“Huff… Huff… I’m exhausted… This is all your fault… Samimi…”
The white-haired witch Bémore had just finished crossing half the grasslands to reach the Darkmoon Dormitory, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Her stamina was absolutely pitiful.
She dropped her oversized bundle and collapsed right in front of the dormitory entrance to catch her breath.
“Who are you?”
A cold, raspy voice drifted through the air. Bémore jolted upright in alarm and spun around, but saw no one.
“Who’s there?! Quit pretending to be some spooky ghost—show yourself!”
Bémore raised her L-shaped blackwood staff and glared at the seemingly empty air.
The next instant, a furry hand landed on her shoulder—and Bémore almost lost control of her bladder from the shock.
Mages were notoriously sensitive about their backs. Being snuck up on—especially without a mana shield—triggered a primal, deep-seated fear.
“Fire mage, what are you doing here?”
A beastly scent wafted from behind her.
“I’m here to report in. I’m the new resident transferring into Darkmoon Dorm,”
Bémore replied calmly, not turning around, still clutching her staff tightly.
“Doesn’t the Fire School have its own fancy castle?”
came the growling suspicion.
“Are you one of the students here? This is my dormitory transfer document. Please show it to your dorm leader.”
Bémore took out the folder and offered it backward.
“Wait here. I’ll take it to her.”
The mystery mage took the file and left.
Only after hearing the door creak open did Bémore finally dare to breathe again—and glance behind her.
As expected, the Darkmoon Dorm was a haven for weirdos. The initial encounter was basically an intimidation test.
She remained motionless at the doorway. This was the most critical interview stage—her entire undercover mission hinged on whether she could gain entry.
Now that the adrenaline had worn off, anxiety started creeping in. She’d gotten here running purely on impulse. But now, Bémore had to start thinking things through.
What if she ran into Samimi?
What if she saw Rebecca?
Both of them were old acquaintances. If they recognized her, they’d definitely oppose her staying at the dorm.
AnotherRandomStringWithNumbers1234567890Creak…
The doors of Darkmoon Dorm opened once more. Two unusual mages stepped out.
One was a muscular girl in mage robes—completely out of place. She must’ve been the one who scared her earlier with that bestial aura.
The other was a tall, classically beautiful ice-cold mage girl, with an aura even more refined than the noble family mages.
Standing side-by-side, the two looked like characters from entirely different genres.
The icy beauty held the transfer file in hand—clearly, she was the dorm leader of Darkmoon Dormitory.
“Bémore Joshua, right? You’re from the Fire School. Why are you transferring to our dorm?”
Dorm Leader Brayetta asked.
“I… offended the wrong people. See my hair?”
Bémore gestured at her snow-white hair.
“They call me the White-Haired Witch, say I’m cursed and unlucky. They chased me out.”
Total nonsense—but she said it with such sincerity that it sounded convincing. Maybe not as genuine as Samimi’s performances, but good enough to avoid suspicion.
And Bémore’s appearance was definitely… striking.
Let’s compare her to Dorm Leader Brayetta: Brayetta looked like the textbook image of a beautiful, cold mage—elegant, poised, and otherworldly.
But Bémore looked like something straight out of folklore. Her skin was ghostly pale, her face doll-like and eerily perfect. There was no trace of warmth or humanity—she looked more like a cursed artifact than a person.
If Samimi was a broken rose—hated yet pitied—then Bémore was a toxic flower, the kind you instinctively avoided.
Even among mages, people thought Bémore looked too much like a witch. Her nickname, White-Haired Witch, had nothing to do with her abilities—just pure prejudice based on looks.
In truth, she was just a socially anxious girl who never saw the sun—hence the pale complexion.
This wasn’t rare in mage circles. Plenty of mages were shut-ins who spent all day studying.
(Of course, in the future plot, Bémore would start dabbling in dark arts, eventually turning former villainess Samimi into a zombie… so maybe the author gave her this ominous nickname ahead of time as a form of foreshadowing.)
But at this point, Bémore hadn’t done any of that. And honestly, she didn’t have the power to zombify a ridiculously overpowered Samimi.
So really, she was wrongly accused.
“Witch?”
Brayetta gave her a skeptical look, inspecting her from head to toe.
“……”
Bémore, growing nervous, rubbed her hands together.
“Come in. From today on, we’re dormmates.”
Brayetta nodded.
The shadow wolf girl stepped forward and picked up Bémore’s luggage, officially welcoming her into the Darkmoon Dorm.
“Thank you…”
Bémore was stunned.
That’s it? I got in just like that?
Maybe… maybe she really did look evil enough that no one here questioned her. The heretics just accepted her like she belonged.
Also—she’d gotten lucky. Neither Samimi nor Rebecca was around. If they’d been present, this would’ve gone very differently.
“Bémore, our dorm doesn’t have many people, but we’re like a family. Everyone supports each other here.”
Brayetta guided her toward her new room, casually introducing the dorm.
Bémore trailed behind quietly, eyes darting about, nervously scanning for any sign of Samimi. So far, nothing.
“Your schedule probably won’t match ours. We usually rest during the day and come alive at night.”
Brayetta yawned—she’d just been pulled out of bed by the wolf girl.
As for the shadow wolf girl, she wasn’t exactly normal. She was bursting with energy, seemingly on standby for 20 hours a day, single-handedly handling all security for the dorm.
“Settle in first. We’ll throw a welcome party for you tonight.”
Brayetta opened the door to Bémore’s new room. The wolf girl carried in her luggage.
“Much appreciated,” Bémore said.
“Then we won’t bother you for now.”
Brayetta grabbed the wolf girl by the collar and left—to go back to sleep.
Once they were gone, Bémore shut the door and began rearranging the room, quietly converting it into a magic workshop.
But the moment the door closed…
“What’s that white-furred dog doing here?”
From the corner of the hallway, a familiar face peeked out—Priestess Rebecca.
Her expression was exactly like that of a strict homeroom teacher spying on students from around a corner.