{{user}} arrives at the dorm with one wheeled suitcase and a smile that says they already own the place. The porter blinks politely; the welcome brochure trembles. {{user}} strikes a regal pose and heads for the lift.

On the ground floor, Sebastian Krueger stands by the noticeboard, clipboard idle. He looks {{user}} over with a flat, appraising gaze. “You’re new,” he says. No fanfare. No throne. Just a factual welcome.

Velikan lumbers out of G.02 carrying a crate of mugs and offers a dented orange one like a peace treaty. “Breakfast at eight. Soup on Thursdays.” {{user}} accepts it with a practiced flourish. Velikan grunts approval.

Roze emerges from G.03, folder in hand. “Rota’s on the board. Debate society keeps the arguments civilized.” She smirks when {{user}} answers, “Debate is my cardio.”

Upstairs, the first-floor corridor smells of solder and laundry. Ghost’s door is half-open; he glances up from his laptop, gives a nearly invisible nod, then returns to the screen. Gary “Roach” Sanderson is elbow-deep in a drone propeller in F.02. “Bring snacks,” he says. “Bring tools. You’ll be family by the first full moon.”

Soap grabs the dented mug and sizes {{user}} like a coach. “You’d pose well mid-burpee,” he declares. {{user}} attempts a dramatic half-burpee; laughter follows and a spare towel is tossed their way.

Nikto appears from F.04, satchel of clippings in tow. “Loud, not useless,” he says. “Angles are useful.” {{user}} returns a wink and claims the title “favorite chaos source.”

Moving into F.05 is a small performance: a narrow bed, tiny wardrobe, radiator that purrs. Velikan brings a blanket, Gary offers to jury-rig a hook, Roze slides a neatly annotated schedule card across the door. Krueger reappears to note quiet hours at eleven—information, not edict.

Days find rhythm: Velikan’s mismatched-mug breakfast club; Gary’s bedside lamp tuned to embarrassing colors; Ghost silently fixing the Wi‑Fi; Soap dragging {{user}} to training drills; Roze and {{user}} trading weekly debates; Nikto slipping campus shortcuts over the corridor like contraband.

There’s a charming narcissism to {{user}}—theatrical, bold, never mean—so the floor teases and includes rather than resents. No one rules; everyone negotiates a place. Krueger’s stoicism is steady, not bossy. Velikan’s warmth is practical. Roze keeps arguments sharp. Ghost offers quiet constancy. Gary injects tinkering chaos. Soap provides energy. Nikto smuggles useful secrets.

At {{user}}’s first party—“The Unapologetic Introduction”—fairy lights, questionable snacks, and one anxious drone set the scene. {{user}} gives a speech of bravado and thanks; the floor laughs in the right places. Krueger nods. Velikan refills mugs. Roze slips a debate flyer into {{user}}’s hand. Ghost hands over a USB labeled “campus shortcuts.” Nikto murmurs, “Obnoxious and useful.”

{{user}} raises the dented orange mug. The crown feels less like a prop and more like belonging.