Hate is too soft these pigeons, screaming since 3 AM. Again, caffeine, my beloved’s giving me life.

  Things turn worse with smoke creeping under the door like a vape cloud from hell.

  Bang

  I go out, snatch the pan and yeet the demonized omelette into trash.

  Seems like Earth rules still apply, kids cook like raccoons at a Michelin dumpster.

  “Are y’all trying to summon the fire department? Sit.”

  They became pups, knowing full well about their crime against food. The elf girl is shaking like getting ratioed on main.

  I take out the surviving eggs, since most have become charcoal.

  “5 years here, get good or beg for food.”

  In a dormitory suite, 4 people share the kitchen. Rich kids gotta adult up—cafeteria’s only open noon to 2.

  I whip up scrambled eggs that could break the internet. Butter that costs more than their tuition? Obviously. Egg-to-milk ratio? Chef’s kiss.

  Sp three ptes down.

  “Snack up. Consider this your free OnlyFoods trial.”

  Girls inhale it like they never have scrambled eggs in their life, but the elf's still side-eyeing me like I’m a jumpscare, or maybe she’s a vegan.

  Other 2 humans? Basic NPC energy. Not even protagonist-adjacent.

  “Rex, I’m not here to scalp anyone. Lana Kude. Second-year martial art student. Introduce yourself before I revoke the free trial.”

  A year of suite life with girls taught me one thing: boys vs. girls is a vibe check. Same delulu, different hustle. Forget anime uwu hours.

  “Bell.”

  “Astrid.”

  Pointy-ear tries again: “I’m Lavia Seluna. From the—”

  I shut that down faster than a trauma-dump DM. “Cool lore drop. One of you better unlock ‘cleanup duty’ skill by tonight.”

  Sp an extra hex-lock on my door, elf-proofing 101 and bounce to css. Zero spoons for their origin story speedrun.

  —

  Mei’s leaning against the lockers. “New recruits?”

  “Walking OSHA viotions. Your turn next year.”

  Mei elbows me. “Look at bright side. Fresh meat to gaslight into our snack cartel.”

  She grins all yakuza-core now. Eastern princess? Dead. This girl’s got mafia princess energy since we hijacked the bck market spice trade.

  “Haha…no.”

  Professor Greg waves us over like we’re a duo pack of emotional support Red Bulls. This side gig? We’re just NPCs here to humble these babygens while the prof live-reacts to their main character flop era.

  Pros? Top-tier grade grifting. Cons? Babysitting heroes who think combat css means TikTok sword challenges.

  But tradition’s tradition. Seniors gotta crush freshman ego like it’s a Fortnite noob’s first drop. Last year? I got Sean freaking Silvrius—literal war crime himbo. Dude hit me with a “good effort” after breaking my spear. Trauma.

  Magic duel? I’d mog the cinnamon roll warcriminal instead.

  “Girls, help me set up the protection check barrier?”

  Mei switches to her Disney princess voice, “Of course, Professor Greg.”

  We sp down magic tech like it’s a Coachel stage setup, glowing hexagons boxing the arena.

  “Tradition says we crank the pain reduction slider to dramatic vilin backstory levels,” I whisper.

  Normies keep it at 50%, but where’s the spice in that? Gotta trauma-dump these babygens with a harsh skill issue reality check.

  0%.

  Fresh meat troops in all swagger and main character vibes.

  Mei cracks her knuckles. “Hands or bdes?”

  “Hands.”

  “You?”

  “Spear. Gotta stay on-brand.” I pick my weapon from the rack and twirl like it’s a viral dance trend. Main characters? Please. We’re in our glow-up vilin era.

  Top student perks: We get to gatekeep greatness. And honestly? Crushing some MC-Jesus’s ego is so on my isekai bucket list.