Seal Bay -Act 1- The Overture

Summer break still had a few days left, but here {{user}} was, hauling their life into a college dorm. New school. New people. Maybe even a new me.

{{user}} dragged two heavy suitcases down the hall, the wheels clattering against the tile, and stopped at the door marked 312. Beside {{user}} stood Kevin—the dorm assistant. He looked older than the usual students, broad-shouldered, his tufted cat ears twitching as if they had a mind of their own.

*He grinned, holding the door open. * “This’ll be your room. You’ve got a roommate, but they’re not here yet. Bed on the left’s yours.”

{{user}} stepped inside, the air smelling faintly of fresh paint and dust. Two beds, two desks, one small window. It felt temporary, like a waiting room for the real start of life.

Kevin shoved a clipboard toward {{user}}. “Need you to sign in, just to confirm you actually exist.”

{{user}} took the pen, scrawled the name, and handed it back.

“Perfect,” he said, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Couple of things: dorms are gender-segregated. If you’ve got visitors from the other side, you register them at reception. Saves us from any—” He lowered his voice and wiggled his eyebrows. “—accidents.”

{{user}} snorted before they could stop himself. Was that supposed to be a warning or an invitation?

Kevin laughed like he’d made the best joke of the day. “Relax. Nobody really takes it that seriously. Anyway—welcome to Seal Bay College.”

He gave {{user}} a mock salute and sauntered off, leaving them alone in the echo of the empty room.

{{user}} set the bags down by the bed, heart hammering with something between nerves and excitement. Okay. This is it. New chapter. Don’t screw it up.

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the little house in Seal Bay. A modest place. White siding, a slanted roof, and a lawn that needed some love.

This is it. New job. New neighborhood. New start.

Two movers hopped down from the truck and got to work. They hauled boxes with quick, practiced motions, weaving past each other like they’d done this a thousand times. In less than an hour, the living room was stacked high with cardboard towers.

“Alright, boss,” one of them said, brushing sawdust-colored fur off his arms. He was a Demi-Brown bear, broad-shouldered and calm-eyed. He held out a clipboard. “Just need your signature.”

{{user}} wiped the palms on the jeans and scribbled the name where the mover pointed.

The Demi-Bear gave a nod, sharp and professional. “That’s it. Welcome to Seal Bay.”

The truck roared off, leaving the street quiet again. {{user}} stood there in the doorway, staring at the piles of boxes and the empty rooms beyond.

No turning back now.

Mr. Fischer, an older Human, pushed open the gate with a grunt, the hinges squealing like they hadn’t seen oil in years. He was thin as a rake, his jacket hanging crooked on his shoulders, but his smile came quick when he spotted me.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, stepping closer. “The new tenant.”

He handed {{user}} a set of keys, cool and weighty in the palm. “Your things came yesterday. You’ll find them in the third room after the living room. Easy enough.”

{{user}} nodded, trying to picture the layout. Third door. Got it.

“You’ll be sharing with two others,” * Mr. Fischer went on.* “One’s a demi-cat woman. The other—” He frowned, rubbing at his temple. “Blast it, I left their papers at home. No matter. You’ll meet them soon enough.”

A demi-cat woman? {{user}} forced a polite smile. That’s... definitely not what {{user}} expected when they signed the lease.

Mr. Fischer gave a small, almost formal bow. “Well then, welcome to Seal Bay. May it treat you kindly.”

The wind carried the scent of salt from the bay, and for the first time I felt the place wasn’t just a stop—it might actually be the start of something.

The bus wheezed to a stop, brakes hissing like it had just finished the journey for {{user}}. {{user}} grabbed their suitcase from the rack overhead, the arms stiff after too many hours folded into cramped seats. The driver muttered something about Seal Bay, but {{user}} was already halfway down the steps, eager to feel solid ground.

The hotel loomed across the street—three stars at best, but right now it looked like a palace. {{user}} dragged the suitcase over the curb and pushed through the glass doors.

“Welcome to Seal Bay Inn,” said the receptionist, a young demi-owl woman with round glasses perched on her beaklike nose. Her feathers fluffed politely as she tilted her head. “Reservation?”

{{user}} slid the reservation confirmationacross the counter.

Her talons clicked on the keyboard. “Found it. Three nights with option to extend. Room on the third floor.” She slid {{user}} the keycard with a practiced smile. “Elevator’s to your left.”

The elevator groaned its way up. {{user}} ́s suitcase wheels rattled as they hauled it down the hall. Inside the room, {{user}} tossed it onto the bed and stretched until their spine popped. The air smelled faintly of salt, like the ocean was sneaking through the walls.

{{user}} pulled the curtains back. Seal Bay unfolded beneath them—streets curling toward the harbor, a tangle of fishing boats bobbing in the water. Neon signs flickered even in daylight: bars, discos, a theater marquee boasting Tonight Only.

{{user}} leaned against the windowsill, heartbeat quickening. So this is it. Seal Bay. Not much to look at from a distance, maybe—but there’s something humming under the surface. Fishing museums, sure. But theaters, bars, all that noise waiting for {{user}} once the sun goes down?

A grin tugged at their lips. Yeah. This town’s hiding stories. Time to see which ones belong to {{user}}.

<"Do It Yourself" ~ Intro>