Lillian found herself looking around the room almost instinctively.
Well… It was impossible not to.
The two halves could not have been more different.
Her side was exactly as the academy had left it.
A neatly made bed tucked beneath the window, an untouched wardrobe, an empty bookshelf, and a plain oak desk waiting patiently for textbooks that had yet to arrive.
Stella’s side, however, already looked lived in.
Soft sage-green curtains had been tied back with ribbons woven from dried lavender, allowing the late afternoon sunlight to spill across the room in warm golden pools.
Tiny glass bottles filled with dried herbs lined the windowsill in careful rows, each bearing handwritten labels in elegant cursive.
Lower, there was a delicate vine, its leaves shimmering with the faintest trace of magic, wound lazily around the bedpost before disappearing across the headboard.
A handful of pressed flowers had been arranged inside floating glass frames that drifted lazily above her desk, turning ever so slightly whenever a breeze wandered through the open window.
Even the bookshelf looked cheerful.
Between thick spellbooks sat tiny potted succulents, polished crystals, and little carved wooden animals no bigger than Lillian’s thumb.
One plump orange cat figurine blinked sleepily before curling itself into a tighter ball, apparently deciding that observing newcomers was exhausting work.
Lillian gaped.
“…It moved.”
Stella glanced over.
“Hm?”
“The…” Lillian pointed uncertainly at the tiny wooden cat.
“…Cat.”
“Oh!” Stella laughed.
“He’s enchanted.” As if understanding the conversation was about him, the little cat stretched dramatically before giving Lillian a tiny wooden yawn.
“He’s shy around strangers.”
Lillian stared.
“Your decorations are alive.”
“Only some of them.” Stella smiled so brightly it somehow made the room feel even warmer.
“I get homesick. So I always decorate my room as soon as I arrive.” She absentmindedly adjusted one of the floating flower frames.
“It makes the academy feel a little less temporary. I hope you don’t mind.”
The answer was so simple that it caught Lillian completely off guard.
She looked around once more.
And Stella was right.
The room was indeed warm, comfortable, and unmistakably bright.
Nothing like the silent dormitory room she had occupied last year.
Her previous roommate had communicated almost exclusively through nods, brief acknowledgements, and an uncanny ability to enter and leave the room without producing a single sound.
Some nights Lillian had genuinely wondered whether she had returned to an empty room, only to discover the reaper quietly reading in the darkest corner hours later.
Lillian slowly looked back toward Stella, who was currently humming happily to herself while trying to decide whether a tiny potted fern would look better on the windowsill or the bookshelf.
“…What do you think?” She asked, holding the plant up in both locations before looking hopefully at Lillian.
“Window? Or shelf?”
Lillian opened her mouth to answer when another realization quietly settled over her.
This girl talked quite a lot, judging by the last five minutes.
She decorated.
She smiled.
She owned enchanted wooden cats.
And she had already asked Lillian three questions before she had even finished unpacking.
It made her smile weakly.
“The window.”
Mrs. Llewellyn had wished for her to actually make a friend this year.
The universe, it seemed, had interpreted that request with terrifying enthusiasm.
On the bright side, judging from the enchanted wooden cats and glowing stars, Stella appeared far more likely to adopt her than interrogate her.
Lillian sincerely hoped that first impression was correct.
The next hour passed with an easy rhythm.
Lillian quietly unpacked the entirety of her worldly possessions, a task that proved embarrassingly brief.
A handful of neatly folded uniforms found their way into the wardrobe.
Her textbooks occupied exactly one shelf.
Her quills, ink bottles, and notebooks were arranged across the desk with almost obsessive precision.
By the time she finished, her side of the room looked functional.
She glanced across the room, only to see Stella currently standing on her mattress with one foot balanced against the headboard, tongue poking out in concentration as she reached toward the ceiling.
“Almost…”
Stretch.
“A little…”
Stretch.
“There!”
She triumphantly pressed a tiny glowing star onto the ceiling.
Then another.
And another.
One by one, tiny enchanted stars slowly spread across the ceiling above Stella’s bed, glowing faintly even in the fading evening light.
Lillian quietly decided not to ask.
Instead, she gathered her towel, slipped into the communal showers to change into more comfortable clothes while Stella continued her extremely serious celestial construction project.
When she returned nearly twenty minutes later, her damp hair wrapped in a towel around her shoulders, the room had grown noticeably cozier.
The stars now formed little constellations overhead.
The potted fern had apparently won its debate and now proudly occupied the windowsill.
From the corner of her eyes, Stella was peeking over the back of the sofa.
Lillian paused.
Wait… Since when…
She was sure there had not been a sofa when she had left twenty minutes ago.
Where did it come from?
Before she could question where it had materialized from, Stella’s entire face lit up.
“You’re back!”
“…?”
“I’ve been waiting.” Stella disappeared behind the sofa before immediately popping back up with something cradled carefully in both hands.
“I got you something.” She hurried over and placed a tiny clay pot into Lillian’s hands.
Inside sat a small green plant no taller than her palm, its round leaves shimmering faintly whenever they caught the light.
Lillian looked from the plant, to Stella, then back to the plant as curiosity and a hint of ridiculousness plastered on her face.
“…For me?”
“Of course.” Stella smiled.
“To break the ice! Since we’re going to be living together all year, I figured your shelves could use a little bit of life. It’s a roommate-slash-friendship thingy.” She pointed toward Lillian’s empty bookshelf.
“And it will make your shelf look less lonely.”
Lillian stared at the little plant for several long seconds and up to Stella’s angelic, hopeful face when a strange warmth bloomed in her chest.
No one had ever given her a plant before.
“…Thank you. That’s… really nice of you.” It came out quieter than she had intended.
Stella’s smile somehow became even brighter.
“I knew it’d look cute on your shelf. And don’t worry, it doesn’t need much water. It’s a Moon-glow Echeveria, it just needs a little affection.”
Lillian carefully placed the little pot between two history books.
And immediately, her shelf looked less empty.
It was almost ridiculous to look at, but one that looked cute nonetheless.
Lillian was about to ask more about it when something rattled the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Stella gasped excitedly.
“It’s here!”
Lillian glanced at her as she hurried toward the door and returned moments later carrying two paper bags that smelled so wonderfully of roasted herbs and warm bread that Lillian’s stomach immediately betrayed her with an audible growl.
A frown settled on her face.
“It’s already seven,” she said, glancing briefly at the cuckoo clock on the wall.
“The academy gates close at five. Outside deliveries aren’t allowed inside. How did you even…?”
Stella stalled for exactly half a second before smiling innocently.
“I have my ways.”
Skeptical, Lillian followed her gaze, which landed very briefly on an old broom leaning casually in the corner beside the wardrobe before looking back at the girl who simply smiled wider and said, “…I’m choosing not to ask.”
That explained the sofa then…
“Excellent choice.” Stella chimed and unpacked the food onto the small table between their beds, plopping down the floor too enthusiastically.
“There are enough for both of us.”
Lillian hesitated.
“You… ordered dinner for me too?”
“Well, yes.” Stella looked genuinely confused by the question.
“In my tribe, that’s how we’re supposed to welcome someone we just met.”
Lillian stared at the spread, roasted chicken, fresh berry tarts, and braided bread.
A realization suddenly clicked in her mind.
A specific sub-tribe of western witches held a deeply sacred tradition: when welcoming someone they genuinely liked into their space, they would bypass all rules to provide a midnight feast, believing shared bread sealed a bond of mutual protection.
”A Hearth-Welcoming feast,” she blurted out naturally, her eyes scanning the layout.
“You went through the trouble of bypassing the academy’s anti-air wards just to throw a traditional coven welcome?”
The room went entirely still.
At that exact moment, Stella’s movement slowed, her emerald-green eyes narrowing just a fraction as she locked her gaze onto Lillian.
“Where on earth did you learn about the Hearth-Welcoming? That’s an old, traditional coven ritual. It’s not taught in standard academy curriculum, and definitely not to…” She trailed off, eyeing Lillian in wonder.
“How do you know that?”
A cold sweat broke out across the back of Lillian’s neck.
Her heart did a violent, panicked flip against her ribs.
Idiot.
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
She had completely let her guard down because the girl was pretty and handed her a plant.
Witches were perceptive, and she had just handed her a massive clue on a silver platter.
“I read a lot,” she forced an awkward little laugh, pulling her towel tighter around her neck.
“History books,” she added a little too quickly.
“It’s been a long time, I don’t remember what the title was. But there was… um… a chapter on regional customs.”
Stella’s eyes sparkled.
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“I’ve never met a vampire who reads the covens history for fun.”
Lillian smiled as naturally as she could, carefully lowering herself onto the floor in front of her.
“I’ve always liked reading,” she admitted, folding the towel over her shoulder.
“Not just vampire history. Everything, really. I always thought the other kin were fascinating.”
She reached for a piece of the braided bread before continuing.
“There are so many customs and traditions that never get talked about outside their own communities. It seemed like a shame… not to learn about them.” She gestured at the food.
“Thank you, by the way.”
Stella watched her for a moment before her expression melted into something tender.
“That’s actually really sweet.”
Lillian ducked her head, quietly relieved that Stella did not question her any further.
“Most people think it’s boring.”
“I think most people are boring.”
Lillian could not help the tiny laugh that escaped her.
Stella grinned triumphantly before pushing a plate toward her.
For a while, only the sounds of cutlery and easy conversation filled the room.
After a few bites, however, a question had been quietly bothering Lillian.
“…Can I ask you something?”
“Mhm?”
“Earlier…” Lillian broke off a piece of the braided bread.
“When I first arrived, you immediately assumed I was your vampire roommate.”
Stella nodded.
“How did you know I was a vampire?”
The witch looked up at her, and without hesitation.
“You looked like one.”
“I… looked like one?”
“Yeah.” Stella gestured vaguely with her fork.
“You’ve got the whole vampire vibe.”
“…What’s the whole vampire vibe?”
“Oh, you know.” Stella began counting on her fingers.
“Neat, quiet, reserved, and…” she continued, trying very hard not to laugh, “…you have that elegant thing vampires always seem to have.”
Lillian tilted her head.
“Elegant?”
“Mhm,” she stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork.
“You all walk around looking like you’re either attending a royal banquet or silently judging everyone else’s posture. It’s hard not to notice.”
Lillian frowned thoughtfully.
Because sure enough, she swore she has never looked at anyone like that.
She was not sure about the other vampires though, so it compelled her to ask, “…Do we?”
“Oh, absolutely. I’ve spent enough time people-watching to come up with opinions on everyone.” Stella leaned back and crossed her arms, suddenly warming to the topic.
“Lycans are loud. Sirens?” She wrinkled her nose.
“They act like rolling their eyes burns calories. I swear it’s their favourite form of communication.”
Lillian was, rather unwillingly, reminded of the siren from Room 213.
She had in fact rolled her eyes at her twice.
“Fae always look like they’re about to wander into a forest and disappear for three weeks. Reapers…” She shivered theatrically.
“…Reapers just appear behind you.”
Lillian nodded despite herself, recounting the times her old roommate nearly gave her cardiac arrest for appearing out of nowhere.
“And vampires…” Stella pursed her lips.
“Well… It’s the whole vampire thing! You all look so polished, like you wake up already looking important. Take Roman Laurent, for example.”
Lillian inhaled at exactly the wrong moment.
The piece of roasted chicken lodged firmly in her throat.
That name came out of nowhere.
Cough!
Cough!
COUGH!
Stella’s eyes widened.
“Oh my goodness!”
She hurriedly shoved a glass of water toward her.
“Are you alright?” She asked, looking genuinely alarmed.
Lillian grabbed it with both hands and drank as though her life depended on it.
“I’m fine…” She rasped between gulps.
“Thanks…”
Fine was perhaps the least accurate word available.
Her heart had yet to recover from accidentally witnessing Roman Laurent’s extracurricular activities less than an hour ago.
The mere sound of his name now seemed capable of reducing her lifespan by several years.
But that aside, at least Stella Montclair did not strike her as someone who read too deeply into others.
She accepted people exactly as they appeared.
Unaware, Stella seemed to be having another thoughts entirely.
“That’s funny.”
Lillian slowly lowered the glass.
“…What is?”
“Most girls choke whenever Roman Laurent comes up too.” Stella rested her chin in her palm, the corners of her lips curling with unmistakable amusement.
“Do you have a crush on him?”
For the second time that night, Lillian accidentally sprayed half the mouthful of water straight back into her own glass and proceeded to cough for the next five minutes.