Strangely enough, dinner passed without incident.
I managed to eat in peace and make it back to my room—but there were more people at our table now.
"Listen… what you told me earlier," Alma said as we filled our plates. "Is that… our little secret now?"
"I didn't hide it," I said. "But I didn't go around announcing it either. As far as I know, my father hasn't said anything about my 'injuries from the incident.'"
"So… can I tell people or not?"
"Do whatever you want," I shrugged, heading for the table.
"I just thought it might help you," she said, catching up.
"Help him how? And with what?" Robert cut in, dropping into a seat beside us.
The twins followed. Miguel sat down too, and Connie peeked out from behind him.
Alma glanced at me.
I shrugged again. Your call.
"Well," she said brightly, "you won't believe this—but our silver-spoon boy here completely forgot what an asshole he used to be!"
"Hey—could you maybe say that a little nicer?" I snapped.
Alma waved me off and started retelling everything I'd told her, with way more enthusiasm than necessary.
"You're one lucky bastard," Miguel muttered. "I wish I could lose my memory too."
I lowered my gaze.
He'd lost everything.
We weren't that different—but I wasn't about to say that out loud.
"Damn," Robert said. "I was looking forward to screwing with a rich kid while I'm here."
"And now you don't even remember how to act like one of those arrogant pricks."
"Why do you hate aristocrats so much?" I asked.
"Why should I like you?" he shot back.
"You usually need a reason to hate someone."
"I don't like people who think they're better than everyone else."
"That's how the world works," I said. "Some people are above. Some are below."
"You lost your memory, but you're still an aristocrat," he said flatly. "You'll never understand what it's like to claw your way through life while people look at you like you're trash."
"And still," I pressed, "there are good and bad people on both sides. Why hate all aristocrats?"
"I'm not discussing this with you," Robert cut in sharply.
For a moment, he looked like a soldier again.
"They ruin entire families over nothing," one of the twins said quietly.
We all turned.
"Sol, we agreed—!" his brother snapped.
"Half the people here hate those snobs," Sol shot back. "And still we're all here learning to protect them!"
"Why should I stay quiet? They're untouchable—but that doesn't mean I can't say what I think while I still can!"
Silence dropped over the table.
Because he was right.
Everyone here would lose that freedom eventually.
"So why are you here?" Alma asked.
"We're not talking about that," Al said shortly, and went back to eating.
Yesterday, I only had to deal with one naked male body.
Fine. Two, if I counted the mirror.
Today?
Dozens.
Turns out, our floor wasn't just for first-years.
I lost count of how many naked men and boys were moving around while I tried not to stare.
The showers were divided by flimsy partitions—no real privacy at all.
I endured it.
Barely.
By the time I made it out into the changing area, face burning and a towel wrapped around my hips, I was already on edge.
And it wasn't any better there.
"Looks like you really can dress yourself," Robert laughed behind me.
I turned—
—and immediately found myself staring straight at his groin.
I jerked upright, yanking on my pants, and glared at him.
"Do you have to sneak up on people like that?"
"If I were you, I'd stay alert," he said, suddenly serious, glancing past me.
I followed his gaze.
An upperclassman.
"…Yeah," I muttered. "You're right."
Just like that, the embarrassment vanished.
Now wasn't the time to panic over another dick in my line of sight.
Anna, you should be used to this by now.
Besides—none of them affected me the way Andrew did.
If they had… I'd be completely screwed.
That was one of the worst parts of being in a male body.
You couldn't always hide your reactions.
I could control my face.
But what was between my legs?
Not so much.
I still hadn't figured out how to stop that humiliating reaction—especially around Andrew.
Sometimes even a lifted shirt was enough.
Thankfully, nothing like that had happened here.
Even now, when I glanced at Robert—who, objectively, looked damn good, especially with his messy hair tied back—
Nothing.
No reaction.
Good.
"About your memory loss…" Robert said quietly, checking the room.
"Yeah?"
"Don't go around telling people. Most won't see it as an excuse. They'll use it against you."
"You sound like you know what you're talking about," I said, unable to hide the edge in my voice.
"Lucky for you, I do," he said. "For now, I'm not planning to make you my enemy."
"But what happens next depends on you."
I met his eyes.
He wasn't joking.
Behind the sarcasm, there was experience.
Too much for someone his age.
And something told me it hadn't come cheap.
"I'm glad I can rely on you," I said.
"I'm not on your side," he corrected, adjusting his vest. "I just said I won't be your enemy."
And with that, he walked out.
…Well.
That was a start.
If he wasn't going to make my life hell—
I could work with that.