CHAPTER 457: ESCORT

When Ollie woke up to the all-too-familiar sight of his dormitory ceiling, his first instinct was to scream.

And he did—loudly.

His roommate shot up like he’d been electrocuted, clutching his chest. "WHAT?! Emergency?! Is it the quake again?!"

"No! Wait, sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Ollie flailed, hands flapping like a panicked chick.

The poor roommate collapsed back into bed with a groan, dragging a pillow over his face, muttering something about addicts.

Ollie, still panting, clutched his blanket like a lifeline. "But...but I remember I was in the library. We were prepared to die there...Why am I back in my room?!"

He turned to his poor roommate. "Did you bring me back? Or do you know how I got back here?"

The guy scoffed. "How would I know? You were already asleep when I got here. Dead asleep. Drool and everything."

Ollie gasped. "What?"

He checked himself over: pajamas? Check. Star-shaped headband perfectly placed? Check. Cuddle pillow securely in arm? Check.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he just walked back on autopilot.

Then he froze.

Because the shirt on his cuddle pillow?

Was different.

Not just different—freshly changed.

His soul left his body.

There was only one person who’d change the shirt on his cuddle pillow. In fact, only one person would be able to replace the shirt.

"Kyle," Ollie whispered in horror.

He twisted his wrist to check his terminal, and sure enough—there it was. A message. With a photo.

[Photo Attached: Kyle smiling casually, captioned: ’Dropped you off safe. Changed your shirt—didn’t drool this time. Call if you need anything.’]

Ollie nearly passed out.

K-Kyle changed me?!

"..."

"..."

His mind raced through every interaction they’d ever had—every lazy moment when he’d demanded Kyle help him change shirts or fix his hair or carry him like a sack of flour.

How come there were so many times?

Was it every day?

Ollie clutched his pillow and whispered, "Mom, what do I do...?"

And somewhere, far away, a certain adjutant’s nose probably tickled.

Meanwhile, back in the dorm room, Ollie’s roommate kept casting furtive glances at him, nervous, awkward, as if weighing the pros and cons of saying something potentially life-altering.

Ollie stared back, just as confused.

Then the guy finally spoke.

"Hey... are you planning to permanently move out or something?"

"What?" Ollie blinked. "Why would I—?"

It was such a strange question, and Ollie, who was still emotionally fragile from discovering how he’d gotten back, could not handle confusing questions this early in the morning.

"I mean... are you dropping out? Transferring dorms? Quitting school? You’ve been gone a lot lately. I figured maybe you got recruited for something," the roommate added, scratching his head.

"It was just sanctioned guild duties," Ollie looked scandalized. "I’m planning to stay! I haven’t failed! Not yet!"

He waved his hands wildly. "I’ve been studying, okay? I’ve never studied this hard in my life!"

The roommate blinked. "I didn’t say anything about failing—"

"I’m trying!" Ollie shouted, clutching his pillow like it could vouch for him. "I swear, I’m going to pass! Even if it kills me!"

"...Right. Good luck with that," his roommate mumbled, slowly pulling his blanket over his head.

But Ollie took that to heart.

In a panic, Ollie decided to rush to class that morning. The exams were just around the corner, and most of their last-minute cramming had centered around mecha manufacturing.

But that wasn’t the only subject in the curriculum.

Ollie groaned as he realized just how little attention he’d paid to his general knowledge classes, especially history. The last bit of review he had was when Kyle tried to explain family trees to him when he was introducing future family members.

He blushed furiously as he kept hopping in place.

Ugh! Don’t think about family members! he scolded himself, stomping toward the lecture hall. Who wants to be a Nox?!

A few passing students turned to look at him.

He ignored them and marched on, muttering about bloodlines, betrayal, and the unfairness of looking good in uniform.

All while trying not to imagine how Kyle had tucked him in the night before. Or, well, every night.

But lost in his thoughts, a distracted mop accidentally bumped into someone.

"Ah! I’m sorry—!" he said automatically.

Then froze.

Because the person he’d bumped into?

Was on the floor.

And it was her.

The girl from last time.

The box girl.

Ollie panicked. "A-Are you okay?!" He reached down and helped her up while simultaneously trying to vanish into the background.

But fate was not so kind.

"Oh..." She clutched her chest and winced. "I-I don’t feel so good..."

His conscience pinged like a malfunctioning alarm system.

"Oh no, should I bring you to the medical bay?" he asked, already trying to angle himself toward an escape route.

But the girl—Lyka—shook her head. "No! I can’t miss class. The exams are coming up, and I need the lessons!"

He blinked up at her. She was...so devoted. And she was right, which made him feel worse, because he himself was out here cramming. So he inevitably agreed to escort her to her classroom.

They made small talk, and he was surprised to discover that they were actually from the same class upon asking where she wanted to go. She formally introduced herself as Lyka. A classmate he probably didn’t get to know because he’d been gone a while.

"Oh... that makes sense," Ollie said, guilt building up. "I’ve been really busy lately."

"Guild matters, right?" Lyka beamed, remembering someone else in that guild. "It was something when you passed the licensure exam like that."

The normally shiny blonde turned red. In his brain, he’d mostly been skipping classes and eating.

When they finally reached the classroom, Escapist No. 2 thought he was free.

Until.

She clutched his arm.

"I really need to compensate you for this."

"No, no—it’s fine! It was my fault for bumping into you—"

"Please," Lyka said, clutching at her space button to take something out.

Ollie froze.

The box.

It was back.

And this time, she looked too happy to be offering it.

Panic swelled in his chest. His instincts screamed. His legs tensed.

"Wait—wait no—!"

She held it out.

He ran.

She chased.

He sprinted down the hall like his soul was on fire, with Lyka, who was supposed to be feeling unwell, hot on his heels, box extended like a cursed artifact.

Somewhere in the school, Kyle had begun looking for that starry mop who missed breakfast in the space.

It was unusual. For Ollie, it would be okay to miss other things, but not food. And so he didn’t like this one bit.