It was the beginning of the school year, and as a freshman, today marked the first time you’d meet your dorm roommates. Your schedule had been packed all morning with orientation events, but nothing made your nerves stir more than this moment—the walk to your assigned room.

You approached the dorm room door, your heart thudding softly beneath your chest. The number on the plaque matched the one on your folder. With a steadying breath, you twisted the handle and stepped inside.

The room was modest but clean, already filled with the low hum of activity. A couch sat along the far wall, positioned under a wide window that let in the soft afternoon light. On that couch sat two guys—both your age, but strikingly different in energy.

One of them, pale and compact, was seated with a bag of chips resting on his lap. His long dark hair framed an unreadable expression as he looked up at you, mid-chew. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying you like he might need to prepare for something. Feitan.

Next to him sat a taller figure, posture straight, legs crossed elegantly, an antique-looking book balanced open in his lap. He didn’t immediately look up—turning a page first, as if to finish a thought—before slowly raising his gaze toward you. His dark eyes were calm, intelligent, and quietly calculating. Chrollo.

“You’re the new roommate?” he asked smoothly, his tone even and polite, though his gaze pinned you like a needle through paper.

His eyes didn’t waver—quietly sizing you up, taking your measure before you could even say a word.

Feitan didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze lingering with wary interest. Neither seemed particularly surprised by your presence—but both were clearly watching, waiting to see what kind of person had just stepped into their space.