Go along with the mistake for now to avoid drawing more attention.

The dormitory of House Selanil was elegant, its halls bathed in moonlight filtering through enchanted crystal windows. Elion was ushered into his room—small, but luxurious. A feather-soft canopy bed stood in one corner, its drapes embroidered with silver ivy. A vanity table and a full-length mirror stood against the wall. All of it was tailored with feminine charm.

The house prefect, Lady Vaelra, regarded him curiously. She was tall, with an air of dominance that seemed to ripple from her presence. “Eliona, is it? I can see why the Headmistress placed you here,” she said, circling him like a cat inspecting a curious mouse. “You’ll find this house quite… structured. All first-years must follow a training regimen to cultivate grace, obedience, and discipline. Especially those of noble blood.”

Elion gulped. He wanted to speak, to correct her, but fear gripped his tongue. What if they expelled him for misleading them? Worse—what if they laughed?

“Strip,” Vaelra ordered suddenly, with the calm authority of someone who expected no disobedience. “I need to ensure your Academy garments fit properly. And don’t be shy, we’re all girls here.”

His breath hitched. His heart raced. He hesitated… and then, cheeks burning, trembling with shame and confusion, he began to comply.

“Good girl,” she purred, as her eyes lingered. “We'll shape you into a fine young lady, Eliona. Just leave everything to us.”