Heading to the locker rooms was a short walk, since they were directly across the hall from the gym—an intentional design meant to shorten the transition time between classes. The echo of boots and shoes followed us down the corridor, the sharp smell of sweat and iron still clinging to the air.
The girls were suddenly chatty, finally opening up as the tension broke. Compliments bounced around freely—about who lasted the longest, who landed a hit, and a shared agreement that Professor Van was, in fact, some kind of demon. I tried to tune it out, still sore and buzzing from adrenaline, when one of the girls approached me.
She was a light-brown–skinned vampire with vivid green eyes and dark brown curls that framed her face loosely, her presence calm but confident.
"You did pretty good against that beast of a teacher," she said with an easy smile. "My name is Estanza Hartford."
I hadn't been expecting anyone to come over, so the surprise showed for just a moment before a small lift of my mouth betrayed me.
"My name is Sylvara," I replied. "And you weren't so bad yourself out there."
We changed at a slower pace than before, the usual rush replaced with lingering soreness. As I adjusted my uniform, my thoughts drifted back to her fight with Professor Van. Since we were both vampires, I had paid close attention.
Estanza moved fast—graceful, almost fluid—as she dodged an unrelenting storm of punches, jabs, and kicks. When she attacked, she didn't hesitate. She committed fully, landing a couple of clean punches on him. But every time she went on the offensive, she left herself open. And Professor Van—always watching—exploited those openings immediately, breaking her rhythm and dismantling her movements before she could recover.
Her fight had lasted four minutes.
That alone was impressive.
Estanza caught my eye as she finished tying her boots and smiled with quiet pride, giving me a nod before heading out.
"See you tomorrow."
Even her walk was deliberate—posture straight, movements controlled, like someone who had practiced how to exist in public spaces. Remembering what Seris had told me about high society, I guessed she was likely the daughter of someone important in the Kingdom of Noir.
I waved back, then finished pulling up my last thigh-high sock before slipping into the academy's brown leather indoor shoes. Afterward, I made my way toward the front shoe lockers to meet Cherry. Judging by how excited she'd been earlier, I hoped she hadn't waited too long.
When I reached the entrance, Cherry was already there. After swapping out the uniform shoes for my much-preferred boots, I walked over with a smile.
"Hey, Syl!" she said, her pale face twisted into a goofy, almost evil grin. "How was your first day in training hell with Prof Van?"
I let out a laugh as we headed toward a nearby café, recounting the baseline activity while Cherry listened intently, reacting to each fight like it was a story worth savoring. By the time I finished, both our parfaits were gone.
"At least he offered personal training regimens," she said, sounding genuinely impressed. "That means he must see potential in some of you. He barely goes out of his way if he can help it. My class wasn't offered anything like that—not that any of us wanted one-on-one time with him."
"You might be right," I said, my tone steady, determined. "But I think I need the personal training regimen to keep up. To reach my overall goal."
And I meant it.How else was I supposed to become a dungeon master strong enough to protect my monster family? Strength mattered—physical strength, magical strength, and the kind that let you stand your ground when everything else fell apart.
Cherry blinked, surprised, before smiling softly.
"I hope you achieve your goal," she said, almost proudly. "You're clearly working hard. Did you make any friends in your class, or were you totally being the loner you are?"
I blinked, heat rising to my cheeks as I turned away.
"I didn't talk to them because I chose not to," I muttered. "Not because I'm a loner."
She laughed as we stood, paid, and headed out together. When we reached the dorms, we split ways, and I went straight to my room. I made a mental note to save up for a small fridge—snacks would be useful.
Despite my nerves, I felt excited for tomorrow's social conduct class with Lady Winthrow. From what I'd gathered, she was strict—but hopefully patient. Depending on how the basics lesson went, I might need to request additional instruction privately.
I must have been more tired than I realized, because before I knew it, sleep claimed me.
The next morning, I followed the same routine—meditation, training, a bath—before getting dressed. This time, I grabbed the academy's red cardigan. I appreciated how the extra-large size sat on me, oversized and puffy in a nice way, soft without feeling sloppy. It felt… safe. Like something I could hide in if I needed to.
I ate breakfast with Nyx and Lucy today before heading off to the academy. Their presence grounded me more than usual, even if the conversation stayed light. Once inside the academy, I headed to change into my indoor shoes before homeroom, the familiar process helping settle my thoughts.
First period today was Social Conduct with Lady Winthrow.
I mean, I had kind of studied this subject before—with both Tharion and Seris—but it was only now that I was really beginning to understand its purpose. Back then, it had felt like a collection of rules. Formalities. Things people cared about because they had the luxury to.
Now, I was realizing it was a language. One that decided who was listened to—and who was dismissed.
Taking my time reaching my seat, I scanned the classroom. It was immediately obvious that some students were at ease. Vampires and elves, in particular, sat comfortably, their posture natural rather than forced, as if this class were nothing more than a review of habits learned long ago.
Others weren't so lucky.
Beast-kin, dwarves, and some humans—including me—looked more tense, more aware of their movements. Despite this week being meant to cover the basics, there was an underlying stiffness in the room, like everyone knew mistakes here would linger longer than in other classes.
I sat in the third row and pulled out my book, notebook, and pen, aligning them carefully on the desk.
Prepared.
Attentive.
And suddenly very aware that this might be the class where effort alone wouldn't be enough.