CHAPTER 31: SUPREME HALL — MY NEW HOUSE

Chapter 31: Supreme Hall — My New House

Once they were gone, I exhaled quietly, adjusting the strap of my worn travel bag. The others were still lingering in the lobby, some pretending not to watch me, others whispering.

Ignoring them, I made my way toward the reception counter.

The sound of my boots echoed against the marble floor clack... clack... clack—until I stopped in front of the desk.

Behind it sat a woman in her mid-thirties, uniform crisp, quill moving smoothly across parchment. Her brown hair was tied back neatly, glasses perched on her nose as she scribbled notes.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me."

She looked up, adjusting her glasses. "Yes? How can I help you?"

"I’m Michael Willson. First-year. Rank 1."

For a second, she just stared. Her quill slipped, scratching a crooked line across her parchment.

"...You’re Rank 1?"

"Yes."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Wow... Rank 1 outside the Eight Families or the Royal Lineage. That’s..." She shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Unbelievable."

Her gaze sharpened, curious. "Are you a Viscount’s son, perhaps? Or Marquis? Or maybe Duke?"

I blinked at her, my patience thinning. "No. Just a commoner."

The silence that followed was loud. Her eyebrows shot up as if I’d said I came from the moon.

"A... commoner? Really?"

I resisted the urge to sigh. "Can I get my room key now?"

"Ah—yes! Sorry!" she scrambled quickly, flipping through a set of cards behind the desk before sliding one across to me. A faint shimmer of runes glowed along its edges.

"Here you go. Room 1001, seventh floor."

I picked it up, giving her a nod before turning away.

Behind me, I could still feel her eyes following me, her thoughts practically audible: A commoner at Rank 1? Impossible...

---

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, the polished silver interior reflecting faintly glowing runes. I stepped inside, pressing the engraved "7."

The platform hummed as it rose, silent but smooth. My reflection stared back at me from the polished steel messy black hair, sharp eyes, worn clothes. Not exactly the image of a prodigy.

When the doors opened again, I stepped into a quiet hallway lined with golden sconces and deep red carpet. The air smelled faintly of lavender and clean parchment.

Room 1001 stood at the far end, its door polished wood engraved with faint, swirling runes.

Sliding the card into the slot, a faint click sounded, followed by a glow of blue light.

The door slid open with a soft beep—click and I stepped inside, suitcase rolling quietly over polished marble.

"Holy..." My words trailed off as the lights flared on, shimmering across an interior so refined it made the inn I’d been staying at look like a stable.

The suite was massive. White marble floors laced with golden runes, walls paneled with enchanted wood that radiated a faint warmth. The ceiling was high, draped with a crystal chandelier powered not by candles but by glowing mana-stones that pulsed like captured stars.

The main room held a king-sized bed, its dark velvet sheets embroidered with silver threads. To the side, tall glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, overlooking the Academy grounds. Even from here I could see the distant arena and training fields, specks of cadets running drills far below.

"Not bad... not bad at all." I muttered, walking through.

To the left, a private training chamber with padded floors and adjustable dummies. To the right, a gravity room—runic circles etched into the floor, waiting for me to set the multiplier. And in the corner, gleaming like a toy I’d only dreamed of back on Earth, a VR combat simulation capsule.

My inner gamer was practically drooling. Alright, I could actually get used to this.

But what really stopped me was the kitchen.

Yes, a full kitchen. Black marble counters, a stove engraved with heat runes, cupboards neatly stocked with spices and ingredients.

The fridge ; yes, a mana-powered fridge—hummed quietly in the corner, filled with fresh vegetables, cuts of meat, eggs, and even milk.

For the first time since... well, forever, I felt something warm stir in my chest.

When was the last time I cooked for myself?

Back in my old world, gaming marathons often meant ramen, frozen pizza, and whatever I could throw together in ten minutes. But here? The Academy had actually given me tools. Ingredients. A chance.

I grinned.

"Alright... let’s see if I still got it."

Rolling up my sleeves, I opened the fridge and pulled out a few basics: eggs, fresh boar meat, onions, tomatoes, and some herbs I didn’t recognize but smelled sharp and fresh.

The pan heated up with a faint whummp as I channeled a trickle of mana into the rune-plate. The scent of sizzling oil filled the suite, instantly making my stomach rumble.

First, the onions.

Chop-

chop-

chop!

The sound echoed as my knife hit the board, quick and steady. Next, the tomatoes diced into small chunks. I tossed them into the pan, the hiss of oil greeting them like applause.

Then came the boar meat. Thick slices, seared on both sides until the kitchen filled with a smoky, mouthwatering aroma. I seasoned it with salt, crushed pepper, and those strange herbs, which sparked faintly when they touched the heat.

"Woah," I blinked as the smell turned even richer, sharper. "Okay, these herbs are definitely enchanted. Bonus points for magical flavoring."

The final touch: eggs, whisked lightly and poured in, letting the edges crisp while the center stayed fluffy. I folded them around the meat and vegetables into a golden omelet that could’ve been ripped straight from a cooking anime.

By the time I plated everything, the table looked like a feast for one—glazed boar steak, vegetable omelet, and fresh bread I’d warmed in the rune-oven.

I sat down, staring at it for a moment. For some reason, my chest felt... tight.

"...Been a long time, huh?" I murmured, almost to myself.

The first bite silenced me.

The crunch of crisped onion, the tang of tomato, the savory juiciness of boar meat, all wrapped in fluffy eggs—it was perfect. Not gourmet by any stretch, but real. Honest. Mine.

I leaned back, chewing slowly, letting myself actually enjoy it.

Back home, I never thought I’d miss cooking. But here? After everything—training, fighting, dying once already—making this meal feels... grounding.

I chuckled softly. "Alright, Academy. You can throw dungeons and monster trials at me. But as long as I can do this once in a while? I’ll manage."

I cleaned my plate until it gleamed, then washed everything in the sink, listening to the gentle splash-splash of water. Strange, how something so ordinary felt more important than all the luxury around me.

As I dried my hands, the system’s faint blue glow flickered in the corner of my vision.

[Ding—]

[Minor Buff Applied: Well-fed (+10% stamina regen for 3 hours)]

I snorted.

"Of course. Even cooking gets gamified."

Still, I wasn’t complaining. My stomach was full, my suite was better than any five-star hotel I’d seen in my old world, and for the first time since arriving here... I felt at peace.

After finishing my little feast and cleaning up, I sat down at the study desk in my suite. A stack of blank parchment, a quill, and ink waited there, courtesy of the Academy.

The smart watch reminder hovered faintly in my vision:

[Note: As First-Year Representative, you will be required to give a short speech at the Welcome Ceremony.]

I slumped back in my chair.

"Right... the speech."

For the next hour, I scribbled out idea after idea.

Draft #1:

"Fellow cadets, let us strive for excellence—"

...Nope. Too cliché. I sounded like one of those cheesy motivational posters.

Draft #2:

"As the top scorer, I humbly accept this role—"

Yeah, right. Me? Humble? The second I said that, someone like Eric would choke on their own laughter.

Draft #3:

"Supreme Hall rules! Common Hall drools!"

I rubbed my face. "Okay, yeah, definitely not that one..."

By the time I’d gone through six drafts, my parchment looked like it had been mauled by an angry chicken. Lines crossed out, ink blots everywhere, half-finished sentences like: ’We should all... fight hard? ... maybe?’

I groaned and pushed the quill away.

"Forget it. I’ll just... wing it."

My gamer brain told me this was a classic protagonist moment anyway. No matter what I planned, it would probably crash and burn once I got on stage. Better to just go with instinct when the time came.

With that, I dragged myself over to the absurdly soft bed, kicked off my boots, and collapsed. The mattress swallowed me like a cloud, the velvet sheets cool against my skin.

For the first time in ages, I drifted into sleep without thinking of monsters, exams, or death.

---

The Next Morning

Shhhhhh—

Steam filled the gleaming bathroom as I stepped out of the shower. The water here wasn’t just warm; the runes etched along the walls kept it at the perfect temperature, even scented faintly with herbs that clung to my skin.

"This place..." I muttered, drying my hair with a fluffy towel. "It’s less of a dorm and more of a luxury resort."

I was midway through buttoning a casual shirt when a sharp ding-dong! echoed from the suite door.

My eyebrows rose. "Delivery? This early?"

I padded over, still drying my hair, and swung it open.

A neatly dressed staff member stood there, holding two folded packages tied with silk ribbons. His uniform bore the Academy crest: a sword crossed with a staff, encircled by a flame.

"Cadet Michael Willson, correct?" he asked politely.

"That’s me."

He gave a crisp bow and handed over the packages. "Your official first-year uniform and your training track suit. Please be prepared to wear the uniform for today’s Welcome Ceremony."

"Got it. Thanks."

The man nodded once, then retreated down the hall with the quiet efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times.

I closed the door, curiosity buzzing as I placed the bundles on the bed.

The first package contained the Arcade Academy first-year uniform: a sharp black blazer trimmed with silver lining, the Academy crest embroidered over the chest. Beneath it was a crisp white shirt and a dark tie, along with tailored trousers and polished boots. Even folded, the uniform radiated prestige.

The second package held the training tracksuit—sleek black with subtle rune patterns woven into the fabric, designed to reinforce durability and flexibility during combat drills.

I ran my fingers over the blazer, the fabric smooth yet tough. The faint mana woven into the threads thrummed against my fingertips.

"...High-class gear, huh?" I whispered, almost in disbelief. A far cry from the patched hand-me-downs I’d grown up with.

Holding it up against myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smirk.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. Guess I’ll look like a proper protagonist after all."

I took a deep breath, folding the tracksuit back neatly and starting to put on the uniform piece by piece.

Outside, the faint echo of the Academy bells began again. The sound rolled over the campus like a heartbeat, solemn and commanding.

[Reminder: Welcome Ceremony begins in 2 hours.]

I straightened my tie, tugged the blazer into place, and glanced at my reflection.

A boy stared back—no, not just a boy. A cadet. A representative. Someone standing at the threshold of the Academy’s true beginning.

"...Time to play the role, huh?" I murmured.

And with that, I turned toward the door, ready to face the Auditorium( Ceremony Hall).