The Welcome Party, hosted in the central courtyard and surrounding student union spaces, marked the true beginning of student life. It was not just about academia anymore—it was about living on campus, building friendships, finding passions, and making memories that would stretch far beyond classrooms.
By now, first-year students had already signed up for clubs—some enthusiastically, some just checking boxes, some out of peer pressure. Most had not yet even met the upperclassmen or experienced the true pulse of campus life.
This party? It was designed for that.
An informal yet grand event, organized by the Student Union with the support of various clubs, to properly welcome all new students and celebrate the diversity of the university community. Each club was encouraged to participate—not to recruit, but to build a sense of belonging. The atmosphere was vibrant, a mix of carnival and concert, with stages, booths, food stalls, and quiet corners for people to escape to.
Still, the party was open to all students, regardless of their club affiliations—a place to gather, to observe, to stumble into unexpected friendships… or drama.
It was a night meant to turn strangers into something more.
Mira stood in front of her mirror, frowning slightly at her reflection. She had let Camille talk her into it—a soft, flowery off-shoulder dress that fluttered slightly at the hem, delicate but not overly formal. Her hair was down for once, wavy and loose, a soft contrast to her usual tight ponytail.
She had even put on light makeup, subtle but defining, with a touch of rose on her cheeks and lips. The final, regrettable touch: high heels. She wobbled slightly as she tested them, cursing quietly under her breath. Why did she agree to this again?
Normally, she would've taken the stairs. She liked the exercise. "Green energy," she always said, waving away the elevator with a smirk. Five flights weren't much. It made her feel grounded, like she was earning each day with every step she took. No need to waste electricity for the sake of convenience.
But tonight, the heels made that vow impossible.
Adrian had just stepped out of his room across the hall, carrying something large and awkward in his arms. A long box, strapped down, probably filled with tools or equipment for the Rare Plant Club. She recognized him immediately, though they'd only spoken once, briefly. Quiet, unreadable, always with that air of subtle detachment.
They exchanged a silent nod, and Mira gave a slight smile. "Need help with that?" she asked, gesturing toward the box.
He glanced down at her shoes. "You sure?"
Without a word, Mira bent down and, with practiced ease, slipped off her heels, holding them in one hand. "Yeah, sure. Don't mind me. These things are inconvenient anyway."
Adrian's eyes flickered—just a bit. Not quite a smile, but a trace of surprise, something unspoken. She stood there barefoot in her flowery dress, completely unfazed, as if walking through a dormitory hallway like that in early autumn was the most natural thing in the world.
He shifted slightly, making room for her beside him. "Alright," he said quietly.
They walked toward the elevator together.
They reached the elevator. Their hands brushed as they pressed the button at the same time. A tiny, wordless moment.
When they stepped out on the ground floor, Mira stopped, shifting her weight to try and put her heels back on. One foot in, and as she reached for the other, her ankle wobbled.
Before she could fall, Adrian's hand was already there, catching her arm.
She looked up, startled. He was steady, silent.
"…Thanks," she murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
He nodded, his hand dropping away as quickly as it had appeared.
They didn't say goodbye. Just walked—him to wherever he needed to be, her toward the music and voices already echoing from the welcome party hall.
But the image lingered: a girl in a party dress, barefoot in autumn, moving forward without hesitation.