III

The dining hall was louder than Clara expected. It was everywhere, more alive than she had imagined.

The students' voices softly resonated against the ceilings as students filled the rows of tables in the dining hall.

Clara slowed near the entrance.

The room itself felt impossibly grand for something meant for breakfast. Was this even possible?

The chandeliers hung overhead, suspended by long black chains disappearing into the shadows above. The candles would flicker along the center of each table despite the daylight pouring in from outside, their flames bending gently whenever the doors opened behind students.

The smell nearly overwhelmed her immediately.

"You look terrified."

Violet appeared beside her, carrying two trays effortlessly.

She was dressed in a charcoal-grey skirt that brushed just below her knees, paired with an oversized cream knit sweater whose sleeves nearly swallowed her hands whenever she moved. Her ginger hair looked slightly unruly this morning, falling in loose waves over her shoulders as though she had only half-finished brushing it before leaving the dormitory. Somehow, the untidiness suited her. It softened the sharpness of her features.

"I'm not terrified." Clara remarked.

"You're clutching your sleeve way too tight"

Clara looked down at her sleeve before loosening her grip. It was a habit she didn't know she had grown accustomed to. She didn't even know when her fingers had gone to claw at them.

"I just wasn't expecting this many people." She commented, her eyes finding a girl who was lining her lips. She looks away.

Violet shrugged, feigning indifference. "That's because this school apparently houses every emotionally repressed girl in existence."

Clara blinked.

It hasn't been up to two or three days, but she was still trying to understand the weird nature of her bunkmate. It wasn't like she hated her or anything of that sort, but sometimes, the words of Violet catch her off guard. Most of the time, she was left speechless.

"You say concerning things very casually."

Violet smiled, showcasing a faint dimple on the left side of her cheeks before nudging one tray into Clara's hands.

"Come on before all the good seats disappear." She says. Her legs start moving forward while Clara hitched behind her.

"There are good seats?"

"Obviously," Violet answers in an almost sarcastic tone, holding herself from giving an eye roll.

Clara followed beside her carefully through the crowded dining hall. She could feel pairs of eyes follow her as she walked. She didn't like the crowded dining hall. She didn't like crowds.

The sound of chairs scratching against the floor was prominent constantly around them while the students moved between tables.

Everything still felt surreal. Like she had somehow stepped inside a novel instead of a university.

"Over there," Violet announced.

Clara turned toward one of the longer tables near the windows where Emilia sat alone, balancing a book open beside her breakfast tray.

"Saved you both seats," Emilia said as they approached.

Unlike Violet's effortless disorder, Emilia carried herself differently. The sleeves of her navy cardigan had been folded precisely at her wrists, Her dark curls framed her face in gentle layers, slightly flattened on one side.

"You're officially my favorite person here," Violet declared immediately.

"You said that today to the girl who gave us directions."

"She had kind eyes."

Clara sat quietly beside Emilia while Violet dropped dramatically into the seat making the benches creak softly beneath them.

Clara wrapped both hands around the warm cup sitting near her tray.

"So," Emilia began, closing her book carefully. "Have either of you figured out where your classes are yet?"

"No," Clara admitted immediately. She tore into the cinnamon roll on her tray, her eyes immediately closing in bliss when the food hit her tongue.

Violet watched Clara as she chewed into her food. She wondered if the food was that good or hers were just cooked differently

"I nearly got lost trying to find breakfast," Violet added, leaning in to steal one of Clara's cinnamon rolls. "At one point I accidentally entered what I think was a prayer room."

But Clara was quick to correct her clumsy friend.

"That was the faculty lounge."

"Yeah, yeah," Violet answered, rolling her eyes.

Clara laughed quietly into her cup, the steam fanning her forehead. She drops her cup and that's when Violet pointed at her dramatically.

"There it is again."

"What?" Clara raised her eyebrows.

"The laugh."

Clara frowned faintly. She didn't like the tone Violet had used, but it didn't sound harsh.

"I'm lost."

"You looked very different this morning, almost like you couldn't walk."

"I was tired."

"You looked frightened."

"I was frightened."

Emilia smiled softly at the exchange before reaching for the folded schedule resting beside her tray. She eyes Violet before going ahead to speak.

"I heard first-years usually spend the first month getting lost anyway."

"Comforting," Clara murmured. She looked around, momentarily studying the place before looking back at the pair.

Violet leaned her chin into her palm. "I still can't believe this place is real."

Clara glanced around again.

Neither could she.

In daylight, the dining hall felt even older somehow. The portraits framed in wood lined the upper walls. Some looked centuries old.

The entire university carried the strange feeling of existing outside time.

As though the world beyond its walls had continued changing while the school remained exactly the same.

"You're staring again," Violet noted.

Before Clara could respond, movement near the center tables drew several students' attention.

She noticed how the voices in the room had somehow gone down a bit.

A group of girls crossed through the dining hall dressed in coats, different from what Clara and Violet had been wearing.

One of them glanced briefly toward the far corner of the room.

Instantly, two girls nearby lowered their voices.

Clara followed their gaze instinctively.

Someone sat alone near one of the tall windows at the very edge of the hall.

Far enough to avoid attention.

Yet somehow drawing it anyway.

The distance made it impossible to see details. Clara tried to look but only ended up with a faint sight of someone's hair and the outline of someone leaning slightly back in their chair as though the noise surrounding them existed very far away.

"Don't stare," Emilia said, almost cautionary.

Clara looked back immediately. She could feel heat climb into her cheeks.

"I wasn't-"

"You were." Emilia cut her off, raising an eyebrow at her in a way that suggested that Clara should dare her.

Violet looked between them curiously, oblivious to the little interaction that had transpired between the pair.

"At who?"

Emilia hesitated briefly, momentarily deciding if she should tell the truth or not. "The Valemont girl."

The name settled strangely in Clara's chest but was quickly sprayed away by Violet's next question.

"What's wrong with her?" Violet asked. She had finished eating Clara's cinnamon rolls and was playing around with the salad in her bowl.

Emilia scuffled in her seat as she tried to avoid eye contact with her fellow students.

Which meant:

something.

Violet noticed too.

"Oh, come on. You can't have such juicy information and keep it to yourself like that."

At this point, Clara had just been observing, but from the corner of her eye, she sees a girl with blonde strands glance at her.

"She's a bit different from other students."

The girl with blonde strands kept staring at Clara even after Clara had made eye contact with her. For a split moment, she noticed a little scar on her forehead. It was little, yet Clara could make it out from where she sat. She turned her head and focused it back on Emilia.

Why was she staring?

Violet rolls her eyes. "That explains absolutely nothing."

"She's from one of the founding families." Emilia finally said, squeezing her lips into a thin line.

Clara frowned faintly, confusion scattered on both of their faces.

"Founding families?"

"There are a few old families tied to the university." Emilia glanced carefully across the hall before continuing. "The Valemonts practically own half the west grounds."

"I don't believe that bull crap," Violet muttered. She has heard a lot about fake stories like this and she was sure this was just one of them. An old rumor that never died down.

"Well, I'm just saying what I heard."

Clara looked back toward the distant corner again before stopping herself.

She couldn't even properly see the girl from here.

Yet something about the atmosphere surrounding her felt strangely isolated. She just couldn't place her fingers on it.

Like an invisible boundary existed around that table.

"Does she have a first name?" Violet asked.

Emilia hesitated again. The hesitation was brief, her brown eyes dancing hysterically in hercup.

"Reese."

Before Clara could think further about it, one of the bells rang somewhere outside the dining hall.

And before you knew it, students immediately began gathering their things. In an instant, the dining room felt like it had lost its warmth, its familiarity.

"That's our warning bell," Emilia explained while standing, packing her things up.

"Introductory humanities seminar starts in fifteen minutes." She says, remembering the exact name she had memorized from her schedule.