh and ambergris—this was the specific "Old Money Scent" of the Holheim region, a silent aroma like something aged in a coffin for three hundred years.

  And on the velvet high-backed chair in the center of the hall, sat the original owner of this room.

  Victoria Wellington had already changed her clothes.

  The dust-stained gown was gone, replaced by a black lace long dress, the collar still rigorously buttoned up to her chin. She looked like an elegant black swan.

  She wasn't wearing any glasses—for a Wellington, lenses were dangerous items that focused soul mana; wearing them was tantamount to suicide. At this moment, her eyes were closed, and she was holding a cup of black tea.

  The red, swollen nose and teary eyes from earlier had long vanished. As an apex predator, her physical adaptability was ridiculously strong; that level of alkaloid stimulation couldn't last five minutes against her internal resistance system.

  Hearing the door open, Victoria didn't open her eyes, nor did she turn her head. But Hathaway could feel the air density in the entire hall instantly increase.

  "Close the door."

  Victoria's voice was calm and cold, carrying no trace of the pathetic state she was in just moments ago from the chili powder. "You're letting the 'vulgarity' from outside in."

  Hathaway's mouth twitched.

  Vulgarity? You mean oxygen and sunlight?

  She closed the door behind her and dragged her suitcase inside.

  "Hello, roommate. Looks like your recovery ability is pretty good. I thought you'd need a stomach pump at the infirmary."

  "That is an option for the weak." Victoria took a gentle sip of tea, her closed eyes turning precisely towards Hathaway's direction. "A Witch's body remembers every injury and evolves resistance. Right now, even if you poured a whole jar of Ghost Pepper extract into my mouth, I would only taste ketchup."

  She put down the teacup and finally opened her eyes.

  Those azure pupils still lacked focus, but that look of "I see through you, liar" was sharper than any focused gaze.

  "Sit."

  Victoria pointed to the sofa opposite her, a full twenty meters away.

  Hathaway didn't stand on ceremony. She walked over and sat down, casually looking around: "Nice environment. Just a bit too... Netherworld-y. Don't you think it needs some light?"

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "This is Wellington territory," Victoria said indifferently. "I don't like light. I especially dislike the restless Ludwig mana that feels like it's about to undergo nuclear fusion at any moment."

  She stood up, her soft-soled black shoes making no sound on the thick carpet. She walked to the center of the hall and swiped her finger lightly through the air.

  Zzzzt—

  A streak of ghostly blue electric arc traveled along the floor from her fingertip, instantly bisecting this massive common hall.

  "Although the Dean's Office forced you in here, that does not mean I have accepted you." Victoria pointed at the line. "This is the border line of the [Room 302 Armistice Treaty]."

  "The left side is the foyer and the guest room area; that's yours. The right side is the main living area and the mana node; that's mine."

  Hathaway looked at the glowing boundary line and laughed in anger.

  "Thirty-seventy split? On what grounds? And the best viewing terrace and the fireplace are on your side! I paid rent too!"

  "On the grounds that I was here first." Victoria's tone was matter-of-fact, carrying the specific arrogance of a Celestial Dragon. "And on the grounds that I am thinking of your safety."

  "Miss Ludwig, your very existence is a massive 'Light Pollution Source'. Isolating you outside my sensory comfort zone is to prevent me from accidentally strangling you in my sleep."

  "Hah!" Hathaway acted like she heard a joke.

  She stood up and stepped on the electric arc line, her boot sole making popping sounds.

  "Miss Wellington, I think you need to get one thing straight." Hathaway crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly, adopting the posture of a victor. "I moved in as the 'Winner'."

  "If you think I don't deserve the master bedroom, or if you think I'm too loud, you are welcome to challenge me to a duel again. I don't mind letting you experience the 'Call of Hell' one more time."

  Hearing the word "Hell," the face of Victoria, which had been as calm as an ancient well, finally showed a crack.

  "...You still have the nerve to mention it." Victoria's voice turned cold, carrying a hint of gnashing teeth. "Using a Witch's desire for wealth and glory to construct a false 'Dream of Riches,' then striking dirty when the other party is most sincere."

  "Hathaway von Ludwig, you are the most despicable 'Emotional Scammer' I have ever met."

  "You flatter me." Hathaway showed no shame, even looking a bit proud. "In my hometown, there's an old saying: All is fair in war. Besides, I literally wished you to 'Go to Hell.' It was you who over-interpreted it. How is that my fault?"

  The two stared at each other across the electric arc line.

  One gaze was empty but radiated deep-sea-like mental pressure.

  One gaze was deep but carried a rogue-like nonchalance.

  Sparks seemed to crackle in the air.

  This was a Cold War between "Old Money" and "Nouveau Riche," "Auditory" and "Visual," "The Scammed" and "The Scammer."

  A long time passed.

  Victoria took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. She was a civilized person. Since she couldn't kill the other party right now (school rules forbade it), she could only restrain this barbarian through Rules.

  "Very well." Victoria regained her elegance. "Since you are unwilling to abide by the territorial division, let's talk about Code of Conduct."

  She held up a finger clad in a black sheer glove:

  "First, using any light spell brighter than 500 Lumens in common areas is prohibited. I know you Ludwigs have a sickness where you glow all over when excited. But in here, glowing equals a declaration of war."

  Hathaway spread her hands: "I want to glow too, but I can't. Are you bli... cough, are you nearsighted? Can't you tell I'm a mutant?"

  Victoria paused.

  She activated her [Mystic Eye Vision] again. In the blurry field of vision, Hathaway was still that mass of deep, introverted, dark red flowing like wine.

  No blinding white light, no restless particles. It was... surprisingly tolerable.

  But Victoria's expression didn't soften. She simply adjusted her gloves, ignoring Hathaway's defense. "Exceptions do not alter the rule. Don't glow."

  "Second, creating noise exceeding 30 decibels is prohibited. If you dare practice your crude Evocation spells in the middle of the night, or make crunching sounds while eating chips..." She pointed to the massive crystal chandelier overhead. "...I will use sonic resonance to vibrate you into deafness."

  "Third." Victoria's voice became extremely serious, carrying a warning that bordered on a threat. "Put away your messy alchemical dusts. If I smell even a hint of chili, pepper, or wasabi in this room again..."

  Hathaway interrupted her: "Relax. Those are combat supplies. I cherish them usually; they're expensive after all."

  "Good."

  Victoria waved her hand, and the electric arc line on the floor vanished. Instead, she turned her chair around, putting her back to Hathaway—a clear gesture of dismissal.

  "Your bedroom is on the second floor, left hand side. Though it can't compare to the master suite, the space is enough for you to raise an elephant. Now, I am going to meditate. Get out of my sight."

  Hathaway shrugged.

  She didn't want to chat much with this roommate she just scammed anyway. She picked up her suitcase and headed for the second floor.

  But as she climbed the stairs, she suddenly stopped and looked back at Victoria sitting in the dark hall.

  The silver-haired girl sat there alone, surrounded by endless darkness and silence. Like an exquisite ghost, or a queen guarding the remnants of a bygone era's dream.

  Hathaway remembered what Hecate said earlier.

  "She applied for solo occupancy because she 'cannot tolerate the sound of others breathing'."

  "Um..." Hathaway suddenly spoke up, perhaps feeling a tiny, microscopic shred of guilt for the chili powder incident.

  Victoria didn't open her eyes, nor did she turn around. Her back remained stiff and rejecting.

  "Although I am a liar." Hathaway leaned on the stair railing, trying to keep her tone casual. "I don't snore. And actually, I quite like the quiet too."

  She waited for a response. A witty comeback, a threat, anything.

  But there was nothing.

  Victoria sat there like a statue carved from ice. She didn't dignify Hathaway's attempt at an olive branch with even a single syllable.

  The silence was heavy, awkward, and colder than the air conditioning.

  "Right. Good talk." Hathaway muttered to herself, realizing that the bridge between them wasn't just burned; it was nuked.

  She turned and carried her suitcase upstairs.

  Click.

  The second-floor door closed, sealing Hathaway into her own space.

  Outside the door, the Gothic hall remained submerged in darkness, silent as a tomb.

  Victoria: Lives in a dark vampire castle, demands absolute silence. Basically a very high-maintenance Void Cat. ????

  Hathaway: The "Ludwig Anomaly." Unlike her family whose eyes act as permanent 150-Lumen Tactical Flashlights, hers don't glow. She is essentially a Stealth-Mode Golden Retriever with a criminal record. ????