?The walk from the gate to the dormitory sector was less of a hike and more of a pilgrimage of pain.

  ?By the time we reached the foot of Tower C, my legs felt like they had been replaced with bags of wet cement. The tower itself was impressive a spiraling needle of stone that disappeared into the clouds, topped with rotating circular structures that cast long, confusing shadows in the moonlight.

  ?"We're here!" Roc-ta announced, showing zero signs of fatigue.

  ?I looked up. And up. And up.

  ?"Let me guess," I wheezed. "No elevator?"

  ?"Elevators are for cargo!" Roc-ta chirped. "Students use the Stairs of Fortitude!"

  ?"Of course we do."

  ?We climbed. My boots slapped heavily against the stone steps.

  ?"Are we there yet?" I groaned, leaning heavily against the wall on the third landing. "My legs feel like pudding. Bad pudding. Lumpy, expired pudding."

  ?A small, glowing orb of light our magical guide—buzzed irritatingly around my head. BZZZT.

  ?"Follow the light," the automated voice had said at the entrance. It didn't mention that the light had the navigational skills of a drunk firefly and a personality to match.

  ?Roc-ta was sniffing at every door we passed, her nose twitching like a radar dish.

  ?"Dorm C...

  Level 4...

  Squad 13..."

  she muttered, her tail wagging slightly. Even she looked tired now, her ears drooping a bit.

  ?Then, she stopped. She jumped up and down, pointing at a heavy oak door at the end of a long, plush-carpeted hallway.

  ?"Ah! Here it is!"

  ?"Thank the gods," I whispered, dragging my suitcase the final few meters.

  ?We stood before a beautiful, sturdy door with intricate carvings of vines and gears. A polished brass plate glinted in the magical light:

  ?SQUAD 13

  Dorm C - Suite 404

  ?"Finally," I sighed, blowing a stray lock of red hair out of my face. I let my shoulders slump, the weight of the day crashing down on me. "I am wrecked. All that politics, the shouting, the walking... I need a break. I need a coma."

  ?I started to do a little wiggle. The universal dance.

  ?"You go ahead, Roc-ta," I said, dropping my suitcase next to the door with a heavy thud. "I need to... visit the facilities. Urgently."

  ?Roc-ta looked at me, puzzled. "Facilities?"

  ?"The toilet, Roc-ta. Nature calls. And right now, she's screaming."

  ?I pointed vaguely back down the hallway. "I saw a sign back there near the stairwell. I'll see you in a minute. Don't eat all the snacks."

  ?"Okay!" Roc-ta chirped, pushing open the door to our dorm. "I'm going to test the sofa for bounce-ability!"

  ?The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silent hallway.

  ?I turned around. Two doors down, I saw what I was looking for.

  ?Two identical doors made of dark mahogany.

  ?On the left door, there was a stylized symbol of a spear and shield. Abstract, geometric, sharp.

  ?On the right door, a stylized symbol of two roses . Curved, floral, soft.

  ?My eyes were blurry with fatigue. My brain was running on fumes and leftover adrenaline. I didn't really register the symbols as "Gender Markers." I just saw "Door."

  ?And the left door was closer.

  ?I walked towards the left door like a zombie drawn to brains.

  ?Just a moment of peace, I thought, my hand resting on the cool metal handle. No princes. No points. No screaming mobs. Just me and silence.

  ?I pushed the handle down.

  ?I stepped inside and let the door click shut behind me.

  ?And no drama.

  ?The bathroom was ridiculous.

  ?That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I stepped inside. It wasn’t just a restroom; it was a temple dedicated to the art of hygiene. The floor was paved with black marble tiles so polished I could see the tired bags under my eyes in the reflection. The fixtures were gold—actual gold, not the painted brass we had back in the guest wing of the palace. And the smell... it smelled like sandalwood, expensive cologne, and absolute silence.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  ?"At long last" I whispered.

  ?I shuffled past the large mirrors, not daring to look at my disheveled reflection, and made a beeline for the last stall. It was huge. A small room in itself. I locked the door with a satisfying click, dropped my pants, and sank onto the toilet seat.

  ?"Oh, sweet mercy," I groaned, resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands. "I could live here. I could just curl up on this bathmat and hibernate until graduation."

  ?For a moment, there was peace. The throbbing in my feet began to subside. The headache induced by Solon’s speech and Roc-ta’s endless energy faded into a dull thrum.

  ?I closed my eyes.

  ?Just five minutes, I told myself. Five minutes of silence. No princes. No points. No monsters.

  ?CLICK.

  ?The sound of the outer door opening shattered my sanctuary.

  ?My eyes snapped open. I froze.

  ?Please be Roc-ta, I thought desperately. Please be a cleaning lady. Please be a confused ghost.

  ?Heavy footsteps echoed on the marble.

  ?Clack. Clack. Clack.

  ?These were not the footsteps of a cleaning lady. These were boots. Heavy, military-grade leather boots with a distinctive, arrogant rhythm.

  ?They stopped right in front of the sinks.

  ?I held my breath.

  ?Then, a voice spoke.

  ?"Unbelievable."

  ?It was a deep, smooth baritone. A voice that dripped with so much disdain it could probably dissolve metal.

  ?"Squad 13," the voice scoffed, followed by the sound of running water. "They put me... the heir to the Throne of Ash... in the rejection pile."

  ?My blood ran cold.

  ?I knew that voice. I knew that arrogance.

  ?No, I mouthed silently, my hands gripping my knees until my knuckles turned white. No, no, no. Fate cannot be this cruel. The odds are impossible.

  ?"Those fools in the administration," Demian continued, apparently talking to his reflection in the mirror. "They think this is a punishment? They think they can humble me?"

  ?He laughed. It was a dark, chilling sound that bounced off the tiled walls.

  ?"I will crush their expectations. I will take this squad of misfits and drag them to the top, even if I have to break their legs to make them walk."

  ?"Asshole," I whispered.

  ?It was a reflex. I didn't mean to say it out loud. But the acoustics in this bathroom were treacherous, designed to amplify even the sound of a pin dropping.

  ?My whisper echoed like a shout in a canyon.

  ?"Asshole...hole... hole...hole..."

  ?The water stopped running instantly.

  ?Silence.

  ?A heavy, predatory silence filled the room.

  ?"Who is there?" Demian’s voice was no longer bored. It was sharp. Dangerous.

  ?I squeezed my eyes shut. I am a ghost. I am a hallucination. I am not here.

  ?I heard his footsteps moving slowly towards the row of stalls.

  ?"I know you are there," he growled. "I can hear you breathing. Who dares to spy on me?"

  ?He stopped in front of my stall. I could see the shadow of his boots under the gap.

  ?"Identify yourself," he commanded. "Are you an assassin? Or just a rat hiding in the dark?"

  ?I couldn't stay silent. If I didn't answer, he might blast the door down with magic.

  ?I trying to pinched my nose tightly to distort my voice. I tried to sound as masculine and intimidating as possible.

  ?"Occupied," I grunted,

  sounding like a frog with a throat infection. There was a pause. "Occupied?" Demian repeated, skepticism dripping from the word. "You sound like a dying goblin. Open this door."

  ?"I said occupied!" I deepened my voice further, channeling my inner Man. "Can a man not have a moment of peace to... contemplate nature?"

  ?"Contemplate nature somewhere else," Demian snapped. . "Leave."

  ?"I can't just leave!" I hissed, forgetting to pinch my nose for a second before clamping it back on. "I am in the middle of a... ! Go away!"

  ?"WHAT?" Demian sounded insulted. "In a toilet? You are mocking me."

  ?I felt the air pressure in the room drop. Static electricity made the hair on my arms stand up. He was charging a spell.

  ?"I do not like being mocked," he said, his voice dropping to a low vibrato. "And I do not like cowards who hide behind locked doors."

  ?"And I don't like peeping toms who harass people in stalls!" I shouted back, panic rising. "Go look at yourself in the mirror some more, you Idiot!"

  ?That did it.

  ?"IDIOT?!"

  ?I heard the crackle of magic.

  ?"I am giving you three seconds," Demian announced. "One."

  ?"Don't you dare!" I shrieked.

  ?"Two."

  ?"I'm serious! I'm not..."

  ?"THREE!"

  KRAAAK

  ?There was no magic spell. He just kicked it.

  ?With a splintering sound that made my heart stop, the lock disintegrated. The heavy wooden door flew inward. The time stood stil for a moment...?Demian stood in the doorway, one leg still raised from the kick, his hand wreathed in purple flame, his face twisted in a snarl of righteous fury.

  ?And there I was.

  ?Valerie de Valois.

  ?Sitting on the toilet. Pants around my ankles. My hands clutching my shirt. My mouth hanging open in a silent scream of absolute mortification.

  ?Time stopped.

  ?The universe took a deep breath.

  ?Demian’s eyes bulged. He looked at my face. He recognized me instantly.

  ?Then, his gaze involuntarily darted down.

  ?His brain seemed to short-circuit. The purple flame in his hand sputtered and died.

  ?His face went from pale porcelain to a violent shade of beet red in less than a nanosecond.

  ?"WHAAAAAAA!!!"

  ?The scream ripped out of my throat. It wasn't a scream of fear. It was a scream of pure, unadulterated shame and rage.

  ?"HUH?!" Demian stumbled back, waving his hands in front of his face as if he had been blinded by the sun. "WHAT?! WHO ...YOU?!"

  ?"GET OUT!" I roared. "GET OUT, YOU PERVERT!"

  ?Adrenaline flooded my system. I didn't think. I reacted.

  ?I grabbed the handle of the broken door.

  ?Demian was still standing there, paralyzed by shock, stammering something unintelligible.

  ?"I...I... didn't Why are you—"

  ?"LEAVE !" I shrieked.

  ?I put every ounce of my frustration—the walking, the suitcase, the speech, the rejection—into my right arm.

  ?I slammed the door.

  ?Hard.

  ?Wham!!

  ?The heavy oak door collided with Demian’s face with a sickeningly satisfying THUD

  ?"ARGH! MY NOSE!"

  ?Demian was thrown backward by the impact. He flailed, his boots slipping on the wet floor near the sinks, and he landed hard on his tailbone.

  ?He scrambled up, clutching his face. Blood was trickling between his elegant fingers.

  ?"YOU!" he sputtered, pointing a shaking finger at the closed door. "YOU VIOLENT HARPY!"

  ?"ME?!" I yelled from behind the safety of the door. "YOU KICKED THE DOOR DOWN! I WAS VULNERABLE!"

  ?"WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING IN HERE?!" Demian screamed, his voice cracking. "HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!"

  ?"I'M PEEING! WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?!"

  ?"THIS IS THE MEN'S ROOM, YOU IDIOT!"

  ?Silence.

  Absolute silence fell over the bathroom.?Inside the stall, my rage evaporated, replaced by a cold dread. ?And slowly turned my head to the left. looked at the wall I hadn't noticed before. There, gleaming in the white light, was a row of pristine, white urinals. I slowly turned back to the door. I rested my forehead against the wood.

  ?Thunk.

  ?"Oh my gods," I whispered. "Kill me now. Just let the floor open up and swallow me whole." Outside, I heard shuffling footsteps, followed by the slamming of the main door. Demian had fled.