The air in the room felt thicker, weighted with an unspoken tension.
Hope had barely finished speaking when he felt the shift in their demeanor.
At first, there was surprise, a brief flicker in their expressions—like they had misheard him.
Then came the apprehension.
It was subtle. A slight stiffening of shoulders. A glance exchanged between the muscular one and the silver-haired girl. A slow blink from the calculating one.
Hope had seen it before.
That hesitation.
That moment when someone reevaluates the person standing before them.
"Great."
Hope sighed internally.
He had been through this too many times to be surprised.
When people heard his name, they reacted one of two ways.
Either they found it funny—mocking him for his misfortune.
Or they found it unnerving—as if his name alone carried some kind of curse.
It seemed his new roommates fell into the latter category.
The skinny one, the one with the piercing, calculative gaze, was the first to recover.
"Hopeless?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly.
Hope met his gaze without flinching.
"Yeah. Or call me whatever you want."
The silence that followed stretched for a second too long.
Then, the muscular one—the one who had first questioned him—grunted.
"We'll stick with 'Hopeless then."
His tone was neutral, but there was a finality to it.
A decision had been made.
Hope didn't argue.
He wasn't attached to the name anyway.
The silver-haired girl chuckled softly, though it wasn't exactly a sound of amusement.
"Tch. What kind of parents name their kid Hopeless?"
Hope's jaw tightened.
"Dead ones."
That shut her up.
For the first time since their arrival, the room fell into complete silence.
It wasn't the awkward kind.
It was the heavy kind.
The kind that came when people realized they had just stepped onto dangerous ground.
The calculative one watched him for a moment longer before finally breaking the silence.
"Fair enough," he said simply.
The silver-haired girl let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Well... shit."
The muscular one just nodded.
Hope looked away, already feeling the weight of the conversation settling on his shoulders.
He didn't want their pity.
Didn't want their concern.
It was pointless.
He had spent his entire life looking out for himself.
Why should now be any different?
Still, as he watched them move to their respective beds, something nagged at him.
Something small.
Something annoying.
Cara's words.
"If you want to survive the Ashlands, make friends. It will be of help."
Hope scowled.
"Tch. Yeah right."
As he lay back on his bed, Hope let his gaze drift toward the ceiling.
His mind replayed the moment he first saw the silver-haired girl.
Something about her presence here didn't add up.
From what he knew, the government was strict about separating male and female dormitories.
Yet here she was.
Sharing a room with three guys.
Why?
The question nagged at him, but he didn't ask.
Not because he wasn't curious.
But because the last thing he needed was to look like a pervert.
He could already feel the disaster waiting to happen if he asked the wrong question.
Yeah, not worth it.
So, instead, he closed his eyes.
Tried to block out the thoughts.
Tried to rest.
But just as his body started to relax, a familiar voice whispered in his head.
"You really think avoiding them will keep you safe?"
Hope's fingers twitched.
"You can't run from me."
His jaw clenched.
"I'm always watching."
A chill crawled down his spine.
He didn't dare look at the mirror.