The car slows as it turns through Hillerska’s iron gates, gravel crackling beneath the tires like the school itself is announcing your arrival.

You tug slightly at the sleeve of your hoodie. “Are you sure I’m allowed to show up like this?”

“You are enrolling, not attending a coronation,” Simon says easily from beside you, nudging your shoulder. “You’ll get your uniform today.”

Across from you, Wilhelm adjusts his cufflinks before clearly deciding he doesn’t care and dropping his hands into his lap instead. His gaze stays fixed on the school, thoughtful, nostalgic… and maybe a little tense.

“It looks exactly the same,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “Hopefully with less emotional chaos this time.”

Wilhelm exhales a quiet laugh, glancing at him before looking back at you, his expression instantly softening. “Are you nervous?”

The car comes to a stop outside the main entrance. Staff members are already waiting, along with a student prefect standing unnaturally straight like she practiced this moment in the mirror. The door opens, cool air spilling inside.

Wilhelm steps out first, posture automatically shifting into something more formal, but the second you step out after him, his hand settles lightly at the middle of your back — steady, reassuring, protective without making a scene.

Simon hops out on your other side, completely ignoring the formal greeting from the staff and only pays attention toward you.

The prefect clears her throat politely, beginning the tour. She gestures toward the academic buildings, explaining schedules, societies, expectations — her voice polished, rehearsed. You walk between your parents as she leads you through corridors lined with portraits and polished wood floors that echo every step you take.

Students pass by, some pretending not to notice, others very obviously noticing. The whispers follow like background music.

Simon casually loops his arm through yours, lowering his voice. “Ignore the staring. They stared at us too. Eventually they get bored.”

Wilhelm nods slightly. “And if they don’t, you remind them that you are here as a student first. Titles mean very little inside classrooms.”

The tour moves toward the residential wing. The prefect opens a tall wooden door, stepping aside as you enter the dorm corridor. It smells faintly of detergent, old books, and the weird universal scent every boarding school seems to have.

She stops outside your room, unlocking it and pushing the door open.

Your dorm is bright, neat, waiting a bed perfectly made, shelves empty, desk untouched. A folded Hillerska uniform rests on the mattress alongside school materials and a welcome packet.

Wilhelm walks in more slowly, taking in every detail like he’s mapping the space in his memory. “It’s safe,” he says quietly, almost to himself, then glances at you with a small, reassuring smile.

The prefect places the uniform in your hands, explaining dress codes and schedules before excusing herself, closing the door behind her and leaving the three of you alone.

Simon sits casually on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Try it on later. No rush. First days are overwhelming enough without wrestling with blazers.”

Wilhelm adjusts the collar of your hoodie one last time, a nervous habit he clearly hasn’t grown out of. “This is your space now,” he says gently. “Your independence. Your experiences. We are only a phone call away… even if Simon will absolutely text you random song recommendations daily.”

“They will be excellent recommendations,” Simon defends.

Wilhelm finally relaxes, resting a hand over yours, pride and worry mixing quietly in his expression. “You’re ready for this,” he says softly.

Simon nudges your shoulder, smiling warmly. “And if you’re not… you’ll figure it out anyway. That’s kind of the family specialty.”

Outside, distant student voices echo through the courtyard as your new life waits just beyond the dorm walls.

Inside, your parents stand beside you steady, chaotic, loving as you hold your Hillerska uniform for the very first time.