Dorm Days
chapter 1: masked men
The dormitory of Ashford Academy had its own set of rules
The King pushed off the wall, his footsteps echoing in the empty laundry room they'd converted into tonight's Court. He crouched before Marcus, tilting his head like a curious predator.
Rules that existed far beyond the reach of faculty and staff
Rules that were whispered in the dark corners of communal bathrooms and passed down from senior to freshman like cursed heirlooms.
And at the top of those rules sat a throne.
11:47 PM — East Wing, Floor 4
The boy knelt on the cold tile floor, his lip split, blood dripping onto the pristine white surface.
Around him stood five figures in black hoodies, their faces obscured by identical white masks
Featureless save for a single vertical line running from forehead to chin.
But there was one mask that was different.
It sat upon the shoulders of a figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching in perfect stillness.
His mask bore a crown etched in red above the singular line.
Ul/ The king
"You borrowed money from the Court and thought you could transfer schools to escape?"
The King's voice was calm. Almost bored.
Ul/ The king
"Did no one tell you? My reach doesn't end at these walls."
The kneeling boy—a second-year named Marcus—sobbed openly.
marcus
"Please... I'll pay it back. I'll do anything. I'll be your slave, just—"
Ul/ The king
"You already are."
Ul/ The king
"Thirty days of service. You'll report to the Duke every morning at five. Miss a single day, and we'll have this conversation again."
He leaned closer, his whisper sharp as broken glass.
Ul/ The king
"But it won't end with just your lip."
Marcus nodded frantically, tears and blood mixing on his chin.
The King stood, gesturing lazily to his subordinates.
Ul/ The king
"Get him out. Clean the floor. Court is adjourned."
The hierarchy was simple, elegant in its cruelty.
At the bottom were the Slaves
students who had crossed the organization or fallen into debt. They performed menial tasks, ran errands, and served as examples.
Above them, the Commoners
The general population, those who paid their monthly "tribute" and kept their heads down.
They pretended the system didn't exist during daylight hours.
enforcers, collectors, the masked figures who carried out the Court's will
The Nobles managed territories
each floor of each dormitory wing had its lord.
The Dukes commanded entire buildings.
And above them all, answering to no one, cloaked in mystery and fear
No one knew his identity. No one had ever seen his face.
Rumors swirled like smoke
a ghost of a student who died in the old dormitory fire
Some said he wasn't even a student at all.
But everyone knew his name.
The Next Morning — 7:32 AM
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Classroom 2-A as students shuffled to their seats, yawning and clutching coffee cups from the campus café
At the front of the room, already seated, back straight, notebook open, sat Ulrich Hartmann
He was, by all accounts, the model student.
Tall, with sharp aristocratic features
His uniform was immaculate
His notes were legendary, and his test scores had never dipped below first place since his arrival at Ashford two years ago
Girls admired him from afar
thought, no one could claim to be close to him.
chapter 2: Lucas, the newbie
Whitmore
"Mr. Hartmann, good morning!"
Ulrich looked up as their homeroom teacher, Professor Whitmore, beamed at him
Whitmore
"I reviewed your supplementary essay on economic disparities in post-war reconstruction. Absolutely brilliant. Have you considered submitting it to the National Academic Journal?"
Ulrich
"You're too kind, Professor." His smile was warm, humble. "I'll look into it."
As Professor Whitmore moved on, Ulrich's gaze drifted to the window.
Ulrich
*Thirty days of service for Marcus. That should keep the second-years in line for the rest of the semester.*
His phone buzzed silently in his pocket. A message from an encrypted app.
[DUKE-EAST]: New transfer in East Wing. Room 408. Commoner status assigned. No issues
Ulrich typed back with one hand, his expression never changing.
[UL]: Noted. Standard observation period. Report anything unusual.
He slipped the phone away and returned his attention to the lecture, the perfect student once more.
Lucas Webb had never wanted to come to Ashford Academy.
The scholarship had been his mother's dream, not his.
She'd cried when the acceptance letter came, talked about opportunities and futures, and finally...
'something good happening to this family'.
He didn't have the heart to tell her he'd rather have stayed at his old school with his old friends in his old life.
A stack of boxes he hadn't finished unpacking.
A roommate who'd grunted exactly twice at him before leaving for morning classes.
And absolutely no idea what he'd walked into.
Lucas stared at the second-year standing in his doorway.
Lucas
"What do you mean, tribute?"
The older student—who'd introduced himself only as "a friend"—smiled in a way that didn't reach his eyes.
senior student
"Just a small monthly contribution. Everyone pays it. Think of it as... dorm community fees. For protection."
Lucas
"Protection from what?"
senior student
"You really are new, aren't you? Look, just pay the fifty bucks and don't ask questions. Trust me. You don't want to end up on the wrong side of the Court."
Lucas's jaw tightened. He'd dealt with bullies before. Shakedowns. Petty gang nonsense in his old neighborhood. He'd thought a prestigious academy would be different.
Same garbage, fancier wrapping.
Lucas
"I'm not paying," he said flatly. "Now get out of my room."
The second-year's expression went cold.
senior student
"Your funeral, freshman."
He left without another word.
Lucas slumped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Lucas
*What the hell kind of school is this?*
Five Days Later — 11:52 PM
They came for him on a Thursday.
Lucas woke to a hand clamped over his mouth and four figures surrounding his bed.
Before he could scream, a bag was shoved over his head, and his wrists were zip-tied behind his back.
A voice hissed in his ear
Guard 1
"and we break your fingers. Nod if you understand."
They dragged him through hallways, down stairs
The cold night air hitting his skin as they crossed what felt like a courtyard.
Then more stairs, descending, the temperature dropping.
The bag was ripped off his head.
Lucas blinked against the harsh light.
He was in some kind of underground chamber
An old boiler room, maybe, repurposed into something far more sinister.
Candles lined the walls, casting flickering shadows.
A dozen masked figures stood in a semicircle, and at the center, seated on a chair that might as well have been a throne...
Was the one with the crowned mask.
Ul/ The king
"Lucas Webb,"
The King said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
Ul/ The king
"The scholarship student who thinks he's above our laws."
Lucas's heart hammered against his ribs, but he forced himself to meet the empty eyes of that mask
Lucas
"I'm not paying protection money to a bunch of cowards who hide behind Halloween costumes."
A ripple of anger passed through the Knights. One stepped forward, fist raised
The King's voice was ice. The Knight froze.
Ul/ The king
"I admire conviction, Webb. Stupidity disguised as bravery, but conviction nonetheless."
He rose from his throne, approaching slowly.
Lucas could see now that the King was lean, athletic, moving with the fluid grace of someone who knew exactly how dangerous he was.
Ul/ The king
"But conviction doesn't exempt you from the rules. You owe tribute. Five days late. The penalty is—"
chapter 3: The mask behind the smile
Ul/ The king
"But conviction doesn't exempt you from the rules. You owe tribute. Five days late. The penalty is—"
The sound of a door being kicked in.
Flashlight beams slicing through the black.
Police man
"ASHFORD SECURITY! NOBODY MOVE!"
Knights scattered like roaches, shoving past each other toward exits Lucas couldn't see.
Someone slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. His head cracked against concrete.
Through the haze of pain, Lucas heard running footsteps, shouted orders, the squawk of radios.
He tried to stand, but his bound hands made it impossible.
He was alone now, pressed against the far wall, trapped.
The security guards hadn't spotted him yet, their flashlights sweeping the opposite direction.
But they would. In seconds, they would turn, and...
Not toward an exit. Toward Lucas.
Before Lucas could react, the King grabbed him
Hauling him to his feet with surprising strength
Ul/ The king
"There's a passage behind the boiler. It leads to the old maintenance tunnels. If they catch you here, you'll be expelled. Move."
He shoved Lucas forward, one hand on his back, guiding him through the darkness with impossible precision.
They squeezed through a gap in the wall, into a tunnel that smelled of rust and forgotten years.
The shouts faded behind them.
They ran for what felt like miles.
Finally, the King stopped, breathing hard.
They were in some kind of junction
Lucas's legs were shaking, his wrists aching from the zip-ties.
Lucas
"Why help me? You were about to—"
Ul/ The king
"Punish you?"
The King's voice was strained. Different
Ul/ The king
"But I don't let anyone get expelled. That's not... that's not what this is about."
He reached up to adjust his mask—and froze.
A chunk of the left side had broken off during the chaos, exposing a sliver of jaw, a cheekbone, the corner of a mouth.
For a long moment, neither of them moved
Then Lucas's eyes adjusted to the moonlight
The way the King held himself, that unconscious aristocratic grace.
No. No, that's impossible.
Lucas
"That cut on your jaw. I saw it this morning. In Professor Whitmore's class. You said you nicked yourself shaving."
The King went very, very still.
The name hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached up and removed the broken mask entirely.
Pale gray eyes met Lucas's.
The untouchable golden boy of Ashford Academy..
Ulrich said softly, his expression unreadable
Ulrich
"This is unfortunate."
Lucas's mind was reeling, but some survival instinct kept him talking
Lucas
"All this time. The model student act. The smiles. The perfect grades. It's all—"
Ulrich's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
Ulrich
"How poetic. Yes, Webb. It's all a mask. And now you've seen beneath it."
He stepped closer. In the moonlight, stripped of his disguise, he looked younger.
But his eyes, those pale, calculating eyes...
Ulrich
"So here's the question, What happens now? You know who I am. You could go to the administration. The police. You could tear down everything I've built with a single sentence."
Lucas
"And you could kill me down here. No one would ever find the body."
Ulrich
"But I won't. That's not the kind of king I am."
Lucas
"Then what kind are you?"
Ulrich
"The kind who recognizes potential"
Ulrich studied him for a long moment.
Ulrich
"You didn't beg, Webb. Not once. Even when you were surrounded, bound, about to be beaten"
Ulrich
"You looked me in the eye and called me a coward."
He stepped back, gesturing toward the tunnel behind Lucas.
Ulrich
"That passage leads to the East Wing basement. Go back to your room. Get some sleep. And tomorrow..."
Ulrich was already walking away, disappearing into the shadows.
But his voice echoed back, calm and certain.
Ulrich
"You won't. Because you're curious now. You want to know why. You want to understand."
Ulrich
"And maybe—just maybe—you want to see if you can beat me."
Lucas stood alone in the moonlight, hands still bound, heart still racing.
He should run to the nearest authority figure and blow the whole thing wide open.
And somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the anger, there was something else.
Something that felt almost like...
He started walking toward the East Wing, Ulrich's final words echoing in his mind.
Lucas
*The game had just begun.*
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