I finally made it to the dormitory.
The Gold Class dormitory, to be exact—the kind reserved for the elite, the prodigies, and those burdened with expectation.
Its towering fra stood proud beneath the orange glow of the descending sun, casting elongated shadows across the marble steps.
Every inch of it exuded prestige.
And right there, waiting for near the grand entrance beneath the wide stone arch, stood Johanne.
She was motionless, like a statue carved from obsidian, dressed sharply in her academy uniform.
That black military uniform.
It clung to her tall fra with a cold precision, stiff in design, formal to the point of discomfort.
But the cut didn’t quite match the curves she now possessed.
It was clearly tailored back when she was still a man, and the difference in body structure made it subtly awkward—just enough to notice.
The fabric folded strangely at the shoulders, and the buttons pulled ever so slightly at the chest, despite her efforts to conceal it.
Despite being female now, nothing about her scread femininity.
In fact, it was quite the opposite.
She stood there, legs planted firmly, shoulders squared, chin lifted in that stiff, soldier-like posture that could’ve been taken straight from a training manual.
There was no elegance in her presence.
Her chest was bound tightly with cloth, the rough wrappings pressed so firmly against her skin that not even the outline of her breasts was visible.
It was flattened—intentionally and forcefully.
She didn’t want anyone to see.
She didn’t want to be seen.
When her eyes t mine, her expression softened.
She smiled.
It wasn’t a wide smile, not radiant or charming. It was just subtle, controlled and almost hesitant.
The kind that told you more about what soone was holding back than what they were showing.
"I’m here. Sorry for being late," I said as I reached her.
"No. You’re just on ti," she replied, her voice calm and level, like always.
"Shall we go to your room, then? I don’t think this is the best place to have a conversation."
The mont lingered.
Students were passing by, stepping through the dormitory doors, their voices a steady murmur of chatter and footsteps.
But I could feel their eyes with so being discreet but others not so much—drifting in our direction.
Specifically, toward Johanne.
Well, I suppose it was to be expected.
The news had already exploded across the internet.
The article revealing Johanne’s true gender had spread like wildfire.
A figure everyone had respected as a man... only to be unmasked as a woman.
It was shocking.
That kind of revelation doesn’t just fade away.
It sticks in people’s minds. It festers in whispers and stares.
And because of that, we couldn’t afford to talk out here.
Not when people were already whispering behind their hands, glancing sideways as they passed.
Without another word, we turned and began walking toward her room.
The silence between us was weighty—not awkward, just... dense. Or loaded, I guess. It was the silence of people preparing to say sothing important.
When we finally reached her door, she unlocked it and stepped aside, motioning for to enter first.
The mont I stepped inside, I understood sothing about Johanne.
Her room was... incredibly simple.
Painfully so.
A neatly made single bed sat in the corner, clean white sheets pulled taut.
A couple of utilitarian cabinets lined the wall—probably holding folded uniforms and a few personal items. There was no decorations. No signs of personality either.
And on the wall hung a single item... a sword scabbard.
It wasn’t decorative. It wasn’t for show. It was used.
The whole room radiated a kind of disciplined minimalism... the kind you’d expect from soone who lived by the blade, who woke up to training and went to sleep to the rhythm of a strict ntal code.
"Sorry. I haven’t had the ti to clean up lately. I’ve been... busy with a lot of stuff," she said, a faint blush touching her cheeks. The redness stood out against her pale skin.
"It’s fine," I replied casually. "If this is what you call ssy, you should see my room."
Mine wasn’t disgusting, sure—but compared to this, it was a disaster zone. Heaven and earth.
If this was ’unclean’ to her, then my room was basically a battlefield.
"For starters, do you want to have a seat?" she asked, gesturing to a simple chair near the wall.
I nodded and took the seat, the wooden legs creaking faintly as I leaned back.
She walked across the room and sat down on the far side—purposefully leaving so space between us.
It wasn’t distance out of discomfort... more like formality.
She was preparing herself.
"So?" I began, eyes fixed on her. "What do you want to talk about?"
Of course, I already knew what was it.
She had told over the phone.
Still, I played along.
I wanted to ease her in and give her room to speak. The kind of room she probably didn’t have with anyone else.
"Uh... well..." she mumbled, glancing down for a mont before closing her eyes.
Then, after a few breaths, she opened them again and t my gaze.
"I want... to have you... um, I an... I want you to help decide, Leon."
"Why?" I asked her softly.
This wasn’t my decision.
If she wanted to go back to being a man, I would understand.
I’d have to let go of the idea of fully dominating her—but I’d respect that choice.
If she wanted to stay a woman, that was fine too.
This wasn’t about anyone else.
Not .
Not the academy.
Not society.
This choice belonged to her—and only her.
It was her right to make.
She didn’t need for that.
"I want to reaffirm sothing," she said quietly.
Her eyes closed again, her breath hitching slightly like she was bracing for sothing.
"I want to understand what I really feel. I want to know which choice is the right one... and if that choice will lead to sothing good. I just... I really want to know."
Her voice wavered.
She was holding back so much.
There were so many questions and so much fear, maybe even guilt.
Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure what she was trying to say.
But I could see it in her eyes.
It was conflict.
A storm of doubt brewed behind those irises.
A man who had lived believing he was born male.
A woman who was now standing in her original skin.
Anyone in her position would be torn apart by that.
"I wanted to know..." she whispered, her voice trembling, almost cracking. "That’s why... I called you over here. So that I could know..."
Her words trailed off, caught in her throat.
That tremble... it probably wasn’t just nervousness. It was vulnerability. Fragility behind the mask of discipline.
I didn’t interrupt her. I didn’t rush her.
I just waited.
After a while... she finally spoke.
"...Can you have sex with ?" she asked.
Her voice cracked near the end, and the mont the words left her lips, she cast her eyes down to the floor, squeezing them shut as though trying to block out the embarrassnt clawing up her spine.
Her fingers fumbled anxiously in her lap, twisting around each other, knuckles pale from how hard she was gripping.
"I know this must sound completely shocking," she continued, "but... I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now. Even back when I was still a man. I’ve never... never felt this way about anyone before. Not once. That’s why I was so confused at first. I kept trying to deny it, trying to convince myself that it was sothing else. But I’ve finally realized what it really is. And even though it’s a little shaful to admit... even though I was a man back then... I think I’m in love with you."
She bit her lower lip and let out a breath that shook with vulnerability.
"No... that’s wrong. I know I’m in love with you. I think... I think I already knew it before I even admitted it to myself."
Then her mouth started moving too fast for her own thoughts to keep up.
She started spewing words.
Her words were rushed, frantic, almost like her brain was trying to dump everything before her courage ran out.
It all turned into a blur of jumbled phrases and half-ford sentences.
Her voice picked up in speed, stumbling over itself like a train going off the rails.
I couldn’t even follow it anymore. It was just a ss of sounds.
"I—When I kissed you back then... I-I turned back into a woman. I didn’t understand it at first, and it freaked out, but... but after Miss Dorothea explained everything to ... it all made sense. I realized... I believe I’m in love with you."
I slowly stood up from my chair, not saying a word.
Her eyes flicked toward , and the color visibly drained from her face.
"I-I see..." she stamred, her voice small and strained. "Even though I have the body of a woman now, I was still a man in your eyes. That... that kind of thing doesn’t just change, does it?"
She blinked rapidly, her expression crumbling. It was clear that she thought I was rejecting her.
"You must be disgusted. Of course you would be. I’m sorry," she muttered, biting down hard on her words. "Just... please forget about it. Pretend I never said anything."
She started to rise from her seat, probably intending to end it all there and to run away before it hurt more.
But before she could take another step, I reached out and grabbed her hand.
A pause.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Huh...?" she blinked, startled.
"If you have sex with ... you might not be able to go back to being a man," I told her, my tone turning serious.
I wasn’t talking about her body.
I was talking about sothing deeper—sothing beneath the skin.
The mont she experienced those feelings with —those sensations, those emotions, those desires awakened as a woman—it would be sothing she couldn’t unfeel.
She wouldn’t be able to erase it from herself later, not even if she tried to return to the identity she once had.
That’s why I needed her to be certain. This wasn’t just about sex. It was about her choice and her path forward.
She went quiet.
Her throat moved as she swallowed hard—so hard, I could hear it.
It was like her saliva had thickened into syrup. She winced a little, struggling to get it down.
Then she nodded, slowly... but with resolve.
"I’m sure," she said softly. "I want to know... my choice."
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