Days passed quietly.
Ever since I took Wang Mian and Ethan to the underground arena, they had practically turned my dorm into their second base.
At first, it was "just borrowing a wrench." Then it became "fixing a few parts." Eventually—they just started using my dorm as their personal lounge.
The problem was, my dorm was built for four people. But I was the only one assigned there.
So, to outsiders, it looked like… well, something strange.
That day, the three of us were in the cafeteria line when a group of students ahead started gossiping heatedly.
"Did you hear? Wang Mian and Ethan have been going in and out of Aurora's dorm every day lately!"
"Seriously? That's a four-person room, right? And the school only assigned it to her alone… Now it's fully occupied."
"I heard there's noise coming from there even at midnight."
"Huh?!"
"You know… those sounds—mechanical system linkups."
"Oh, I get it, 'interface adjustments' at night!"
"Tsk tsk, professional connection."
I nearly dropped my tray.
Wang Mian choked on air. "No way! They can't be talking about that time we fixed the energy pipeline, right?!"
Ethan calmly ladled soup into his bowl. "Seems campus rumors spread faster than quantum transmission."
"You're still calm?!" Wang Mian glared. "Do you have any idea what they're saying about me now?!"
I sighed and set down my chopsticks. "At least you're now officially a 'resident member' of Aurora's dorm. You've got status."
"I don't want that kind of status!"
Ethan added mildly, "Too late. You're already on the forum's front page."
"What?!"
Right then, the campus broadcast crackled to life—
"Attention, students of Dormitory 7, Room 314. Unauthorized modifications to energy circuits and neural interfaces are strictly prohibited. Please cooperate with the inspection."
The cafeteria went dead silent.
Every head turned toward our table.
Me: "…"
Wang Mian: "...I can't even eat now."
Ethan nodded lightly. "Seems the dorm's energy system really did attract attention."
"Attention my foot!" Wang Mian almost broke down.
I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing.
Laughter rippled across the room, spreading like a wave.
Wang Mian buried his face in his arms and muttered, "It's over. From now on, whenever people mention me, they'll think of the Interface Club."
I patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. At least you're not alone."
Ethan lifted his eyes and added, "We're a three-person joint project."
"Shut up, both of you!"
The table erupted with laughter. Even the next table over was doubled up, clutching their sides.
But jokes aside, life went on as usual.
The next day, we got up, trained, went to class—everything back to normal.
Except that after that, no matter where Wang Mian and Ethan went, they'd hear people whispering.
Sometimes I had to pretend not to hear, just to save them from dying of embarrassment.
That day was Professor Luna's elective.
She was known for her lectures on the aesthetics of mecha design—especially color harmony and line composition.
I could almost predict her next slide before she switched to it.
It wasn't guessing. It was instinct.
The way the lines curved, the glow of the core, the reflection angles—
Even the "aura" of the mecha on a battlefield—
I could see the complete image forming naturally in my mind.
Professor Luna was saying, "A true designer makes a mecha breathe."
I held my pen, feeling a strange tremor inside.
Maybe that's what people call talent.
What's theory to others feels like instinct to me.
Two semesters passed like that.
The Mecha Academy had four hundred and forty students from across the star systems.
And the upcoming "Midyear Examination" was the one challenge none could escape.
It was the academy's largest competition—
Four hundred and forty students, same level, all battling head-to-head.
Winners climbed the ranks, losers were eliminated.
The final ranking determined everything—
Research resources, dorm tiers, even eligibility to choose a mentor.
And at the end of the year came something even bigger—
The Inter-Academy Friendship Tournament.
A battle of pride and selection.
Each academy would send ten mecha students, ten command students,
and ten from the single-combat division.
Thirty people forming a representative team to face others.
It wasn't just a friendly match—it was the prelude to the grand Academy League, held once every four years.
Those who made the cut were often scouted by elite corps or research divisions.
So when the words Midyear Examination appeared on the schedule,
the air across campus tightened like a coiled spring.
Training ground usage shot through the roof, simulators were fully booked.
Dorm lights stayed on past midnight.
Even the laziest students buried themselves in combat logic and control drills.
I stood by the window, gazing at the night beyond the training halls.
The light and shadow reflected across my face.
It felt… familiar.
Like that time I walked out of the scrapyard, facing my very first opponent—
and every unknown in the world.
I smiled softly and picked up my communicator.
"Wang Mian, Ethan. Starting tomorrow, we train harder."