CHAPTER 54: ARE THOSE MY SLAVES? I MEAN... DORMMATES!!

We were still in the middle of our bickering when a voice cut through the air.

"Lads, everyone, come to the dinner table! It’s time to eat dinner!"

It was our dorm nanny calling for us. The Imperial Academy didn’t have a grand canteen like most people might imagine.

Instead, each dorm had its own caretaker who cooked for the students living there.

It was a quieter, more homely setup, though depending on the caretaker, the taste of food could range from decent to questionable.

I turned my head toward the window, and sure enough, the world outside had already slipped into darkness. I hadn’t even noticed how quickly the day had passed.

"Coming!" I called back, pushing myself up from my chair and heading toward the door.

There would be time to finish the argument later, preferably after I’d had something warm in my stomach.

I grabbed the handle, turned it, and pulled the door open in one smooth motion, and immediately, something slammed into me.

Or rather... I slammed into it.

The impact wasn’t sharp.

No, it was worse. It was warm and soft. Luxuriously soft.

The kind of softness that swallows you whole and makes the rest of the world disappear.

My momentum carried me forward, and my face... well... let’s say gravity and fate worked together in perfect cruelty.

My cheek pressed into a cushion-like surface with just enough give to sink in before springing back. It wasn’t just soft, it was heavenly soft.

A subtle floral perfume hit my nose, sweet and lingering, mingling with a faint warmth that made my brain fog over.

I didn’t breathe. I didn’t blink. Somewhere deep inside, the rational part of me was waving red flags, screaming that I should move — but my body was frozen, caught between bliss and the dawning horror of I know exactly what this is.

Then the warmth shifted, and a sharp, indignant voice snapped me out of it.

"L-Loki?!"

My head shot up.

Freya Vermillion was staring at me with wide eyes, her flawless face twisted into a mix of shock and fury.

Her pale skin was flushed bright red, her lips parted in disbelief — and yes, I was still too close. Way too close.

Her hands twitched like she couldn’t decide whether to shove me, slap me, or strangle me.

"What the hell are you doing, you absolute—!" she spat, her voice rising. "You perverted, shameless, son of a b—"

I stumbled back a step, hands up like I was surrendering. "In my defense—"

"There is

no defense!" she snapped, pointing an accusing finger right at my chest. "You walk out of a room and somehow manage to shove your entire face into my breasts? What are you, cursed?!"

I tried to keep my tone light, ignoring the heat in my ears. "Honestly, it all happened so fast. You were just... there."

Her jaw dropped. "There?! You face-planted like you were aiming for it!"

"I wasn’t aiming," I said, tilting my head. "More like... gravity helped."

Her eyes blazed, and for a moment, I thought she might actually swing at me. "You smug little bastard—"

And then she screamed, loud and piercing.

The kind of scream that told anyone within thirty paces that there was a criminal in the building — and apparently, I was it.

Her scream hadn’t even faded before she lunged at me like a golden-haired tornado fueled by pure fury.

"Loki Moe Lester! You absolute—!"

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. Reflexes kicked in, and I sprinted down the hallway, arms flailing as Freya came barreling after me.

Her fists swung wildly, each one narrowly missing my head, clipping the walls, and even catching a passing coat hook for dramatic effect.

"Stop! Stop! I apologize! I didn’t mean to!" I shouted, voice cracking somewhere between genuine panic and my trademark sarcasm.

Freya didn’t slow. "Apologize?! You—" Her words dissolved into a string of curses that could have peeled paint off the walls. "You shameless, disgusting, perverted—"

I ducked under another swing, feeling the air whoosh past my hair. "Yes! That’s me! Truly, a legend in my own lunchtime!"

Redmane appeared at the end of the hall just in time to see her furious charge. He blinked, eyebrow raised, arms crossed. "Ah. So this is where the noise was coming from?"

Serena peeked around the corner, holding her book like it was a shield. Her cold look still hanging on her face.

The nanny emerged from the kitchen with her hands on her hips and utterly unimpressed. "Loki. Stop running. Freya. Control yourself."

I ignored all of them. Survival was my only priority. My legs pumped faster than I thought possible.

I zig-zagged, dodged, and leapt over a stray backpack in a hallway that suddenly felt like an obstacle course designed specifically to slow me down.

Freya’s fury was relentless. Every swing of her fists came with a roar of outrage, and somehow, even though she was smaller than Redmane, her momentum made it feel like I was running from a train.

"Why—why did you do that?!" she screamed, eyes blazing.

"I don’t know!" I shouted back, rounding a corner. "Why do I even exist?!"

Somehow, my words only seemed to make her angrier. I could hear her growls echoing down the corridor, punctuated by more curses, each one more creative and terrifying than the last.

"You spine-snapping, sand-brained, goat-licking excuse for a human!"

"May every chair you ever sit on have one uneven leg!"

"I hope your pillow’s always warm, your tea forever lukewarm, and your boots fill with invisible gravel!"

"You— you smug, eel-eyed, chaos-breathed maggot— I’ll mount your skull on the dorm door!"

"And when I catch you, I’m smashing your balls so flat they’ll be mistaken for gold coins!"

I skidded around another corner, desperately searching for an exit.

What the hell are these curses? I thought.

This wasn’t anger anymore. This was poetry with a personal vendetta.

"Also—" her voice carried from behind, "you’ll regret the day you ever—"

"Freya!" I yelled back mid-sprint. "If you touch my balls, I’m charging you for property damage! And it’s going on your student record!"

Redmane called out lazily from the doorway I just passed, "You might want to consider negotiating, Loki."

I waved back without stopping. Negotiation had officially failed. Survival mode was on. And if I lived through this, I was going to need a very long nap.