Rejected by the Beta, Claimed by the Alpha

Chapter 148: Orientation

CLARK POV:

After breakfast, things moved fast. Before I could even blink, the group of new students—freshmen like me—were being ushered into this large theater-style room. It reminded me of a mini cinema, except there were no movie posters, no popcorn smells. Just rows and rows of seats and that clean, sterile smell of freshly waxed floors and air-conditioned air.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement. A few students were already recording things on their phones, while others laughed and took selfies in the low, stage-lit ambiance. You could practically taste the nerves mixed with excitement. This was the first real official thing at Memoville, and everyone wanted to make a good first impression—even if it was just to blend in.

I took a seat somewhere near the middle and tried to appear calm. Normal. Unbothered. Which would’ve been easier if my mind wasn’t still replaying everything from last night. Lucas’s face. His fear. His shaking hands. The way he’d whispered monsters.

And then—bam—he shows up.

Right there, just a few rows in front of me.

I nearly choked on my own spit. My eyes locked onto the back of his head, and then as if he felt my stare, he turned around—slow, deliberate—and looked straight at me. Our eyes met. I must have looked like a kicked puppy because his face twitched into something unreadable. Not quite a smirk. Not an apology. Just a tired, guarded expression, like someone caught in a storm they couldn’t explain to anyone.

He didn’t leave.

All that panic, the packing at 5 a.m., the wild eyes, the trembling voice... and now here he was. Sitting like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t terrified me into questioning my own sanity last night.

A fresh wave of anger bubbled in my chest. I clenched my fists in my lap and looked away.

I was such an idiot.

Of course, it had been a prank. That was what seniors and weird roommates did, right? Scare the newbie. See how long it would take to make them cry, pack, or wet the bed. Hazing, psychological edition. Maybe it was some long-running inside joke: "Whoever makes their freshman roommate break first wins a drink at the senior bar."

If I had actually packed up and left with him—God, the entire dorm would’ve laughed at me. They’d probably record it and upload it to some secret Memoville meme page for a laugh.

"IT’S THE MONSTERS FOR ME ?? #freshiefail"

Ugh. I slumped back in my seat.

The orientation itself started smoothly. A woman in her mid-forties, in a very sharp-looking navy suit with the Memoville crest embroidered on her blazer pocket, stepped on stage and welcomed us with a confident smile.

"Welcome to Memoville," she said, voice crisp and clear, echoing through the hall. "This school is not just an academic institution. It is a legacy."

to campus security (which I made a mental note of, despite my mood), counseling support, library hours, club sign-up events, and a ten-minute promotional

tried to focus.

I found myself

would he go through all that—only to show

Was it a breakdown? Was he trying to leave and then changed

was it real, and he was just pretending like

shook the thoughts

the night twisting every weird detail into some sinister theory, letting fear chew on my brain like it was a midnight snack. The seniors with intense eyes? Probably just tired and

was whispering

And maybe too much anxiety

someone beside me

noticed before. He wore

forcing a smile. "Just

nodded. "Yeah. Long

would make me sound crazy. And the last thing I needed right

brain wouldn’t

had felt so off. Maybe it was because of how real Lucas’s fear had looked. You don’t fake that kind of panic. His eyes,

what else could it be? There were no monsters. This wasn’t a horror movie. I was

sat there, quietly seething and

I stiffened.

the row, bent down slightly, and whispered something to one of the orientation ushers. She nodded,

a glance in

like that, he

enthusiastic upperclassmen trying to hype up campus events with

too busy spiraling

had scared him—but whatever it was, he was alone in it. Maybe he was going through something personal. Hallucinations? Trauma?

my neck. It was hot all of a

was? Constant second-guessing reality while trying to stay chill? Because if so, I was so

ached, and my brain was full of static. Students shuffled out in groups—laughing, chatting, making plans. I stayed in

hadn’t seen him after