In the early light of the morning, a loud, persistent knock rattled Noah's door.
He groaned as he blinked awake, the haze of sleep still clinging to his thoughts.
Three days had passed since he'd been moved into the Gold dorm, and today was the first day of the week. His first official day as a Gold-tier student.
Dragging himself out of bed, he stumbled to the door and pulled it open.
A second-year student stood there, his uniform crisp and perfect. However, that was where the perfection ended.
His expression was polite but wary, as if he was an innocent delivery man that had been sent to deliver something to a terrorist. His entire expression was the definition of "don't shoot the messenger."
"What?" Noah said, trying to run the sleep out of his eyes.
The student held out his hand, fashioning his expression into one of indifference. In his hand was a small, velvet-lined box.
"Delivery." He said flatly.
