Inside was a compact room, its layout simple yet functional. Three of the walls were lined with square shower stalls, leaving the wall with the entrance for benches and a few wooden coat hangers. The air was heavy with steam, curling up from both under and above the shower stalls, giving the space a slightly hazy atmosphere.

  The floor, a pristine white, was spotless and the room carried the faint, pleasant scent of shampoo. The low ceiling felt claustrophobic; I had the distinct impression that if I jumped at full strength, my head would collide with it.

  Small rectangular windows sat just above shoulder height, positioned one or two meters apart, letting in dim natural light. A lone column stood at the center of the room, with a fading smiley face someone had drawn on it. The steam had caused the ink to bleed slightly, giving the face a warped, melancholic appearance.

  The room contained twelve shower stalls, each with its door shut—except for one. I approached it, peering inside. The stall was bone dry, as if untouched for an entire day. Hesitating for a moment, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

  "Well, okay..."

  The shower head mounted on the wall looked nothing like the ones I was familiar with. Instead of a metallic nozzle, it resembled a small wooden trunk, complete with tiny openings where the water would flow. Beneath it was a single button embedded into the wall.

  I pressed the button. Water trickled out at first, then began cascading from the openings, warm and soothing. Nodding in approval, I removed my clothes, hung them on the hooks above the stall, and stepped under the stream.

  The warmth of the water hit me, and I let out a long, contented sigh. There was something extraordinary about it—it felt cleaner, purer than ordinary water. Somehow, it managed to wash away the grime and fatigue without the need for soap or shampoo.

  Placing one hand on the tiled wall, I shut my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the water run over my face and down my body.

  “This is… good,” I muttered, my voice almost drowned out by the sound of the stream.

  After a few minutes, I decided it was enough. Pressing the button again, the water stopped abruptly. Then, to my surprise, warm air began blowing from vents in all four directions, drying me off efficiently. Holding my arms up, I let the air do its work, amazed at how quickly it evaporated every drop.

  Once dry, I put on my school uniform, feeling refreshed and alert for the first time in what felt like days.

  “Nice.” I muttered, leaving the stall.

  “Axel!” a familiar voice called from my right. “Morning.”

  I turned to see Leo emerging from a stall, his school uniform already in place. His hair, still slightly damp, clung to his face in messy strands.

  I nodded in greeting, adjusting my cravat and running a hand through my hair to shake off the last bit of moisture. The student from earlier wasn’t exaggerating—towels were practically unnecessary here. Even the floor was dry, allowing me to walk comfortably in my socks. Some sort of magic was definitely at play, keeping the entire room immaculate.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You’re up early,” Leo said, tying his hair into a loose bun. “Couldn’t sleep after the dinner with the Queen?”

  “Yeah. It was a nightmare.”

  “Heh,” Leo chuckled, buckling his pants before slipping on his boots. “I can imagine. They say our Queen is even tougher than her husband, the former King.”

  “She is,” I replied, my tone flat but filled with conviction.

  The other students began filing out of their shower stalls, fixing their hair and straightening their school uniforms while chatting in small groups. The last to leave was Aiden, still shirtless, his broad frame and well-defined muscles on full display. His physique clearly reflected his lineage as a blacksmith’s son, with a six-pack and strong, muscular arms.

  Aiden spotted us and raised a hand in greeting while slipping one arm into his shirt, then the other. He strode over confidently, buttoning his shirt as he approached.

  “Morning. You’re up early,” he said.

  “Couldn’t sleep after the dinner,” I replied flatly. “It was a nightmare.”

  “Oof. What happened?” he asked, his eyes locking onto mine as he fastened the last button. “Did she poison you or what?”

  What a guess it was. “Uh… I’ll tell you later. Long story.”

  “Long story, huh?”

  “Seker?” I asked, glancing at Leo. “Where is he? I thought he’d be with you guys.”

  Leo’s expression darkened slightly. “He went to see his mother. Poor guy can’t catch a break.”

  “Hey! People are waiting!” the student guarding the door hollered impatiently from outside. “Be quick about it!”

  “Let’s go,” Aiden said, motioning toward the door. “Breakfast, Axel?”

  “Yeah, I could grab a bite.”

  “Your Majesty wouldn’t like the peasant food we serve here,” Leo quipped with a smirk, bowing mockingly. “O’ great one, forgive us. Please.”

  “I doubt even a single chef at Queen’s palace could match Killora’s cooking,” Aiden said, chuckling as he started walking. “He is the best chef in Nu’tar. The best of the best.”

  “Oh, right. Forgot about that.” Leo scratched his head. “Guess the joke doesn’t work if—”

  “When’s the last time one of your jokes did work?” Aiden cut in. “You should give it a rest, man. Sorry to give you the bad news.”

  “Says the blacksmith with a forge stuck up his ass.”

  “Was that another joke?” Aiden asked, raising an eyebrow. “It didn’t even make sense.”

  “Jokes don’t have to make sense,” Leo shot back. “Oi, Axel. Make a joke.”

  “Hmm?” I murmured, breaking my silence as I followed them toward the door. “I’d rather not.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that! Crack a joke,” he urged.

  “Hmm…” I thought for a moment. I only knew one single joke, and it was James’. So it was probably bad. “Why did the bicycle refuse to stand up?”

  Silence. Leo and Aiden shared a confused look.

  “Well, uh, what is a bicycle?” Leo asked, looking genuinely confused. “Or who?”

  “Oh… never mind.” I waved it off.

  “What was the punchline?” Aiden asked, opening the door for us. “At least tell us that.”

  “Because it was two-tired to stand up.”

  “Too tired to stand up?” Leo repeated, furrowing his brow. “I… don’t get it.”

  “Yeah, same here,” Aiden added. “Is this bicycle person an old man?”

  “Or dead?” Leo asked. “He could be dead, who knows, eh?”

  “Just forget it,” I muttered, stepping through the doorway last and closing the door behind me. “It was a stupid joke.”

  “Sorry to judge you, Leo,” Aiden said as we walked. “Turns out you’re not the worst.”