"Alright students, let us continue." The elderly professor of class II walked to the front, picking up his books from the floor.
He completely ignored the arrest that just happened, his face lacking any surprise.
The other students stared blankly at the chaos around them. Were they really supposed to continue learning after this?
"Come on, young ones, if you get distracted every time something like this happens, I'm afraid you won't be able to graduate," the old man said, shaking his head.
Do these interruptions happen often?
Cyril contemplated as he was led by the staff members outside. The two men surrounded him, treating him like some dangerous prisoner.
Outside stood Myra with a thoroughly entertained face. She followed him at a distance, ignoring the unfriendly eyes of the staff.
For an inexplicable reason, her gaze made his footsteps feel heavier.
In the castle corridor spectators gathered at all the noise, a few recognizing him and whispering among themselves.
"That's Thorne."
"He landed in some trouble, huh?"
"It was only a matter of time before he did something."
The whispers were loud, making the staff members stiffen slightly. They glanced at Cyril with something close to hesitation showing, but it was quickly overwhelmed with frustration.
So what if his name is Thorne? They looked away, their steps becoming more determined.
After making a few turns and getting far from the scene of the crime, they reached a faculty office. Myra was stopped in front of the doors, so this was where her journey ended.
She wasn't upset about it. Myra ran back to the training hall with a certain spring to her step.
"I got to tell Rose about it!"
Her joy-filled voice made the corner of Cyril's eye twitch. Trying to ignore the feeling, he stepped through the door.
There, one staff member silently pointed towards a couch, while the other one quickly disappeared somewhere deeper, through another door.
Last time I was here I barely even got a slap on the wrist.
Cyril mused as he sat on the couch. He glanced at the bitten and scratched face of the remaining staff member, at his eyes that clearly held some grudge.
What about now?
"Cyril Thorne! You must keep proper control over your pets! If you can't, then they'll be taken away from you!"
Filled with rage, the staff member pointed his finger at Cyril. Strangely, his eyes now held some spark of righteousness, as if he were battling a great monster right now to save the world.
Cyril nodded, completely calm. In his lap sat a tiger cub, staying cautiously quiet. Atheris quickly slithered back into his uniform, staying out of sight.
"I understand." "Although they are not pets."
He meant what he said, but perhaps because of his cold face, or because of how comfy the tiger cub looked, the staff member got the impression he wasn't taking the situation seriously.
The man breathed in and out, his frustrations clearly getting stronger.
"Do you really think you can do as you wish in this place?!" He clenched his hand into a fist, trying his best to stay calm.
"No."
Before they could fully engage in a calm conversation, the other staff member hastily returned.
"Cyril Thorne, the principal, wants to see you," he said in a relaxed manner, as if a big problem he didn't know how to handle had finally been taken off his hands.
Those words restrained the enraged man, and his face regained its neutral state.
"Go, don't make Miss Margaret wait."
Okay...
Cyril nodded and got up. Under their urging eyes, he walked out of the room. He didn't stay here for too long this time either.
On the way, he heard whispers coming from behind.
"Do you really think Margaret will punish him? She blatantly favors him!"
"Yeah, and you really want to upset her? Remember what happened to the last guy?"
"…True, but… it's just frustrating."
As the door closed behind him, Cyril didn't hear the rest of the conversation. He stood in the castle hallway for a moment, in his hands a cute tiger cub.
"Hehe, we are untouchable in this place. Margaret is on our side."
...It's not a good thing. Other students will only hate me more and more for it.
"Let them? Who cares?"
Cyril sighed with helplessness. He began walking, ascending the castle's spiral staircase on the way, heading towards the very top floor. Atheris poked her head out occasionally, marveling at the grandeur of everything around them.
Tigris, hanging on Cyril's shoulder, acted as a guide of sorts, pointing at various objects with his paw and meowing. Although he'd only been here once, this was already more times than his younger sibling!
Atheris half-listened, her golden eyes staring at him with some curiosity, which only encouraged the tiger to meow more loudly.
"Be quieter."
Cyril patted his head, making the tiger freeze. They were about to arrive.
He stood in front of the grand double doors and pulled on the handle in the form of some scaly beasts. After a heavy knock rang out, the doors began slowly opening on their own.
Without any hesitation Cyril walked into Margaret's office, the doors closing behind him.
She was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty, but his sharp hearing picked up the sound of running water coming from another door.
"...?"
"Principal Margaret?" he called out, but no one answered.
Alright.
So he sat in the chair in front of the mahogany desk, waiting until she showed herself.
He didn't have to wait long, as after a few minutes the door at the side was opened, revealing the principal.
She walked with a casual stride, humming a little tune. Her pale body was only hidden by a bath towel, steam still coming off her skin.
She was showering...?
"How is that proper?!" Rhamn sat on the desk, pointing towards the woman as at a sinner. "Report her to the authorities!"
"..."
After a delay, she disappeared from the table and reappeared in front of him, obstructing his vision.
You don't have to do this.
"But I want to. Is there a problem?"
...I guess not.
"Sorry, Cyril. I just came here after a long day outside, and I really needed that bath!" Margaret said on the way. She sat behind her desk and stretched.
Rhamn hastily appeared on the table again to keep covering his sight.
Peculiarly, Margaret still wore her large witch hat. He didn't notice it at first. Its brims stuck out to the sides of Rhamn's body as she obstructed his view.
Did she bathe with it as well?
"Who knows. Doesn't matter. Just don't look."
"...Should I come at a later time?" Cyril calmly replied, staring into Rhamn's red eyes.
"Oh no, no. That would waste too much time. Observe."
Margaret snapped her fingers, and a peculiar hum of magic erupted from behind Rhamn.
"...?"
Surprised, she sat a little to the side, finally revealing the view.
Margaret's body now shone with a certain purplish light. The light spread across all of her skin and morphed into a robe that soon gained color, turning dark.
In a moment, she went from wearing only a bath towel to now being covered completely with a classical black robe. Somehow it even looked better than usual.
"There. Much better." Margaret nodded, her witch hat bobbing up and down.
"That's a convenient spell. Is it hard to learn?" Cyril involuntarily asked.
It would be incredibly time-saving to simply wave your hand and change your outfit on the spot. Who knows? With a spell like that, you might not even need to worry about tearing your clothes in battle.
Margaret nodded, her thin lips stretched into a proud smile. "Indeed hard, but we'll get there. I did say you have talent in it."
"...?"
He froze. Something in her words gave him a bad feeling. Why did she speak as if he knew what spell this was already? As if she was teaching him it? The only spell he currently got from her was...
"...Was that illusion magic?"
"Yes. Is something wrong?" Margaret tilted her head with genuine confusion as Cyril's face turned blank.
So she is still wearing a bath towel...?
"Pervert!"
Rhamn urgently dodged in his line of sight, preventing him from seeing Margaret again.
"We need to escape, now!"