Chapter 57: Money Talks
There wasn’t an elevator in the building as he walked in, which made Dapper grit his teeth. It felt intentional, like some kind of sadistic training. The stairs were designed in such a way that it seemed the builders outright hated whoever had to live here.
Eventually, Dapper arrived at his dorm or at least, what he assumed it was. He expected to see a few large rooms with bunk beds scattered around, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, there were individual rooms lined up like those in a cheap hotel, each door numbered. Dapper checked the number on his pass and walked into his assigned room.
The first thing that caught his eye was a single bed pressed against the right wall. It was worn out, clapped in, and flattened like old bread.
Next, his eyes shifted to the left side of the room. There was a small reading table with a chair neatly tucked underneath it. A thick smear of dust coated the surface of the table. The floor was just as bad—grimy, greasy tiles that hadn’t seen a mop in years. The walls had strange scribbles and crude drawings on them, as if someone had gone out of their way to make the place feel more like a jail cell than a dorm room. Then, directly ahead on the far wall, Dapper noticed a smaller door almost blending into the background. Curious, he walked up and slowly pushed it open.
Inside was a tiny closet—just enough space to stash clothes or a few belongings. But something critical was missing: there was no bathroom or toilet in the room.
Sigh. ’Just as I thought. As soon as I walked into this building, I had a feeling. Each student gets a private room, but not even a personal toilet?’ Dapper grumbled inwardly and dropped himself onto the bed.
Instantly, a sharp jolt of pain shot through his body. The bed had barely any foam left, it couldn’t even absorb his weight properly.
Just then, Dapper noticed something on the bed, a folded leaflet. He suddenly remembered Dora mentioning something about reading the leaflet in their rooms. He picked it up and began reading.
The pamphlet contained basic information about the academy—at least, the parts not restricted to students. He learned they would receive a 200 Yexen monthly allowance and three free square meals daily. Each day would focus on a single subject, and most of their time would be spent on practical lessons. The purpose of the academy, as written, was to cultivate powerful warriors and raise elite soldiers for the ongoing conflict.
After reading through the leaflet, Dapper closed it. The part about the war was vague. Everyone knew that humans and demons had once been locked in brutal conflict, but a truce had been in place for years, long before Dapper was even born.
Still, as a former criminal and someone experienced with tension between factions, Dapper could tell the peace was fragile. It made sense that the humans had built this military academy—to prepare for a war that never truly ended.