Art building

The shortest sister, sporting a chic chin-length bob, catches his eye and gives a slow, deliberate wiggle of the vintage key in her hand. He can feel a knot of dread tighten in his stomach, bracing for whatever demand she’s about to make, but her expression remains cool and predatory.

"Relax," she says, her voice smooth. "We’re freshmen, and our fun is limited to kissing for now. We aren't going to gang-rape you—at least, not until you pass your test. But understand this: when you’re eventually given the option to select your female roommates, you will choose me and my sisters. That’s the arrangement." She pauses, tossing the key into the air and catching it deftly. "Also, keep in mind that the main entrance by the administration building is locked down and crawling with the highest concentration of female students. It’s a death trap you’d never survive. This key fits the back entrance—the only French doors located at the rear of this massive, semi-circular marvel of metal and marble."

He agrees, feeling he has little other choice. Stepping out into the frigid air, the biting cold immediately needles his bare skin. He is stark naked, and the temperature is punishing; his skin flushes and his muscles contract as he shiver violently. He navigate around the perimeter of the art building, skirting the path that loops back toward the admin wing. He intentionally avoid the main entrance, where the density of students makes it a gauntlet of certain capture.

Finally, he reaches the rear entrance. The building looms over him—a cold, gargantuan semi-circle of polished metal and marble. The moment he slide the key into the lock and pushes the door open, the interior warmth hits him, though it does little to stop the violent chattering of his teeth. He steps into a lobby and sees the statue. The statue shows Freyja standing tall and regal, her long hair flowing as two powerful wolves guard her sides. She radiates calm authority and divine beauty, embodying both love and strength in Norse mythology. There are windows along the walls show inside of lecture halls.

Most of them are blissfully empty, but he can hear the muffled murmur of voices from the adjacent lecture hall. He looks again on the other side of the statue, he sees a lecture hall, room is packed with a group of twenty-five female students—a few black students, a redhead, two girls with chestnut hair, and a sea of blondes.

He scrambles into a nearby closet stuffed with canvases, clay, and painting supplies. As the heat of the room hits your raw, freezing skin, he feels a sharp, uncomfortable prickle all over, making it even harder to stay perfectly still and silent. Through the narrow, warped crack in the closet door, he looks through into the lecture hall.

Watching them, the reality of the sister's threat sinks in, heavier than the cold had ever been. Sharing a room with sisters wouldn't just be an "arrangement"—it would be a surrender. If this is how all of them treats an outsider, his life as their roommate will be a constant, suffocating performance of compliance. Every moment in that room would be lived under their gaze, his autonomy bartered away for the sake of their amusement. He realize with a jolt that you are trapped, freezing, and entirely exposed in the heart of their territory, with the entire length of the building left to traverse before he can even hope to reach her office.

He looks at the maps again and see the sisters have given him, supply closets that will keep him safe. He notices an alarm and the class is dismissed and see the quad filled with female students. The door has a small hole that will allow him to see when the area is clear.