If you ask anyone outside of Primrose Union what it's like to live here, they'll usually say the same thing:
Elegant. Graceful. Sophisticated.
But that's only half the truth.
The other half?
We're just as weird as Iris House. We're just better at looking like we're not.
---
From the outside, life in the East Wing seems picture-perfect. And, honestly? It is kind of beautiful.
Our dorm buildings have ivy-covered archways and polished wooden floors. The bathrooms smell like imported lavender. There's a piano in the common room that no one uses but everyone claims to know how to play. Breakfast includes handmade yogurt parfaits and five types of tea.
We have matching umbrellas for rainy days. An etiquette board that meets weekly. Once, there was a petition to ban loud hallway slippers because they "disrupted the morning calm."
Yes, really.
That's life in Primrose Union.
And I do love it here. I do.
But sometimes, I wonder if anyone else thinks it's all a little... much.
---
I'm Airi Shiranami. First-year. Primrose Union.
To everyone else, I'm the "sweetheart" of our batch. Graceful, composed, someone who makes teachers smile when I walk in.
But the truth is: I'm just trying to breathe.
Because for every rule we follow, there's an expectation to match. For every flower arrangement, there's a hidden competition. And for every polite smile, there's a silent judgment.
Especially when it comes to Iris House.
---
"You saw what they did again, didn't you?"
That's Reina Fujimoto. Second-year. Member of what we unofficially call "Reina's Court." She's always got something to say.
"I swear, they think they're at a flea market, not a school," she scoffs as we walk through the East Courtyard.
Behind her, Sayuri Nanami gasps like it's the most shocking thing she's ever heard. "Ugh! I heard one of them wore mismatched socks on purpose. As a statement."
"And she got praised for it," adds Erika Kanzaki, a first-year like me, but already fully indoctrinated. "Honestly, standards have fallen."
They continue on like that — listing every supposed offense Iris House has committed this week.
Meanwhile, Reina is sipping imported rose water from a glass bottle. Sayuri is reapplying lip gloss in a compact with rhinestones. Erika is reading aloud an article from a student lifestyle blog titled 'How to Maintain Elegance Under Pressure.'
I glance at them.
Primrose isn't mean. But sometimes, it forgets to be kind.
---
The best part of my day, though? Tea Ceremony Club.
It's one of the few places where things slow down. Where everything doesn't feel like a silent competition.
Ayane Mizuno — our club president and the student council vice president — runs it with serene grace. She's composed in that way people try to copy but can't.
I admire her a lot. She makes it look effortless.
Today, we prepare matcha under the late afternoon light. The room is still, except for the soft sound of the whisk against ceramic.
"I adjusted the temperature a bit today," Ayane says. "Let me know if it's better."
"It's perfect," I say, smiling. And it is.
There's a peace here that I don't feel anywhere else in Primrose. Not even in the dorm gardens.
Just as we finish, the door slides open.
Haruka.
Head of the Fencing Club. Primrose's so-called "prince charming."
She steps in quietly, as usual, with her elegant posture and calm gaze. The other members greet her politely.
"You're late," Ayane says, with the softest hint of a smile.
"I was fencing. You know, defending the school's honor," Haruka replies smoothly.
There's a quiet warmth between them, the kind that makes you wonder how long they've known each other.
"You two seem close," I say casually.
Ayane sets down a teacup. "Childhood friends. That's all."
She doesn't elaborate.
I nod, but I'm not convinced.
There's something there. But in Primrose Union, you learn to keep your questions as quiet as your footsteps.
Still...
I wonder what it'd be like to talk openly. To just say what you're thinking, without weighing the consequences.
People say Iris House is chaotic.
But maybe, just maybe... that chaos lets you breathe.