Though the dorm rules were strict, they weren't exactly a surprise. Most nobles already knew them by heart.
The others began murmuring among themselves, but the chatter quickly faded as Cecilia resumed speaking.
"The academy spans four years," she said. "There are no retakes. If you fail, you're out."
There were no class divisions during the first half of the first year. Everyone, regardless of their chosen class, received the same foundational education.
In the second half, students would begin taking introductory lessons for their respective classes, though many classes would still be shared.
From the second year onward, students would follow different curricula based on their chosen class, with only one or two lessons overlapping between classes.
That was just the surface.
Exams, simulations, expeditions, and other unexpected trials were part of the experience—but those details were deliberately kept vague.
Even most nobles didn't know what to expect, as the curriculum changed every year.
After that, Cecilia explained the rules around challenges, the interactions between grades, graduation requirements, and other academy policies.
The last thing on the agenda was the lot-drawing for dorm placements, but Colt and his friends didn't need to wait for that.
Colt and Seila were ranked first and second, respectively, and Myrin was seventh.
Hei, though not the most diligent, had placed twelfth—his physical test result was exceptional, even if his written test result was average.
The group was escorted toward the west wing of the academy, where the dormitories were located, guided by a third-year student.
"So, you're the number 11 everyone's been talking about. Is it true you scored 600 points?" the upperclassman asked Colt.
"Nice to meet you. Yes, the headmaster evaluated it as 600, officially," Colt replied politely.
He wasn't trying to be a rebel or an anti-hero. He'd already decided to live by this world's rules.
As long as no one got in his way or tried to harm Seila or his friends, he'd act civil.
"Heh. Don't get too comfortable," the third-year said with a knowing grin.
"It's a big achievement, sure—but sometimes, keeping a low profile is the smarter move in this academy."
Colt gave him a curious look, but the upperclassman just chuckled. "You'll understand soon enough."
They left the main, castle-like academy building behind, heading outside. The dorms didn't connect from the inside.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at another iron gate.
Beyond the iron gate stretched a carefully maintained garden, divided by a footpath that ran straight through it.
Another smaller path veered off to the side, leading somewhere less welcoming.
The third-year didn't hesitate. He took the garden path, and the group followed him in silence.
At the end of it stood a large, inn-like building.
As soon as they saw it, murmurs broke out among the students.
It wasn't small by any means, but after the towering spires and the castle-like academy, this place felt... underwhelming.
The third-year didn't wait for someone to voice it.
"Don't judge it by appearance. This dorm houses up to four hundred students," he said, half-smirking. "And yes, it's full—including all of you."
Colt guessed the building had been expanded with magic. It didn't look as grand as the academy, but it was still massive.
The structure stretched to both sides and climbed several stories high, easily hiding just how many rooms it held.
To house four hundred students, there had to be a lot of single, double, and triple rooms.
The third-year student explained the clever layout.
The top floor had only four rooms—reserved for the highest-ranked students of each year: numbers 11, 21, 31, and 41.
The floor below had eight rooms, meant for the second and third-ranked of each grade.
And so it continued, with the first hundred students from each year housed here.
"What about the rest?" someone finally asked.
The third-year tilted his head toward the garden's edge. "You remember that path we didn't take? They're going that way."
Colt didn't need to ask what was waiting at the end of that trail.
Even if the accommodations wouldn't be bad—this was still the top academy in the country—he had a feeling some students, especially the pampered ones, would drop out before the semester even started.
It was all possible.
They stepped inside the dorm building, and Colt immediately felt the familiarity. It reminded him of the inn he had been staying in—just on a larger scale.
There were no rooms on the ground floor. Instead, a sprawling dining hall stretched out in front of them.
This time, the food was free.
The academy didn't charge extra for anything once the entrance fee was paid, which was partly why people handed over that gold without complaint.
"You get three meals a day here," the third-year explained. "If you miss one, you can always go to a place in the academy district. Though it'll cost you."
That wouldn't matter to nobles. But for commoners, it was different.
Colt glanced at their guide. Was he a commoner too? Or just someone thoughtful enough to say it?
He doubted any noble his age would even think about the cost of a meal.
The third-year student left them after that, leaving the rest to the staff. The students would receive their room numbers from the workers inside.
Colt was handed his keys first and instructed to head to the top floor.
In his past life, as a normal human, that would have felt more like a punishment than a privilege.
Climbing multiple flights of stairs daily in a building without elevators would wear anyone down.
But now, as someone who could level up—let alone someone sitting comfortably at level 337—it was nothing.
So, he parted with his friends and ascended floor by floor, noting how the number of rooms decreased the higher he went.
By the time he reached the top, only four doors remained.
Each one bore a number matching its resident.
He stepped into room with 11 written on it and stopped in his tracks.
The space was enormous—more like a house than a dorm room. A full kitchen, a spacious living room, spotless new furniture. Everything gleamed with cleanliness and polish.
There was probably nothing he'd need that wasn't already here.
He walked straight to the balcony.
From there, the whole southern stretch of Lofpus spread out on one side, and the towering silhouette of the academy loomed on the other.
The breeze was fresh at this height, stirring faint memories he hadn't realized were still buried.
Then he turned his head.
On the balcony of the next room over, a girl with jet-black hair leaned lightly on the railing, her gaze distant, dreamy, as she looked out over the city.