Chapter Thirty-Two: Finding a Place to Stay

Linchuan Academy was a prestigious school for the nobility. To justify the hefty tuition fees, the academy was equipped with the finest and most expensive educational tools—state-of-the-art laboratory equipment, computers, projectors, and more. The principal placed great emphasis on the security system, hiring professional guards, many of whom were veterans with excellent service records. Their patrols around the campus employed expert methods, conducted three times daily, leaving no hiding spots unchecked.

Tonight, it was Tomo Kirino’s turn to patrol the science building. Since there were no students on campus, only a few streetlights were left on to save energy, leaving some areas dimly lit. Holding a flashlight, Tomo meticulously inspected every possible hiding place—the countertops, plant beds, even trash bins—searching for any sign of intrusion.

Having found no one and noticed nothing unusual, Tomo was about to move on to the next area when a soldier’s instinct told him someone was nearby. He had just thoroughly checked all the usual hiding spots; could his instinct be wrong? Impossible. It had saved his life several times on the battlefield.

A shadow stirred in the pavilion. Tomo caught it from the corner of his eye. To his shock, someone was hiding in the pavilion—a place hardly suitable for concealment. How had he missed it? Was it carelessness on his part, or something else?

With a flashlight in one hand, Tomo’s other hand found the security baton clipped to his belt. He cautiously approached the pavilion.

His left hand slowly raised the flashlight upward while his right hand gripped the baton tightly, ready for action.

Lying on a wooden bench, Yū Kurohane opened his eyes. In the darkness, his shiny black eyes flickered, then he closed them again, as if never having awakened.

“Ahh, huh.” Yū turned over, yawned, and went back to sleep.

The instant Yū moved, Tomo’s flashlight illuminated his body. Seeing him asleep, Tomo hesitated for a moment. As the light swept over his face, Tomo was taken aback—it was the transfer student who had arrived just today. Why hadn’t he gone home yet? Why was he sleeping here?

“Hey, student,” Tomo called, stepping beside Yū and shining the flashlight on him, raising his voice.

“Huh? What? It’s so bright,” Yū mumbled, shielding his eyes with his right hand to block the glare.

“Why are you still here sleeping after school? Don’t you have a home to go to?” Tomo asked quietly, watching as Yū remained lying on the bench, reluctant to get up. Now that he knew Yū was indeed a student here, there was no need to make a fuss. Too much noise might cause other guards to assume something was wrong and rush over, wasting their patrol. They needed to avoid creating openings for others to slip in.

“Home? I don’t have a home to go to,” Yū answered, sitting up. He bit his lower lip and looked sadly at the floor.

“No home? That can't be true. Don’t you know you’re not allowed to stay on campus after school?” Tomo frowned. Even as a transfer student from a rural area, no matter how poor, surely he had somewhere to live. The implication was painful—did his parents abandon him?

“Um, I don’t have parents. I’ve been living off government subsidies. When I came here, most of my travel expenses were covered, but I have no money left to find a place to stay. So, Uncle Kirino, could you just pretend you didn’t see me and let me stay here?” Yū smiled wryly, his expression genuinely pitiful.

“Did the school not provide any living expenses or support?” Tomo asked. Wasn’t Yū ‘bought’ by the school? Why hadn’t they arranged anything considering his circumstances?

“I don’t know. Oh, they gave me a meal card, but the cafeteria doesn’t seem to be open,” Yū said, rubbing his stomach and taking a deep breath to flatten it.

“No scholarship or any assistance?” Tomo’s heart softened, tinged with indignation. For such a poor student with a tragic background, the school only gave him a meal card and no place to stay. That was utterly stingy.

“No. I suppose scholarships can only be applied for after the exams, once you get good grades,” Yū replied.

“Gurgle—” Yū’s stomach growled loudly in the quiet night, sounding especially harsh to Tomo, who had endured hunger himself. It was unbearable to send Yū out into the cold night. A child from a remote area with no place to live—where would he go? Sleep on the streets? Or worse?

Tomo remembered his own hardships when he first arrived in the big city. He knew how complicated city life could be. One wrong decision might push Yū onto a path of crime.

“You must be hungry, right? How about this: once I finish my patrol, I’ll take you to my dorm and make you some noodles,” Tomo offered after a moment’s hesitation. He sympathized deeply with Yū’s plight. Likely, the school’s decision to provide him subsidies had been blocked by some bureaucrat. Tomo didn’t have the power or courage to fight for Yū’s rights—after all, he didn’t want to lose his well-paying job. So he could only do what was within his means.

In truth, Ayumi Yoshida had helped Yū apply for several subsidies, but Izumi Inoue had ordered that if Yū could survive on his own, all those funds were to be withheld and redirected to others in need.

“Okay, okay!” Yū eagerly nodded in excitement. Finally, he could eat without money. Having survived on tree bark, muddy water, and raw meat, Yū was not picky about food—anything edible was a blessing.

“Wait here for a bit. I’ll finish the rest of my patrol and come back for you,” Tomo said, watching Yū’s anticipation. His eyes grew moist as he turned and hurried out of the pavilion, not wanting to keep Yū waiting long.

Yū was the first student to call him by name. Both were born into impoverished families. Tomo once thought his own life was hard, but Yū’s plight was even worse. At least Tomo had parents and a place to shelter, no matter how poor.

Half an hour later, Tomo completed his patrol with no anomalies. Returning to the pavilion, he saw Yū seated on the stone steps outside, eagerly waiting. Tomo smiled and waved.

The dorm was a small forty-square-meter room. On the far left stood a single bed, its blanket and pillow neatly folded into a square. Beside the bed was a small television. On the right were a rice cooker, an induction stove, and some simple cookware and ingredients.

“Go sit on the bed and watch some TV. I’ll cook the noodles quickly,” Tomo said, taking off his jacket and washing his hands in the balcony sink before turning on the induction stove to boil water.

In less than ten minutes, two bowls of noodles were ready, each topped with two fried eggs.

Yū grabbed a bowl, immediately picking up an egg with his chopsticks, chewing quickly before swallowing, then slurping the noodles noisily.

In under two minutes, Yū’s bowl was empty. Even Tomo, a former soldier, was impressed by his speed.

“Um, would you like to try this bowl too?” Tomo offered the untouched second bowl.

“Thank you,” Yū accepted without hesitation and eagerly began eating again.

Three minutes later, that bowl was empty as well.

“Want me to make you some more?” Tomo admired Yū’s straightforward, unpretentious nature. In the military, mealtime was a scramble—slow eaters often missed out, and there was no time for formalities.

“No, no, it’s enough. Sorry for eating yours too,” Yū said, putting down his bowl with a sheepish grin.

“It’s fine. I already ate with the others earlier,” Tomo waved off the apology and gathered the empty bowls.

Yū made himself comfortable on the bed, turning on the TV.

Outside the school, a group of street thugs stood wearily a few meters from the Linchuan Academy gate, lined up on both sides of the road. They stared at the gate, frustrated. It was almost midnight. Where was that person? Had he really run off? But their boss’s orders were clear—they couldn’t just leave. Gritting their teeth, they kept watch.

When Tomo returned from the balcony, having washed the dishes, Yū was already asleep on the bed.

Tomo smiled wryly, turned off the TV, and, without anger at Yū’s casualness, gently pulled the blanket over him. From a cheap, portable fabric wardrobe nearby, he took out another quilt and laid it on the floor beside the bed as a makeshift sleeping spot.

Men were simple creatures—no fuss, no rituals. After a long day, they collapsed into sleep, shedding the fatigue of the day, ready to fight again tomorrow.