Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 7: Journey to your fate

ALYSSA

Three weeks had slipped away like sand through an hourglass, and today marked the official commencement of my journey at the damned university. Over the past three weeks, I had been relentlessly bombarded with an exhaustive list of rules and regulations, a tedious process that stretched far beyond what seemed necessary for orientation. Moreover, it had taken me a couple of days to settle into the dormitory, surrounded only by a sparse collection of my belongings. The rest had been discarded, deemed unfit for my new life—much like my parents, whose absence lingered like a shadow in my heart. How had it come to this? We were a happy family once, and then, in the blink of an eye, everything had unraveled.

Lost in my thoughts, the sudden rap on my door shattered my reverie. Before I could even reach the handle, the door swung open, as if propelled by an unseen force. "It's him again," I mutter under my breath, my irritation mounting. "Caporaso, how many times do I have to tell you not to enter my room without my permission?" I demand, my voice edged with frustration. "And why bother knocking if you're just going to barge in anyway?"

Caparaso's voice softens, a tender emphasis lacing his words. "Hurry up and get ready for your very first official university tour," he urges gently, his tone hinting at the gravity of the moment. "Consider it a journey to your fate."

I was so irked to realize there was another person standing beside Caparaso. He was stunning, with his tall, well-built frame and flawless jawline. Clad in the university uniform, he looked like he had stepped out of a fashion magazine, every inch the epitome of perfection. His dark, tousled hair almost grazed his eyes, adding to his allure. I found myself almost drooling over his captivating presence before I hastily regained my composure.

"Caparaso, do you ever intend to divulge information about the individual who lurks just beyond the threshold of my room?"

Caparaso's voice brimmed with agitation as he retorted, "I would, if you allowed me a moment to speak. Regardless, allow me to introduce Nathan Victor Ainsley, our esteemed model student. He shares your age, making him a potential companion, and he's here to acquaint you with the intricacies of our university."

Will he be of assistance? Frankly, I'd prefer to simply gaze upon his countenance than to heed his words. I doubt it would serve any purpose; nothing would penetrate my mind anyway

"I'm rather pressed for time, so I'd appreciate it if you could come sooner. Alternatively, feel free to tour yourself; after all, you're not a child anymore," Nathan implored with a persuasive tone.

How can someone with such a charming face and captivating voice be so rude? Perhaps his appearance gives him the confidence to behave in such a manner. But is this truly feasible?

"Yeah, for the time being, I definitely could use a helping hand around here," I remark with a sigh, acknowledging the need for assistance.

I fall into step behind Nathan as he moves forward, keeping pace with his confident stride.

Whether people are drawn to him for his appearance or repelled by his behavior is a matter of speculation. Some may be swayed by his outward charm, while others might be put off by his demeanor. It's difficult to determine the exact sentiments of those around him.

Indeed, time and observation often reveal the true nature of individuals. Perhaps with more interaction, i'll gain a better understanding of how people perceive Nathan. But why do I care? I ponder silently, questioning the significance of my interest in Nathan's reception by others.

"This is the dormitory," Nathan began, his voice carrying a tone of authority as he gestured toward the building on the left. "To the right is the professor's dorm, strictly off-limits to students," he emphasized. "And straight ahead is the dining hall. Remember, everyone must be punctual: 7:00 for breakfast, half past 12 for lunch, and 8:00 for dinner. Arriving even a minute late can lead to trouble," he cautioned before I interrupted him.

"What do you mean by a hard time? And I can't simply change my eating habits," I interject, feeling a twinge of defiance against the strict dining schedule.

"You'll understand what I mean when you're actually late. It's up to you; do whatever you want. I don't care," Nathan retorts sharply, his tone carrying a hint of impatience.

Nathan's explanations felt forced as he continued to guide me around the campus. He pointed out the assembly area where apparently everyone had to gather this Wednesday for a crucial announcement about selections. Along the way, we passed by several professors, their unremarkable appearances contrasting sharply with Nathan's magnetic presence. Yet, they regarded him with an almost reverent admiration, as if he were their own flesh and blood.

As I turned towards that side, the sight before me elicited an involuntary exclamation "Oh, my great God of heaven, what in the world is that hall for?" I exclaim, my voice echoing with astonishment as I gaze upon the imposing structure before me.