Chapter 250: The ’Housing Unit’

Words : 1063 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Chapter 250: The ’Housing Unit’ Hey everyone, Just a quick heads-up—this Chapter is a make-up release for last week. I accidentally only posted 2 Chapters over the weekend (Saturday & Sunday) instead of the usual amount. To make up for that, I’m posting this bonus Chapter today, and there will be another extra Chapter uploaded tomorrow as well. Sorry for the mistake, and thank you all for your support and understanding! – Author ***** He didn’t say anything. He just looked around. Let it all settle. Then the panel on the wall blinked. [WELCOME: ETHAN NOCTURNE] [ORIENTATION BEGINS TOMORROW AT 0800] [YOUR PRESENCE HAS BEEN NOTED] [THE UNIVERSITY AWAITS] He didn’t fully understand the last line. But he didn’t need to. The place already felt different. Not in a bad way. Just sharper. Like the walls were paying attention. Not judging—just aware. Ethan took a slow step forward. The floor beneath his feet adjusted gently, molding around the weight of his movement. It wasn’t soft like a cushion or hard like tile. It was somewhere in between, warm underfoot with a steady firmness that kept you grounded. The entire suite had that same feel. Open, calming, but ready. It wasn’t sterile. And it wasn’t flashy either. More like someone had designed it for function first, but didn’t forget comfort. To the left was the kitchen. Not a cramped corner. The layout curved outward, with clean counters and built-in panels you couldn’t spot at first glance. A few drawers pulsed faintly when approached, and a light ripple shimmered across one of the surfaces when Ethan brushed past it. No fridge in sight. But Everly found it. A palm-scan drawer near the back hissed open, revealing layers of storage trays with fresh ingredients sealed behind a clear shield—meat, fruits, vegetables, even some grains. Not pre-cooked, they were not freeze-dried, but real food, and good food. She whistled. "Guess we’re not stuck with protein bars after all." She touched the oven panel. It blinked in response. [RECOGNIZED: EVERLY MOONSHADE] [KITCHEN ACCESS GRANTED – LEVEL 2] Everly smirked. "Nice." Evelyn had wandered to the massive window that lined the entire outer wall. She stood quietly, arms folded, eyes locked on the courtyard below. There was a garden. Clean stone paths. Trimmed hedges. A small reflective pool at the center. Beyond that, a domed structure was made from what looked like woven roots and transparent crystal, resembling a greenhouse and library combined. She pointed. "That’s a sparring platform over there. Shielded." Ethan leaned beside her, scanning the space. "Looks unused." "For now," she replied. "But it’s shared. So we’ll probably have company." Everly came over, now munching on something from one of the snack trays. "I call the bedroom with the moonlit ceiling." "You haven’t seen them yet," Ethan said. "I don’t need to. I feel it." They made their way down the side hall. The lights shifted automatically as they moved, adjusting brightness and tone without flicker. Three doors lined the corridor. Ethan took the one on the left. His room opened with a soft click. It was big. Not fancy or overdone—just... intentionally spacious. Like it was built to give him room to think, to breathe, to move. The bed was embedded into the floor slightly, with a floating layer under the mattress that adjusted when he sat on it. The edges glowed faintly as he walked around, responding to movement. The walls weren’t just panels—they were full display surfaces, ready to project anything: news, simulations, entertainment, or tactical feeds. He waved a hand. The room dimmed. Night mode kicked in smoothly. There was a desk in the corner. Simple. Sturdy. Set into it was a touch panel for system access, a few drawers, and—oddly—a real notebook. Paper. And a pen. He didn’t open it. Not yet. Instead, he stepped out. Everly had already made herself at home in the second room. Her bed was crescent-shaped, tucked under a projected ceiling of soft stars that slowly shifted across an illusion of night sky. She grinned. "Told you. Moonlight ceiling." The room matched her perfectly—playful, light textures, soft floral padding on the walls. She was syncing the room controls to her voice already. Evelyn’s room was quieter. Cool-toned. Soft greys and charcoal with faint silver accents. She’d already activated the meditation orb in the corner—it hovered a foot above the floor, humming lightly as it pulsed to her breathing. When she touched it, the hum shifted tone. The rooms weren’t random. They were tuned. Individually. Back in the main hall, a new panel lit up. [SECURITY LEVEL: PRIVATE SUITE ACCESS LOCKED] [GUEST ENTRY REQUIRES RESIDENT PERMISSION] [DAILY CLEANSING CYCLE SET TO 0900 HOURS] Ethan read it, then stepped closer. The lighting shifted again. It was past evening. The room dimmed into lowlight mode, and small embedded lights along the ceiling pulsed in rhythm with an artificial night sky. Not bright. Not distracting. Just there. Everly returned with two drinks—mildly fizzy, crystal clear. She handed him one, then dropped onto the couch. "I’m not gonna lie, although we were told that we would get our very own housing unit, but I thought it would be something small, but not this." Ethan sipped the drink. Cool. Smooth. "Yeah," he said. She raised an eyebrow. "You think it’s because of your rank?" He shrugged. "That might be part of it." But they both knew better. Lilith. This wasn’t a coincidence. The arrangements, the terminal access, the suite—someone had planned ahead. Not to spoil him. But to protect him and make sure his college life will be perfect This wasn’t just a reward. It was a strategy. He didn’t say it aloud. Everly asked, "You think this will last?" Evelyn was already at the open window, watching the stars. "Not if we waste it." Silence again. Not awkward. Just quiet. The suite didn’t feel like a dorm. It didn’t feel like temporary housing either. It was closer to a private estate. Each room had its own bathroom with advanced temperature controls, scent syncs, and shower memory functions that tracked comfort settings. Even the sinks adapted the water flow based on how you moved. In the back, a curved sliding door led to an outdoor courtyard. They stepped through. No neighbors on either side. Just clean air, stone floors, and an actual tree in the center of the courtyard—growing from real soil.

Chapter 250: The ’Housing Unit’

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