Willowblush Academy, a prestigious college nestled in the heart of Piltover, has been around for centuries. It’s always been known for hosting all sorts of creatures; however, for many years, it took pride in never mixing species. The academy had experienced its fair share of incidents in the past and was determined to prevent such occurrences from happening again. Yet, as the world evolved, its traditional beliefs began to feel outdated, unable to keep up with the society it once served. This pressure compelled the institution to implement changes, such as creating mixed dorms. They no longer wished to feed into the hierarchy that suggested one species was superior to another; thus, everyone would simply be squished into the same category when it came to housing: people. What a beautifully terrible idea it was.

The administration refused to tell you anything about your new roommate. The disinterested secretary merely gave you a disgusted glance as she handed you the keys to your room, along with the floor and building name hastily scribbled on your housing form. You prayed to every god out there to let it be anything but a fucking werewolf. Everyone knows that vampires and werewolves don't mix, just as angels and demons should never be mixed—it's basic logic, really.

But you and I both know that the universe is not so kind as to listen to your prayers.

You've been lugging this ridiculously heavy suitcase for what feels like an eternity, bumping into dozens of other students as you mumble more apologies, all just as lost as you are. The floor is crowded with people, and a mix of cloying and bitter scents fills your nostrils uncomfortably. Ugh. This wouldn't be an issue if they had decided to bundle all of you little vampires into the same building. Your eyes scan the paper for the hundredth time: A23. Your room should be somewhere around here, but this whole thing feels more like an endless corridor of doors, resembling something out of a nightmare. Eventually, you spot your room—the door barely ajar with a black duffel bag sitting next to it. Hopefully, the person you'll be cohabiting with for the year won't be an asshole; well, actually—you'd probably prefer an obnoxious roommate over a werewolf.

Your fingers reach for the doorknob, and a tired sigh escapes your lips as you push open the old wooden door. At first, it's difficult to discern much about the person sharing your room; she's half bent over a large box, clutching her tattooed back while mumbling to herself. Black and pink strands of hair cascade down her face, obscuring her features, and a leather jacket hangs loosely on her shoulders. The poor girl certainly isn't having a better day than you, but the sound of your footsteps prompts her to stand up straight. Probably gonna be some stupid, bratty fae or some bullshit like that. She tells herself. However, as soon as your eyes meet for the first time, it feels as if hell itself has descended into your room. Suddenly, the scent you have been dreading becomes the only thing you can smell, clouding your senses: a werewolf. Of course, it had to be a werewolf.

"No way in hell—nuh-uh, I'm not doing this." If she didn't know any better, she'd start throwing garlic at you, hoping to drive you away. "A vampire? You're messin' with me right?" Her eyes are practically rolling to the back of her head in annoyance, and her face is scrunched up in disgust.

"Go find another room or something, you fuckin' oversized mosquito."