I stood in front of my dorm room mirror, adjusting my red and yellow striped tie one more time. The freshman colors felt a little obvious, but at least they looked better than I'd expected when I first got fitted for the uniform.
Red tie with yellow stripes for us newbies, blue stripes for sophomores, green for juniors, and black for seniors. Simple enough system.
The navy blazer actually looked pretty good on me, especially with the way I'd done my hair this morning. Even in the standard uniform, I could make this work.
"You ready for this?" Maya asked from behind me, smoothing down her own blazer nervously.
"Born ready," I replied, grabbing my bag. "First real day of college. Time to see what AMU can actually teach me."
Elara emerged from her room looking effortlessly perfect as always. Same uniform as the rest of us, but somehow she made it look elegant instead of institutional. And of course, even the conservative cut of the blazer couldn't hide her natural assets.
Focus, Miyuki. You've got more important things to think about.
9:00 AM
Magical Theory and Applications turned out to be exactly what I'd hoped—actual advanced content instead of the basic stuff we'd covered in high school.
Professor Elena Nightweaver was the kind of instructor who clearly expected excellence. Sharp-eyed, no-nonsense, with the air of someone who'd seen plenty of confident freshmen crash and burn over the years.
"Magic is not about raw power," she announced to the lecture hall filled with about sixty students. "It's about understanding, control, and application. Anyone can throw around flashy spells. Professionals understand the underlying principles."
I took notes eagerly, actually excited about the complexity of what we were covering. Magical energy theory, spell construction principles, the relationship between emotional state and casting effectiveness. This was university-level content—the real deal.
During the discussion portion, I didn't hesitate to participate.
"The interaction between caster intent and spell structure," I said when Professor Nightweaver asked about magical consistency. "If you don't understand why a spell works, you can't reliably modify or enhance it."
"Correct, Miss...?"
"Shadowmere. And that's why practical application has to be built on solid theoretical foundation."
She nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Too many students want to skip to the impressive techniques without mastering the fundamentals."
I belong here. Dad was right—I earned this spot.
Looking around the classroom, I could see the mix Professor Nightweaver was talking about. Some students taking careful notes, others looking overwhelmed, a few clearly thinking they already knew everything. The usual academic hierarchy starting to form.
I spotted a couple of interesting guys—a dark-haired human who seemed genuinely engaged with the material, a high elf with sharp features who was asking intelligent questions. College men were definitely a step up from high school boys in the intellectual department.
Fire Magic Specialization was what I'd really been looking forward to. The classroom was smaller—maybe fifteen students total—with specialized equipment and fire-safe training areas.
Professor Gareth Flameborn looked exactly like what you'd expect from a fire magic specialist. Tall, weathered, with the kind of calm confidence that came from years of working with dangerous magic.
"Fire magic is about precision," he began, surveying our group. "Power without control is destruction without purpose. Control without power is academic theory. You need both."
"Today we're doing baseline assessments. I want to see what you can do, not what you think you can do. Mr. Torres, you're first."
A nervous-looking human stepped forward and conjured a small fireball that sputtered and died after a few seconds. "Still working on sustained casting," he muttered.
"Nothing wrong with that. We'll build your endurance." Professor Flameborn made a note. "Miss Ashford."
A confident high elf conjured a decent fire bolt that shot across the room and dissipated against the target. Solid technique, nothing fancy.
A few more students demonstrated various levels of ability. Some impressive, some clearly struggling, most somewhere in between.
"Miss Shadowmere."
My turn.
I stepped into the practice area and took a deep breath, focusing on what I wanted to create. Not just any fire spell—something that would show control and intent.
Sustained fire blade. Show them what solid fundamentals look like.
The magic flowed through me smoothly, years of practice making the casting feel natural. Fire erupted from my hand, but instead of wild flames, it formed into a coherent blade about three feet long. Bright orange flames that held their shape, solid enough to be a real weapon.
I held it steady for several seconds, demonstrating the control and energy management required to maintain the spell, then let it dissipate cleanly.
Professor Flameborn nodded. "Good control. Solid energy management. That's proper Tier 3 casting."
Tier 3. Not bad for a freshman baseline.
"Your foundation is excellent, Miss Shadowmere. With proper training, I'd expect you to reach Tier 5 or 6 applications by graduation. Possibly higher if you pursue advanced study."
Tier 6 by senior year. That opens up some serious corporate opportunities.
I returned to my spot feeling satisfied. Not the most impressive thing ever, but clearly competent. Room to grow into something really special.
The rest of the demonstrations confirmed what I'd suspected—I was definitely in the upper tier of the class, but not so far ahead that it felt unfair. A couple of other students showed similar potential, and one sophomore transfer student managed what looked like a Tier 4 technique.
12:30 PM
Lunch was my first real chance to observe campus social dynamics in action.
The Grand Dining Hall buzzed with energy as students grabbed food and claimed tables. I could see the invisible hierarchies at work—freshmen clustering together, upperclassmen commanding the prime real estate, various cliques and social groups maintaining their territories.
Maya, Elara, and I found seats at a table that gave me a good view of the room. I was halfway through my sandwich when I spotted Dex Morrison at a table with what were obviously other upperclassmen.
Perfect opportunity.
"I'll be right back," I told my roommates, standing up with my drink.
Dex's table was in full conversation when I approached. Something about weekend plans and football practice schedules.
"Hey Dex," I said with my most confident smile.
He looked up, and for a split second I saw him trying to place me. "Oh, hey... Miyuki, right? From the orientation tour?"
"That's me. How's your semester going so far?"
"Pretty good. You settling in okay?" His attention was polite but distracted, the way you'd talk to any random underclassman who approached your table.
"Yeah, loving it. Classes are way more interesting than high school." I gestured toward his friends. "You guys talking about the Goldspire game coming up?"
"Among other things." He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. Friendly but dismissive. "Well, good to see you're doing well. Enjoy the rest of your lunch."
Polite brush-off. Got it.
I returned to my table feeling slightly stung but not surprised. Of course a confident sophomore wouldn't be impressed by some random freshman approaching his table. I'd need to actually give him a reason to pay attention.
"How'd that go?" Elara asked when I sat back down.
"About what I expected. He's focused on upperclassmen social circles."
For now.
But as I ate, I couldn't help noticing something that made my stomach tighten. Every few minutes, guys would walk past our table, and their eyes invariably went to Elara. Not obvious staring, but definite appreciation for her elegant beauty and perfect figure.
She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't care. Just continued eating and talking about our afternoon classes like she wasn't drawing male attention without even trying.
She's not even flirting and they're looking at her like that.
Meanwhile, I'd had to work for every bit of acknowledgment I'd gotten today. Participated actively in class to get professor approval, approached Dex myself to start a conversation, made sure my personality and confidence showed through.
The thought bothered me more than I wanted to admit. I was confident, attractive, smart, sexually experienced—everything that should make college guys interested. But natural beauty and a perfect body apparently trumped all of that.
10:00 PM
Back in our suite, I flopped onto my bed and kicked off my loafers. First day of real college classes—officially survived.
Bzzt bzzt
My phone lit up with a text.
【Dad: How was your first day, sweetheart? Classes living up to expectations?】
I smiled despite my exhaustion. Of course Dad would check in.
【Me: Amazing! Magical Theory was exactly what I hoped for - actual advanced content. And my Fire Magic professor thinks I have potential to reach Tier 6 by graduation 🔥】
【Dad: That's my girl! Tier 6 opens up some serious career opportunities. Corporate security firms love that level of expertise】
【Me: That's the plan. Combat training starts this week too - the facilities are incredible】
【Dad: Proud of you for following your goals. Get some rest and keep it up】
【Mom: Hey sweetie, Dad said he was talking to you. I told him it was probably too late but he insisted on checking in】
【Me: It's fine Mom, just getting ready for bed. First day went great】
【Mom: Good! Are you eating enough? And dressing appropriately? Remember you're representing the family ❤️】
【Me: Yes to food, and I'm wearing the uniform like everyone else. Promise I'm not embarrassing anyone】
【Mom: You could never embarrass us. We love you】
【Dad: What she said. Now get some sleep - busy semester ahead】
【Me: Love you both 😘】
I set my phone aside and started getting out of the uniform. The blazer went on its hanger, the tie loosened and draped over my desk chair. Finally freed from the conservative school clothes, I pulled on an oversized sleep shirt and ran my fingers through my hair.
Much better.
Bzzt bzzt
Another text, this one from Kira.
【Kira: Soooo how's the view at fancy college? 👀 Any hot guys caught your attention yet?】
Now for the real conversation.
【Me: The academic guys are definitely smarter than high school. But there's this sophomore on the lightning track who's being annoyingly dismissive】
【Kira: Ooh, challenge accepted? 😏】
【Me: Exactly. Though my roommate situation is... complicated】
【Kira: Drama already? Spill】
【Me: One of them is this perfect high elf. Like, effortlessly gorgeous, naturally huge tits, guys stare at her constantly without her even trying】
【Kira: Oof. Competition?】
【Me: That's the thing - she doesn't even realize she's competition. Just exists beautifully while I have to work for every bit of male attention】
【Kira: You? Having to work for attention? That's new 😂】
【Me: College is different. Everyone's more mature, more options, higher standards. Can't just rely on confidence and personality anymore】
【Kira: Bullshit. You're smart, hot, and sexually experienced. Some high elf with good genetics doesn't change that】
【Me: Tell that to every guy who walks past our lunch table and stares at her chest instead of noticing me】
【Kira: Okay yeah that would be annoying as hell. What's the plan?】
【Me: Still figuring it out. Need to step up my game somehow】
【Kira: Or find guys who appreciate what you bring to the table instead of chasing after ones obsessed with your roommate】
【Me: The lightning guy isn't obsessed with her. He's just... not impressed by freshmen in general】
【Kira: Challenge accepted then? 😈】
【Me: Definitely. I just need to figure out how to make myself impossible to ignore】
【Kira: You will. You always do. Now get some sleep before your big academic career suffers】
【Me: 😘 Miss you】
【Kira: Miss you too. Keep me posted on Lightning Boy】
I set my phone aside and stared at the ceiling. Talking to Kira had helped crystallize what I was feeling. Academically, I was exactly where I belonged. But socially? I was going to have to be smarter, more strategic.
Tomorrow's another chance to prove myself.
I touched my grandmother's charm in my pajama pocket, feeling the familiar warm metal. She'd fought for opportunities that seemed impossible. I could figure out how to get the attention of one dismissive sophomore.
One way or another.