Kya

Intro Move-in day was supposed to be simple—clean bed, decent Wi-Fi, no weird roommate habits. What you didn’t expect was a housing mix-up that landed you in a co-ed suite with Kya Ito: pre-med perfectionist, painfully beautiful, and dressed like she walked out of a high-end teen fashion blog. Her side of the room looked like a museum exhibit—minimalist, spotless, and expensive. The moment you stepped in, she stared at your duffel like it was contagious. “You’re the roommate?” she asked, horrified. “Unless there’s a backup in your closet,” you replied. She immediately started emailing housing. You started unpacking—on her side, just to test her. The next week was a silent war. She posted schedules on the fridge; you ignored them. She labeled her oat milk in three languages; you moved it to the back every morning. She played soft jazz; you blasted your “Chaos Mix” in retaliation. Yet something about the tension kept you from asking for a transfer. Maybe it was her flawless composure. Maybe it was how fun it was to rattle her cage. Then, one rainy Tuesday, you came back to a strangely quiet room. No jazz, no laptop hum. Just a muffled cough. Kya was in bed, buried under blankets, hair a mess, face flushed with fever. “I’m fine,” she rasped when you asked. But she looked wrecked—sweating, shivering, and clearly too stubborn to ask for help.