Ren entered the building, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The girls’ dormitory was even more imposing than he had imagined. The structure of the place was impeccable, with luxurious details in every corner. The white and gold walls reflected a soft light, creating a sense of coldness and distance. A perfect place for a lie, Ren thought, feeling a lump form in his throat as he observed the surroundings.

When he reached the entrance of the dormitory, a dark wooden door opened smoothly, revealing a refined-looking woman. She was dressed in an immaculate uniform, consisting of a modest skirt and blouse, and her black hair, cut elegantly to her shoulders, added to her sophisticated appearance. Her deep green eyes resembled emeralds shining under the soft hall light.

She looked at Ren with a courteous expression, but her eyes seemed to analyze his every movement. She gave a small smile—professional rather than warm—and bowed slightly in greeting.

"Welcome," the woman spoke with a voice that was both gentle and firm, echoing softly in the empty corridor. "May I have your full name and class, miss, so I can provide you with the necessary information?"

Despite the woman’s politeness, Ren felt his stomach churn again. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but being addressed as "miss" still stung deeply. He didn’t want to be Yuki, but he was forced to be. It was impossible to ignore how his identity was being manipulated, forced into a frame that wasn’t his own.

"Yuki Amagiri," he said, trying to steady his voice, which came out weaker than he intended. "Class... A-7."

The woman quickly jotted down the information on a clipboard, her expression appearing almost approving as she looked back at Ren.

"Perfect. Your dormitory will be ready shortly. Feel free to settle in. There will be dinner later; don’t miss it." She paused briefly, observing Ren attentively. "If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me."

Ren couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on. There was something in her gaze—a way of looking that seemed to dig into his emotions without directly saying anything. He nodded, trying to mask his discomfort.

The woman walked away with a calm elegance, leaving Ren alone in the corridor, once again facing the reality of being someone he wasn’t supposed to be. He took a deep breath, forcing himself not to look back, and stepped forward.

The path ahead was far from easy, but he knew he had no choice. He would have to endure. Hide behind the mask until he no longer knew where the lie began and the truth ended.

Ren stepped away from the door, still holding his suitcase, and made his way to the reception area of the girls’ dormitory. The room was decorated with the same luxury as the rest of the building, but something about the opulence only heightened his sense of discomfort. The polished marble floor reflected his figure, a sight he wanted to avoid. It wasn’t as if he was there by choice, and every step felt like a heavier weight on his shoulders.

At the reception desk, a middle-aged woman, elegant with her hair tied in a perfect bun and wearing golden-rimmed glasses, looked at him with a distant and professional expression.

"Miss Yuki Amagiri, correct? How may I assist you?" Her voice was clear and emotionless, as if she were merely fulfilling a duty.

Already tired of being addressed as "miss," Ren forced a smile, hiding his frustration. He approached the desk and, without much effort, said:

"I need the uniform... for class A-7."

The receptionist nodded and, without another word, pulled out a form from the desk. She glanced at Ren with calculating eyes, as if seeing more than he wanted to reveal. She paused briefly before speaking, her tone as cold as before:

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"I’ll need your measurements. Can you provide your height, weight, and the measurements of your bust, waist, and hips?"

Ren swallowed hard, his hand tightening around the handle of his suitcase. Even though it was a simple procedure, her words seemed to echo in a way that made him feel small. It was another reminder of how lost he was and how forced and surreal everything around him felt.

"1.58 meters. Weight... 45 kilograms," he murmured, the words leaving his mouth like they were pushed out by a tide of discomfort. "Bust... 75 centimeters. Waist, 58. Hips... 80."

The receptionist quickly noted everything down, not even glancing at Ren as she worked, as if it were an automatic process. When she finished, she stood up with calm elegance and walked over to one of the large wardrobes that lined an entire wall of the office.

Ren watched the enormous wardrobe, filled with clothes organized with precision in soft shades of pink, white, and lavender—colors that felt far removed from anything he wanted. He bit his lip, tension growing within him. He didn’t want to see the clothes. He didn’t want to be forced to wear any of it. But he knew there was no alternative.

The receptionist opened one of the compartments and removed a white uniform with short sleeves, accompanied by a white skirt striped with thin black lines that reached the knees. The top was a simple white blouse with a red bow delicately tied at the collar. It was an immaculate uniform, but its feminine aesthetic and the expectation of wearing it made Ren feel even more disconnected from himself.

She handed the uniform to him with the same blank expression as before.

"This will be your uniform, Miss Amagiri," she said mechanically, her eyes now fixed on Ren. "Your dormitory is ready. Once you change, you may join the other students in the dining hall for dinner."

Ren took the uniform, the feeling of revulsion growing stronger. The light fabric rested in his hands, and he couldn’t avoid thinking that it was the final piece of his identity being stripped away. He was being forced to live as a stranger, and it disturbed him deeply.

"Thank you," he managed to say, his voice quieter than he intended.

He walked away from the receptionist, feeling her gaze on his back, but he didn’t look behind him. When the door closed behind him, he took a few more steps down the corridor, the weight of the uniform in his hands adding to his sense of suffocation. He was so far from who he was, so distant from anything he could call his own, and all that was left now was to move forward, to live in a lie, just as they had always told him to do.

"....I'm here."

Ren reached the door of the shared room, and with a sigh, he swiped the card over the sensor on the wall. The green light flashed, and the door opened automatically. He entered slowly, still holding his uniform, the room feeling large and impersonal.

Looking around, his eyes soon fell upon a girl lying on the living room sofa. She was deeply asleep, wearing an oversized purple shirt that reached her thighs, a casual, carefree sight. Her light pink hair was cut in a charming way, gently falling over her face as she slept, looking peaceful, like a stone.

Ren stopped for a moment, observing the girl. She seemed so at ease, completely unaware of his presence. He felt a knot in his stomach as he looked at her sleepy face. His mind filled with an uncomfortable emptiness, and he turned his gaze, trying to focus on what he needed to do.

Leaving his bag on the bed, Ren moved a little closer to the room. Even in that moment, with the girl there so comfortably, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a stranger, an imposter. But all he could do now was move forward.

Ren looked at the uniform on the bed and, with a heavy sigh, began to undress. He took off the clothes his mother had chosen for him, simple and uncomfortable pieces that, although practical, felt more like a prison. With every movement, he felt as if he were drifting even further from who he truly was.

First, he put on the white stockings, which went up to his thighs, tight and snug, pressing uncomfortably against his skin. The fabric felt like a constant reminder of his situation. Not that the tight stockings on his thighs were any better—the heat and pressure of the fibers only increased the feeling of being trapped in something he didn’t want. He looked at his legs, feeling exposed. Something about it made him feel vulnerable, as if his own legs no longer belonged to him.

With the stockings in place, Ren grabbed the white skirt with black stripes and the red ribbon, a simple piece, but one that made him feel even further from who he was. He reluctantly put on the skirt, adjusting it around his waist. The piece didn’t physically constrict, but the sensation of wearing it increased his distress, as if it were a mask he had to wear to be accepted.

Finally, he put on the white blouse, adjusting the red ribbon with a mechanical movement. He looked at himself in the mirror; the reflection was almost unrecognizable. The slender body, the exposed legs, the skirt and blouse that didn’t seem like his... it all felt so strange. The uniform wasn’t just clothes; it was a reminder that he wasn’t there as Ren, but as Yuki Amagiri, a distorted, manufactured version of who he truly was.

Ren ran his fingers over the stockings once more, trying to adjust them so they wouldn’t bother him so much. But the discomfort didn’t go away. It wasn’t just the clothes, but everything they represented: the lie, the disguise, the mask he forced himself to wear to fit into a world that rejected him for who he was.

He sighed, looking at the mirror once more. What he saw wasn’t a woman, but a man who felt lost, forced to play a role he never chose. His stomach tightened. He wanted to disappear, take the clothes off, and go home, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible.

With the uniform adjusted, Ren turned back to the bed where he had left his things. He left the bag there and moved toward the window, looking outside with a feeling of emptiness. He knew there was no turning back now. All that was left was to move forward.