The Young Lady is a Reborn Assassin [Original, Reincarnation]

[DWS]

I always knew that one day my number would come up.

"He's over there! Surround him!"

Getting shot wasn't a first for me, but it had never hurt like this before. The bullet had gone clean through my body armour and into my chest. I could feel my breathing slowing, and becoming more ragged by the second. Each inhalation sent a jolt of pain through my system. I hadn't messed up – things had simply not gone my way. That was the way of things.

It was tough to live as a man who danced on the edge of society. Someone who was only good for one thing, causing harm to others; I took a lot of pride in my ability to harm others. Rather than words, I communicated using bullets. An outpouring of rage against a world that had once forsaken me. A wave of broiling anger at the corruption that occurred under people's noses without notice. I was the world's greatest assassin. I was perhaps the only one. I was not a regular killer - hired off the dark net and paid in unstable cryptocurrency.

I was a professional. A professional who was clutching a bleeding chest wound and stumbling down a long, gilded corridor. A long trail of bloody handprints had been left in my wake. How had they not caught up to me yet? My bleary eyes focused momentarily and revealed the marble lobby that lay beyond. What a nice place to die.

No other assassin could lay a claim to the same standards as me. I did not meet strangers and undercover policemen in the parking lot of the nearest fast food joint. I did not wire my money through a personal bank account for all to see. I did not loiter around the crime scene waiting for someone to throw a pair of cuffs around my wrists. It took weeks or even months of meticulous planning and information gathering to perform one hit. Pointing a gun and firing was easy - the hard part was getting away without being caught.

But even the best-laid plans had a chance to go awry. There was nothing left in me. I collapsed down onto my stomach and forced myself to roll over. I stared up at the ceiling of the hotel where the gunfight had broken out. Dozens of armed security guards and police officers surrounded my bloodied body. This was the way that I wanted to go. Perhaps if they searched my home they would find the large collection of illegal firearms that I kept in the basement, or maybe even the folder of completed jobs I used to keep track of my work. The full weight of my sins would finally be known.

I couldn't go any further than this. The strength to walk had left me. The blood continued to pour, escaping from my body and forming a deep puddle beneath. The wolves were closing in, fangs bared in case I tried to resist one last time. I was the first to know that such a thing was impossible.

My victims didn't deserve justice. Justice was their friend – a system that existed to protect them from the consequences of their actions. I chose each and every target with care, people that shielded themselves by ordering others to do the dirty work. Who caused large-scale harm that could not be quantified through a direct prison sentence. Living like that makes a lot of enemies, and some of them were willing to pay me big money.

The crimson mark that spread through the white t-shirt I was wearing signalled the end. The bulletproof vest could not stand up to a bullet of the calibre that now rested in one of my internal organs. I did not despair at finally meeting my maker. I had been counting the days until my effort was extinguished from the very start.

Just as the encroaching blackness filled my vision I finally felt a mite of fear. Something I had not considered before then. If the police searched my home and found my hidden stash of firearms, then it was only a matter of time until they found the secret compartment concealed a layer deeper. The worst possible outcome, my fullest and most vibrant shame paraded for all to see.

I really, really hoped that they wouldn't find my visual novel collection.
​

---

A new year beckoned within the Republic of Walser. The cold winter snows had finally given way to the onset of a fresh spring. A new year meant new arrivals at the Walser Royal Institute and College; the most prestigious and sought-after learning establishment in the nation. The affluent halls of the College were where the future leaders, businesspeople and elucidated thinkers were groomed into fine, upstanding adults.

Nearly every sitting member of the government's cabinet had attended this very school. If one wished to ordain the future direction of the nation at large, one needs only study the names and faces of those who arrived in the large, front-facing garden. Hundreds of teenagers who had left home for the first time gathered in the square, chatting animatedly about what they would do now that they had arrived.

Amongst the throng of rich kids and vestigial nobles was an odd character. A tall girl with straw blonde hair, freckled cheeks and wide, excited eyes. Samantha Easton had never seen such an exquisite manor before! The momentary anxiety she had felt dismounting one of the carriages was swept away in a fairy tale delusion. Without knowing the sordid history of the family that once held it, the manor truly was a sight to behold.

It reached out and embraced the front garden with two large arms, each one lined with delicate marble lining and supporting pillars. Hundreds and hundreds of smooth glass windows allowed a tantalising peek of the inside. The building was four stories tall and extremely large in footprint, containing enough dormitories to house hundreds of students and staff members. The central building was the College itself. A comparatively constrained selection of teaching rooms packed into what was once an exclusively residential zone.

Samantha couldn't believe that she, of all people, was being permitted to attend an academy such as this! Her father had worked his fingers to the bone saving up for her tuition, assisted by a sudden and sharp rise in demand for his farm products. Things had moved so quickly in the past few years. Motorised tools and modern techniques caused entire fields of crops to grow from nothing in a matter of weeks.

There was a time when her father feared that these advancements would leave him behind, but many of those old farming families moved on to new businesses. No longer reliant on subsistence work to feed themselves, a new class of industrial workers had been born. Those who remained were reaping the benefits. Her father wished for Samantha to be one of those people – forging a new path in a rapidly changing world. A strong score on the entrance exam secured her a place as part of a new equality initiative.

As out of place as she felt with such good-mannered peers, Samantha was determined from the start not to be left behind. One day she wanted to speak proudly of her rural origins and thank her father for everything he had done. To do so, she would need to become successful enough to elicit that type of curiosity.

Some were born with a natural magnetism.

The chatter ceased as a particular private carriage trundled its way up the long stone drive.

The family crest engraved into the maroon wood was unmistakable. Twin eagles perched atop a jagged mount of stone contained with the interior of a flourishing shield. Branches of Ivy reached out and entangled the edges. The Walston-Carter family. Once a relatively obscure leftover from the days of the monarchy, now one of the wealthiest and most well-regarded. It would not have been a surprise to find one of them soon standing for Prime Minister.

The true scope of their wealth was a mystery. A fortune built on mining raw materials for the city's burgeoning industrial sector was a good one indeed. The head of the family had gone on a buying spree, snapping up promising businesses from coast to coast. They would then be pumped full of money and some of the best equipment available – resulting in an explosive growth of production and employee numbers.

All of this in isolation would have explained some small part of the respect and awe that the carriage was gathering, yet there was another, more interesting element to the story. It had been the world's worst-kept secret, hinted at in the pages of local newspapers for months. The carriage was transporting none other than Damian Walston-Carter's first and most beloved daughter, Maria.

People loved to talk about her. They said she was wise beyond her years, beautiful, ice cold, and with a glare that could cut flesh. The girl had sprouted just as many inane rumours and legends as the family as a whole. Some said that she had won a clay pigeon trophy at the age of eight. Others that she had the strength of a fully-grown man. If Samantha knew of those stories as Maria stepped outwards from the carriage door, she would have expressed an immense scepticism.

'She's just like a doll..."

That was the first thing that came to mind. Maria Walston-Carter was alike to the expensive toys that she had seen sitting in the shop windows. The greatest minds in the newly emerging art of film could not have hoped to organise an image so perfect in a thousand years of trying. She landed on the cobbled ground without flinching or hesitating. Her perfectly permed, curly black hair bristled in the light breeze. Her pale skin glistened in the morning sunlight. Crimson eyes addressed the audience with an unspoken demand. Move or be moved.

In an instant, the lead servant rounded the back of the carriage and unlatched a large trunk containing her belongings. Rather than allow the elderly man to carry it for her as the crowd expected, Maria extended her hand and wordlessly took it from him. The way that she commanded respect and refused to be coddled by her own servants; suddenly those rumours didn't sound so outlandish after all.

She marched down the central avenue of the garden without struggling with its weight. Her back remained unbent. As she passed by, the noise started again – though this time everyone was speaking of her and her alone. She was one of the most sought-after brides in the Federation. Anyone who successfully courted her was sure to enjoy a life of comfort or ambition. Girls wondered how they could emulate her style and grace, boys wondered what they could do to get into her good books.

All of this from nothing. Samantha was in awe. Such was the power of a real noble girl.

Maria did not spare any of the onlookers a second glance. Her only interest was reaching the front of the line – where the entrance speech would soon be held by the headteacher. She parked herself beside one of the plaza's gazebos and placed her trunk down onto the ground, hands folded over her lap.

Samantha could not contain her curiosity. She slowly drifted after her, making sure to avoid getting in anyone's way. Not a single soul dared approach Maria. It was like an exclusion field had been erected around her person. She had cleared an area of the already packed garden without even saying a word. Step by step, Samantha got closer and closer. In her single-minded drive to speak with the girl of the moment, Samantha was completely ignorant as to the machinations of a huddle of boys behind her.

Even an academy as prestigious as the Royal Institute attracted bad apples.

Rotten parents formed the bedrock for equally rotten children. Samantha's sun-kissed complexion had immediately marked her as a target of ill-doers of all stripes and creeds. The head of the gang reached down and retrieved a small rock, anxiously palming it until the perfect chance presented itself. When it finally did – he whipped it at Samantha with as much strength as he could muster.

The stone flew through the air like a bullet, threatening to strike the young girl and leave her with a bloody welt – yet at the precise moment when the rock was thrown, Samantha had already erred from the straight path she was taking. For a single terrifying second, the boy came to the realisation that the stone would not hit its intended target.

A million and one thoughts went through his mind. This was it. The end of his life at the academy. His dumb rock was heading straight for the prettiest, wealthiest girl in the school. And when it hit, he would become its biggest pariah until the end of his days. Of all the damnable things he could have done, why did he choose to throw something with her in such close proximity?

Without turning her head, Maria reached out with the speed of a coiled snake and snatched the spinning projectile from mid-air. A collective gasp rang out from the student body. It was a superhuman display of reactions and hand-eye coordination.

Relief turned to panic. He let out a pained squeak and whispered to himself; "She caught it?" Her outstretched arm slowly turned around, palm open, presenting the makeshift weapon to the culprit. Then she turned to face him with predatory crimson eyes glowing in her sockets. He clutched his chest like a bolt had been shot through his heart. Never once in his life had he felt fear so raw and visceral.

Maria passed the stone between her hands, feeling the weight and texture of the exterior surface. After repeating this several times, she turned her entire body to face the boy and sneered haughtily. With a flick of her wrist, it was sent back the way it came, curving in mid-air and glancing off the boy's forehead.

Hit like a gunshot, he fell to the ground. A long red mark was left behind where the skin had been rubbed away. He blinked helplessly and tried to comprehend what had just happened to him. And then, without another word, she turned back to her original position. A chill passed through those who witnessed the incident, and at that moment an unspoken agreement to never mention it to the teachers was forged.

This was just the first of many incidents that would soon cement Maria's reputation as the most fearsome of all the students. Wisely, Samantha thought twice about speaking with her. It was just as well that she decided to stay away. The dorm mistress was already walking down the steps and approaching the female students. She clapped her hands and demanded the attention of the chattering girls.

"Good morning everyone. I am Miss Marside, I'll be the one looking after you during your first year at the academy."

Her voice was shrill and high-pitched, but the tone of her statements did not match with her character. She had a long, narrow face and sunken eyes. A messy bun of white hair was tangled atop her head. She reminded Samantha of her dear Grandmother. Though her perception of her Grandmother was warped due to her absence going on five years by that time.

She held out a small wooden board and a pencil; "Firstly, I will take a register of all those who will be occupying the dorms. If you are staying within the Academy's grounds – please step forward so you may be counted."

There was a rippling from within the crowd as the dorm residents separated themselves from those who lived close enough to travel. Samantha found herself standing beside Maria, even though moments ago she had decided to try and stay out of her way. If Maria found her presence unbecoming, she did not make a fuss of it.

Samantha was very excited. This was the furthest she had ever been from her home on the farm. A new world was opening before her eyes, filled with interesting people from many different places. What wonders would she behold in the future, and what amazing things would she learn from the experienced faculty of the Royal Academy?

"Lady Walston-Carter."

Samantha observed as the shorter girl stepped outwards and faced the teacher. She was completely unreadable. Her stance was confident but her expression remained unmoved. She was the enigma that had entranced hundreds of potential suitors from noble families across the globe.

"Here."

Samantha shivered, but not from the cool breeze that had blown through the yard. What should have been a regular response to what was asked of her appeared as more of a statement. Maria Walston-Carter was 'here,' and everyone would take notice. A single word immediately sparked another flurry of conversation from the crowd who had gathered to observe.

"Her voice is incredible. What an authoritative tone!"

"It doesn't suit her cute face at all..."

The teacher snapped her fingers and cleared her throat, "If you are not here to respond to the register, please mind your own business!"

Her warning did little to clear the air. Some of the rule-abiding students backed away but remained within earshot in the hopes of listening in on Maria speaking again. Maria was not going to offer her fans any more fuel for discussion. She remained silent.

"Lady Walston-Carter, you will occupy room one-hundred-five."

Samantha relaxed again until her own name was called.

"Miss Samantha Easton – you will occupy room one-hundred-fifteen."

She nodded to show her comprehension, "Yes Ma'am."

That meant that she was going to be living rather close to Maria. Samantha was starting to understand why she captivated the others so much. She could barely take her mind off of her. Everything had to be framed in its relation to Maria Walston-Carter. What would she think, or say, how close would she be to the topic of discussion? Her display of marksmanship had elicited an intense curiosity in her. Seldom seen was a girl so well-bred that would respond in such a way.

Samantha wanted to know more.​

The Young Lady is a Reborn Assassin: Opening Salvo​

AN: Hey, this is my first time posting my work here on QQ, nice to meet you! There may be some formatting issues, please forgive the inconvenience.

This is an ongoing original story that I'm currently writing, with updates every few days. It's an action-comedy about a former hitman causing a lot of misunderstandings in her new villainess life. I'm the first to admit that my writing might have a few deficiencies, so I'm always looking for corrections and feedback.

There's a 20-something chapter backlog at the time of posting, so I'm going to be going through and transferring them here. There's also a Patreon campaign for early chapters (which is why we have this amazing piece of cover art) but I'm not going to plug that when we're not caught up.

 

[DWS]

I had died in a hail of gunfire at a swanky, five-star hotel just a few moments before.

To awaken from such an experience was surprising in itself. Was all of that just a bad dream? I was in a bed; a bed I wasn't familiar with. I understood that modern medicine was impressive, but to survive a wound such as that after bleeding for so long was improbable. I stared at the canopy above for several minutes, trying to piece together what little I knew. I remembered being shot vividly – and the chase that occurred as I tried to get away from the police. I didn't remember dreams like this, so that meant it was a memory.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position. The more the angle of my view changed, the more questions urgently squeezed themselves to the forefront of my brain. This was not a hospital room, nor was it a jail cell. I was stranded between four wooden posts, attached to a queen-sized bed. The great expanse of white sheets and knitted lace sent me for a loop.

Then there was the rest of the room that surrounded me. Deep crimson walls, a heavy wooden wardrobe and a paired dressing table. A single electrical lamp was placed on a smaller table beside the bed. To my left was a towering window, crisscrossed with black lines that offered some scant privacy from the world outside. The room was crafted with supreme care; there were wooden cornices at the top and bottom of the walls.

I was not in my own home. I did not recall purchasing a stately, European manor during my time as a hitman. I regrettably did not make enough money for such a flashy purchase. Lest someone had recovered my unconscious body and whisked me away to rural France, I had no idea of how I had ended up here. Something else was strange. My body felt different in a way I couldn't place. The surrealism of the situation blunted my reaction when I looked down at myself. I had clearly gotten much shorter in the intervening time. My arms and legs were stubby and thin. I would have guessed that my 'new' age was around eight or nine, though the unfortunate reality was that this 'new' me was rather diminutive, and I was off by upwards of a year.

My clothes had been switched to a pair of pyjamas in matching crimson. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like this, though the fact that I had already died was not lost on me. Now was a time for trying new things. I threw away the stupidly dense covers and hopped down onto the carpeted floor. The height of the bed caught me off-guard. My first port of call was the dresser. It was a heavy, aged thing with decorative swirls engraved into the timber. More importantly, it came with a large, circular mirror that was much too high for me to see into from the bed. I pushed the stool into position and climbed up, standing on the very tips of my toes to see what had become of me. I expected blood, scars and bandages, but what I received instead was much more shocking.

A ruby-eyed, black-haired little girl stared back.

I blinked, and she blinked. I opened my mouth, and she did the same. It was only when I raised my stubby arm and waved to myself that I finally accepted that this thing was me. Divine punishment had been imposed upon me harshly. I could do nothing but chuckle uncontrollably as the absurdity of it finally settled in. That was me. I was a little girl. And what a porcelain-faced angel I had been turned into. As if the mere disadvantage of becoming a young girl was not great enough, this particular girl had big, vivid eyes and the face of a masterwork painting. The first thought on my mind was that she couldn't bear to hurt a fly! I corrected that line of thought a moment later; I was just insulting myself. This was me. This was me. I repeated the statement again and again. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

For whatever it was worth, the cruel deity that had seen fit to reincarnate me into this strange body had not done so haphazardly. Despite the huge gulf in appearance between my old and new bodies, I felt no real shock upon seeing my face in the mirror. There was an immediate acceptance in my mind that the doe-eyed, doll-faced girl was me. A second later I realised that I had started referring to myself as a girl internally too. I was certain that I had never harboured any serious desire to become a girl, despite my strange love for media that was aimed at them.

This was all starting to sound very familiar.

I reached out with my palms and brought them back inwards, pressing against my chest. The pressure was real. I was searching for discrepancies. I wanted to be sure that this wasn't a lucid dream, or the last desperate imaginings of a dying brain locked into a bleeding, hole-filled body. I closed my eyes and opened them again, studying the hands on the clock to see if they changed between instants. I did not know whether their staunch refusal to shift was reassuring or worrying. I could only continue with the assumption that this was real. How or why, I didn't know. I hoped that answers would be around the corner. I climbed back down and considered investigating the rest of the room for clues, but I was interrupted by a knocking on the door.

"My Lady, it's time to wake up!"

The voice that burst forth caught me off guard as well, "I'm already awake." That was what I wanted to say. But the intonation of it was so much different to what I expected. I had a voice like sharpened glass. A mature tenor topped with a pointed end. It was naturally rebellious and rude.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the apparent servant responded positively, "Punctual as always!"

The door unlocked and opened, revealing a woman wearing a traditional maid uniform. She clutched several pieces of newly pressed clothes between her arms. She waddled over to the bed and laid them out one piece at a time. I observed her work and marvelled at the difference in height between us. I really had been de-aged by a few decades.

"The Master wishes for you to wear this ensemble today. Would you like some assistance?"

Conscious of the way I spoke, I shook my head; "No. I will manage."

"Very well. I will escort you to the dining room once you are ready."

With that, she turned and left the room again, closing the door behind her. I was thankful for her consideration. I didn't have any knowledge about the layout of the manor I was now a resident of, and having someone dress me was too humiliating to consider. I hovered over my new clothes with a sceptical gaze.

Included in the package was a set of plain underwear, top and bottom. The main thing that caught my eye was the long, slender, and rather dense red dress designed to keep out the cold. A matching silk jacket would cover my arms. A large leather belt and a black skirt that reached below my knees were the final pieces. Given the anachronistic surroundings, the clothes, and the traditional maid and her deference to me as a lady, I could only conclude that I had been transported some time into the past.

I swallowed my pride and changed into my new clothes. It was a struggle figuring out how to wear them properly, but I was not burdened with other out-of-style inconveniences that required a college degree in history to operate correctly. When all was said and done I was the spitting image of a young noble lady. I needed to blend in and figure things out. Rocking the boat by complaining about my clothes was a bad way to start.

I stepped out into the hallway where the maid was waiting, "Ah. You look simply wonderful today, my Lady."

I ignored the flattery and followed dutifully behind as she led me through a series of long, straight corridors. The windows offered a glimpse into a large garden, complete with fountains, ornaments and neatly trimmed hedges. Two other servants in overalls were busying themselves by making sure that everything was perfectly in place. It was a terrible location in terms of security: huge windows, long sightlines, and far too many rooms to hide in. My paranoid self was already starting to worry about the implications of living in such a place; even though there was no threat at the time.

We finally arrived at a pair of already-opened doors. Inside was another long chamber, dominated by an equally long dining table. At the head of the table sat a man with finely combed and heavily greased black hair. A thick handlebar moustache sat upon his upper lip. He was dressed in a combination of three different suit pieces, of different colours and textures.

The maid spoke to him from across the way, "Maria is present and accounted for, Sir."

"Thank you!"

The maid bowed and made her exit, leaving me alone with the stranger. Given our comparative ages and similarity in appearances, I could only assume that he was meant to be my father. He was a significant upgrade over my last one, for one thing, he didn't seem like a piece of crap deadbeat. There were only two sets of cutleries prepared, the other to his left. I walked over and took my seat.

He was holding a newspaper. Once he had confirmed that I had successfully walked to my spot without combusting spontaneously, he picked it up again and continued to bury his face into the pages. That was just fine by me. The newspaper was just the thing I needed to see. The title, emblazoned in bold stylized font declared, "WALSER DAILY." The date was the 5th 'Bluest, 1898. The front-page story was about an upcoming parliamentary election.

It was a good thing that I had a lot of experience in pretending I knew what I was doing. I was completely lost. I didn't know where I was, who I was, or when I was in comparison to the 'real' world. Half of my brain was still acting under the belief that this was all a bad dream, one last kick in the nuts before I got sent straight to hell.

He spoke abruptly, "Ms Barnslay tells me that you've been studying very hard recently."

"Yes?" I hazarded.

My 'Father' sighed, "To think, when I was a young boy, women didn't have to worry about things like that. I suppose that's the cost of progress."

I held my tongue and remained silent.

"And us old magic users – they don't respect us half as much as they used to! Not now that they've built all of those fancy machines to replace us."

Thanks for the exposition, Dad. I got the sense that this was a regular line of complaint from him. An old man whiling away the days in comfort, afraid of the changing times. I had already grasped that I was somewhere different, but his casual mention of magic sent me for a loop. What's a little defying the laws of physics and reality between friends?

He snapped the paper shut and placed it down on the table, "Well – the Royal Academy has an excellent elective magic course. I hope that you'll strongly consider continuing the family tradition; it's going to be a rare talent in the near future."

I played along with him, "I will."

It was the answer he wanted to hear, he smiled and nodded back, "You've always been a smart girl. There's nothing to worry about."

Getting good grades was the least of my worries. I needed to learn everything there was to learn about this world and fast. I was two seconds away from exposing myself as a total moron. Even basic questions about where I was or who I was would have invited doom. If I could snatch that newspaper or find a library to pilfer, I'd be able to stuff my brain with knowledge and avoid such a scenario. Asking one of the staff members would be rather suspicious. I could only hope for an opportunity to wander the house unsupervised so I could locate it for myself.

Old habits die hard – I was already entering 'work' mode. My brain scurried from point to point, coming up with a variety of contingency plans, excuses and escape routes that could prove advantageous. The chairs weren't nailed down, but they were too heavy for me to throw through one of the windows. Escape would have to be done the old-fashioned way, should things come to that. The selection of silverware in front of me included some sharp instruments that could remove an eye or cut an artery with ease.

The paranoia was entirely misplaced. A second later the door opened and another young man in a white shirt placed an ornate silver platter in front of me. My father smiled, "Ah, thank you." The servant bowed politely and left the way he came. I lifted the lid from the platter and beheld the lavish breakfast that had been prepared for me. Meat, vegetables and bread were given in excess. He observed me as I picked up the correct knife and fork. I was thankful that at least once in my life, I researched the proper way to eat with etiquette so I could fit in at a fancy party.

"I'm heading out for some shooting later. I trust that you will be okay without me?"

I swallowed, the food was surprisingly good; "Yes. But shooting?"

He chuckled, "Ah. I do suppose I cursed the invention of the firearm more than a few times. Sir Leondt insisted that I try it for myself before I pass judgement. I'm rather ashamed to say that I was misguided in my reaction. It is an admirable way to socialise and a rather exciting sport at that."

Shooting. That meant guns. If there was one thing I could earnestly say I enjoyed as a hobby, it was firearms. I disconnected it from my work and preserved the joy of exploring them. A handgun usually sufficed for most tasks, but the more specialised weapons were reserved for private time at the local ranges. I wondered what types of firearms were available. Were they breech-loaded or muzzle loaded?

Survival demanded that I know. I refrained from asking too many questions about the specifics. A gun was the great equaliser; the most terrifying weapon ever developed. Something which could be held in the hand and be used by almost anyone. They were a sign of changing times, and if my new Father was old enough to remember their creation – things would be tumultuous.

My full delve into the world of guns could wait for the time being. I polished off the rest of my meal and considered my options. I was expecting my father to stand and reveal I had something planned already, but he did not. The day was mine to do with as I pleased.

"Don't get yourself into trouble while I'm gone, young lady."

He powered out of the room and left me on my own. I quickly hopped down from my chair and hurried over to where the newspaper lay. I folded it up and slipped it into my clothes for later. It would provide essential context for where I was and what was happening. With that done, I decided to seek out privacy and a collection of books so that I could study properly. It was time to explore the manor fully.

 

[DWS]

The next several days were spent gathering information. I had slowly accumulated a variety of stolen newspapers from where my Father left them on the dining table every morning. That context was essential to understanding where I was. From my cursory investigation, it appeared that I was in some type of fantasy world – one where unusual creatures and the use of magic were common. Aside from a passing comment about 'changing my hair,' nobody suspected anything about my behaviour. But my paranoia only intensified with each night that passed. I couldn't accept that I had somehow been reincarnated into the body of another. To anyone else, it would have been a great reward for a life of good deeds, but I was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer. Why would I, of all people, be rewarded with a comfortable second chance? There was a catch. I knew it. I was waiting for the second when the blade dropped onto my neck.

As a young child, it was easy to plead ignorance on many subjects. I wasn't expected to know much of anything. The gaps could be papered over by fluttering my eyes and pretending to have forgotten. The long and short of it was that I was named Maria Walston-Carter. I was a noble girl of eleven years. I lived with my father, who ran a successful mining business. My mother was deceased. The other branches of our family had roots and interests in many other industries and political matters.

'Noble' was a title that had lost a certain amount of significance in the years preceding my birth. A revolutionary wave had swept through the newly formed Walser Republic, spurred by similar occurrences in neighbouring nations. Rights and equality were the languages of the day. The intentions were pure but the reality was much harsher. The political and economic power was still concentrated in the hands of a select few. Old families like mine had incredible sway. Still, the foundations of a modern legal system had been instituted, and a newly formed parliament passed laws under the authority of a First Minister.

Anything more than that was purely for my own interest. I read about neighbouring nations and continued to sneak into the library to further my integration. There was a lot to study. I ensured that the most relevant information was prioritised. I needed to know about recent history such as the disempowerment of the monarchy. Even young children would learn about these things through interactions with their relatives.

True to my father's word, magic was also something of a big deal. It was an innate power that people were born with the capacity to use, but required lengthy and expensive tutoring to master. Magic was a status symbol amongst the elite. It was formerly used for industrial processes pre-mechanization, with applications in medicine, craftsmanship and combat. Many of those families made their fortunes that way. The arrival of machines that could spread the benefits without the need for a trained mage had tipped the balance of power. Some families adapted and became even wealthier by investing early, most others drowned with the tide by refusing to move on.

It was all very visual novel.

In fact, with the benefit of more information and time to think – I had uncovered a deeply buried memory of a visual novel I had played many years ago, which bared a significant resemblance to the world I was now in. Maria Walston-Carter was the primary antagonist from the game 'Love Revolution,' a romance and drama-focused release from several years ago. It was a pastiche of different clichés and ideas paved over with a heavy dosage of true-to-life industrial revolution. I didn't think much of it; filing it away into the furthest recesses of my memory for later. It was my greatest shame that I indulged in them so much during my free time. Every genre, every developer, every target audience. I played as many of them as I could. A few were even worth the time and effort. That immense library of different experiences had become merged together with time, which was why I didn't immediately realise who I was.

Remembering any specifics about each route was a lost cause. I just couldn't get a grasp on what was true and what came from other games. Regardless, Maria's sole purpose in life was to make the protagonist's life a miserable experience. As the villain, she was also subjected to several strangely morbid endings ranging from imprisonment to death. I wasn't so interested in tormenting a complete stranger with class-based bullying. I just needed to stay the course and keep out of trouble. As for adjusting to my new identity – there was little issue. I found it strange that whatever had sent me here went to the effort of ensuring my comfort within a new, female body; but did not bless me with the knowledge to navigate the world I was placed into. Looking into a mirror didn't summon a sense of deep discordance. There was an acceptance in my mind that this girl was me and always had been me.

The only theory I had was that my existing personality was important to the reason I was here. Or perhaps some kind of freak coincidence had caused my soul to be reincarnated into a new body, or further still – this was all the incomprehensible delusion of a man bleeding to death in a hotel lobby. Only my mind could come up with something this esoteric. I kept myself quiet for the most part, fearful of stepping out of place and revealing my real background to the people around me.

Maria, if she was a 'real' person before my untimely arrival, was not the talkative type. The servants who attended to my every need did not find anything strange about my behaviour. I did find it disquieting to have people watching over me at nearly all times of day – but they at least respected my occasional requests for privacy while I was studying in my room or the library.

I was also a lonesome figure. My Father was planning to send me off to earn an education at the Royal Academy in a nearby city, but as for the matter of a social life, I did not have any to speak of. I pieced together that the most I could expect were prearranged meetings with the children of other noble families, and always under the supervision of an older individual. I had no friends and allies to rely on. That was just fine by me. I made a living as an assassin without needing help, after all.

As the days and weeks passed by, I started to grow increasingly paranoid. While most would feel secure after a long period of peace – I was different. I was a man who had spent his entire life dancing a fine line. I'd committed many heinous crimes with full awareness of what they were and the consequences of those same acts. The thought of being rewarded for them with a karmic reincarnation was not acceptable, it would not settle into my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it down.

Weren't the reincarnated meant to be good people? Ones with qualities that were desired within their new world? Heroism, kindness, selflessness – they were things I was never given a chance to practise. If I was meant to have a grand purpose, I hoped that it wasn't something that relied on me making the right decisions. I was no good at that. If anything, I could see myself fitting firmly into the role of the villainess.

I looked the part, with menacing red eyes, sharp brows and a high birth that gave me wealth and influence. But it was hard to imagine myself falling into that role. It required a sense of malice that I just couldn't muster towards a group of strangers. A villainess was always there to antagonise the innocent protagonist for initially flimsy reasons. I may be a killer, but that wasn't indicative of how I behaved in my everyday life.

It was a popular misconception that someone who killed for a living was touched in the head. That may have been true for a serial killer, but I was a professional. Soldiers and assassins are similar in some ways – and the most important aspect is their mental fortitude. A psychopath isn't a good soldier. They could ignore all of the things they saw and did easily, but when it came time for empathy or rational decision-making, they were ultimately left compromised.

For an assassin like me, it was even more essential that I kept a hold of my faculties. A lot of my work involved careful social engineering, working my way into places I wasn't meant to be. Someone with no empathy, understanding or restraint would expose themselves very quickly, and that was before they came to the act of killing someone and trying to get away with it.

Making things personal was a no-go. Even when the people I was taking out were the worst scum in the world, I stopped myself from getting angry as I looked over their respective offences. It was essential that I gave myself a way out if things weren't looking good. It was a job. Nobody ever enjoys working a job where they run the risk of dying every day. Getting too invested in delivering some perverse sense of 'justice' was a one-way ticket to hell.

That sense of perspective was important to me. It made sure that I never fell too deep down a rabbit hole from which I could not escape afterwards. I was a bad person at the end of it all, a man who killed for money. Even my self-imposed rules about who I killed and how weren't enough to fill me with a sense of righteousness. Remember the names and the faces. Always remember names and faces. I was proud to say that I had never once killed someone on accident. I was extremely thorough in my preparation and casework.

But when I put it like that, it sounded pretty crazy.

Some people moved boxes, other people enforced the law, some used their bodies to please others – and I killed people. Nobody would ever be able to reach an understanding with me. A lot of folks didn't want to believe that genuine, real-life assassins could exist in the first place. It sounded like something out of an action movie. The reality was a little different to what they imagined. Ninety percent of my jobs were done without using firearms, and the ones that did rarely led to me being caught and forced into a firefight.

If that were to happen, I'd come out as the winner anyway. Until I didn't. The police had always tried to keep a bead on me. I used a lot of different tricks to hide my identity and create plausible deniability. I never expected them to host a sting the way they did. They didn't try to protect the man I was sent after at all. They let him die and gunned me down once I tried to run.

There was no point in ruminating about it. It was exactly what I expected to happen. Someone couldn't continue to flout the laws of the land so openly without anticipating punishment. The only real surprise was how long I had managed to do it. Maybe my final lapse in concentration came about as a result of complacency. I slammed my book shut and stood up, stretching out my body and yawning loudly.

I had been reading for almost the entire day again. My Father believed I was being studious for the sake of passing the entry exam, which was only partly true. I was completely ignorant as to the history, traditions and culture of the nation I had been teleported to. My new body came with some other caveats that I had learned about in detail over the weeks since my arrival. For one thing; it was nowhere near as strong as my old one. That sounded obvious considering the transition between a fully-grown man who worked out and a girl below the age of thirteen, but living through it was another matter.

My mind was still stuck in the old ways. I'd try to lift something heavy and find myself stumped. I'd run down the halls of the grand mansion we lived in and tire myself out within moments. My paranoia demanded action. If the worst were to happen, my body would not be ready to defend itself. In my eyes, it was practically an inevitability that karma would demand payment from me for my sins. After a long day of reading up on what I needed to know, I would head away from prying eyes and train my body as well. Actual gym equipment was too much to ask for, but makeshift methods could be just as effective if you know what you're doing.

In particular, a shaded grove near the east side of the gardens. A set of chopped logs for burning had been placed there in storage. They were compact and heavy enough to provide my arms with a good lifting workout. After that was done, I'd run until my legs couldn't move anymore. Returning to the house – some of the staff would give me a strange look as they noticed my haggard breathing and sweat-drenched face. They wrote it off as me playing as any child would. All of that hard work on plausible deniability when I was an assassin; turning back the clock and becoming a child would have been so much easier.

 

[DWS]

The school term was divided into three-thirds of four months, with two-week holidays between each. The newly instituted revolutionary calendar of the Republic was much the same as the traditional one, with slight modifications to terminology to consolidate what had become a complex web of linguistic differences. While it had infamously caused a brawl on the floor of the Republican Parliament – most regular people were not so invested in the debate.

Samantha was well versed in the passing of the seasons. Much of her young life was dictated by the ticking of the clock. The harvest season was always at the forefront of her family's mind, with everything they did revolving around making the most efficient use of their time. When their livelihoods depended on the weather, it was only natural. But now she didn't have to worry about such things. The morning wake-up call was practically luxurious compared to her usual waking hour of five in the morning.

It was going to be a difficult adjustment. All of her knowledge and experience with tending to animals and crops, and the myriad complexities involved in doing so, were now useless in an academic context. Samantha was a vanguard of the newly developing lower-middle class. A hard-working collection of businessmen and farmers who wanted their children to fulfil long-held ambitions. The Royal Academy had recognised the importance of that experience. An effective leader was one who understood their purpose inside and out.

It was with some debate that Samantha earned one of the scholarship spots in the new year. A large portion of the bill for her education would be covered by the academy itself. All of the hard work, studying in the twilight hours of the evening as her mind attempted to shut down, was finally paying off. She was going to make the most out of this opportunity while she had it.

She flopped back onto her new bed and marvelled at the quality of the space she had been given. Her farmhouse home was nothing to complain about, but she was now understanding just how much difference some polish and decoration could really make. The polished skirting boards, plush rug underfoot, and ornate wooden furniture were enough to make her feel like a fairy tale princess. Her bed was gigantic, not at all concerned with preserving floorspace for siblings or storage. Suddenly the bag of clothes she had brought with her for the weekends seemed much smaller. The wardrobe wasn't even half full.

There was little time to concern herself with that. They had been given just a few minutes to become familiar with their rooms before the next step of the initiation process, from which they would be assigned to their classes. The first year at the academy was intended to allow the students to explore a wide range of subjects – so there was no need to make a serious commitment to one area of study just yet. Samantha wasn't certain where she would end up. Part of her wanted to get away from the family business and break out into a new field, her brothers were much more enthused about inheriting the farm one day, or at least buying one of their own.

With her luggage unloaded and her key retrieved, Samantha straightened out her hair and returned to the hallway. Other students had started to do the same, lining up by their respective doorways and awaiting the return of the teacher. Samantha's eyes were drawn to Maria once again, who was located just across the hall from her. Samantha had to admire how pretty she was; she was every bit the noble lady she had imagined from reading stories about the city. Her black braids were distinctive, deftly weaving together something cute and sophisticated. Samantha's shoulder-length locks were not so cooperative. She had tried in earnest to grow it out once before, but the texture simply wasn't conducive to such intense styling.

The frumpy old teacher returned, her long heels clacking against the marble floor with each step. She scanned the assembled children with a nod of approval; "I see that everyone is already done inspecting their quarters. Please remember to treat them, and your neighbours, with the same respect that you would like to receive in return. Sleeping hours begin at eight in the evening – students who do not observe the curfew and cause a ruckus will be punished appropriately." There was a murmur of uneasy agreement from the rowdier boys.

With that warning dispensed, the teacher turned on her heel and waved to the group to follow behind her. Samantha slid into the line, not paying any particular attention to where she would end up. Maria slotted in front of her. Samantha held her tongue as they were led on a long walk back the way they came, across the campus and towards the school wing. The two functions of the compound were harshly separated down the middle. The balance was pushed in favour of the classrooms as only a limited number of students were to be admitted.

The classes themselves would be tightly knit – with numbers no larger than fifteen or so students between each tutor. Oddly, the lecture theatres that had been constructed to handle a much larger figure were left mostly unused as a result. It was in one of those larger rooms that the initiated students were asked to take a seat. An elevated wooden platform allowed everyone to see the chalkboard and podium that dominated the front wall. The troublemakers immediately tried to sit at the very back so as to hide their mischief, but the teacher was not going to let that slide.

"Everyone to the front, please. I don't want to destroy my vocal cords yelling at you."

Another groan of protest. A gaggle of five returned and slipped into the third row from the front. Samantha sat on the edge of the second, while Maria sat on her right on the opposite side. When the teacher was certain that everyone had settled down, she cleared her throat and started to write some important details onto the board with a piece of white chalk.

"I'd like to extend my own personal welcome to all of you. You are some of the best and brightest young minds that this great country has to offer. I hope that you all understand what an amazing opportunity this is, and that you'll make every effort to get the most out of it."

As her hands moved deftly, they slowly revealed the full scope of what she was writing down. It was a list of the different subjects that they would be dabbling in for the next year. Mathematics, language, art, biology, chemistry, physics, music, and magic. They were generalised courses meant to provide an overview of what they could expect from more advanced derivatives.

Miss Marside picked up a piece of paper from the desk, "Without further ado, I'd like to assign you to your classes for the first year. The list has already been compiled. I will read it now, please keep your assigned number in mind."

She started running down the list in alphabetical order, dispensing numbers in a seemingly calculated manner. Samantha was placed into class two along with Maria Walston-Carter. There was a lot of disquiet from the admirers who would not have the benefit of being with her during their lessons. Samantha pondered why she had enraptured them so. She was certainly pretty and from an influential family, but devoting your entire being to stalking her around the campus did not seem like a good strategy for befriending the girl.

"One last thing before I send you away to familiarise yourself with the building – there will be a magic compatibility trial in this room three hours from now. If you wish to participate in the magic course and learn from our experts, you will need to attend and be subjected to an initial test. Please keep that in mind!" Miss Marside clapped her hands together; "Dismissed."

The room burst into a frantic discussion as all of the chatter that had been bottled up was unleashed at once. Samantha was already stuck with indecision. "Oh, we have to choose?" she gasped. Her self-directed question was answered by a masculine voice walking up behind her from the third row.

"Nothing like that. The magic course is elective," one of the other students explained. He was a tall boy with moss-green hair and darker skin. "Dedicated Magic Colleges require that entrants demonstrate their ability before they're accepted – but the Royal Institute is also a school for science, technology and art. They want to see if you have the capacity to do it first before letting you into the course."

Samantha peered upwards at him, "Oh! I see. It's a special exception."

He offered a practised smile, "That's right. I'm Maxwell Abdah."

Samantha tried to remember her manners; "Samantha Easton, it's a pleasure to meet you."

He leaned against the wooden bannister and sighed, "It's not going to be a very big class anyway. My Father says that only one in fifty people have any magical abilities at all. Don't feel bad if you don't get in. Most of us won't."

One of the girls behind butted in, "Lady Maria will."

Maxwell shrugged, "Okay, but who asked?"

Maria was just about the only thing that the other students were willing to speak about. In a strange way, she had become the number one icebreaking topic within hours of arriving, and the battle lines were being drawn between her helpless admirers and most ardent haters. Everyone had to have a well-developed opinion or they were excluded from the raging debates about how good she was at any given task or subject.

Maxwell had zero need of joining in. He had seen dozens of similar girls, passed through his manor house like the seasons. Some of them had hoped to become his fiancé for the sake of securing a future for their respective families. Not one had ever elicited his young love. At least Maria herself seemed to find the entire thing as droll as he did. She treated everyone with terse patience that the socially unaware took as enraptured interest. Those gritted teeth and glassed-over eyes were all too familiar to him.

"You don't look like the usual kind of student," Maxwell theorised, "Are you one of the scholarship picks?"

"Yes, I am."

"Heh. You must be pretty smart then. Don't let them drag you under if they get jealous, Samantha. They're here because of money, just like me."

Samantha was curious; "What does your family do?"

"We're a big trading family. Shipping stuff across the sea, buying and selling, that kind of thing. My Grandfather decided to settle here in the republic before I was born because of how big the ports were. The perfect environment for the family business."

"That's very impressive! My father owns a farm," Samantha revealed. It felt much less significant than her new acquaintance's background. But Maxwell wasn't so judgemental as she first thought.

"There's nothing wrong with that. If you put my Father in that position he wouldn't know what to do. Everybody has something that they're good at. Farming, trading, mining, knitting – that kind of thing."

"Do you have anything in mind that you would like to study?"

"No, not at the moment. I'll probably end up following in my family's footsteps and go pursue something that'll help our business." Maxwell was a naturally helpful young man. Considerations of class or precedent were often ignored in favour of doing what he thought was right. In a sense, speaking with Samantha was his way of helping her ingratiate herself with the notoriously picky upper classes that dominated the school body. There was a more ulterior motive though. Maxwell found himself struck by how attractive he found her. She had a different air to all of the other girls he had met since arriving.

"I think I'll go and try the magic course," Samantha concluded. It had always interested her, and there was no harm in trying. All she needed was to be born with the capability to transmit the energy through her body to get started.

"I think it's going to be pretty busy this year. Lady Maria is rumoured to be attending as well, so all of her little followers are going to try and join too." Maxwell glanced at the girls in the third row, who were sending a dirty look his way thanks to his dismissive comment. "Don't be afraid to come speak with me if you need anything."

"Thank you, I will."

Maxwell had somewhere to be. He gave Samantha a wave and headed out through the classroom door to parts unknown.

 

[Hypervane]

Gosh, I haven't a clue what this is doing on QQ but this is right up my alley! I also see that there's many more chapters over on RR, so I'll just mosy on over there, if you don't mind.

 

[Felius]

It was a popular misconception that someone who killed for a living was touched in the head. That may have been true for a serial killer, but I was a professional.

Click to shrink...

I mean, sure, but you also say that:

My victims didn't deserve justice. Justice was their friend – a system that existed to protect them from the consequences of their actions. I chose each and every target with care, people that shielded themselves by ordering others to do the dirty work. Who caused large-scale harm that could not be quantified through a direct prison sentence. Living like that makes a lot of enemies, and some of them were willing to pay me big money.

Click to shrink...

Being this over selective in your choice of targets, specially when it's not driven by belief in a cause or organization, does move you towards being a serial killer that managed to monetize their hobby instead.

Seriously though, watched, seems an interesting take on the reincarnated as a villainess story.

 

[Schneisse13]

Oh yes, I love "villainess" stories where this time assassin-chan is the inserted character. Got to love all these developing character details and reactions and assumptions. Like Maxwell seeing the glassy eyes and gritted teeth, or the motivations and thoughts.

Better to read than some villainess manga out there, going deep into these character interactions and musings.

 

[TheSwicky]

Yo I've read this on royal road, it's absolutely amazing! c:

 

[DWS]

A few hours later, the rest of the students had settled into their respective cliques and Samantha was starting to feel left out in the cold. She was unfamiliar with everyone in the building and her country upbringing was bound to cause some to reject her out of hand, without even speaking a word to her. She could only hope that a miracle would occur as she headed towards the voluntary magic assessment. Her prayers were answered in part as she entered the classroom and saw Maxwell waving to her. He was sitting with another male student who was much taller than any of the others. Samantha made her way over and sat next to him on the third row.

"Samantha, glad to see you decided to take a chance on this."

"My Father worked hard to send me here, so I intended to make the most of it."

Maxwell tapped the shoulder of his companion; "This is Claudius. He's a bit of a dummy, but I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

"Hey! No need to insult me when introducing me to a pretty girl, Max!"

He rolled his eyes and leaned closer, "He's a terrible flirt too."

Samantha wasn't sure how to respond to his compliment, "Uh, it's very nice to meet you."

"The pleasure it all mine. I'm Claudius Wile, but feel free to call me Claude."

"I hope the school is treating you well. Some of these people can be really judgemental if you don't fit in the right way," Maxwell sighed. "My older brother used to come here and it doesn't look like things have gotten any better."

Claudius shrugged, "My Pa said the same thing. It comes with the territory. Everyone here thinks they're competing against one another."

"That's because they are, Claude. If you want to claw your way up the social standing and land a nice, comfortable job in the capital – you need to stand out and tear down the other people around you. Thank goodness I already have something lined up on the opposite side if things don't go well..."

"Like Maria Walston-Carter?"

"Ugh, not you too."

Claude waved his arms in an attempt to ward away Maxwell's scorn, "No, no. I don't mean that I'm obsessed with her like everyone else is. I just mean, she's the kind of girl who'd do something like that."

"Now who's being judgemental? You don't know anything about her."

"Hm. She seemed a little scary earlier," Samantha admitted, recalling the incident in the front garden.

Claudius clutched his heart theatrically, "A scoundrel, a menace, a villainess - even! Where others see a classical beauty, I see the eyes of a cold-hearted killer."

"You've been reading too many detective novels, Claude," Maxwell grumbled. He was always awash with wild theories about other people. He'd already aired his 'well-reasoned' suspicions about one of the janitorial staff because of a limp affecting his left leg. Claude was convinced that he'd injured it on a piece of broken glass during a botched criminal activity.

Claude was insistent, "Surely, they include those kinds of characters for a reason, Max!"

"They're not real!"

"They're based on true stories."

"They just say that to sell more copies! You dullard."

Another voice cut through the lively argument; "I was not aware that I made such a negative impression."

Claudius squealed and leapt halfway to the rafters like a startled cat. Standing in the doorway to the classroom was the very subject of their discussion – Maria Walston-Carter. She cut a striking figure, but that was quickly undercut by the way her face twisted after seeing Claude's reaction. Her boundless mirth at striking such fear into the boy was enough to elicit an uncharacteristic round of uproarious laughter. Maria tried in vain to cover her mouth and contain it – but it was hopeless.

"Ohohohoho!"

Claudius flushed a bright, rose-red colour as a girl almost half his height mocked him so openly. Samantha and Maxwell did not judge Maria for finding the sight amusing. The hopeful detective had presented himself as nothing more than a circus sideshow on this occasion. Maria snapped back to her usual, serious persona with an awkward cough and wagged an irritated finger at him.

"It's very unbecoming to gossip about someone behind their back, you know!"

Claudius was downcast, "Augh. Apologies, Lady Carter."

"Maria will do just fine, thank you."

Up close and personal, Samantha drank in the small details that she hadn't had the chance to see back in the courtyard. Maria was stunning. She had wide, ruby eyes and perfectly curled locks that were black like pitch coal. She wore one of the school-mandated uniforms with a natural confidence that made her feel green with envy. The white frilled shirt was more intended for the male students, but they came in sizes small enough for a girl – and there was no real rule against using them should she wish. Combined with the black skirt, tied around her stomach with a matching leather belt, she looked ready to take on anything that the academy could throw at her.

The other physical aspect of note was her height. Samantha was a very tall girl by most standards, which just served to make the pint-sized Maria seem even more diminutive by comparison. How Maria commanded such attention from the people around her could be credited entirely to the way she presented herself. There wasn't an ounce of hesitation or wasted movement. Samantha likened her to a rock or tree stump, ones which frequently confounded her father and his new moving machines.

"I-I'm Samantha, it's nice to meet you."

Maria smiled pleasantly and shook her hand, "The pleasure is all mine."

A simple act such as that would have gone unnoticed had any other girl done it. But this was the Lady Maria, shaking hands with a lower-class farm girl. The whispers started circulating from the top row of the seating arrangement that dominated the back half of the chamber like storm clouds.

"Did you see that? Maria shook hands with her..."

"She's so polite!"

"My sister would never do something like that."

Samantha felt pins and needles running down her back. Those kinds of words made her feel an unusual sense of shame. Once again, the differences between her upbringing and theirs was thrown around with little regard for her own feelings. Did coming from a hard-working agricultural family really make her such a pariah?

Maria sensed that something was wrong. "Pay them no mind. Good manners are not something afforded exclusively to those of wealth."

Samantha shook her head, "Ah! We're actually very well off, for a farming family. My father was able to pay for part of my tuition after all."

"I see. Then I believe that your work ethic will surely silence them in time."

With that, Maria moved past the small group of acquaintances and took a seat on the row behind them. A textbook was retrieved from her bag and placed down onto the desk. The entire class watched in abject adoration as she went about the mundanities of attending school.

Maxwell spoke under his breath, "Heaven's above. She lives on a completely different planet to the rest of us."

Samantha was confused, "You said your family was very wealthy too."

"They are – but the Walston-Carter family is leagues above us even. They provide a majority of the raw materials for every business and factory from here to the East Coast. I overheard my Father talking about them. They could buy our entire trading empire three times over and have money left to spare."

"Then she must have a large amount of responsibility on her shoulders," Samantha concluded.

"It's not just that. She was the top entrant in every exam, every subject. Her looks are evident, and I heard that she won a pheasant shooting contest last year against a full roster of experienced adult competitors. The local papers accused her of cheating."

"Shooting?" Samantha echoed, "Why would she enjoy shooting?" It was a sport primarily dominated by men. Her Father had recently become fascinated with the concept himself. It was a much easier way of warding away pests than scarecrows and harsh words. He purchased his own gun and took much joy in deafening her while she was trying to study. She did not enjoy it anywhere near as much as he did.

"I don't know. But anything she does, she does with the single-minded intent of winning. There's no way her parents will say no to her. She can pick up a shotgun and blow a bird out of the sky if she wants to because she's Maria Walston-Carter. That's all that matters."

It was the kind of rank exceptionalism that a group of gossip-filled teenagers would inevitably subscribe to. Maria's legend had grown out of her own control. The reputation and wealth of her family, combined with her gifts in every art she studied were a heady combination that tale weavers simply could not resist. Not a single one of those people would dare put those theories to the test and ask her if they were true, and thus they continued to snowball to larger and more absurd forms without control or remorse.

Samantha just couldn't imagine such a tiny, doll-like persona holding a gun. To think that her Father would even permit her to participate in something so dangerous in the first place. Samantha's Father had damn nearly broken his nose the first time he pulled the trigger. It took him weeks to learn how to control the recoil. She shook her head. She couldn't believe such a claim without firm evidence. It could have been created and passed around by any one of the students without her knowledge. Still – it was an amusing thing to theorise about. The poor girl would be launched backwards for several yards just from the force of the shot.

The class was really starting to become rowdy as more and more people came through the door. Maria's attendance had elicited the interest of her newly formed fanclub, meaning there was nary a seat left to be taken. One of those new attendees sought to make as much of an impact as possible, as an aggressive looking boy with red hair and a permanent scowl on his face stormed through the door and immediately locked onto where Maria was seated. While Maria was quietly reading through a book she had taken from the library, he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Maria Walston-Carter, I knew I'd find you here!"

Maria made no motion to look up and observe. She flipped to another page and continued to read. Unable to comprehend anyone in the room not hearing him, he repeated himself in much the same fashion.

"Maria Walston-Carter, I knew I'd find you here!"

Maxwell shouted back, "She heard you the first time, you damnable blowhard!"

His name was Adrian Roderro – and he was Maria's (self-declared) rival. He swaggered up to the stands and marched up the steps until he was face-to-face with her. Despite her best efforts to ignore him, she could no longer do so with him in such close proximity. With a grimace, she slammed her tome shut and glared at him with daggers for eyes.

"So, the erudite daughter of the Walston family sees fit to try her hand at the magic arts? Surely, it'd be a better use of your time to surrender, as I will confound you with my skill and power. Better salvage your reputation while you have the chance; nobody will think worse of you for giving up now."

Maria remained silent, as did the rest of the chamber. Tension was starting to build. The rest of the attendees were starting to understand that Maria was unflappable. She didn't even flinch as he tried to get into her personal space with bombast and flying spittle.

"You may have bested me at shooting, but I assure you that this particular contest will end in my favour."

Maria tilted her head slightly, "Apologies, have I offended you in some way – Adam?"

"Adrian, it's Adrian Roderro!" Adrian's face was bright red from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. How could she not remember him? He was the person standing beside her when she won that trophy! The trophy that was rightfully his! There was simply no possible way by which a mere girl could outperform him in the art of pheasant shooting.

Maria laughed, "Ohoho, Adrian! That was your name! Apologies – you were so unremarkable that I expunged you from my memory. There's so much for me to remember these days after all." Samantha winced as Maria went for the throat with an insult custom designed to make the hot-headed boy as furious as humanly possible. She clearly remembered him and was trying to wind him up. He sputtered and stammered, finger wobbling impotently as he tried to come up with an appropriate response. Maria delivered the coup de grace in short order.

"If your magic abilities are as good as your shooting, I don't have anything to worry about." She reopened the book and turned away, having said her piece with such a firm resolve that it had short-circuited Adrian's brain. She could see the steam coming from his ears. He walked back down to the second row and collapsed into one of the remaining seats with glazed eyes and a catatonic mumble. Vicious. A complete contrast to the politeness Samantha had experienced just moments before.

Max laughed and jeered, "I've seen no less than five people walk up and ask for her hand in marriage in the last hour, and they all received a warmer response than whatever that was."

"See, I was right! She nearly killed him," Claude declared.

"Perhaps she wouldn't have to be so mean if he hadn't been so rude," Samantha responded, eliciting positive concurrences from the spectators. Her head was starting to hurt just from the racket of him busting into the room. She leaned back in her seat and tried to calm down.

"I'm not going to be getting into any arguments with her," Maxwell said.

The matter was put to bed soon enough - it was almost time for the test to start.

 

[DWS]

What a damned mess.

No matter how hard I tried, it was almost impossible for me to keep a low profile. For whatever reason, I had become something of a local celebrity. A tangled web of rumour and reputation building had created a false impression of me that had been broadcast much further than I had ever expected it to go. Several female students had appointed themselves as my self declared fanclub – further exaggerating my supposed beauty and grace. The years preceding my arrival at the academy were spent studying those things to further my disguise, but the idea that I was somehow better at it than everyone else was ludicrous. There were only so many ways to use the right cutlery during a meal.

Everywhere I went there were people talking about me, or trying to approach me. I had no less than four different boys propose to me on the spot during the morning. What was I expected to say in such a scenario? I stared blankly at them until they lost their nerve and ran away. Things were finally starting to become more familiar to me. The gilded halls, tall windows and lavish paintings took me back to the days when I happily played every visual novel and dating simulator I could get my hands on. I never thought much of 'Love Revolution' when I finished it – it had now taken on more significance in retrospect by its apparent realisation as a place I could go to physically.

In terms of visual novel plots, it was rather tame. The primary focus was on the main character, Samantha, being the apple of every boy's eye thanks to her country charm and innocent looks. There were some minor conflicts between the characters as they strived to be the top of their class, and some rumblings about saving the world in the future; something left hanging for a potential sequel. My role was to be the villain. Her nemesis. A petulant, spoilt child who existed solely to take the opposite position on every issue. The exact reasoning behind Maria's hatred of Samantha was irrelevant. It was an expression of class-based resentment that was more extreme than I would have ever predicted. I was not going to do that. I was not going to be hoisted by my own petard. I was going to keep myself out of her personal space for as long as humanly possible.

I had decided to entertain myself a little and sign up for the magic course. Magic was something that didn't exist in my old world, so I was curious as to what it could be used for. At the very least it would provide an interesting diversion from studying the other subjects like science and maths. It was only when I spotted Samantha sitting in the front row with some of the boys from earlier that I remembered she was also going to try out. In the game, she was immediately identified as a high-level mage, as was Maria. That made them the perfect foils for each other.

I took a lonesome seat on the other side of the bleachers and sat myself down. I could already hear the other students whispering all kinds of lukewarm rumours about me. It made my skin break out into goosebumps. I never liked being the centre of attention, but I couldn't avoid it. Maria Walston-Carter had taken on a life of her own without my input. Hitting that boy with a rock didn't help. I was already ruing my past self for taking such a conspicuous course of action.

I had already met several of the characters from the game, including Samantha, Maxwell, Claudius, and Adrian. They were all intended to express a romantic interest in Samantha. Maxwell was the easiest and usually the first route that a player would take so they could learn some of the mechanics. Of course, I already knew Adrian well. He was a regular on the shooting circuit. In the game, Adrian wasn't so confrontational with Maria – and that was because the original Maria did not partake in his favourite pastime as I did.

Humbling the kid with my amazing aim was something I took great satisfaction in. He had been one of my most vocal detractors when I went to my first meeting. He had run his mouth for nearly an hour straight, implying that I wasn't strong enough to hold the gun and that my finger would snap in two before I managed to make the thing fire. He couldn't have been more incorrect. I had already trained my body to an athletic standard that outstripped any other girl my age. I didn't win the contest, but hitting several targets was enough to make him shut his mouth for the first time in years.

It may have lit a competitive fire inside of him. Every time we faced each other, he'd make big boasts about how much he'd been practising since the last time we met. Every time I would humble him in much the same manner, earning accolades and trophies that made him ooze with barely constrained jealousy. Such an issue of skill was his to resolve. But a part of me regretted getting involved with him in the first place, because now I knew that he was going to be an irritating piece of dung for the five years in which we were to attend the academy.

The stuffy old men who had initially claimed that shooting was too dangerous for a girl to handle had gone through a similar process of resentment. They'd grown out of it in time – at least under the impression that my inclusion into the sport was an exception rather than a sign of things to come. My Father had also resisted at first, but as soon as he saw how many prizes I was winning while doing it, his prideful nature won out and he became my biggest supporter. My musings on the course of events were cut short by the arrival of our magic tutor. She was a pretty-looking woman with ginger hair and a beauty mark above her lip. The long dress she wore was covered in frills and ribbons.

"Good evening everyone! My name is Malorie Jennings, and I'm one of the two magic tutors who work here at the royal academy. I'm very happy to see so many students interested in learning the art with us."

Of course, she was completely unaware that the reason for such a large turnout was my presence.

"Before we begin, I'd like to explain the process we'll undergo here today. There are several different grades of mage registered officially by the Government, which are roughly correlated with their ability. They run from grade one at the low end, to grade five at the highest. Any level at two or above is enough to qualify for the magical elective course that we offer."

She pointed to the blackboard, "Grade one mages are those born with the natural compatibility to perform magic, though they are not capable of generating enough energy to do so without help. They are often referred to as 'conducers' for this reason. At grade two, the individual becomes capable of generating enough energy to manipulate the natural laws themselves."

She moved to the second row on the pyramid, "Practitioners at all levels require a high level of general knowledge. To manipulate the laws, one must understand the laws. Knowing which elements must be manipulated to achieve the desired effect is the basis of all magecraft. Do not trick yourself into believing that your grade defines your final capability. Some of the most brilliant mages in history were only grade two. The power of your magic is directly connected to the efforts you put forth in learning it."

With that brief explanation done – she moved over to a wheeled cart that stood next to the podium. She pulled away a white blanket and revealed what hid beneath. It was a steel box covered in moving needles, connected to a leather arm strap and small metal plates.

"This is a compatibility tester, based on principles established thousands of years ago. We can use this to grade you quickly and painlessly. All you need to do is slip your arm into this shackle. A small amount of energy will be moved through your body, which we can use to measure your power."

She demonstrated for us, wrapping the leather cuff around her bicep and tightening it. It reminded me of a blood pressure machine. She flipped a switch and the machine hummed to life. The needle on the left stuttered into motion, eventually coming to a halt beside the number three printed onto the white screen.

"I am a grade three mage, as you can see here. There is no guarantee that you will have magical capability. Regardless – the first step to mastery is attending this session. There is nothing to be ashamed of if you are not in grade two. The march of time is opening many new doors for people without knowledge of magecraft."

With the preamble done with, it was time for her to start working her way down the list of attendees. She simply picked out individuals from each row of the bleachers, bringing them to the front and using the measuring device on their bodies. It quickly became apparent that the ability to use magic was rare indeed. Several people were eliminated at grade one, leaving the room despondently. She then came to me. The whispers started again as I made my way to the front. I already knew what compatibility score Maria had in the game. As the villainess, she needed to be a cut above everyone else to support her smug personality.

I reluctantly offered my arm to the eccentric woman, who happily wrapped the leather around my arm. She didn't waste any time with theatrics – as there were three dozen more students to get through in short order. The machine roared once again. I turned to face it and watched the dial as it crept higher and higher. I could already hear the other kids getting excited as I broached the fourth-grade mark and then kept going. I almost rolled my eyes as it hit grade five.

Only the best for Lady Walston-Carter...

Mrs Jennings was gobsmacked; "Well I never! Grade five! Very impressive, Miss Carter."

There was nothing impressive about it. I bowed to the instructor and headed back to my seat. Some of the more infatuated members of the audience applauded me for my great feat of being born with magic running through my body. To the spectators my expression was unreadable – it wasn't radiating with a smug pride like they were expecting. I picked up my book and went back to reading.

To make a long story short Adrian scraped by with a grade two, which did not make him a happy man. He couldn't storm out because the teacher had more to say once the testing was over. Maxwell passed with a grade three, as did Claudius. An unfamiliar girl also earned a third. The last person to catch my attention was Samantha. I could sense a nervous excitement coming from her as she slipped her arm into the machine's clutches and waited to see where she lay. Grade four. Some of the dour students who had said unkind words about her were outraged, spreading malicious rumours about the machine being faulty. In their eyes, there was no way that a farm girl could be gifted with such a talent.

With the last stragglers cleared out and a full class of six assembled, Mrs Jennings clapped her hands together. "What an amazing class we have this year! I haven't had the privilege of teaching so many in a long, long time. There is just one last thing I'd like to do before letting you go and rest." She handed out a set of books, entitled 'Introduction to Magical Theory, Vol 1.' I inspected the inside cover briefly, before deciding to take a closer look in my own room later. I didn't like studying with a broiling mass of masculine rage glaring at me from across the way.

"I'd like you all to read the first two chapters of this book. It's the best possible foundation for your ongoing study, and it'll mean that we can jump right into practical lessons when we return. The position of our session on the timetable hasn't been confirmed just yet, but you'll be informed when the slot has been allocated."

Adrian was going to struggle. He didn't like reading.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you all again. Please do your best!"

And with that, the class was dismissed. Adrian and the stranger were the first out of the door, but I lagged behind for a second to gather my thoughts. Before I could decide what I wanted to do next, Samantha stepped out in front of me on the stairs and started to talk to me.

"Thank you for being so nice earlier. I know it sounds rude, but I wasn't expecting you to treat me so kindly. I was hoping that we could get to know each other better, Maria." Samantha punctuated her heartfelt appeal with a dazzling smile. That was too much credit to assign to my actions. My clear disinterest in bullying the fresh-faced farmer had temporarily frozen over the blood frenzy that had started at the behest of a boy named Johnathan Wilkes. I was unfortunately rather familiar with him, as his father was frequently seen skulking around our manor trying to score an arranged marriage. When I had asked where all the bad attitudes about Samantha had come from a few hours before, he was the one who was overwhelmingly pointed to as the culprit. He hadn't even spoken with her yet.

I needed to nip this in the bud before the girl got any ideas in her head. I didn't want to be responsible for dragging someone else down with me when everything went to hell. If this was some kind of divine punishment for my deeds, then friends and family would be prime targets for retribution. None of my 'friends' could die if I didn't have any to begin with. All I needed to do was maintain an air of mystique that scared some, and push others away when they started to get too close to me. While I was considering this carefully, the response I went with was significantly less elegant than I had hoped it would be. The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

"When did I ever give you the impression that we were friends?"

"Huh?"

"I think it would be better for the both of us if you kept your distance."

Samantha's face ran through a complex spectrum of emotions. Betrayal, sadness, anger – before settling on a mournful frown. She turned on her heel and walked back to her seat without any further comment. I chastised myself for rejecting her in such an overly harsh way. That wasn't going to help my reputation any, not unless it was the type of crowd that I didn't want to mix with. There were a lot of students who wanted to put the lower classes in their place. I did not want to become their role model.

Samantha had Maxwell and Claudius already. She didn't need a wet blanket like me. They'd show her the ropes and protect her from the worst of it. I grabbed my things and headed out into the corridor with a frustrated sigh. Still – what I had wanted to go with was something much easier on her feelings. I'd messed it up. I just couldn't argue with the results when it was always my real intention.

As long as she stayed away from me it was mission accomplished.

 

[Sat]

What a damned mess.

No matter how hard I tried, it was almost impossible for me to keep a low profile. For whatever reason, I had become something of a local celebrity. A tangled web of rumour and reputation building had created a false impression of me that had been broadcast much further than I had ever expected it to go. Several female students had appointed themselves as my self declared fanclub – further exaggerating my supposed beauty and grace. The years preceding my arrival at the academy were spent studying those things to further my disguise, but the idea that I was somehow better at it than everyone else was ludicrous. There were only so many ways to use the right cutlery during a meal.

Everywhere I went there were people talking about me, or trying to approach me. I had no less than four different boys propose to me on the spot during the morning. What was I expected to say in such a scenario? I stared blankly at them until they lost their nerve and ran away. Things were finally starting to become more familiar to me. The gilded halls, tall windows and lavish paintings took me back to the days when I happily played every visual novel and dating simulator I could get my hands on. I never thought much of 'Love Revolution' when I finished it – it had now taken on more significance in retrospect by its apparent realisation as a place I could go to physically.

In terms of visual novel plots, it was rather tame. The primary focus was on the main character, Samantha, being the apple of every boy's eye thanks to her country charm and innocent looks. There were some minor conflicts between the characters as they strived to be the top of their class, and some rumblings about saving the world in the future; something left hanging for a potential sequel. My role was to be the villain. Her nemesis. A petulant, spoilt child who existed solely to take the opposite position on every issue. The exact reasoning behind Maria's hatred of Samantha was irrelevant. It was an expression of class-based resentment that was more extreme than I would have ever predicted. I was not going to do that. I was not going to be hoisted by my own petard. I was going to keep myself out of her personal space for as long as humanly possible.

I had decided to entertain myself a little and sign up for the magic course. Magic was something that didn't exist in my old world, so I was curious as to what it could be used for. At the very least it would provide an interesting diversion from studying the other subjects like science and maths. It was only when I spotted Samantha sitting in the front row with some of the boys from earlier that I remembered she was also going to try out. In the game, she was immediately identified as a high-level mage, as was Maria. That made them the perfect foils for each other.

I took a lonesome seat on the other side of the bleachers and sat myself down. I could already hear the other students whispering all kinds of lukewarm rumours about me. It made my skin break out into goosebumps. I never liked being the centre of attention, but I couldn't avoid it. Maria Walston-Carter had taken on a life of her own without my input. Hitting that boy with a rock didn't help. I was already ruing my past self for taking such a conspicuous course of action.

I had already met several of the characters from the game, including Samantha, Maxwell, Claudius, and Adrian. They were all intended to express a romantic interest in Samantha. Maxwell was the easiest and usually the first route that a player would take so they could learn some of the mechanics. Of course, I already knew Adrian well. He was a regular on the shooting circuit. In the game, Adrian wasn't so confrontational with Maria – and that was because the original Maria did not partake in his favourite pastime as I did.

Humbling the kid with my amazing aim was something I took great satisfaction in. He had been one of my most vocal detractors when I went to my first meeting. He had run his mouth for nearly an hour straight, implying that I wasn't strong enough to hold the gun and that my finger would snap in two before I managed to make the thing fire. He couldn't have been more incorrect. I had already trained my body to an athletic standard that outstripped any other girl my age. I didn't win the contest, but hitting several targets was enough to make him shut his mouth for the first time in years.

It may have lit a competitive fire inside of him. Every time we faced each other, he'd make big boasts about how much he'd been practising since the last time we met. Every time I would humble him in much the same manner, earning accolades and trophies that made him ooze with barely constrained jealousy. Such an issue of skill was his to resolve. But a part of me regretted getting involved with him in the first place, because now I knew that he was going to be an irritating piece of dung for the five years in which we were to attend the academy.

The stuffy old men who had initially claimed that shooting was too dangerous for a girl to handle had gone through a similar process of resentment. They'd grown out of it in time – at least under the impression that my inclusion into the sport was an exception rather than a sign of things to come. My Father had also resisted at first, but as soon as he saw how many prizes I was winning while doing it, his prideful nature won out and he became my biggest supporter. My musings on the course of events were cut short by the arrival of our magic tutor. She was a pretty-looking woman with ginger hair and a beauty mark above her lip. The long dress she wore was covered in frills and ribbons.

"Good evening everyone! My name is Malorie Jennings, and I'm one of the two magic tutors who work here at the royal academy. I'm very happy to see so many students interested in learning the art with us."

Of course, she was completely unaware that the reason for such a large turnout was my presence.

"Before we begin, I'd like to explain the process we'll undergo here today. There are several different grades of mage registered officially by the Government, which are roughly correlated with their ability. They run from grade one at the low end, to grade five at the highest. Any level at two or above is enough to qualify for the magical elective course that we offer."

She pointed to the blackboard, "Grade one mages are those born with the natural compatibility to perform magic, though they are not capable of generating enough energy to do so without help. They are often referred to as 'conducers' for this reason. At grade two, the individual becomes capable of generating enough energy to manipulate the natural laws themselves."

She moved to the second row on the pyramid, "Practitioners at all levels require a high level of general knowledge. To manipulate the laws, one must understand the laws. Knowing which elements must be manipulated to achieve the desired effect is the basis of all magecraft. Do not trick yourself into believing that your grade defines your final capability. Some of the most brilliant mages in history were only grade two. The power of your magic is directly connected to the efforts you put forth in learning it."

With that brief explanation done – she moved over to a wheeled cart that stood next to the podium. She pulled away a white blanket and revealed what hid beneath. It was a steel box covered in moving needles, connected to a leather arm strap and small metal plates.

"This is a compatibility tester, based on principles established thousands of years ago. We can use this to grade you quickly and painlessly. All you need to do is slip your arm into this shackle. A small amount of energy will be moved through your body, which we can use to measure your power."

She demonstrated for us, wrapping the leather cuff around her bicep and tightening it. It reminded me of a blood pressure machine. She flipped a switch and the machine hummed to life. The needle on the left stuttered into motion, eventually coming to a halt beside the number three printed onto the white screen.

"I am a grade three mage, as you can see here. There is no guarantee that you will have magical capability. Regardless – the first step to mastery is attending this session. There is nothing to be ashamed of if you are not in grade two. The march of time is opening many new doors for people without knowledge of magecraft."

With the preamble done with, it was time for her to start working her way down the list of attendees. She simply picked out individuals from each row of the bleachers, bringing them to the front and using the measuring device on their bodies. It quickly became apparent that the ability to use magic was rare indeed. Several people were eliminated at grade one, leaving the room despondently. She then came to me. The whispers started again as I made my way to the front. I already knew what compatibility score Maria had in the game. As the villainess, she needed to be a cut above everyone else to support her smug personality.

I reluctantly offered my arm to the eccentric woman, who happily wrapped the leather around my arm. She didn't waste any time with theatrics – as there were three dozen more students to get through in short order. The machine roared once again. I turned to face it and watched the dial as it crept higher and higher. I could already hear the other kids getting excited as I broached the fourth-grade mark and then kept going. I almost rolled my eyes as it hit grade five.

Only the best for Lady Walston-Carter...

Mrs Jennings was gobsmacked; "Well I never! Grade five! Very impressive, Miss Carter."

There was nothing impressive about it. I bowed to the instructor and headed back to my seat. Some of the more infatuated members of the audience applauded me for my great feat of being born with magic running through my body. To the spectators my expression was unreadable – it wasn't radiating with a smug pride like they were expecting. I picked up my book and went back to reading.

To make a long story short Adrian scraped by with a grade two, which did not make him a happy man. He couldn't storm out because the teacher had more to say once the testing was over. Maxwell passed with a grade three, as did Claudius. An unfamiliar girl also earned a third. The last person to catch my attention was Samantha. I could sense a nervous excitement coming from her as she slipped her arm into the machine's clutches and waited to see where she lay. Grade four. Some of the dour students who had said unkind words about her were outraged, spreading malicious rumours about the machine being faulty. In their eyes, there was no way that a farm girl could be gifted with such a talent.

With the last stragglers cleared out and a full class of six assembled, Mrs Jennings clapped her hands together. "What an amazing class we have this year! I haven't had the privilege of teaching so many in a long, long time. There is just one last thing I'd like to do before letting you go and rest." She handed out a set of books, entitled 'Introduction to Magical Theory, Vol 1.' I inspected the inside cover briefly, before deciding to take a closer look in my own room later. I didn't like studying with a broiling mass of masculine rage glaring at me from across the way.

"I'd like you all to read the first two chapters of this book. It's the best possible foundation for your ongoing study, and it'll mean that we can jump right into practical lessons when we return. The position of our session on the timetable hasn't been confirmed just yet, but you'll be informed when the slot has been allocated."

Adrian was going to struggle. He didn't like reading.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you all again. Please do your best!"

And with that, the class was dismissed. Adrian and the stranger were the first out of the door, but I lagged behind for a second to gather my thoughts. Before I could decide what I wanted to do next, Samantha stepped out in front of me on the stairs and started to talk to me.

"Thank you for being so nice earlier. I know it sounds rude, but I wasn't expecting you to treat me so kindly. I was hoping that we could get to know each other better, Maria." Samantha punctuated her heartfelt appeal with a dazzling smile. That was too much credit to assign to my actions. My clear disinterest in bullying the fresh-faced farmer had temporarily frozen over the blood frenzy that had started at the behest of a boy named Johnathan Wilkes. I was unfortunately rather familiar with him, as his father was frequently seen skulking around our manor trying to score an arranged marriage. When I had asked where all the bad attitudes about Samantha had come from a few hours before, he was the one who was overwhelmingly pointed to as the culprit. He hadn't even spoken with her yet.

I needed to nip this in the bud before the girl got any ideas in her head. I didn't want to be responsible for dragging someone else down with me when everything went to hell. If this was some kind of divine punishment for my deeds, then friends and family would be prime targets for retribution. None of my 'friends' could die if I didn't have any to begin with. All I needed to do was maintain an air of mystique that scared some, and push others away when they started to get too close to me. While I was considering this carefully, the response I went with was significantly less elegant than I had hoped it would be. The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

"When did I ever give you the impression that we were friends?"

"Huh?"

"I think it would be better for the both of us if you kept your distance."

Samantha's face ran through a complex spectrum of emotions. Betrayal, sadness, anger – before settling on a mournful frown. She turned on her heel and walked back to her seat without any further comment. I chastised myself for rejecting her in such an overly harsh way. That wasn't going to help my reputation any, not unless it was the type of crowd that I didn't want to mix with. There were a lot of students who wanted to put the lower classes in their place. I did not want to become their role model.

Samantha had Maxwell and Claudius already. She didn't need a wet blanket like me. They'd show her the ropes and protect her from the worst of it. I grabbed my things and headed out into the corridor with a frustrated sigh. Still – what I had wanted to go with was something much easier on her feelings. I'd messed it up. I just couldn't argue with the results when it was always my real intention.

As long as she stayed away from me it was mission accomplished.

Click to shrink...

Not sure if it was on purpose but this looks like you meant to threadmark it.

 

[DWS]

Samantha was furious. She had never felt such an incandescent rage in her entire life. She paced back and forth in her room like a girl possessed as Maxwell and Claudius watched on from the doorway. Samantha didn't care one bit that her anger may have spilt outwards and been overheard by the girl in question.

"She's horrible, a witch, a cruel villain!"

In her eyes, Claudius was right to judge her so. The more inflammatory insults she wished to air were not for polite company, like the ones that she had heard her Father shout after stabbing himself in the hand with a farm tool. Maxwell decided to intervene before she worked herself into an even more violent furore. He had been present for the confrontation – but even he thought that Samantha was taking it unusually hard.

"Was it really that bad? You were speaking about how nice she was just a few hours ago."

"That was before I had a chance to speak with her for real," Samantha pouted. The words she had said cut deep. It was profoundly juvenile, almost as if Maria herself was not putting any real weight into them. Samantha dreaded to think what bitter truths she would utter should she have become serious. What was the reasoning behind how she acted? Samantha could not hope to understand.

Claude was unhelpful, "I heard that she doesn't have any friends."

"But what about the girls who follow her everywhere?"

"They're just fans, not friends. They want a little bit of that noble shine to rub off on them..."

Maxwell didn't agree; "Still – even the worst people have one or two friends. The bully from my old school wasn't left wanting for company. They were like a pack of wild hounds."

Claude snapped his fingers, "Maria doesn't want them. I've heard the same story told over and over again. It doesn't matter who it is or how polite they are, she rebuffs all of them in the same way. So don't take it too personally, Sam."

Samantha kept replaying their 'conversation' in her head. Part of her had expected to meet rude people at the Academy. She was a country girl infringing on a place where the rich and powerful made connections. Her Father had made it clear that she'd face many adverse challenges by taking this path. It had not deterred her in the slightest. But to experience it first-hand was more disturbing than she had anticipated. Maria's glare had frozen her in place and made her feel like a helpless prey animal.

As she repeated their encounter again – she attempted to view it from a different perspective. Had Maria done that intentionally to scare her away? It was true that she hadn't formed any other relationships during the first day of their education. She hadn't spoken to anyone without them speaking with her first. She didn't seek to enter into conflict with her, it only happened because Samantha thought they had something in common. She started politely but became increasingly prickly and irritated the more she spoke – and finally turned when she said she wanted to be friends. Was that the red line that Samantha could not hope to cross? It was a dangerous place to tread. Samantha had only thanked her for the kind treatment, and that was enough to send her tumbling back down to the start.

Max pulled on his collar, "I don't think you should try to get close to her anyway. You don't want to earn the ire of the Maria army that's started forming. It's just more trouble than it's really worth."

"Friends are a good thing, Max."

"Sure; but do you think that Maria would have your back if something bad happened? Would she stand up for you if they started giving you trouble? If the girl says she doesn't want to deal with you, it's probably for the best."

Claudius chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny, Claude?"

"It's obvious that there's more to this girl than first meets the eye. Such a mysterious presence, a femme fatale who defies social convention and has a look that can kill! She must have some serious skeletons in her trunk. It makes my inner detective tremble with excitement."

Max covered his face, "Oh, for goodness sake."

"What is he talking about?" Samantha asked.

"Claude can't stop reading those trashy detective serials they publish in the back pages."

"They are not trashy."

"The ones with all of the murder, and drugs and sex, they're horrible. He kept sneaking them from under his Dad's nose and reading them without his permission. Now he thinks he's a qualified detective. When was the last time you solved a crime, Claude?"

Claude opened his mouth to object but fell silent as he rewound through his entire life. "W-What about that time I found out who stole the last piece of cake in elementary school?"

"That's hardly equivalent to solving a murder."

"And I'm very good at understanding people! I can tell from just a simple glance what someone is thinking."

"Okay, then what am I thinking right now?" Maxwell queried.

"I can tell from the quirk of your brow and the movement of your lips that you are impressed with my abilities!"

Max clipped him around the ear, "No. I think you're making an arse of yourself, quite frankly."

Samantha giggled as the two old friends bickered in front of her. She could tell that both of them had spent a long time getting to know each other. This was the type of argument that you could only have with someone you were close to.

Claude was not going to be beaten down by his doubt. He continued to argue his case, "I'm the son of a police deputy – it's in my blood. My nose is finely tuned to the scent of misdoings."

"Your Father works with evidence and witnesses, he isn't inferring anything based on the angle of their damned eyebrows."

"Since when did you become an expert on police procedure?"

"I'm not! But you should know better than I do!"

This argument was going nowhere fast. There was just one problem, Samantha had already seen Maria dragging her trunk into her new dorm room and it wasn't large enough to contain a human skeleton. Samantha tuned the boys out and opened her magical theory textbook, intent on getting a head start before their first real lesson.

---

I sighed and settled down into the armchair within my chambers. The room was the same as everyone else's, more than enough to hold everything that a teenage student would need. It was odd for me to consider that parents were willing to send their children away to live at an academy at such a young age, but then I remembered that they didn't usually spend much time looking after them in the first place. The status quo was the same whether they were at home or not.

I still couldn't get Samantha out of my mind. A misfortune as profound as mine would surely be shared. Karma was inevitable. I was a person who had committed innumerable sins in my past life, and now I had proof that some supernatural force had brought me here. What kind of punishment was this to sally me forth into a new, healthy body and a life of immense privilege? An all-encompassing paranoia had started to grip me two years after my arrival; one that kept me awake at night and sent me spiralling at the creeping shadows of our large country home.

I leaned down and unlatched the brass locks from my trunk. Inside was a collection of several personal items and some spare clothes. The velvet interior was luxurious to the extreme, and presumably cost more than the average home. I had insisted on purchasing it during a shopping trip in the city. It was one of the few presents I had ever requested. Not only was it aesthetically pleasing, but it also contained an important feature that the shop owner had neglected to mention to my guardians. The only other thing I wanted was not within reach, so alternative measures had to be taken.

After removing all of my clothes and fiddling with another set of hidden latches, the bottom of the trunk lifted away to reveal a second, secret compartment. The inlay was divided into several smaller sections that allowed me to store different objects. Inside was something that would surely get me expelled, and perhaps worse, should anyone learn of it.

A Burs semi-automatic pistol; chambered for nine-millimetre bullets that bore a striking resemblance to parabellum rounds. The rough metal construction harkened back to the earliest days of firearm design. Guns had become an increasingly important industrial product in the preceding decades. Their development was accelerating every day thanks to genius designers and people like my Father. I had expected to find some strange and wild designs once I learned of them, though for my money, it most closely copied an M1911.

Revolvers were still popular with people who couldn't afford the newly released semi-autos. How I had come into possession of the gun was a long and winding tale. Father had purchased it for self-defence and competition and stored it in his study, in a location that was all too insecure and easy to access. The opportunity to use the thing had never arisen, leaving it as yet another forgotten trinket amongst a collection of other impulse purchases. It was almost certain that he'd forgotten all about it. The M1911 was one of my favourite guns, if only for the way it looked and sounded. When I was an assassin there were much better contemporary options that offered more features and modern materials.

I snuck into the study while no one was around and made away with it, tucking it atop my bedframe and out of sight where the maids wouldn't find it. The misplaced pistol was not noted for several months, upon which Father had momentarily believed that he had simply lost it. A more scrupulous investigation of the house staff turned up no leads, and he was never going to imagine his own daughter stealing a gun. The investigation went cold, but he got over it soon enough. He wasn't attached to something he had never used.

Sometimes looking like this had its advantages; that was a rare thought.

The only problem was that my Father had only purchased a trio of eight-round magazines. That was all the ammunition you'd need for a self-defence weapon. I did not anticipate needing a measly twenty-four bullets. Even I could miss a shot occasionally. A solution for that problem soon presented itself. Shooting competitions. Both using targets, clay pigeons and even some that still used live animals for practice. There were a lot of guns and ammo at the meetings held in unsecured crates. It had taken a monumental effort to convince my Father to even consider taking me to one. Once I was there, demonstrating a 'natural' talent for firearms had overridden his good senses. Everyone found it more than a little strange to see a young girl there, but they weren't checking the pockets of my dress for all of the pilfered ammunition I had stolen when they were looking the other way. They weren't going to notice a dozen rounds missing in a box of hundreds.

Through this methodology, I had stolen a hell of a lot of ammunition. Not as much as I would feel comfortable with – the rounds that the Burs used were rare, but it was enough to satisfy me for the time being. Those loose bullets were stored in a pouch inside of the case so I could refill the magazines later. I would have liked to have brought the gun with me but that risked it being discovered. I was torn between taking that chance or making sure I wouldn't lose it to my own idiocy. I made sure that everything was in order and closed the secret compartment again. I needed to resist the temptation. There were very few regulations on who could own a firearm, but it would still be confiscated if discovered on campus grounds. It would have to remain hidden away under my bed until a rainy day arrived.

Much to my frustration, that day would not come for some time yet.

 

[DWS]

Magic was an interesting topic. My Father had instilled some of the basics into me, but he never went so far as to teach me anything specific. He had always assumed that my time at the academy would do a much better job than he ever could. I couldn't disagree with that assessment. There was a world of difference between an expert and a student, and he had only been on one side of that equation. The first two chapters of the book were dry reading; intent on explaining concepts that could easily be inferred with enough wisdom. People were born with different sensitivities to the ambient magic that flowed through the air, and for as long as people had existed in this world, they had passed down the knowledge of how to utilise that energy to perform various tasks.

The true complexity of magic does not come from the act itself. Magic is an expression of energy passed through the human body. Imagine for a moment if you wished to summon a flame. How could it be done without physical kindling? Magic could be broadly defined as an ability that 'defied' the natural laws, but it is just as much an observer of the laws of physics as anything else in this world once it was expressed on the outside. You could create a zone of concentrated oxygen by extracting it from the air, but oxygen itself is not combustible. It would merely serve as a catalyst for a reaction. A flame summoned from a human body would snuff itself out on the spot.

It was a matter of efficiency. You could create the energy needed to ignite the air with enough effort, but it was extremely expensive in terms of power to do so. You would exhaust yourself almost entirely just to summon a few sparks. That was true for mages below grade three, but grades four and five had the stamina to do much more without the assistance of a magical tool. To wit – it was not a matter of 'imagining' the outcome you desired. It was to understand the elements and building blocks that created the world around you, to manipulate them using a variety of techniques, and to provide the energy needed to elicit the wanted effect.

Even simple spells could take months to learn and execute, all determined by the person's capability to understand the science behind each one of them. As someone brought back from modern society, many of these lessons came naturally to me. The curriculum within the Academy was the most forthright they could offer, but I still had an advantage over everybody else. The book she had given us was light nighttime reading at its most complicated. The others probably didn't find it so simple.

Samantha was special in her own way. I had never played the sequels, but I knew through osmosis that she had a power that allowed her to defy some of those rules. It was connected to a prophecy about saving the world; a plot thread that was never explored in the first game. It was a predictable rule-breaking concession that allowed her to be the centre of the universe: weak but strong, common but unique, humble but exceptional. She was a precision-engineered protagonist designed to elicit support and sympathy from a wish-fulfilling audience. A less experienced me enjoyed the game for what it was at the time. My perspective on things had hardened as I worked my way through a back catalogue of things that were more to my liking.

Samantha's destiny was not relevant to me. I was going to avoid her and her love interests like the plague for as long as possible. It would only result in me coming off like a villain or getting dragged into trouble, or dragging them into trouble. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt an innocent person just through my presence. As strange as it sounds, I worked hard to make sure that my targets were always the worst scum of the Earth. My methods were equally bystander conscious; I never left anything to chance. I was already doing something terrible by most people's standards – protecting onlookers was a small personal concession made to stop myself from losing it.

I slammed the book shut and left it on my desk for later. I was a quick learner, so internalising all of the opening chapters was no effort at all. It was a rather dry introduction to some of the material, including a brief history of the magical arts, examples of where it is utilised, and some guidelines that every mage needed to know. Mages had to register themselves with the government, especially if they were grade three or higher. While modern weapons of war were encroaching on the destructive power of a well-crafted spell, mages could hide in plain sight. They could detonate an important building or piece of infrastructure without having to bring anything with them. You couldn't do that with a bomb or a tank. It was a recent introduction, coming into force a few decades before the 'compromise' was signed.

It caused a lot of controversy when it was first formulated in Parliament. Mages didn't like the idea of having their names and addresses tracked for the sake of government oversight. Like many things, that controversy passed in time and it was implemented with little issue. People were never going to fight against a law like that for long. It required too much personal sacrifice to make a stand. It also came with military implications as skilled mages could be drafted into the army should the need arise.

My silent study time was interrupted by the sound of a commotion going on outside in the hallway. I made sure that I was presentable and marched over to the door, ready to give whoever was responsible a piece of my mind. I pulled the door open and prepared to deliver the verbal lashing of a lifetime, but I was stopped dead by the recognition of who was standing there in front of me. It was Theodore Van Walser. If I was considered the 'Queen' of the school by the student body, then he was the 'King.' There were a few reasons as to why that was the case; the most important being his membership in the Walser royal family. He was a third-year student, but his tall height, dark hair and good looks made him seem more mature than he really was.

The boy he was arguing with was a second year called Lance Franzheim. He was also one of the potential love interests from the game. Out of all of the characters in it, he was my least favourite. He was similar to Adrian – extremely prideful in his own abilities and hobbies but without the comedic relief of not being very good at them. He was seemingly only included for the women who wanted an irremediable trash fire that they could break down and repair. I was not so forgiving of his numerous faults as they might have been. To behave so poorly was in many ways a purposeful choice.

Theodore spoke with an icy edge, "I told you to stop walking through the first year's dorms, Lance. There is a reason people spread so many unbecoming rumours about you."

"I don't recall that ever being a rule we had to follow, Theo. My room is on this floor and walking through here is the fastest way to get to it. Nobody would even know about it if you didn't keep making a big deal out of it."

"It's not a rule, it's good manners."

Lance turned and tried to walk away from the discussion, but his eyes caught sight of me observing from the doorway. "See? Now even little Miss Walston-Carter is coming out here to take a look!" He was completely unwilling to admit that the volume of his own voice was the primary reason I had noticed their confrontation. Theodore looked at me for a moment before turning his attention back to Lance.

"If you ask the teachers they will tell you the same thing that I have. You need to respect the privacy of the younger students. This discussion is over."

"Whatever. You've always got a point to prove, must feel bad knowing that you're only third in line to be the King."

"That is irrelevant."

Theodore did not covet the Walser throne like Lance believed. As the primary male antagonist, he was intended to slowly reveal his vulnerabilities throughout the course of the story. One of them was his insecurity about handling too much responsibility. He dreaded the prospect of becoming the King, as unlikely as it was. Lance, having gotten the last word, spun on his heel and stormed his way down the hallway and out of sight. Theodore turned to me and bowed.

"Apologies. I did not mean to disturb you."

Nobody else had seen fit to investigate. I sighed and matted down a piece of stray hair; "I was finished studying anyway. It is of little consequence."

There was one other thing about Theodore. In the game, he and Maria quickly get into a relationship. Maria used that leverage to manipulate him and further her personal war against Samantha. He wouldn't agree to do that if he didn't find Maria attractive. The problem was that I had become Maria. While I was comfortable with many things, the idea of being romantically involved with anyone, especially a man, was not one of them. Before I was reborn a relationship was the last thing on my mind, and I had made my peace with never engaging in one. His stare was starting to unnerve me.

"I take it that you're the girl who's been causing a big stir recently?"

"Whether I wish to or not, yes."

"Please ensure that you are representing the academy with grace and respect at all times. We have little need for those who live for attention."

"I wasn't planning on it." What a charmer. The very first thing he said to me was a random admonishment about following the academy's rules.

"I must be away before curfew. Goodnight."

Without a second glance, he headed off in pursuit of Lance. Surely, they would continue to argue into the late hours of the evening. He wasn't going to take his petulant insult lying down. I heard the door across from me shut – someone must have been observing us from the other side. I believed that the room was occupied by a girl named Talia. I could only cross my fingers and hope that she didn't start spreading even more rumours about me based on what she saw.

I headed back into my room and locked the door behind me. As I passed by the mirror, I reached up and touched my own face. Were people really so interested in me just because of my looks? I was tiny compared to some of the other girls – no number of doll-like features could change that. I was strong enough to fire a gun, but anything beyond that was still impossible. I was consistently surprised at just how few of my previous skills I could use with my body limited like this. My modern perspective on things was warping how I thought. For the period where the game took place, Maria would attract a large number of suitors. Being spindly and youthful were considered good things even as you headed up in years.

I didn't want to stay this way forever. I had accepted that I had filled the shoes of Maria and accepted that there was no realistic way of changing myself back. As long as it did not cause me discomfort, I did not mind things the way they were. Where I drew the line was when my new body inhibited my ability to defend myself. There was no prospect of turning myself into a state similar to my past life; the biological lottery that Maria had won turned her into a girl of minor stature but a large presence.

But a gun was the great equaliser. I didn't need to be tall and muscular to do what I do best. Everyone is the same when they're facing down the barrel of a firearm. Those muscles won't protect your internal organs from the shrapnel tearing through you. I looked under my bed again and considered pulling the pistol out to comfort myself, but resisted the urge. It was there for when things turned upside down, not just for me to slip under my pillow at night.

Even so, it was a restless evening.

 

[DWS]

The next morning heralded the beginning of our real life at the academy. We all awoke to find a schedule slipped under our doors. Students would study for five days a week, with each session taking up two hours. For students on the magic course, an extra period would occur on 'Friday,' which otherwise ended early for everyone else. There was a wide range of subjects on offer as first-year students were pushed in several different directions at once.

There was an hour break period at midday so that everyone could eat. This was roughly translated from a time management mechanic in the original game. Also, in Love Revolution – the calendar was rendered in a more generic form without names for the days and months. These gaps had been filled. Unslaw, Erslaw, Arslaw, Gerstad, Gerwent, Karbur and Karvor had taken the respective places of each day of the week.

It was 'Erslaw,' or Tuesday, as the induction process had taken up all of the first day of the week. That meant my first-period lesson was a physics lesson. A new and innovative field in a world undergoing its equivalent of the industrial revolution. Before that, there was a morning roll call in the cafeteria where everyone could have their morning meal before the work really began.

I grabbed my uniform from the wardrobe and dressed in front of the mirror. I had taken a liking to the shirts usually reserved for the male students – as I discovered early on that there were no specific rules about what uniform we had to wear. As long as it was issued by the school, there was nothing they could do to stop me. It was a minor difference at best. The female uniforms came in a slightly different cut with shorter sleeves. The girl's uniforms were not so distasteful that I shied away from them out of respect for my past masculine self. That guy had worn a lot of strange disguises over the years. It was completely down to my own preference. And nobody was going to make fun of 'Maria Walston-Carter' for wearing something she wanted to wear. I was anticipating a movement where my fanclub started to copy me...

When that was done and my hair was tied back into a short braid – I headed out of the door and down the main stairwell to reach the cafeteria. Like most other areas of the building, it was a nicely decorated room with tall windows and red silk curtains. On the left side of the hall was a long serving bar with several staff members hurrying in and out of the kitchen to put out various options for the students. In the morning it mostly consisted of dry, room-temperature food like bread and toppings.

I tried to ignore the way that some of the others were staring at me and grabbed a plate. I elected for some bread, which was freshly baked and warm to the touch, jam, butter and a small salad. I then located the most isolated table in the room and sat at the very end so that I didn't have to deal with anybody getting into my personal space. The tables and chairs were not cheap plastic things like you'd find in a modern school. They were finely crafted wooden thrones placed behind an equally lavish grand table. I had never gone to a private school in my past life, but this was how I imagined it to be.

The bread was fantastic. I enjoyed my meal as more and more early risers filtered in through the doors and broke off into their respective cliques. I groaned internally as several of my self-declared groupies locked onto me from across from the room. Before they could ruin my morning and lavish unneeded praise on me, another girl slid in beside me and started to quietly eat her own breakfast, earning a glare of jealousy from the head of the group. My defences were bolstered further as Claudius and Maxwell sat across from me on the opposite side, completely preventing any irritating groupies from following me.

The girl next to me was wolfing down her food at a rapid pace. I stared at her for a moment, briefly meeting her auburn eyes. She swallowed a mouthful of jam-slathered bread; "I saw you speaking with the Ice King yesterday evening," she said suddenly, "Do you two have something going on?"

My reply was withering, "I've been here for one day – what do you think?"

She smirked and ignored my audible disdain, "So? A lot of those marriage arrangements happen outside of school, don't they? I wouldn't be surprised to find out that someone as influential as you is marrying into the royal family."

"I can assure you that no such plan is being made."

"I wasn't worried about it. I have a bad habit of looking for gossip. A lot of your fans are already talking about how you and him are the perfect couple and rubbish like that."

"I see."

"I'm Talia, I sleep in the room across from yours."

"Maria," I replied simply.

"I think we're in the same class. Would you like me to grab the seat next to you in the first period?"

"Why?"

She smirked, "I know that look you keep throwing those girls. You don't want anything to do with them. I thought I'd do you a favour and keep a bit of distance between you. I'm not expecting anything in return, it's just that we both prefer a bit of peace and quiet. I won't even talk to you if you don't want me to."

"Not that I have much of interest to say," I sighed, "If you'd like, you can take the chair next to me."

"Great, thanks a bunch."

This girl was stupid to do something like this. She was painting a huge target on her back for the mean girl squad to throw a lot of abuse at. I fully expected her to give up on her plan after a few days of having insults uttered behind her back time and time again. I'd need to handle the fanclub myself eventually and make it clear to them just how little I appreciated their near-constant badgering. This school was meant to be for people of high birth and good manners, but they certainly didn't seem to care that it was rude to stare at someone while they were trying to enjoy a meal.

Claudius and Maxwell hadn't noticed me before they chose their spot in the back corner. They were arguing about a crime story that Claudius had seen in the morning paper. I wasn't sure where he had gotten it from. He must have taken a second-hand copy from one of the teachers.

"I'm serious Claude – the only thing you talk about these days are people getting murdered. Give it a rest already! I don't want to hear about it while I'm trying to eat."

"It's important to keep up with all of the recent news, you know. It expands the mind and gives you new perspectives. Don't come crying to me in a few years when your ignorance comes back to bite you."

"I don't see myself needing such things! The professor is hardly going to ask me about the exact details of how to conceal a dead body in the woods, you fool. Even talking about this is running the risk of someone getting the wrong idea."

It was a little late to worry about that given the volume of their discussion. Claudius' interest in the morbid wasn't an expression of deep discontent or the result of childhood trauma. He was just someone who had become infatuated with the idea of being a gallant detective, solving mysteries and confounding criminals. He would be sorely disappointed to learn that most murderers didn't have a matching flair for the dramatic. There was nothing stimulating about the real act of finding a killer. It required patience and lateral thinking that I didn't believe he had. Claudius finally noticed that I was staring at him and he clammed up, turning bright red and averting his gaze elsewhere. Maxwell rolled his eyes and turned to me.

"Good morning, Lady Maria."

I kept my manners and greeted him in turn, "Hello Maxwell."

"You should have heard what he was saying about you yesterday-"

Claudius leapt back into the discussion and slapped his hand over Maxwell's mouth before he could divulge all the dirty details. He laughed nervously and bowed his head, "Never mind! Maxwell, you shouldn't make things up like that. People will get the wrong idea."

Maxwell wrenched the invading hand free from his face and snarled, "Don't shove your hand into my mouth, I'm trying to eat here!"

"They're such good friends, aren't they?" Talia commented dryly.

"Indeed they are."

I had to wonder why Samantha hadn't joined in on this poor man's comedy routine. I looked around the room and tried to spot her in the crowd – her blonde hair was enough to make her stand out from most of the other girls, but I couldn't see her. I had to wonder if she had made some friends during her first day here. I grabbed my plate and pushed out from my spot at the table. I handed the cutlery and the plate back to the staff, who placed it on a cart to be cleaned later.

There was still some time before the first period as I had eaten my meal quickly for the sake of avoiding any conversations. It was high school all over again, at least this time it was by choice. I headed out of the hall and decided to wait by the classroom door for the lesson to start. There was a small courtyard nearby where I could get some fresh air and clear my mind.

I had to appreciate how clean the air was out here. We were rather close to a major city, but the lack of industrialisation in the area kept things breathable. The rich and the powerful weren't going to let their favourite city turn into a smog-covered hellhole. I sat down on one of the wooden benches and watched the clouds roll by. Enjoying a peaceful life in this new world was too kind a reward for the likes of me. My momentary reflection was unfortunately short-lived, as another girl poured out from the door behind me like a tidal wave. She had long purple hair and straight bangs,

"Lady Maria! There you are!" I remained completely silent as she bent over to catch her breath. When she was finally ready to speak again she straightened out and struck a cocky pose, "Why did you leave the hall without me?"

I didn't want to ask, knowing that she would never shut up if I did, but the temptation was too strong; "And you are?"

She smiled, "My name is Catherine Selldorf! I was hoping that we could have a moment to speak, but those unscrupulous people took my place by your side before I could get to you. I presume you came here to escape their inane blather."

She wouldn't recognize inane blather if it hit her over the head with a brick.

"No. I merely wished to enjoy the fresh air."

"Ah, there's no need to hold back and be polite, Lady Maria. You can speak openly with me, I will not divulge a word of it to anyone else." She wasn't going to take the hint and leave me alone that easily. She was the head groupie from my self-declared fanclub. I saw her shooting daggers at Talia earlier.

"If you respect me so much, why not take my words at face value?"

Her grin wavered for a moment, "Ah. I just... Some people are very polite, such as yourself. An esteemed lady would never speak a bad word of anyone, regardless of your real feelings." Yet here she was expecting me to do just that. People always astounded me with their ability to tie themselves into knots like this.

"I didn't mind. Who sits next to me while I eat is merely a brief inconvenience at most. It's nothing worth getting angry about." Catherine nodded as if that was what she expected me to say the entire time, even as she tried to bait me into bullying some of the other students. I stood from my seat, revealing that I was significantly shorter than she was. "And I'm not looking for friends if that's what you want."

She did a very poor job of concealing her disappointment.

"It would be very presumptuous of me to assume that a lowly girl like me could be your friend, Lady Maria! I just wanted you to know that you have a great many supporters here among the student body; we all believe that you are the most fabulous girl and we all want to be like you."

I scoffed, "I can handle myself."

"O-Of course, that strength of character and will is just another part of your charm."

Even my coldest stare wasn't enough to make this girl leave me alone. When I refused to respond again, she bowed her head respectfully and hurried back inside with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. That wasn't going to be enough to get them off my back. Nothing short of a full-throated rejection in plain terms was going to get through to them, if at all. They could just rationalise a new reason as to why I wanted to stay away from them. If whoever reincarnated me wanted my skills in killing people subtly – they could have done better than putting me in the flashiest body around...

 

[DWS]

The first magic class was in session, and I was bored out of my mind.

The full cohort consisted of myself, Adrian, Maxwell, Claudius, Samantha, Talia and a girl named Margaret. For the absolute avoidance of doubt, Miss Malorie Jennings decided to quickly run through everything I had already studied beforehand. There was a novelty in experiencing lessons in a world where the history, technology and culture were radically different – but not in the science, maths and language periods where much of it was below my existing knowledge.

Miss Jennings was essentially reading from the book again, the same book she had asked us to read in preparation for this very lesson. I was not the only one experiencing fatigue from this repetitious walkthrough. The studious members of the class couldn't hide the boredom on their faces. The non-studious members who hadn't read the book weren't paying attention regardless.

On the teacher's left was a fifth-year student named Felipe Escobarus. He was Talia's older brother and the resemblance was uncanny. They both had the same messy black hair, tanned skin and yellow eyes. He was a character I was totally unfamiliar with, a passing silhouette in the background of a much more interesting tale. Now that I was being personally immersed in the world of Love Revolution all of those individuals would get their time in the sun. He was here to help teach the class and get extra credit towards his graduation, which would occur at the end of his sixth year.

It was a long and painful road, but eventually Miss Jennings slammed the book shut and stepped back to admire the plethora of notes she had written on the blackboard. A few of us had decided to copy some of them, but only where she had chosen to elaborate on concepts not already explained in the text. She clapped her hands together and tried to clean off the chalk, "Now – before we go any further I was hoping to give you all a practical demonstration. The weather is perfect, and showing you what magic can do will hopefully alight a new passion for the art."

With plans made, she ushered the class down the corridor and out of one of the building's many exits. A specially cordoned yard near the woods at the back of the campus was used for magic training. It was little more than a square with some old archery targets thrown down at the far end. It bore many scars of war from years of use and abuse, with charred grass, broken trees and shattered stones. Each one told its own little story, but there was no time for Miss Jennings to talk us through all of them. Despite this period occurring after hours she was still being held to a tight schedule. We would need to visit the dining hall for one last meal before the day was through.

"I know it looks like this place has been turned into a battlefield before, but you shouldn't expect a surplus of destructive power at your fingertips without significant time and effort," Felipe explained. "Still – this is dangerous enough for us to conduct any and all magical testing outside of the academy building. There's a zero-tolerance policy in place for anyone who breaks this rule. You will run the risk of being expelled, and I needn't say what will occur if you use those magical abilities on another student."

Miss Jennings nodded in concurrence, "That's right. You all have an immense personal responsibility to use these powers with care. They are not a curiosity to trifle with when you find your mind wandering. Even a low-level spell can cause damage to another person." Adrian had to use what little restraint he had to stop himself from talking back to her, he knew that a misstep would see him expelled from the course post-haste. They weren't going to take troublemakers along for the ride if they were going to use their newly learned abilities to wreak havoc.

Felipe walked to one of the targets and grabbed a small metal rod that had been embedded into the dirt by its feet. He stabbed the pole through the hay surface and returned to the group, who watched with anticipation of what he was going to do. "This first spell is extremely difficult and requires a conductive point to function properly. Step back and allow me to demonstrate."

Miss Jennings ensured that everyone was at a safe distance before giving him the go-ahead. He held his left hand out at the target and focused his energy on manipulating the surrounding area. Adrian rolled his eyes and scoffed as nothing happened at first, but he nearly jumped out of his skin when a lightning bolt appeared from his palm and struck the metal pole. The hay immediately caught light as a conductive channel was not connected to the ground. Miss Jennings retrieved a previously unnoticed pail of water and doused it before it could burn the forest down. It was a terrifying and sudden display of power. The class applauded the feat as he took a bow and stepped aside.

"That was an example of a two-point spell," Jennings stated, "By manipulating the energy in the air, Felipe created a start and end that allowed him to summon forth a bolt of thunder."

I had to replay her statement in my head to comprehend it. Did she mean to imply that he was capable of shifting the electrons and protons into a specific formation? That was how thunder was formed naturally in the air. Using a conductive point, he could direct that energy and strike at the target.

Adrian was not as impressed as the rest of the group. He crossed his arms and scoffed, "Is that it? I was expecting something more explosive."

Claudius was quick to shoot back, "He just fired lightning from his hands, that seems rather impressive to me. My heart isn't going to slow down. It's pounding like a drum!"

Max agreed, "Too right. My ears are still ringing..."

I'd grown too used to the sounds of gunfire to find the crack of thunder alarming. Adrian's posturing wasn't playing well with the rest of the class. Nobody was convinced that the display we had just seen was underwhelming. It was much more powerful than I was expecting. My Father had spent the past few years downplaying just how effective magic could be. In specific contexts such as this, it was very dangerous. In a fight, it was unlikely that you could stab someone with a lightning rod though, at that point you may as well finish the job by hand. But nobody ever said that it was useful in combat. The advent of firearms had rendered most forms of combat magic redundant. This kind of electrical manipulation would often be used in industrial processes.

Miss Jennings snapped her fingers, "Now, now. There'll be plenty of time to discuss matters later. We have to make the most out of this lesson period, as we'll have few opportunities to work together in person. What you just saw was an advanced spell that we'd expect from a final-year student; it requires immense focus and a commitment to knowledge about the natural elements that surround you."

Felipe nodded, "I remember seeing such a demonstration during my first year. I told myself that I'd never be able to emulate the feat, but here I am some years later – offering that same example to you all. There is still so much more for me to learn, and helping you along the path will enlighten me just as much as it will you."

"The first practical lesson will be about manipulation. Manipulation is the basis of nearly all practical magics used today. Think of it as a muscle that one must train to strengthen, time and time again. You will use your magical stamina and manipulate something harmless, that being the air that surrounds us." She pointed her hands towards us, and a sudden gust of wind rustled the frills on my shirt and threatened to upturn some skirts. I clenched the edge of my own and tried to prevent any untimely flashing of the boys. I had enough marriage proposals to worry about already.

"Why air?" Adrian asked with a tone that indicated he thought he was too good for such a thing.

"Air is the best place for a beginner to learn the basics. It's light, it requires less magical energy to move, and it poses no harm to you or the other students. By using wind currents – we can make the most out of the time we have and the extent to which you can continue to use magic before exhausting yourselves. These basic skills will be the foundation by which you explore other spells in the future."

Felipe had stern words in contrast, "One cannot expect to become a talented mage without time and effort. If your patience is running thin even now, then might I suggest seeking a better way to occupy your time?"

That open challenge ruffled Adrian's feathers. He was overly competitive to a fault and wasn't going to take it lying down. He'd willingly submit himself to something he didn't enjoy so long as it proved a point to someone he hated. Felipe had marked himself as public enemy number one, and Adrian was going to endure however many boring theory lessons it took to prove him wrong. It was a pattern of behaviour that I had noticed after I first achieved victory over him at a local shooting competition; something that he still hadn't let go of even after all this time.

"I'm not impatient," he yelled, "I was just hoping for an explanation, that's all!"

Miss Jennings ignored his frustration and spoke to the rest of the class by repeating a key passage from the book. "Manipulation is a method, not a spell in itself. What defines a spell is the way that these methods are utilised and combined with the natural elements around us. You must learn to reach out with your hands and touch these elements not with your nerves, but with your spirit. Can you please line up for me?"

There was a small commotion as everyone jockeyed for the best position. I moved aside and stood at the far end. Jennings directed us through the process of tapping into our innate magical abilities. It boiled down to closing our eyes and wishing really hard, my cynical nature made it hard to take the process seriously. If it were that easy, why did we need a tutor to show us the ropes? Regardless, I successfully 'felt' the air around me using what could best be described as an extra sense. It was like touching the edge of a soft, silken blanket – one that moved and swayed through my skin and bones. The shock of it was enough to knock me back out of my trance and into the real world.

"It looks like Lady Maria has already succeeded! Very well done. As you can imagine, holding that state for long enough to use your magic takes some practice. The first few times you'll come back having your head stuffed full of information."

Samantha was the next member of the group to squeal as her imaginary fingers strummed along the edge of a passing current. She stepped back and almost fell over, but Claudius stepped in and held her up before she could injure herself. "Woah! Watch out, Sam."

"S-Sorry!"

"Was it really that scary?" he asked.

"It was weird. It was like I grew an extra pair of hands!" Samantha murmured, unable to offer an accurate description of the otherworldly sensation. The only way to understand it was to experience it. Claudius' curiosity drew him in and made him try again. Thirty seconds later he had a similar reaction, crying out with a crack in his voice and almost falling onto his ass.

Everyone had a good laugh at his expense, at least until it was their turn to succeed and do the same thing. Felipe offered further guidance to Adrian and his sister, who were both struggling. When everyone had their turn to humiliate themselves with a variety of reactions, Jennings checked her watch and realised that we were five minutes over our allotted time.

"Oh dear, it seems that's all we have time for today! I'd like all of you to end every day by getting in touch with your magical senses. Simply do what we did here again until you feel comfortable slipping in and out of your trance."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Fantastic! I'll see you all again at the same time next week, don't overdo it."

Everyone started to gravitate towards the entrance to the building as the teachers remained behind to clean up the mess they left, but Adrian was shadowing me with intent. Before I could slip away and enjoy the rest of my evening in solitude, he swept around in front of me and jabbed his finger into my face, "Don't think that you've won just because you did what the teacher wanted before me, Maria. This isn't a sprint – I'm going to come out the victor at the end. Just you wait."

"I can barely contain my excitement," I droned. The others stopped and watched to see what the fight was about. I twisted the knife just to steam him a little. "If you're as good at magic as you are at shooting, then I won't have anything to worry about."

Max grabbed his shoulder, "There's no need to get aggressive with Maria, Adrian."

"There is! I hate seeing that smug look on her face, always thinking that she's so much better than me."

I stepped closer, "I haven't seen any evidence to the contrary yet – you red-faced blowhard. The next time you point that scrawny finger in my face, I'll snap it clean off." A chill ran through the assembled spectators, and not because of anyone summoning the wind on top of us. It wasn't doing anything to improve Samantha's ill impression of me from the days before, but I wasn't here to make friends. I was trying to do the exact opposite. Adrian wasn't sure how he felt about me threatening to break his fingers. Was it just a joke? Or was I being serious?

"You... I... who the hell do you think you are?"

"Have a nice evening, Adrian."

I pushed past him and walked away.

---​

"Yikes," Maxwell exhaled, "I thought something bad was going to happen there."

Claudius smirked, "See, I told you that she was a cold-blooded killer. She had those eyes, you know?"

Adrian turned on the duo and spat back, "Oh shut up, both of you! As if a dainty little girl like her could do something like that!"

Samantha held her tongue but recalled a moment when she had seen Maria without her shirt a few days prior. She was cleaning herself up in the washroom. At first, she thought nothing of it, but as she moved and tensed her muscles she discovered that Maria was hiding a lot beneath that uniform and doll-like façade. Maria may have been short and pretty, but she had the body of a young athlete.

There was no doubt in her mind that she could follow through on her threat if Adrian tested her any further. The more Samantha learned about Maria the less she understood. She was studious, polite, frigid, popular but isolated, and engaged in hobbies like shooting. All she did know was that she didn't like her very much.

"Don't come crying to me with your hand in a cast in a few days," Claudius snickered, "We warned you."

"That's right. It only takes a small amount of leverage to break a finger. I did it when I was a kid," Max added.

"She's not going to break any of my bones!" The more Adrian said it, the less convincing it sounded. Dramatic irony demanded that such an occurrence would come true if he kept foreshadowing it. Claudius made a cutting motion by his neck to tell Adrian to keep it quiet. He wasn't going to heed such sage advice. He huffed and stormed away, leaving the friendlier members of the class with each other for company.

"Ugh, what is his problem?" Talia said.

Claudius was already psychoanalysing him; "He seems like a fragile guy. I don't know how long he's going to last in this academy, to be honest. Maria is rattling him on purpose."

Max nodded, "There's no love lost between those two..."

"You seem to be the only person she's willing to tolerate, Talia."

"She never speaks with me – we just sit next to each other in class so she doesn't have to deal with her fanclub. I painted a huge target on my back by doing that. Those girls are crazy mean when you get between them and Maria. I get why she doesn't want anything to do with them."

"If you're looking for friends, we'll welcome you to the group," Samantha smiled. She liked how selfless Talia was being, even if it was in service of someone she had a rough relationship with. Samantha and Talia weren't alone. Maria didn't care for anyone in her year, and the older students were too busy or aloof to worry about one of their juniors.

Talia was happy to accept, "Sure, when I'm not playing defence for her – I'll come hang out."

Claudius laughed, "Thank you. If Samantha spends too much time around us she might lose all of her girl power. We need another girl to balance things out."

"Girl power?" Samantha echoed.

Max groaned, "It's nothing, Let's go get something to eat before all of the good food is gone."

 

[JustRaiding195]

Lol

 

[DWS]

It was time for a biology lesson with Professor Trevor Prier. For the science periods in our schedule, there was no specified subject. One of the science teachers would take the period and deliver their lesson plan to the students, with a minimum number being expected by the end of the year. The reasoning was that most of them were still tenured researchers and lecturers with other commitments. Professor Prier was one of the few who were employed full-time by the academy, so it was no surprise that he was the first of the tutors we would meet. The first lesson was decent – with plenty of demonstrative examples and metaphors to help us understand, though that effort was wasted on someone like me.

My advanced, twenty-first-century education meant that most of it was elementary at best. The problem was that Prier had singled me out as the best option when none of the other students could answer one of his questions. I'd always answer them correctly, thus confirming his methodology and making him more likely to ask me again in the future. He had gone to the well four times during our first lesson. Talia found it hilarious. She was already teasing me about it before he entered the lecture hall.

"Time for another lesson from Professor Walston-Carter," she mused.

"Hopefully not. Would it not be better if the others had a chance to confirm their learning?"

She just laughed at me, "We'd be here all day if that was the case. No offence, but some of the people here aren't the brightest. Even the Professor has a schedule to keep."

I opened my notebook and changed the topic, "You never said anything about your brother teaching the magic class."

"You never asked. You can't expect me to give you all of the details when you always avoid talking with everybody. He's a real honour student, and he has a marriage lined up when he gets out of here too."

"A marriage?"

"It's another student, her name's Beatrice Booker."

The name was familiar. Booker was a surname you'd see associated with big business within the city. They had their fingers in a lot of different pies, and marrying into them would be important to anyone with a strategy to increase their influence and wealth like their Father. Arranged marriages were nothing unusual in this world. In the game, they were often the source of the interpersonal drama that drove many storylines.

"Interesting. Does he like her?"

"Well enough," Talia responded, "I don't think they're going to be at each other's throats if that's what you mean. They're just lucky that they can stand each other. Most arranged marriages aren't like that at all. I think Beatrice was the one who had the final say on whether to agree to it. Her Father does whatever she wants."

Our discussion ended with the arrival of the Professor. He was a strange-looking man with a long face, bleached-white hair and a pair of round spectacles. He liked to wear coloured sweaters and bow ties. He placed his books down on the podium and clapped his hands together to demand the room's attention. He spoke with a jaunty and enthusiastic cadence, "Good morning everyone. I hope that you all took the time to retrace the content we covered last week, as I'd like to plough right ahead and move on to the next!"

I found the previous lesson rather dull – but I shouldn't have expected too much. For many children, this was the first whiff of education they ever experienced outside of the home. I'd estimate that the content of the curriculum was a few years behind where I expected it to be for our age. I could coast through most of the questions and lectures just by using my memory of High School.

When the lesson was over an hour later, everyone made a mad dash for the exit. Even my dedicated fan club decided against approaching me when isolated. They didn't want to hear another word about photosynthesis. Before I could join them and leave the lecture hall, Trevor pulled me aside and asked to speak with me. He flashed a toothy grin, "I'm very impressed with your knowledge, Maria. Did you take private lessons before coming here?"

"No. I simply found myself spending a lot of time in the library back home."

"If you ever feel like giving me a hand wrangling these kids, please feel free to ask! I'm sure that a lady like you could hold their attention much better than I ever could." He laughed sardonically at his own joke, "Well – it's their loss at the end of the day. If they don't get their money's worth during their time here, there's nothing I can do about it. I try to make these lectures as exciting as I can, but it's an uphill battle."

I recalled something minor from the game. One of the first 'events' that the player had a major choice in revolved around Claudius needing a tutor to help him study biology. Samantha would be approached by the teacher and asked to help, giving the player a choice between starting his route or avoiding it. If not, Maria would do it instead and cause some trouble by whispering a few lies in his ear. The biology teacher was not an important character in the visual novel, so his name and appearance were never revealed. This was clearly the first step in forcing me to give him a hand.

"Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me, Professor?"

He chuckled, "You're too wise to let me go with just that. I was hoping that you could offer a helping hand to Claudius. I've already asked Samantha to assist him, but she has her own studies to worry about too. I'd feel much more confident if you were to help him since you seem so ahead of the curve already."

I didn't hate Claudius, but he didn't make much of an impression on me when I played the novel. I nodded and half-shrugged to signal my mixed feelings on his request, "I'll see what I can do. But Claudius tends to be more occupied reading detective serials and crime reports than doing his assignments."

Trevor smiled and patted me on the shoulder, "I'm sure you'll get through to him somehow. That's all I wanted to say. Thank you for another great lecture, Miss Carter."

I bowed my head and took my leave into the main corridor. Talia was waiting for me by the window. She approached and quirked a brow, "Did he have something to say to you?"

"He just asked me to help Claudius study."

"What? That's supposed to be his job."

I nodded in agreement, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. The issue isn't of Claudius' intelligence, but rather his willingness to engage with a subject that doesn't arouse his interest."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I have a few ideas," I said ominously.

I knocked on Claudius' door that evening and waited for him to open it. When he appeared through the frame, I noted that he was already halfway through untying his ascot and getting dressed for bed.

"Is this a bad time?"

Claudius hadn't expected me to show up. I was too frosty to make a friendly call to another person's room like this. He sputtered and quickly buttoned his shirt to try and conceal his chest from me. "N-No, there's never a bad time. A detective always has to be ready, you know?"

"But you're not a detective. You're a student."

Claudius tapped his temple with his finger, "It's training. You have to be in the right mindset at all times! You never know when a major crime is going to occur, or if a vital clue appears within your periphery."

"The biology Professor asked me to whip you into shape," I said, crossing my arms and giving him an impatient look. His face turned inwards like he had just started sucking on a lemon. "If you wouldn't like my assistance, you need only say so."

Claudius clenched his teeth and sighed, "Ugh. My Dad told me that I'll be in serious trouble if I don't do this earnestly. It's not my fault that the lessons are so dull. Maybe the Professor should bring some more pictures or examples for us to look at."

"Not everyone has a resistance to crime scene photos like you do..."

He chewed on my offer for a little longer before conceding and grabbing his blazer from behind the doorway.

"Alright. I'll hear you out, but it better be a compelling lecture this time, or I'll swear off biology for the rest of my days."

I led him across the hall and into the lounge, a dedicated study and common area for the students staying in the academy. There were several bookshelves filled with content from the general courses, as well as a roaring fireplace, tables, couches and more. It had everything I needed to try and bring Claudius on side. We took one of the empty tables near the fire and I started leading him towards my desired conclusion. Claudius only cared about one thing; being a master detective. I needed to tie his love of crime stories into biology, and there was an obvious avenue for me to reach it. I gave him a second to settle in before starting my pitch.

"You know, there are a lot of moving pieces when it comes to solving a crime."

That caught his attention. If he had the ears of a dog, they'd be standing on end.

"Yes, that there is."

"What all of those crime serials fail to explore is the modern reality of police work. They all rely on the belief in the power of one individual, a brilliant mind unrestrained by the same strain of logic as the rest of us. But one person cannot hope to educate themselves in every field, and as time passes the methods by which the police hunt these criminals down will become more sophisticated."

Claudius grumbled, "That's what my Dad keeps telling me too. He laughed when I said I'd just learn how to do all of those things for myself."

"I'm not trying to make fun of you, Claudius. I think it's rather admirable that you have a goal in mind. I don't even have a future that I wish to seek for myself. The point I'm making is that your effort will pay dividends in the end, and that if you wish to become a great detective, you must keep on the cutting edge of their investigative techniques. And that is where biology comes in."

"Biology?"

"Not every criminal will leave a convenient trail of clues leading to their ultimate defeat, Claudius. When things are too difficult for the eye to discern, the sciences will be utilised to level the playing field. Biology is just one of them. In the future – biology will be an essential part of capturing criminals. It can be used to match blood samples from a crime scene, for example." Claudius oohed at my description of this 'hypothetical' technology, completely unaware of the fact that this was something that would genuinely arrive in the near future.

There was not a single speck of scepticism in his response, "That sounds amazing."

"All living beings follow a similar set of principles. If you'd like to be a detective, learning about how the human body works will be essential to determining a cause of death." I opened one of the books I had brought with me and displayed a diagram of the human body, pointing to the veins and organs that had been helpfully labelled for us. "Each one of these pieces serves an important function. If something goes wrong with one of them, it could lead to injury, illness or death."

While I dove into my explanation about the importance of physiology, Claudius stared at me with a surprised look on his face. I was halfway through the page until I finally noticed and paused to let him catch up, "Is something wrong?"

He coughed and turned away, "Oh. I was just thinking, you're a pretty good teacher. I wasn't expecting you to do all of this just for me."

I frowned, "I'm not above helping someone when they ask."

"I appreciate it. I was listening to the whole thing, let's keep going."

I left it at that and went through my lecture, I even managed to include some of the botany subjects that Trevor had gone through without totally losing him. When the human biology unit arrived, Claudius was going to be leagues ahead of everyone else. I just hoped that it would ignite a curiosity in him that didn't need me to keep burning.

 

[Hypervane]

Steal his heart, villainess!

 

[DWS]

"I really don't know what to think of that girl..."

Claudius had been sent for a loop by his tutoring session with Maria Walston-Carter. After all, he was the one who had declared her to be a vicious villainess based on her cold behaviour towards Samantha the week before. She struck him as a malicious character, with a gaze that could freeze the blood in your veins and a lot of skeletons hidden in her closet. All of his years spent reading mystery novels and crime reports had given him a superstitious approach towards women like her. But once he started listening to her introduction to biology, he couldn't tune out again. She was really darn smart – and she had done exactly what the Professor had asked of her. He couldn't forget it if he tried.

"Are you perhaps starting to think that you made your judgement too hastily?" Maxwell asked as they walked to his dorm room.

As they entered, Claudius immediately made a rush for a small noticeboard that had been placed up against the far wall. It was covered with various pieces of scrap paper, marked with ink covering his observations about the people at the academy.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Max sighed, "What on Earth is this?" To him, they looked like nothing more than the ramblings of a madman. Surely Claude would be institutionalised if they found this stalker-like collection of tall tales and laundered gossip.

"Criminal profiling is key to being a good detective, even Lady Maria agrees with me on that."

"The only criminal we're profiling here right now is you."

Claude ignored his snide comments and explained his process; "I've been asking around about her. I haven't recorded some of the more popular stories – I only look for things that have a basis in reality. According to Talia, Maria doesn't have any friends aside from her. Still, she's the most popular woman in the academy."

Max shrugged, "She likes to keep to herself. Just because everyone adores her doesn't mean she'll be friendly."

"She loves shooting and has won several competitions, despite her young age. She comes from a wealthy and well-regarded family. She is also surprisingly athletic, according to some of the other girls."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I'm not sure!" Claude chirped happily in his ignorance, "I just thought it was interesting. She's a bit of a mystery, do you get what I mean?"

Maxwell wouldn't admit to that much. Maria was the hot topic on everyone's lips, and her achievements had become increasingly outsized since her fans started treating her like God's gift to the green earth. She didn't speak to many others – only doing so when spoken to. Talia had become the only regular acquaintance she kept, if only so that nobody could sit next to her during a lecture. The moment the period was over the two would part ways only to reunite a few minutes later in the next. Maxwell did not have the boundless curiosity that Claude did. He'd seen a hundred noble girls who were much the same. They had eclectic interests, cold personalities, and loved being at the top of the table.

"If she finds out about this, she might kill you for real. Do the teachers know about this?"

Claude brushed it off, "I'm just doing my due diligence as a member of the community."

"Is that so? How would you feel if someone kept a board like this regarding you?"

Claude pursed his lips and hummed, "Um. I'd be flattered."

"Sure, sure you would..."

Claudius was as ever totally ignorant as to how to interact with girls his age. Everything had to be pressed through a prism of crime novella-tinged mania. What had started as childish games in the garden had turned into a genuine interest in the art of deduction. At least Maria had seemingly pushed him in the right direction in terms of taking his learning seriously. Perhaps some knowledge would do him good and make his obsessions less disruptive. Max and Claude were childhood friends – he only wanted the best for him come what may.

"Samantha isn't a fan either," Claudius added, "She was very put off by the way that Maria spoke to her the last time."

"That makes sense. I'm not saying that you both have to like her or anything, I just think the villainess thing you keep pushing is strange."

At that moment, a blonde-topped head peered through the doorway and made her presence known. Samantha had heard them both speaking from the hallway and dipped inside to see what was going on. Claudius quickly reached out and tipped his board over into a face-down position so that she couldn't see it.

"What are you two up to?"

Max laughed, "Claudius is just telling me about one of his theories again. And wouldn't you know, it's all about Maria."

Samantha's expression turned sour as she recalled their last discussion. She had expected some rudeness from the noble girls at the academy thanks to her rural background, but it was a different thing to experience it for real. Most of the mean girls preferred to say things behind her back lest they receive prompt retribution from Samantha, who was both much taller and much stronger than everyone else. Her Father always did serve large portions when it came time for dinner. She crossed her arms, "She certainly is a cold presence, but I hesitate to describe her as a villain like Claudius does."

"I seem to recall you doing just that."

Samantha clarified, "I was upset, it was just a figure of speech. I highly doubt that anyone in this building has the capacity to be evil as Claudius believes. She's just a... prickly character. That's all. I don't care so much as long as we're not forced into the same room together."

But they were going to be forced into the same room many times over. Samantha and Maria were in the same class, after all – and their dorm rooms were very close in proximity. Samantha's negative reaction had cooled somewhat since their confrontation, but it still stung. Despite that, Maria always ignored her when they passed each other in the halls, and she hadn't heard of her speaking ill behind her back.

Maria didn't tend to speak with anybody at all, as a matter of fact. Samantha's kind nature demanded that she seek answers sooner rather than later; but how could she approach Maria without incurring her wrath? Perhaps Talia was the answer to her problem. She was closer to Maria than anyone else, even if they didn't spend time outside of classes together. Claudius brought the discussion back around to its starting point, "She's an enigma for sure. But I have to say that she's also an excellent teacher, so I might have to rely on her some more to get my grades up in the future."

Maxwell waved him off and headed for the door, "Just make sure you don't accuse her of being a villain to her face, Claude. You've got a bad habit of blurting out whatever you're thinking."

"I do not!"

Samantha nodded, "Yes, you do."

Claudius had accidentally revealed a fondness for Samantha's appearance a few days ago during a routine meal in the cafeteria. He insisted that there was nothing wrong with flattering someone – though the redness in his cheeks said otherwise. He had gotten ahead of himself and tried to win some of Samantha's affection. Claudius shook his head, "Do not." Both of his friends had long since given up on trying to argue with him when he became stubborn like this. They decided to say their goodbyes and head back to their respective rooms, where further work away from the lecture hall awaited them.

---
​

"Burning the midnight oil again, Maria?"

I looked up from the book I was reading to find the smiling façade of Talia's erudite brother, Felipe. He was a regular sight in the libraries of the academy – picking out new learning material so that he could assist those who needed it. His passion for teaching had opened a path to a future within the academy itself, or any other higher learning institution that wanted to make use of his talents. I liked Felipe.

He was respectful of the distance I kept from others, and being a side character already in a relationship meant that I didn't have to worry about accidentally triggering a flag and going down his 'route.' I scoffed at my own monologue, why was I thinking of these people as nothing more than fictile statues made for my amusement? Every piece of evidence had made it clear to me that this world was the real deal.

"I was just curious about some of the things that you mentioned during our last session, so I decided to clarify them for myself."

He peered down at the book I was using and smiled, "Careful, you're heading into some pretty advanced material there. Not that there's anything wrong with that – but it might make some of our later lessons a little boring."

I preferred to dig my own grave than accept someone else's, "I'll survive."

All of the lessons were boring anyway. Anything outside of our magic lectures was well-tread ground for me. The only enjoyment I could derive from them was the novelty of seeing a less-developed understanding of certain subjects presented to us. Part of it was keeping things easy for the first year, but sometimes it was obvious that the subject being spoken of was not yet fully explored or understood by the scientific community. However, I couldn't assume things about this world so easily. As a perfect replica of the game, there were elements and supernatural forces that defined much of the world's history and formation.

One of the foremost oddities was the creation of humanity – which was the result of divine intervention by a goddess named Adelite; no, not the mineral. A portion of her power was then passed down through the generations until it came to rest within a certain someone in my class. Adelite worship was the dominant social and religious leaning in Walser, though Samantha's place as a 'chosen one' was a piece of evidence that supported her existence.

On the other hand, many players of the game had theorized that Maria was a dark opposite to Samantha. Blessed with Adelite's powers but fostered within a negative environment. I never played the later entries in the series as I held no particular affection for the original, and several of the endings involved Maria being killed or exiled in dramatically ironic ways. I had no idea if she ever returned to be the main antagonist again. I needn't worry myself with such things regardless, I was in full control of my own actions here and had no intent on making trouble. I wanted to keep my head down, go about my business, and hopefully come out of the other side without leaving a trail of negative consequences in my wake as I was liable to do in my past life.

"I think you'll become an expert mage in time. It's wonderful to see so many students enthused with the art, even if it is becoming less contemporary. At the very least I want to preserve it for future generations to understand and enjoy. If not for the sake of industry, than the appreciation and beauty of it."

I nodded, "Time will prove you right, Felipe. There will always be those who are held under the spell of a classical art. My Father is one of them."

"But I heard you're a deft hand with a firearm as well. How did you convince your Father to let you participate in shooting?"

It took a lot of begging, pleading, and a fair amount of making myself look like a sad puppy.

"I asked nicely."

Felipe laughed, "According to some of the girls in your year, 'nice' isn't a word in your vocabulary. They speak of you like you're the Ice Queen of the academy. Theodore's admirers aren't going to like that."

I sighed and looked back down at my book, "They can rest assured that I have no relationship with Prince Theodore."

"That may be the case, but such salacious rumours are common currency in these gilded halls. There are a great many students who have accumulated unearned infamy for a variety of perceived misdoings."

I had plenty of material misdoings to damn me already.

The discussion was upended by the arrival of his fiancé, Beatrice Booker. She trotted into the library with a wily smile on her face, which lit up even further when she spotted Felipe speaking with me. "Oh, Felipe. There you are!"

"Beatrice, what are you doing here at this hour?"

She approached the table and straightened out her skirt, "The prefect sent me to grab you. They have been tearing their hair out because their precious schedule is being disrupted by tardy students."

Felipe's voice was drizzled with sarcasm, "Tardy? I wouldn't dare."

Beatrice looked to me, "Oh, and if it isn't Lady Maria herself! It's so nice to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," I responded politely.

"The rumours certainly didn't undersell your beauty, and I love the way that you've styled your hair!" she gushed, pouring over every little detail in my outward appearance. "I think the other girls are going to have serious competition when you start to grow into your uniform."

She was more optimistic about the grip of puberty than I was. I hadn't grown an inch since it started. And for that matter – I was already the number one most desired bachelorette in the entire student body! Growing a pair of lumps on my chest was sure to make the problem worse.

"We'd best be away, Beatrice. We wouldn't want to upset the prefects further."

Beatrice giggled and waved goodbye, "See you again, Lady Maria." I bowed my head in deference as they left me to my studies. They were pleasant enough company, but I was still resolved to keep my distance from everybody. Hellfire would come for me one day, and I didn't want to drag anyone else down with me.

I flipped the page, "Chapter Five, liquid-based magic..."

 

[DWS]

The second week of our schooling approached in turn, and the status quo was starting to be cemented by the various social groups throughout the academy. If I were the socially-minded sort, I'd have worried about missing my opportunity to make fast friends and connections while I had the chance. It served my purposes just fine. Even if I wanted to make friends in the future, my reputation as the most eligible noble lady in the academy would allow me to quickly assemble a list of suitable candidates.

When I was an assassin, all of my personal relationships were utilitarian pieces of social engineering designed to make my job easier. That was the only time when I ever made those kinds of connections in my past life. It was easy to get what you wanted when you convinced the other party that you were their friend. That was another reason why sociopaths didn't make good assassins. It was a tough way to live my life, but that was the path I chose. People were unreliable, they'd talk with each other about your secrets or put you into tough situations. It was safer for me to keep a healthy distance from others.

The closest thing I had to 'friends' was Talia and her brother. He'd taken a shine to me and Samantha thanks to our magical talents, something which also occurred in the original game. There it served as a source of tension between the two but I had no reason to instigate a fight over him spending time with both of us. He wasn't a romantic interest anyway, so the prospect of things developing that far were close to none. He was extremely passionate about developing talented mages in the academy. In the words of our tutor - he was a dyed-in-the-wool mage fanatic.

Still, even with his boundless enthusiasm for the curriculum, we could only go as fast as our slowest member. Predictably the class clown had turned out to be Adrian. Not only did he do everything in his power to avoid studying the required material before our lessons, but he also played it fast and loose when it came to listening to their instructions. It would have been in his best interest to stick to shooting instead, at least there he could enjoy the instant gratification of blowing something out of the sky or hitting a target without months of opening study. I fully expected him to drop out in the near future. The rest of the class was much more enthused, as was I.

The first thing we needed to learn was how to regularly connect with our inner magical senses. Maintaining it through the 'shock' was the first challenge that every mage had to surmount if they wanted to learn further. All of us, with the exception of Adrian, had been doing so regularly during our spare time. It was a sixth sense that was unlike any of the others, and the brain required time to adjust to it. A more scientific analysis of this phenomenon was in the works, but much of the material we were covering was based on information passed down over thousands of years. For our purposes it was unnecessary to know at the moment.

"Magic is in the air that surrounds us," Miss Jennings explained curtly for the benefit of Adrian, "The level of magic concentration dictates what spells we can cast, and how easy it will be. These academy grounds are built in a low-pressure 'well' that sucks the magical threads inwards. That makes it the perfect place for us to teach you the foundational skills you'll need."

Felipe followed on, "One of the simplest and most important spells is moving the air. For the level of detail in which we manipulate the elements around us, the air is an invaluable tool that allows us to arrange our different pieces into a working order. At an advanced level, it also allows us to manipulate the surrounding air pressure on a larger scale – which you have seen first hand when I cast the lightning spell last week. Doing so without that measure would be very dangerous."

Miss Jennings really emphasized that point to us; "Indeed. Safety is the number one priority by which you must always operate. Do not utilise your magic in enclosed spaces, around others, and without express permission from the relevant parties. What you all possess is a wonderful thing, but you must temper your excitement with an equal dose of caution. I've seen people lose eyes, fingers, and other small body parts because they take this process too lightly."

That's what happens when you give the magical equivalent of a hand grenade to teenagers. Adrian rolled his eyes and took a step back from the lineup so that Jennings wouldn't ring him up on it. It was going to be his loss if he ignored her warnings – and I wasn't going to offer him a shoulder to cry on if he lost his trigger finger.

"Thankfully, moving wind currents is harmless in an open space like this. So I encourage all of you to test the limits and learn everything you can while you have the chance. The most important thing to remember is how you can push and pull the air. You should make equal use of both techniques to see the maximum result."

The group was split into two. Claudius, Maxwell and I were handed over to Felipe, while Adrian was given a stern talking to by Miss Jennings for neglecting his studies. From her perspective, it was a selfish thing to demand additional time from the teachers because he wasn't putting any effort into things. I had to agree. People who had no respect for the system dragged everyone else down with them. Adrian had already caught the ire of our other tutors, especially the math teacher, who had clipped him around the ear for making an unbecoming comment about one of the girls in our class.

"I hope that all of you have taken the time to read up on the basics before today," Felipe began, turning his attention to Claude and Max. He had already seen me shooting ahead of schedule in the library a few days before. Both boys nodded happily and smirked. "Very good! I have high hopes for this year's cohort. When I did my foundational year, there were only three of us, and one dropped out before the end of the first module was over..."

"I wasn't so sure that this magic stuff would be for me – but it's actually very interesting," Max replied. "Nobody in my family has ever spent much time studying it. They all prefer to stick to more practical fields of business."

Claude was back to his usual self, "I hope that some of these spells can help me when I eventually become a world-class detective."

Felipe quirked a brow at his ambition, "Well, I suppose it could. The additional senses and your newly found ability to discern different elements could be utilised in such a way. Though that would imply that someone was killed using a chemical solution. Something like a knife wound or gunshot would be too plainly obvious, I believe."

"That's fine. They're only going to call me for the really unsolvable crimes anyway!"

I had to despair at Claude's blind optimism.

Felipe was wise enough to leave him alone for the time being and move into teaching in earnest. It was still surprising to me the exact level of precision that this demanded. They were speaking of rearranging the molecules in the air in such a way that we could cause reactions and other oddities. Why such a supernatural system still followed a set of pseudo-scientific principles was strange enough on its own. I knew from the game that magic could be used for a great many things, like attacking, healing, defending or other utility purposes. Because of this, magic was strongly associated with certain classes and professions. Nobles liked magic as it could be used as a status symbol, blacksmiths liked it because it could be used in the forges and to make high quality products, and remote industrial areas needed mages to carry out sophisticated processes that were too expensive and complex to do with machinery.

When the mage index was introduced, a strong opposition of industrialists, intelligentsia and workers formed out of a collective anxiety about such measures. It would make finding, retaining and training mages much harder. A lot of candidates would be scared away by having to sign up for such a government database; that would translate to increased demand and higher costs for the employers. The mages themselves would have been happy with an increased wage, but their privacy concerns won out over their economic interests.

It was in the aftermath of the crisis that led to the separation of royalty and parliament that saw the law pushed through. The public had seen and heard too many stories of magic-wielding guerrillas causing trouble for the local police, and so it was. I knew that it was going to be problematic for me in the future. I was a high-grade mage. It was entirely possible that the academy had already sent my name and background to the government for confirmation. If I had any intention of going back to my old ways – that knowledge would ward me from it.

It was lucky that I came from an affluent family, then.

Felipe was again showcasing his credentials as a future teacher, easily guiding us through the process and allowing us the space to experiment at the same time. Soon enough, we had all managed to twist our hands and palms to summon a blustery gust of wind from above. It was not necessary to use such hand movements, but visualisation techniques like this would make our lives much easier. It was a form of cognitive association that would enhance our memory and control. Felipe clapped his hands in applause as I was the third and final student to succeed in manipulating a current, my black hair whipping about wildly as it passed over my body.

"Excellently done everyone. These are broad strokes, the kind you might see used with an industrial furnace to control the temperature or ensure that it stays alight. But it is very similar in nature to 'assembly,' which is what we call the construction of a more advanced and specific magic like lightning."

I peered around his body to see what the other group was doing. A visibly flustered Adrian stood with reddened cheeks and stiff arms. Miss Jennings wasn't going easy on him. He was the last one to be tested on this, and he was already struggling. Claude and Max shared in my curiosity, glancing over and taking a look for themselves. It took him a painfully long time to finally grasp it and summon the wind to his side. When he did, he puffed his chest out like he had never been frustrated by it in the first place. His theatre was only convincing to himself – and not to any of the others who had heard it all before. He thought he was hot shit until reality slapped him in the face.

Felipe blew worried air through his teeth, "Oh dear. I think that Adrian is going to be problematic. Miss Jennings won't like that at all."

"Why not?" Max asked.

Felipe hushed his voice so that they couldn't hear us, "She's all about professionalism, and she doesn't have the patience for people who think they can slide by while inputting the minimum amount of effort. If she thinks that Adrian isn't going to wise up she'll kick him from the class."

"I see."

Felipe moved along to the next topic; "We'd only planned to show you this much, I'm consistently surprised at how well you all handle the material and practice."

Max laid it on thick, "We have a pair of excellent teachers."

"I wouldn't be so sure about my own skills, but Miss Jennings is one-of-a-kind. I've never met anyone with such a deep and vivid knowledge of magic. I'm extremely privileged to have learned under her for so long."

The second group had finally resolved whatever issue Adrian was causing, so Miss Jennings waved us back over. Once everyone was safely assembled at the testing range, she decided to break up the period early.

"Excellent work today. I'd like all of you to read the next two chapters of Virmich's Foundational Magic. If you lack a copy, there are several available in the student study hall that you can use as you like. But please do not leave notes in them. Other students will rue your name if you do."

There was a collective "Yes Ma'am," from the group.

"Well done again everybody! Go ahead and get some food before it's gone, and we'll see you in the lecture room next week at the same time."

The class was dismissed. Adrian couldn't get away from the range fast enough. He powered his way across the back yard and into the academy's main entrance without once looking back. Getting scolded by the teacher had gotten to him. There was nothing worse to a blowhard than a wounded pride. I sighed and turned to look at Felipe, who sported a concerned look about his behaviour.

"Ah, would you like to speak with me, Maria?"

I shook my head and conjured an excuse for gawking, "No, there's nothing in particular. I'm just concerned about Adrian, that's all."

He crossed his arms and leaned back against a nearby tree, "He's going to have to learn the value of patience soon. You'll never get anywhere in magic expecting results right away. I'm sure he's heard the same criticism from every other teacher already."

The yard was already empty of any other people. A stiff breeze rolled through as I felt the wind chill soak into my bones. It was a sunny day, but not a warm one. We were only a few weeks into the new year and spring had yet to arrive. The hardy trees that surrounded the academy had endured and retained their greenery through the snowy months. I was always stunned by the natural and artificial beauty of the campus grounds. It was a mirror image of what I had seen in the game. Felipe pushed away from his resting place and nodded towards the main building, "We'd better hurry up and grab something before they clean the buffet out. Early dismissals don't come every week."

Just as he spoke, the clock struck six and the bell tower started to ring. From the outside it was an almost deafening metallic bong that made my entire body shake. Felipe laughed at my reaction, having grown used to it over the five years he had been attending the school. It continued, each one sending out a bass-heavy tone. I looked up at the tower responsible and briefly admired the carefully crafted stonework that accentuated the edges and windowsills.

As my eyes moved further upwards – they were drawn to an unusual glimmer coming from within. There was a silhouette standing there, holding something in their hands. Old instincts roared to life as the familiar sight caused my pace to quicken. The bell chimed again, and again, and finally...

I grabbed Felipe by the collar and dragged him behind the tree as the next impact was aided by the addition of a sharp crack. The tree exploded outwards into shards of bark and wood as the bullet ripped through it. I didn't give them a chance to fire again. I continued to drag him further into the woodland beneath the cover of the branches. At such an elevated angle, they would not be able to see us without moving to a lower floor.

By the time they did that, I'd have relocated us to a safer location. Felipe was stunned silent by the abrupt action. I didn't wait, stop, or explain what I was doing. There was an urgency to where we were going. We broke back out onto the main avenue at the front of the building, well out of sight of the clocktower from which the shot was fired.

Someone had tried to kill me.

It was a sobering realisation. All of my worst fears were now being played out. Felipe had nearly died in the crossfire through his proximity with me. He panted and begged for a moment as I kept a vigilant gaze towards the other vantage points that the would-be assassin could use to shoot at us. Had Felipe even noticed that it was a gunshot that shattered the tree beside us? I took a deep breath and set my nerves straight.

This was nothing new to me; I had always told myself not to get too invested in living this peaceful life. I rued the fact that my only means of protection was stored in secret inside my trunk. This was the kind of situation where a gun of my own would be essential. As the bell finally turned silent, I knew that the killer had missed his window of opportunity. Another shot would be plainly audible to the people inside.

"W-What in the Goddess' name was that?" Felipe cried, finally finding the words to speak.

"I don't know," I lied, "I saw someone in the clocktower, and a second later the tree shattered. It was a good thing that I pulled you out of the way."

Felipe was shaken up. As you should be when someone fires a bullet right next to you. I didn't even know I could move or react that quickly. Everything had been a total blur from the moment that I noticed them. I had a million questions of my own and no good answers. Who had fired the shot, and why were they targeting me? On top of that, I now had to worry about concealing the truth from Felipe. He was a smart kid; plain-faced lies weren't going to pass muster.

"My heart is going to stop..."

"Just take some deep breaths," I said, kneeling down and helping him back up to his feet.

"W-We have to report this to the principal. There's a killer loose on the campus!"

I grimaced – it was unlikely that the bullet survived intact from hitting the tree's trunk, and the killer had carefully timed his attempt so that there were no witnesses and the sound of the bell tower to create deniability about the sound. Whoever it was, they were no amateur. How long had they been waiting to spring this plan into action? It must have taken the full length of my stay to plan it out. They knew we'd be there in the yard at that time of day, for one thing. They also had access to a gun accurate enough for a long-range shot, presumably a larger rifle. I couldn't push Felipe away from reporting the incident without looking suspicious, so I acquiesced and nodded in agreement.

"Very well. I hope that they can find a suitable solution for this issue. They should take security very seriously."

"They do," Felipe replied, "There are watchmen at the front gate at all times of day."

"In this case – it seems that those measures are inadequate. The culprit is already within the building as we speak."

Felipe's face was a mask of dread as the implication settled in, "So... neither of us are safe?"

I didn't know how to answer that either. I shrugged and pulled him along towards the main entrance. Being inside was a lot safer than outside at the moment. We needed to keep moving so that we didn't present them with another chance. I doubted that Felipe was the one being targeted, it just didn't add up. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Years spent waiting for the penny to finally drop, the upending of the peaceful second chance I had been given, and for the punishment to begin. Who else could they be gunning after but me?

"Felipe – I want you to go and report this to the principal. If they ask for more evidence, come and find me."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stay out of trouble until you speak with them, what else?"

If I were a superstitious person I would have crossed my fingers.

 

[DWS]

While Felipe reported the incident to the principal, I used my deception to head up to the third story of the building and into the base of the clock tower. First, I had to take a quick detour to my dorm room and retrieve my pistol. I tucked it into my blazer's pocket so that it couldn't be seen. I was fairly sure that the culprit would have moved on by the time I reached his previous location, but it never hurt to be prepared for the worst.

The door was already unlocked when I arrived. I quickly got onto my knees and checked the keyhole – there was no sign of a forced entry. Had they stolen a key? This area was usually off-limits to the students and non-maintenance staff members. Urgency guided my every move as I entered and started my search for clues.

The primary concern on my mind was the shell casing. It was an indicative remnant that could clue me in on what the assassin was like. A professional would always clean up the evidence and take it for disposal somewhere away from the crime scene, but you'd be surprised by the number of people who didn't go to that bare minimum of effort. In the modern day where your every purchase is easily traceable and tracked in a hidden database, it was profoundly simple for the police to cross-reference it and find your home address and identity. No such database existed here – but knowing the calibre and make of the ammunition would assist me in finding the shooter.

The clocktower was not insulated or heated, so it immediately chilled me through to the bone as I stood on the bottom floor. It was a spartan area, filled with little more than old, discarded furniture and tools used by the handymen. A handful of old tarps covered up some of the leftovers. I briefly glanced beneath them but found nothing of interest. The gunman had been watching us from the third floor. I turned back to the rickety wooden stairs and ascended them with no small amount of caution.

My hand was tucked into my jacket, ready to pull my gun and fire at any moment. The second floor was barren. Completely empty of anything at all. That meant the third floor would be where the action was happening. I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves as I peered up through a gap in the bannister. A single wooden crate rested next to the window that they had used. It was still left open, flapping back and forth in the high winds.

There was no sign of my shooter, and it was unlikely that they had fled to the higher floors from here. They must have gone back into the main building and hidden their firearm somewhere. Since everyone was battling to score their favourite food from the dining hall, that meant that the halls and studies were deserted. They could have concealed their weapon inside of a case and carried it through without scrutiny. Conscious of the time pressure that I was under, I hurried to the window and looked down at the floor.

It wouldn't be long before someone came searching just as I had. I didn't want to be here looking guilty when they did. After a few moments of panicked searching, I spotted something out of place against the wooden skirting that ran around the floor. I knelt down and picked it up. It was the shell casing that I was looking for.

I'd have to study the markings later. I pocketed it and headed back to the corridor outside. Felipe had not yet convinced them to come looking in the tower, so I rushed to my room and put the pistol back into its hiding place. The shell casing was thrown into the back of my drawer. I didn't feel any discord about snatching the evidence. It was unlikely that they'd be able to find the culprit using just the casing anyway. I wasn't going to rest until I found the person responsible and taught them what happened when they messed with me. For now, I needed a convincing interpretation of events to sell to the teachers and Felipe. A few minutes after I returned, there was a knock at my door.

When I pulled it open, Miss Jennings was waiting with a serious expression on her face. She brushed down the ruffles in her blouse and addressed me curtly, "Felipe has come to us with a serious accusation to share. I'd like to hear your perspective on the matter." I bowed my head and invited her inside. She remained close to the door as I closed it behind her.

"What did he say?"

"He alleged that someone fired a gun at you. Though he lacks information on the matter. He asked me to come and speak with you. He said that you were so shaken up that you decided to come back here instead of going with him." That was a very generous interpretation of events, but it helped me skirt around portraying myself as a hero. I put on my best sad face and nodded to her assertion.

"Indeed, we were. My heart has only just ceased its incessant beating. To think that such a horrendous crime could be committed on these grounds, and against someone so young." Miss Jennings' reaction told me that she had not believed Felipe's account. Why would she? It was an extremely absurd incident for what was a sleepy private college tucked into the hills. It would be the first such occurrence in the school's long history.

"Felipe is not one to launder rumours for the sake of mischief, though I must confess to my own scepticism on such a claim."

"If you investigate the practice range, you'll see where one of the trees was hit by the bullet. I believe that I saw the gunman myself – hiding away on one of the clocktower's floors. There was a figure in one of the windows. I'm afraid that I couldn't see the finer details. The interior was very dark."

Miss Jennings was silent for a few minutes as she mulled over my testimony. I pushed her back into awareness by offering one more piece of information; "I believe that the gunman was waiting for the bell to chime before shooting. That was why nobody inside heard it or wrote it off as nothing more than a minor disturbance."

"One of the other teachers did mention a strange sound at the time. If they were waiting for you in the clock tower, they must have known that you and Felipe were going to be there at that time. We'll have to investigate closely to find the one responsible."

I offered her a reassuring smile, "We are in your capable hands, Ma'am."

"But I must ask you to be discreet. While my singular priority is the safety of every student, the principal has made it clear that reckless panic would only make our job harder."

I frowned, "You want to keep it a secret?"

She shook her head; "If it were my choice to make, everyone would be informed. I'm afraid that the principal is more concerned with keeping everyone calm. I hope that you understand his perspective on the matter."

I did, perfectly well in fact. If the parents found out about there being an attempted murderer on the loose, they'd pull their kids from the academy, and that meant that the money would go with them. It was in his economic interest to cover the whole thing up. I couldn't rely on his leadership resulting in answers being found. That conflict between finding the truth and concealing it from the students would only cause problems in the future. It was a tale as old as time. I had to do it myself.

"With that in mind, it's clear to us that you will not be safe alone. We don't want to make you or Felipe uncomfortable with constant surveillance, so for now we'd like to ask you to remain in areas of the academy where there are other students and teachers present. That should offer some protection from any further attempts on your life."

"I will, Ma'am."

"If you remember anything else about the incident, please come to the staff room and inform us right away."

"I will, Ma'am," I repeated.

She paused and studied my befuddled expression, "I have to say – you seem rather composed considering the circumstances, Maria."

"Ah. As the first in line to inherit the family name, it's only right that I live to exemplify the standard set by my Father. I must remain firm and forward-thinking, no matter the situation."

I made all of that up on the spot but it was enough to avert her suspicion for the time being. She bowed and made her exit from my room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I headed to my desk and pulled out a notebook so I could scribble down some of my theories. There were a lot of people in the academy and I didn't know all of them. I started with the acquaintances I had encountered. The people in my magic elective course were all disqualified by the nature of their presence on the range just before the shooting. Adrian had made himself sparse very quickly, but was it really quick enough for him to reach the third floor of the clock tower and fire on us? The shooter's complete lack of accuracy seemed to match what I had seen of him during our various competitions.

I opened my drawer, allowing the empty casing to roll to the front. It wasn't a manufacturer's proprietary ammunition type. It certainly didn't belong to a pistol. I held it up to the dying evening light and studied the markings printed into the brass exterior. Hurlock Arms Co. was one of the foremost producers of ammunition in Walser, so it was no surprise to see their name imprinted onto it.

There was also a date and batch number, though I couldn't parse it without expert help on what the numbers meant. I estimated that the bullet was several years old, presumably taken from the shooter's storage. It must have been used in conjunction with a rifle. You wouldn't get any accuracy shooting from that range with a pistol or carbine. I put the casing back into its hiding place and returned to my guessing game.

I had to accept the possibility that I didn't know who the shooter was. They could be nothing more than a hired gun sent by a competing company looking to get one over on my dear old dad. As his only daughter, I was next in line to inherit his property and businesses. It could even have been a member of my own extended family who stood to benefit from my death. Father never invited them around to the manor for a visit, so my memory of them was extremely limited.

It would be difficult to isolate and interrogate the assassin. I was a master of the craft – but some things were just too unreasonable. They were more likely to die during a gunfight than sit down and exposit about their hidden motivations or benefactors. "Damn it," I muttered, placing my quill back down. I was getting nowhere fast with such little evidence to go on. I headed over to the wardrobe and changed into my night clothes now that the teacher had paid me a visit.

I needed a way to keep my gun on my person without everyone finding out about it. I didn't feel safe walking around the grounds without something to fight back with. I wasn't helpless without a gun – but some situations demanded the flexibility that one provided. I had killed my fair share of people using my bare hands or other cruder weapons.

Perhaps a holder beneath my skirt would serve that purpose? They were long enough that there were no angles from where an outside observer could see something strapped to my thigh. The discomfort would be a small price to pay for putting myself into a more advantageous position. The problem then was finding a suitable holster to do it with. I couldn't exactly visit my local gun store or order one online. Everything had to be done in person, and finding a shop that sold what I was looking for would be tricky. The nearby city was very large, a winding labyrinth of streets and tall buildings that only a native resident could navigate confidently.

The bed depressed beneath me as I lay on top and stared at the canopy above. My mind was too occupied with a thousand different things for me to sleep restfully.

At some point the fatigue became too much, and I passed out regardless.

 

[DWS]

Contrary to my worst expectations, the staff of the academy had somehow managed to keep the incident quiet for three whole days. Given that they were constantly surrounded by noblemen and women for whom gossip was their favourite pastime – it came as a pleasant surprise. I was never once approached by another member of the student body and needled for my part in it. Though that hot streak came to an end on the first day of the next week. Talia waved me over while we waited outside of the lecture hall for our teacher to arrive. She had the good sense to keep it quiet though.

"I heard about what happened from my brother. He says that you saved his life!"

I cast a paranoid glance at some of the other students who were loitering nearby, "He told you?"

"Of course he did. I'm his sister, after all. He couldn't just keep something that traumatising to himself. But I'm not going to let anybody else know about it. He gets enough unwanted attention as it is. I just wanted to thank you for protecting him; I didn't know you were such a deft hand!"

I shook my head, "There's nothing to be thankful for at the moment. I strongly suspect that they were targeting me. My presence may have been what endangered him in the first place."

Talia was insistent, "Regardless, you risked your own life for his. So, thank you."

"Do what you please. Just don't expect me to be your hero from now on."

"There's the Maria I know and love," Talia laughed. She was putting on a brave face, but it was obvious that she felt troubled by the news. She was right to be. Anyone would feel the same if they learned that a family member was nearly shot and killed. People dealt with shock in many different ways, Talia's was to put on a smile and try to see the light side of things. She turned pensive and whispered to me, "Didn't they tell you to stay around other people? That'll be tough for a lone wolf like you."

"Is that your way of asking to spend time with me?"

Talia waved her arms in mock denial, "No! I wouldn't dare of using such an incident to advantage myself. I was just worried, that's all."

I was being too harsh on her. I softened my stance and sighed wearily, "I normally spend most of my time in the public areas of the campus anyway. You needn't worry about me, I can handle it."

"I know you have a stellar reputation for shooting – but you don't carry a gun with you everywhere..."

My smile became less convincing as I gritted my teeth.

"...But I suppose you did manage to evade the culprit once. A confident young lady should always act decisively in times of crisis."

Talia had said her thanks and gotten some kind of discussion out of me. I remained unwilling to call her a 'friend,' even though it was a distinction without a purpose. This kind of casual chatter was what friends did. The rational part of my brain was at war with my paranoia. Calling her a friend wasn't going to change the calculus here, I wasn't going to curse her by making it clear that we were closer than I liked to let on. I really was turning into a crappy tsundere with every passing day. As the silence between us stretched on, the decision was made to throw Talia a bone for once.

"I don't mind your company, Talia. Apologies if I gave you that impression."

Talia blinked the stars from her eyes, "Oh my goodness. The Lady Maria Walston-Carter, offering someone a compliment?"

I wagged my finger at her, "I do so from time to time when such praise is earned. I have to give people the credit they are due."

Being 'friends' was going to be more of a problem for her than for me. Some of the other girls who leaned on the meaner side of the spectrum had been infuriated by her close proximity to me, yet made no such attempts to familiarise themselves with me in lieu of merely speaking ill about Talia. In their eyes my isolation was beautiful and worthy of admiration; a lonesome, lily-white flower atop a rolling hill. Or they merely believed that if they couldn't crowd around me, nobody could.

It was too bad that Talia didn't need my permission to sit next to me. She seemed a little awestruck that she had managed to wear me down to this point – but even my coldest persona couldn't stop the foolish from chasing after me. Talia was happy no matter what I said. Even when I had given her this much, and she understood my feelings on the matter, being close to me was a big achievement. Some of the girls would kill for the opportunity to be in the same room with me, never mind speak to me on a regular basis.

There was no time for us to talk further, as the teacher had finally arrived for our mathematics lesson. We followed Samantha and the others into the lecture theatre and took our usual spots near the front. Samantha still felt sore about how I had rejected her when we first met, but I got an ominous feeling that something bad would happen if we became friends in the same way as I had with Talia. I couldn't explain that it was all for their sake, there was no way that they'd ever believe me.

Fictional characters are one thing - but I had to act under the assumption that everything I was doing was real. I had a set of principles and standards that I would not stray from even if I believed that there were no consequences. I refocused my mind on the lesson and tried to give myself a break from worrying about killers and relationships – unaware of the eyes that were drilling a hole into the back of my skull from two rows behind me.

---

Claudius could smell something fishy going on.

It wasn't just that Maria Walston-Carter had seemingly befriended Talia Escobarus; if anything, she should have done something about making friends sooner! Even the coldest people had a circle of connections and friendships. It was a vanishingly small circle, but a circle nonetheless. No, it was an overpowering feeling of strangeness that had come about after their previous magic lesson.

Claudius had left Maria and Talia's brother alone together in a mad rush to get the hot food before it was snatched up. Now every teacher looked like they'd learnt something that they wish they hadn't. He could see the way their eyes kept turning in Maria's direction, with a glint in their irises that he couldn't place. What were they thinking?

His first thought had been an illicit affair between Maria and Felipe. It was scandalous, shocking, and would have been kept secret thanks to his already existing engagement with Beatrice Booker. That idea hit a dead end very quickly as Claudius reasoned that Maria would prefer someone her own age. Additionally, Maria was such a stickler for the rules that there was no way she'd ever steal someone's fiancé like that.

The girl wouldn't dare break curfew even for a few minutes, she was always paying rapt attention in class, and aside from some mean-spirited words to Samantha, she kept to herself and did not engage in bullying. Claudius' instincts, which had been finely honed through years of reading fantastical accounts of criminal investigations, had erred him on the side of caution. Maria didn't come off like a culprit to him. If that was the case - then it meant that she was the victim instead.

But he just couldn't imagine Maria being victimised! She was utterly terrifying, with a gaze that could freeze the soul in your chest and enough raw talent to blow her way through any problem without breaking a sweat. While one-half of the academy admired her for being the perfect lady, her naysayers feared her. The end result was the same. Maria emitted an 'aura' that kept people well away from her proximity. What kind of psychopath could muster the bold-faced courage to do such a thing? Whoever it was, they were in a world of trouble. They'd better hope that Maria didn't get her hands on them.

"Why are you staring at Maria so much?" Samantha whispered as the teacher scribbled notes onto the chalkboard. Each noisy intermission summoned forth a torrent of hushed conversations between the students.

Claudius looked up and crossed his arms, "Nothing. Well, not nothing. But I'm just curious. I feel like she might have been involved in something."

"Something?" Samantha repeated incredulously, "What kind of something?"

"I heard that every single teacher was called to the staff chamber for a meeting a few nights ago, and they came out looking as pale as the white ghosts you'd find on the high moors. They're keeping an eye on her, haven't you noticed the way they're looking at her?"

Samantha shrugged, "I don't tend to pay attention to that kind of thing."

"If you did – you'd think the same way."

Samantha had heard this all before. Every day Claudius had a new pet mystery that he seemed determined to solve. They ranged from the mundane, like who placed the books back in the wrong place in the study, to the absurd, like his belief that one of the staff members had a dark and mysterious past just waiting to be uncovered. His very real powers of observation were constantly undermined by his lack of reasoning; leading him to contrasting statements and ideas.

Nothing got past him, but he always put the pieces together in the wrong order. It was for that reason that Claudius had correctly noted the sudden emergence of paranoid behaviour in the staff members. They were all concealing a major secret from the students, one about a clear and present danger to everyone's safety.

Maxwell was not assumed, "Just ignore him. He's being weird again."

Claudius smirked, "Ah. But you never did thank me for solving the mystery of your missing underwear."

"They just got misplaced in the laundry!"

"So? I still found them."

"There's a big difference between solving a murder and finding a pair of lost boxers – Claude. And for that matter, you originally claimed that a goblin had broken into my bedroom and stolen them when I wasn't looking," Maxwell didn't know why he was bothering. They'd had this argument hundreds of times over the years they had been with each other. The time before Claude developed his detective obsession was now shorter than after.

"That was just my running theory at the time. Obviously, I revaluated when more evidence came to light."

Before the argument could go any further, the teacher cleared his throat and demanded the attention of the class once again. Maxwell and Claude would be going at it all day. Samantha sighed and copied down some of the diagrams from the board, but her eyes kept focusing on the finely tucked braid that ran down the back of Maria's head. She just couldn't get over how she had been treated upon their first meeting, even if it was how Maria acted around most of the people in the academy.

Samantha had tried to be discreet in the ways that she watched Maria from afar and she had become familiar with her routine. She spent a lot of time studying in the library and common rooms. She never allowed herself any downtime, retiring to her room at the earliest possible hour and awakening before everyone else. She had no real friends to speak of, and only Felipe had the courage to stop by and make small talk while he was doing his rounds.

Samantha was so deeply entrenched in her thoughts that she only snapped back out of her trance when Claudius reached out and grabbed her shoulder, "Period is over, Sam." She stood up from her seat with an embarrassed grin and followed them down to the door. Maria was already standing by the window in the corridor and was being hounded by an unfamiliar boy from the fourth year.

"Who's that?" she asked of Max.

"That's Cromwell – he's a ranking member in the academy's shooting club."

Cromwell was making a big pitch to Maria about something, though Sam quickly identified that the topic at hand was that of shooting, just as Max had implied. His hands moved in grand, sweeping motions in a lost attempt to sway him to his side of things. "You've already won nearly every competition that there is to win. I was shocked to hear that you didn't want to join the society."

Maria was curt in response, "I am not old enough to join."

"The age requirement is just a formality. I promise that if we speak to the headmaster and tell him about your achievements, he'll see the value in having you represent our academy."

Maria was not moved.

"Apologies, but I have no interest in joining the shooting club. I see it as entirely separate from my enjoyment of the sport."

Cromwell's mouth opened and closed like that of a fish as Maria turned on her heel and marched away, braids bobbing up and down as she went. His face ran through a complex spectrum of emotions before finally settling on frustration. "I knew she was unsociable, but that was something different."

His clubmate patted him on the back in consolation, "You're not the first to get shot down by Walston-Carter. She never speaks with anyone unless they address her first." The two boys left by heading in the opposite direction. Their plan had been a spectacular failure, and Cromwell had spent a week figuring out how to approach her! Claude, Max and Sam watched with some bemusement as she effortlessly deflected two boys who were three years her senior.

"She didn't even flinch," Max chuckled.

"She's a stone-cold killer," Claudius added.

"I wouldn't go that far."

Samantha wasn't so sure. Maria was different to everyone else, anointed with maturity and nerves of steel. She could have been the most popular girl on campus if she merely chose to take advantage of those gifts, and she could curry genuine friends instead of hopeless lackeys like some of the ones who followed her like lost birds. The matter was quickly forgotten as Claudius and Maxwell reignited their previous debate on what the grand mystery really was. Samantha's mind was elsewhere. She followed them to a seating area so they could wait for the next period to start. Her fascination had not been dulled yet. The only thing left for her to do was try to get closer to her.

For that, she would need to study hard and earn a place as one of Felipe's personal protégés.

 

[DWS]

Cromwell's invitation got me thinking. What if the shooting club had weapons on hand for practice and competition? It could have served as a good hiding place for the rifle that my would-be killer had used. Unfortunately, my theory was quickly proven incorrect after some cursory investigation. Firearms were completely banned from the campus lest they be held in the hands of law enforcement or a private guard. The shooting club's room served as a meeting place before anything else. The guns were dispensed on-site by the organisations running the contests. I had never participated in an academy competition before – so I was unaware of that detail. I also had no reason to suspect that any of the club's members were responsible. Cromwell was the first one from their number to speak with me.

With no evidence to go on and no obvious suspects, I decided that it was time to take more drastic actions. If I couldn't find the culprit normally, I merely had to make them act by drawing them out into the open. There were several remote areas on the campus which would make the perfect place to assassinate someone and get away with it. The grounds were expansive and labyrinthian. There were the buildings themselves, some of which were not utilised, and the grounds and gardens that surrounded them. There weren't enough people in the school to cover every single angle. The teachers had advised us to stay in populated areas for our own safety. I was about to do the exact opposite. It was the right time too. I felt like somebody was watching me as I moved around the campus, a burning gaze that bore down on me like a heavy weight. I had a lot of admirers, but this was a different feeling entirely.

I had constructed a makeshift holster using napkins and old clothes. It was terrible and insecure as all hell, but it would be enough to carry my gun with me for this occasion. I unbuttoned the side of my skirt and exposed my upper thigh, wrapping it around and slipping the gun between my skin and the fabric.

It was a serious piece of shit.

But that's life. Sometimes a piece of shit made of leftovers is just what you need. Resourcefulness and adaptability were two things that I was very good at; that was how I had managed to fit in so well with this new world. I assessed, analysed and planned. Those plans could only be as good as the assumptions that led to their formation. I was taking a serious risk by doing this. I was resolved to follow through with it. It was the quiet hours between our last lesson period and dinner, which meant that foot traffic was going to be even lower than usual. I took a deep breath and headed out into the corridor. Not a soul was around just yet. I'd need to bait my hook before leading them into my trap. I took the scenic route throughout the school grounds, catching the attention of as many people as possible while I did so. It was easily done when I was the most popular girl in the academy. I could sneeze and it would be on the front page of the school paper the next day.

Soon enough I felt that creeping paranoia again. My instincts were alight with activity as I headed out into the back garden and moved between the tall hedges. I had a specific destination in mind. It would obscure my exact location while being isolated enough to lure any enterprising assassin into overextending. The greenhouse. It was a large, iron and glass construction that was used for botany lessons. It was bigger than my old house back on Earth. While the walls were glass, a large variety of exotic plants blocked a clear view through to the other side. I skirted the left edge and headed around the backside. They were still following me. I could hear their footsteps behind me.

I smirked as I wound the line tighter and tighter. This was it, the moment when the truth finally came out. Were they going to try and kill me again? Or were they going to err on the better side of caution and back away before trying? Either way – I was going to emerge the victor. There wasn't a single person in this or any other universe who could compare to my fighting prowess when it came to using a gun. Once I was certain that my pursuer was close enough, I swivelled around with my hand prepared to draw my weapon. I had to stop myself as the person in question finally became apparent.

It was Professor Prier.

Instead of holding a gun, he was holding a still-dirty trowel in his left hand. He gave me a concerned look as he approached me around the corner, "Miss Walston-Carter, I don't mean to interfere with your walk – but I do recall that you were asked to keep to the populated areas of our campus."

That was a disappointment. He wasn't the person I was looking for.

I bowed to him, "Apologies, Mister Prier."

He wiped his brow and chuckled, "Please don't try to make me nervous! My heart almost stopped when I saw you walking past the greenhouse. We're not trying to threaten you. The principal is just very much concerned for your safety."

"I was taking a stroll, and I was so deep in thought that I forgot all about it."

He did not seem convinced by my excuse, but he had no reason to question me any further on the matter. Prier escorted me back to the front side of the greenhouse and shooed me away with his tool, "Make sure you remember to stay safe! It's for your own sake."

"I will, sir."

Was I mistaken? I swore that I could feel someone watching me as I moved. I pondered the problem while walking back to the rear entrance. It was rare for my instincts to lead me astray like this. I'd need to try it again later, this time while Prier wasn't keeping a watchful eye on the greenhouse. I couldn't expect to see results right away. Persistence would lead me to the right answer. I needed to keep trying and doing everything I could. Given that my life was on the line, it only made sense. Prier's presence was not evidence of his killing intent. It was nothing more than a bit of bad luck. I turned my eyes upwards and noticed someone else watching me.

Samantha was waiting on the steps. I intended to ignore her, but she stood and called out to me as I tried to pass.

"Uh. I was hoping that we could talk about something!"

I paused, "I highly doubt that we have anything worth discussing."

Samantha was trying not to get flustered by the brisk reaction. She took a deep breath and approached me, "I just wanted to ask why you stay away from everyone but Talia. I still remember what you said to me when we first met."

"What I mean is that there's no worth to us being friends, none at all. It's something that would benefit neither of us. It's just as much for your sake as it is my own."

"There's nothing bad about having friends. Is there a reason you're trying to distance yourself this much?" she asked. Samantha was going to be stubborn this time. She wasn't leaving me alone until she had some kind of answer from the horse's mouth. I couldn't tell her that I was paranoid about people close to me being killed, and Talia had already wormed her way into my social circle without me being able to do anything about it. I was in damage mitigation mode, trying to prevent it from becoming precedent before it was too late.

"Do I need a reason to prefer solitude?" I offered vaguely, "I enjoy the company of myself more than anything. It helps to know that most of the people who approach me only do so to try and enhance their reputation and image."

Samantha pouted, "I'm not trying to get popular by speaking with you!"

"You already have trustworthy friends at your side. There is no need to invite me – I'm quite satisfied as things are."

I was confident that my refusal would result in Samantha giving up, but that was yet another miscalculation. Rather than being outraged or despondent, she only grew more determined to prove me wrong. I had forgotten something important. Samantha was the protagonist and one of her key personality traits was trying to see the best in other people no matter what. She was an earnest and friendly farm girl who was facing down a cold and uncaring societal class system. She'd grow beyond it and form a bond with one of the boys at the academy, potentially even the Ice Prince that everyone was so afraid of.

"I can't accept an answer like that, Maria. I can see it in your eyes when you say it – you don't believe that at all."

I crossed my arms, "And who are you to understand how I feel?"

"There's no such thing as a person who prefers being alone. I've seen the way you act when Talia or Felipe speak with you. You might not realise it yourself, but you want them to reach out to you and be your friend."

My tightly clamped lips wavered as I struggled to maintain my cold character in front of her. Her face lit up as she believed that I was about to cry or break into an uncontrollable smile that betrayed my true feelings. It was neither of those things. Ever since I had been reincarnated into this body it was almost impossible for me to constrain the extremely irritating laugh that defined Maria's character. It was too much. I could feel the pressure building and threatening to bubble over like a burst dam!

"Hehe... ha. Ohohohoho! Ohohohoho!"

Samantha stepped back as the explosive outburst of laughter rang through the gardens. It kept going and going and going to the point where I could feel myself running out of breath. When the contractions ended, I slapped a hand over my mouth and glared at her as hard as I could. Samantha was unsure as to the reasoning behind my uproarious mirth. I cleared my throat and returned to normal in due course.

"A touching sentiment, Samantha, but I'm afraid that you underestimate the diversity of human thought. There are many millions of people in this world. For every firm belief you may hold, there is an exception that exists beyond your field of view."

"But still!"

I wagged my finger at her, "Please, Samantha. Respect my wishes."

Samantha was stumped, but she needed to have the last word.

"I still don't believe you. I'm going to do everything in my power to make you admit that I'm right and that you do care about the people around you. I'm going to be your friend by the end of this term."

I ascended the next step, "And what a grave thing that would be..."

I left Samantha with that thought in mind. My reasoning could not be understood from her perspective. This was the one good deed that a person such as I could do for others. To refrain from violence, and to spare them the indignity of becoming pawns in my punishment. If only she were so willing to believe in my story as she was the existence of a heart long since withered. Samantha was too kind to be dragged into my orbit. Talia and Felipe were already playing with fire by associating with me. I absolutely wanted to avoid doing so with another person. I crossed my fingers and hoped that fate would not conspire to keep me from tracking down the assassin. Becoming the victim of dramatic irony would not make for an exciting tale.

If not for facing judgement for my past mistakes, why had I been reincarnated here?

 

[DystopianFjord]

Cromwell's invitation got me thinking. What if the shooting club had weapons on hand for practice and competition? It could have served as a good hiding place for the rifle that my would-be killer had used. Unfortunately, my theory was quickly proven incorrect after some cursory investigation. Firearms were completely banned from the campus lest they be held in the hands of law enforcement or a private guard. The shooting club's room served as a meeting place before anything else. The guns were dispensed on-site by the organisations running the contests. I had never participated in an academy competition before – so I was unaware of that detail. I also had no reason to suspect that any of the club's members were responsible. Cromwell was the first one from their number to speak with me.

With no evidence to go on and no obvious suspects, I decided that it was time to take more drastic actions. If I couldn't find the culprit normally, I merely had to make them act by drawing them out into the open. There were several remote areas on the campus which would make the perfect place to assassinate someone and get away with it. The grounds were expansive and labyrinthian. There were the buildings themselves, some of which were not utilised, and the grounds and gardens that surrounded them. There weren't enough people in the school to cover every single angle. The teachers had advised us to stay in populated areas for our own safety. I was about to do the exact opposite. It was the right time too. I felt like somebody was watching me as I moved around the campus, a burning gaze that bore down on me like a heavy weight. I had a lot of admirers, but this was a different feeling entirely.

I had constructed a makeshift holster using napkins and old clothes. It was terrible and insecure as all hell, but it would be enough to carry my gun with me for this occasion. I unbuttoned the side of my skirt and exposed my upper thigh, wrapping it around and slipping the gun between my skin and the fabric.

It was a serious piece of shit.

But that's life. Sometimes a piece of shit made of leftovers is just what you need. Resourcefulness and adaptability were two things that I was very good at; that was how I had managed to fit in so well with this new world. I assessed, analysed and planned. Those plans could only be as good as the assumptions that led to their formation. I was taking a serious risk by doing this. I was resolved to follow through with it. It was the quiet hours between our last lesson period and dinner, which meant that foot traffic was going to be even lower than usual. I took a deep breath and headed out into the corridor. Not a soul was around just yet. I'd need to bait my hook before leading them into my trap. I took the scenic route throughout the school grounds, catching the attention of as many people as possible while I did so. It was easily done when I was the most popular girl in the academy. I could sneeze and it would be on the front page of the school paper the next day.

Soon enough I felt that creeping paranoia again. My instincts were alight with activity as I headed out into the back garden and moved between the tall hedges. I had a specific destination in mind. It would obscure my exact location while being isolated enough to lure any enterprising assassin into overextending. The greenhouse. It was a large, iron and glass construction that was used for botany lessons. It was bigger than my old house back on Earth. While the walls were glass, a large variety of exotic plants blocked a clear view through to the other side. I skirted the left edge and headed around the backside. They were still following me. I could hear their footsteps behind me.

I smirked as I wound the line tighter and tighter. This was it, the moment when the truth finally came out. Were they going to try and kill me again? Or were they going to err on the better side of caution and back away before trying? Either way – I was going to emerge the victor. There wasn't a single person in this or any other universe who could compare to my fighting prowess when it came to using a gun. Once I was certain that my pursuer was close enough, I swivelled around with my hand prepared to draw my weapon. I had to stop myself as the person in question finally became apparent.

It was Professor Prier.

Instead of holding a gun, he was holding a still-dirty trowel in his left hand. He gave me a concerned look as he approached me around the corner, "Miss Walston-Carter, I don't mean to interfere with your walk – but I do recall that you were asked to keep to the populated areas of our campus."

That was a disappointment. He wasn't the person I was looking for.

I bowed to him, "Apologies, Mister Prier."

He wiped his brow and chuckled, "Please don't try to make me nervous! My heart almost stopped when I saw you walking past the greenhouse. We're not trying to threaten you. The principal is just very much concerned for your safety."

"I was taking a stroll, and I was so deep in thought that I forgot all about it."

He did not seem convinced by my excuse, but he had no reason to question me any further on the matter. Prier escorted me back to the front side of the greenhouse and shooed me away with his tool, "Make sure you remember to stay safe! It's for your own sake."

"I will, sir."

Was I mistaken? I swore that I could feel someone watching me as I moved. I pondered the problem while walking back to the rear entrance. It was rare for my instincts to lead me astray like this. I'd need to try it again later, this time while Prier wasn't keeping a watchful eye on the greenhouse. I couldn't expect to see results right away. Persistence would lead me to the right answer. I needed to keep trying and doing everything I could. Given that my life was on the line, it only made sense. Prier's presence was not evidence of his killing intent. It was nothing more than a bit of bad luck. I turned my eyes upwards and noticed someone else watching me.

Samantha was waiting on the steps. I intended to ignore her, but she stood and called out to me as I tried to pass.

"Uh. I was hoping that we could talk about something!"

I paused, "I highly doubt that we have anything worth discussing."

Samantha was trying not to get flustered by the brisk reaction. She took a deep breath and approached me, "I just wanted to ask why you stay away from everyone but Talia. I still remember what you said to me when we first met."

"What I mean is that there's no worth to us being friends, none at all. It's something that would benefit neither of us. It's just as much for your sake as it is my own."

"There's nothing bad about having friends. Is there a reason you're trying to distance yourself this much?" she asked. Samantha was going to be stubborn this time. She wasn't leaving me alone until she had some kind of answer from the horse's mouth. I couldn't tell her that I was paranoid about people close to me being killed, and Talia had already wormed her way into my social circle without me being able to do anything about it. I was in damage mitigation mode, trying to prevent it from becoming precedent before it was too late.

"Do I need a reason to prefer solitude?" I offered vaguely, "I enjoy the company of myself more than anything. It helps to know that most of the people who approach me only do so to try and enhance their reputation and image."

Samantha pouted, "I'm not trying to get popular by speaking with you!"

"You already have trustworthy friends at your side. There is no need to invite me – I'm quite satisfied as things are."

I was confident that my refusal would result in Samantha giving up, but that was yet another miscalculation. Rather than being outraged or despondent, she only grew more determined to prove me wrong. I had forgotten something important. Samantha was the protagonist and one of her key personality traits was trying to see the best in other people no matter what. She was an earnest and friendly farm girl who was facing down a cold and uncaring societal class system. She'd grow beyond it and form a bond with one of the boys at the academy, potentially even the Ice Prince that everyone was so afraid of.

"I can't accept an answer like that, Maria. I can see it in your eyes when you say it – you don't believe that at all."

I crossed my arms, "And who are you to understand how I feel?"

"There's no such thing as a person who prefers being alone. I've seen the way you act when Talia or Felipe speak with you. You might not realise it yourself, but you want them to reach out to you and be your friend."

My tightly clamped lips wavered as I struggled to maintain my cold character in front of her. Her face lit up as she believed that I was about to cry or break into an uncontrollable smile that betrayed my true feelings. It was neither of those things. Ever since I had been reincarnated into this body it was almost impossible for me to constrain the extremely irritating laugh that defined Maria's character. It was too much. I could feel the pressure building and threatening to bubble over like a burst dam!

"Hehe... ha. Ohohohoho! Ohohohoho!"

Samantha stepped back as the explosive outburst of laughter rang through the gardens. It kept going and going and going to the point where I could feel myself running out of breath. When the contractions ended, I slapped a hand over my mouth and glared at her as hard as I could. Samantha was unsure as to the reasoning behind my uproarious mirth. I cleared my throat and returned to normal in due course.

"A touching sentiment, Samantha, but I'm afraid that you underestimate the diversity of human thought. There are many millions of people in this world. For every firm belief you may hold, there is an exception that exists beyond your field of view."

"But still!"

I wagged my finger at her, "Please, Samantha. Respect my wishes."

Samantha was stumped, but she needed to have the last word.

"I still don't believe you. I'm going to do everything in my power to make you admit that I'm right and that you do care about the people around you. I'm going to be your friend by the end of this term."

I ascended the next step, "And what a grave thing that would be..."

I left Samantha with that thought in mind. My reasoning could not be understood from her perspective. This was the one good deed that a person such as I could do for others. To refrain from violence, and to spare them the indignity of becoming pawns in my punishment. If only she were so willing to believe in my story as she was the existence of a heart long since withered. Samantha was too kind to be dragged into my orbit. Talia and Felipe were already playing with fire by associating with me. I absolutely wanted to avoid doing so with another person. I crossed my fingers and hoped that fate would not conspire to keep me from tracking down the assassin. Becoming the victim of dramatic irony would not make for an exciting tale.

If not for facing judgement for my past mistakes, why had I been reincarnated here?

Click to shrink...

Missing threadmark. Also could you leave an indication when you are switching perspective? It can be a little disorienting.

 

[DWS]

Missing threadmark. Also could you leave an indication when you are switching perspective? It can be a little disorienting.

Click to shrink...

It ate my line break when I moved it here, sorry!

 

[DWS]

One of the direct consequences of my behaviour was that things had taken a radically different path from what I remembered from the game. Without me to serve as Samantha's foil, the adversity she faced was generalised and arranged by a small group of people who did not respect me enough to take my lead in leaving her alone. In comparison to some of the things that Maria did and said in the game – it was pedestrian. It was nothing that she couldn't handle herself. I wondered if it would change the way that Samantha developed as the 'story' unfolded. Separating myself from that path did give me plenty of space to worry about finding my would-be killer.

Felipe stuck very strictly to the orders that the teachers had given us, never being seen without Beatrice and another friend at his side. I had made several other attempts to lure out the shooter by wandering different parts of the campus, and all of them were just as unsuccessful as the first. Completely unwilling to accept the possibility that I was being paranoid, I concluded that my methodology was faulty. Samantha was keeping a close eye on me, looking for the perfect chance to leap into the fray and befriend me. Her presence only aided the uncertainty I felt.

I did have to question the headmaster's plan. Surely someone who was willing to kill would have no issue in doing so at the expense of bystanders. Most murderers didn't have a set of rules that they liked to follow. The only thing that it would create was more witnesses or more victims; and the careful planning of their first attempt on my life meant that they weren't going to let themselves be seen so easily. They had scouted out my schedule and specifically timed their shot to be hidden by the noise of the clocktower. They were a professional, even if they failed to recover the shell casing from the floor.

That shell casing was my main lead. I needed to find more information about what types of weapons could fire this calibre and make of bullet. As I expected the libraries within the academy did not boast an index of firearms that I could compare it against. With that and the desire for a proper holster for my pilfered pistol, I decided it was time to make my first excursion into the nearby city of Bleufarl. It was the capital of Walser and the seat of government, though the economic core of the nation was really located further south of where we were situated. Convincing the faculty to let me off-campus so I could go visit was going to be a hard ask. I arrived at the staff lounge and asked the teacher at the door very nicely to have a private chat with one of the managing members.

The opponent I had landed in this case was a stern looking man named Robert Engelbart. He had big, bushy white eyebrows and a face like thunder. His voice sounded like he'd gargled a bag of gravel every day for twenty years. The room was mostly empty aside from us. The teachers were all busy preparing for the following day's lessons. We stared each other down for a moment before he started to address me. "This is rare. I never expected to have you ask for a meeting with one of the staff."

"And why would that be, sir?"

He stroked his bushy moustache and grumbled, "You seem rather independent already. Every teacher has nothing but praise for your work ethic, behaviour and focus. Whatever could be troubling you?"

I bowed my head respectfully, "I would like to ask for permission to leave the campus this coming weekend so that I can visit the city. There is some business I must attend to."

His face fell even further (if that was even possible) as he considered my request. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, "I see. That is a rather problematic proposal. I can see why you came to speak with us before deciding. I take it that you understand the headmaster wants you to remain on-site? We could be in serious trouble if one of our students was killed."

I made my case firmly, "While I understand your concerns, is it not strange to essentially punish us by prohibiting us from leaving as the other students do? I would like to visit the city, and my Father will surely send an attendant to make sure that I do not get into any trouble."

That made him chuckle huskily, "I highly doubt that a lady like yourself would get into trouble. No, rather - the trouble is seeking you."

"The culprit only targeted us with the knowledge that nobody else was around to witness it. Surely a well-populated area like the city will deter them from taking a similar action against me."

I had purposefully avoided making the argument that people could also serve as excellent camouflage. I'd completed my share of hits simply by allowing the natural confusion and panic to spread and interfere with attempts to locate me. Engelbart was not an experienced assassin like I was, so he didn't even consider it.

He exhaled through his nose and hushed his voice; "To be truthful, we lack the full authority to confine you to the campus. While we act as your guardians, you also attend this academy with the combined consent of yourselves and your families."

I tried to walk things back a little before he felt like I was pushing things, "I don't mean to imply some kind of nefarious blackmail scheme. If you conclude that it is a risk I am not permitted to take, I will follow your recommendation and remain here."

Engelbart was already wavering in my favour though. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a small piece of paper, on which he jotted down his signature using a pencil. It was dated for the first day of the weekend before it would then expire. "Here. If you show this to the gatekeeper, you'll be allowed through. But I needn't remind you of the curfew that we still expect you to follow even when outside of the school grounds. We'll also be checking to ensure that an appropriate escort is going with you."

"That is reasonable. Thank you very much, sir."

The problem with adults was that they didn't find me intimidating like the other students did. It was easy to look down on me as a pretty little noble lady when they were twice my height and well-weathered from a lifetime of dealing with bratty kids. Still, I had successfully gotten what I wanted out of the discussion. Tacit permission to go into the city so I could investigate my lead further. I took my leave and headed back into the corridor with a spring in my step. That was a lot easier than I had anticipated. Some of the teachers were extremely strict when it came to the rules, but keeping us on campus was not an official action. There was only so much they could do before they upset our parents and lost that sweet, sweet tuition money. I pocketed the permission slip and started walking to my dorm room.

The first phase of my plan was complete, the second was to have a letter delivered to our estate so that Father could dispatch the attendant. Commercial road vehicles were still a decade or so away, so we'd be travelling to the city using a good old-fashioned horse and carriage. I didn't know how to steer one of those, so the attendant was a convenient way to kill two birds with one stone. Given that the headmaster had seen fit to conceal the recent happenings from him a simple excuse about buying him a lovely gift would be enough to buy my way off campus.

That was the same excuse I was going to use to enter one of the hunting shops and find what I was seeking. A catalogue that could show me what gun the bullet was fired from, a holster, and some other knick-knacks that would make my Father very happy. It didn't need to be anything special. He loved his daughter too much to complain. I had to stop myself from buying him a leather holster too lest I remind him of the pistol that I had stolen.

Guns were readily available if you knew where to look – but there were still basic rules in place to prevent people my age from walking in and purchasing one. Buying everything else that was associated with them came down to the shopkeeper's discretion. Most would not turn down good money for no reason. While I was walking I spotted several of the 'main cast' spending some time catching up in the library. Samantha waved at me but I refused to humour her. I kept on walking without saying a word. Between this day and the trip, there was still another magic lesson with Miss Jennings to worry about. I had a feeling that we wouldn't be out in the yard until questions of security were resolved.

I locked the door behind me and relaxed a little.

"Quill, quill, quill," I murmured to myself. I had been writing a lot of notes recently – so there was a gigantic mess starting to accumulate on my desk. I needed to take some time and clean it up before it grew even more chaotic. I eventually found it, having fallen between two piles of documents that I had been using to copy down some of the more important facts I had learned in and outside of class. I started my letter with some pleasantries. Father would like to hear from me for more than asking for a simple favour.

I ran through some of the things that had happened since I arrived, how I was doing in class, and some more information about my magical education that I had mentioned briefly once before. He was very proud to hear that I was assessed as a grade five mage. Magic was something that he believed would come back around to relevance once everyone 'grew tired of their machines.' I didn't have the heart to break the bad news that it was highly unlikely.

Once the mundane retelling of my school life was done with, I inquired if it was at all possible to have an attendant and carriage dispatched to the academy on the weekend. There was little doubt in my mind that he would agree to it without asking questions. It would take a few days for the letter to make its way through to the house. I'd find out about his reply when it came time to leave the campus. If not, I'd be left standing there like a fool for a carriage that would never arrive.

I could always try again if I failed but failure was not something I experienced often.

---​

"Max, I totally just saw Maria walking out of the teacher's lounge."

Samantha and Maxwell had remained behind to study even as their classmates retired for the evening. They were making sound progress, but Claudius has been notably absent for the majority of the day. It soon became apparent that he had spent it screwing around and trying to dig up clues to support his pet theory about Maria being some kind of villainous mastermind.

"You know, there are a hundred perfectly innocent reasons to speak with one of the teachers," Max contended, "You're just making up stories again."

Claudius sat down beside his oldest friend and shook his head gravely, "If these were normal circumstances, perhaps. But the teachers have been hiding something from us for nearly a week now. I'm certain that it has to do with Maria."

"She doesn't seem any different to usual," Samantha replied.

Claudius gave her a knowing smirk, "Ah. But that's the most telling clue of all. The fact that she feels so at ease despite the clear anxiety of the teachers and guardians around her. Does it not make you think that she's the one holding all of the cards? She's pulling their strings, and they're all dancing along to her tune."

"And what do you think she's doing with such immense power?" Max added.

"If she's manipulating the teachers – it must be something to do with our grades. I was always suspicious about the way that she scores near perfectly in every mock exam and piece of self-study we do. Having dirt on the staff members would serve to secure her top spot."

Max was not going to entertain such a wild claim.

"And when she answers all of the questions correctly in the lectures?"

Sam joined in, "And I've seen her intelligence first-hand. I have no reason to believe that she needs to rely on such a cheap trick."

Claudius huffed, "I'm not saying that it's guaranteed to be the case! I'm working through some theories right now. You'll come up with one-hundred incorrect answers before finding the right one."

"More like a million," Max said, "You've already decided that she's guilty of something and are just working back to justifying it."

Samantha returned to her book, "Yeah – the only thing she's guilty of is being mean."

Claudius knew it was a lost cause. Neither of his friends understood criminal psychology like he did. Neither of them had seen or heard the tales from people around the academy about what was unfolding. Something was up and he was going to be the one to crack the case wide open. He could imagine all of the accolades and applause he'd receive for protecting the innocent from Maria's fiendish ways. Maxwell had implored him to focus more on his studies before he fell behind Roderro as the class clown. Claude had other ideas. Why worry about studying when the lives of other people were on the line?

But Max was correct about one thing. He needed a lot more evidence first before closing this case.

 

[DWS]

Our next magic lesson focused entirely on theory. The teachers had decided that letting me and Felipe be outside at the same time in an exposed area was a bad idea. It was an entirely reasonable judgement to make. The only person who had reasons to suspect that something was amiss was Claudius – though him finding something suspicious was like the sun rising in the morning. The staff didn't know where or when the attacker would strike next.

The problem was what they were doing to try and find the culprit. It was evident that they had been going above and beyond to search the building for where the gun might have been hidden after the shooting, but the campus was so large that it was a hopeless endeavour. They could have easily dug a hole in one of the gardens and buried it for later. People imagine themselves as being more perceptive than they really are. Who would wander behind a treeline and actually investigate a patch of disturbed soil?

There were just too many places to hide it. I was also happily concealing a weapon inside my dorm room. It was almost worrying how easy it was to smuggle things in and out of the campus. I looked at the suitcase in the bottom of my wardrobe with a terse frown. I had decided to bring the gun with me just in case something happened while we were out and about. It was strange to go back to wearing my casual clothes after being in uniform for weeks. The students were allowed to wear their own clothes during the weekend, but I rarely left my room on those days regardless.

With money and a firearm hidden on my person – I walked down the long hallways and headed towards the first of the two gates that controlled access to the academy. It was a small exterior booth occupied by a private guard and a wood-fired furnace to keep them warm in the winter. They also had a large logbook which they used to keep track of who was coming and going during the day. If the culprit had decided to leave and dispense with his weapon, one of the guards would have noted it down for later and asked to inspect the inside of whatever they were carrying. That was why I believed the gun was still hidden on the property, or at least brought through a subtler route. My first thought would have been to throw it over the fence both in and out. That would stop me from leaving a paper trail to follow.

The guard sat up straight in his chair as I became the first person to visit who wasn't delivering food for the kitchen. I presented the signed slip of paper without a word. He scrutinized the signature and date, before stamping it with a small, red ink seal to show that it had been used. I immediately caught that he had neglected to cover the signature with ink. That meant I could keep it and reuse it later.

"Okay – Lady Maria, you're all clear to head out. Please remember to be back on the campus by half-six this evening."

"Thank you."

I walked through the pedestrian entrance and was greeted by the sight of the family's blackwood carriage. A pair of horses brayed and pulled on their restraints as the driver tried to keep them calm. Rather than sending him alone, Father had seen fit to also dispatch a servant I had become very familiar with. His name was Franklin, and he tended to take on important responsibilities when the other heads of staff were occupied. He bowed and crossed his hands in his lap.

"Good morning, Lady Maria."

"Good morning, Franklin. I see that Father elected to dispatch the both of you."

He nodded, "Aye. It's no bother to us. The Master was worried about you heading into the city without two pairs of eyes."

I had only asked for one. My humble side had intended to make as little noise about my visit as possible, but clearly, my Father thought differently. It was more convenient to have the driver stay with the carriage. They could stand by in a parking area and make sure that nobody tried anything funny while we went about our business. A horse was still valuable enough to be worth stealing. I'd also seen many a carriage with one or two wheels missing.

"I suppose it will not hurt to have you for company. Shall we be away?"

Franklin smiled and opened the small door. I clambered up into the cabin as it locked shut behind me. The interior was nice and comfortable, with cushioned seats and glass windows to keep the wind out. I cracked my shoulders and prepared for the twenty-minute journey down to the city. Franklin decided to sit up front with the driver. I would have offered him a seat inside, but he would have turned me down out of concern of cramping the good lady's space. It was bizarre. I had never once seen the carriage filled to capacity. You could squeeze eight people into the seats if you really wanted to.

I kicked back and let my mind wander.

Eventually, the bumpy streets started to roll the carriage back and forth with me huddled up inside. I peered through the window and out into the city. It was a bustling hive of people going about their lives; it was amazing to consider that the nation had been on the verge of total collapse a few years before I was born. The will to march on as things had always been was strong. Nobody wanted to see their regular lives suffer from such upheaval. It was a large, modern city where hundreds of thousands of people had been forced into a relatively small space. Rural cottages had been swallowed whole by the rapid urban development, creating a patchwork of new and old.

There was only one side that would win and overtake the other in the end. Higher-density buildings were always being constructed to house more people. Heavy black smoke billowed in the distance where the industrial areas dominated the riverside – using it for transport and as a water supply. Occasionally a flight of fancy would cut through the grim realness. A shop that sold items for mages, or an unusual-looking creature standing bedraggled by the side of the road.

The driver weaved through the foot traffic and found a good place to stop. Franklin's movement up front disturbed the balance of the carriage, and a moment later the door was opened for me. He took my hand and helped me climb down the steps. Several other carriages had been pulled into the same yard. The smell of horseshit was overpowering, and this time it wasn't the fault of me putting on airs. "Good lord. They really ought to tidy this place up a little!" the driver griped. He knew better than us what a model mooring area looked like. I took his word for it. Franklin handed him some money for the parking fee and followed me out onto the street.

"What are you looking for, Ma'am?"

"I'd like to purchase some personal items for my stay at the school, and a gift or two for Father."

"I see. I do believe that the shopping district was in that direction," he said – pointing eastwards. I had already observed as much myself. I had a very good memory when it came to locations. He followed my lead as we struggled to navigate our way through the huge crowds that occupied either side of the road. There were too many horse-drawn carts passing by for them to use the centre as well. Franklin stuck close to me, with a vigilant glare being directed towards people he suspected of being pickpockets. Again, it was a fruitless exercise. I was aware enough to keep my own pockets firmly unpicked. They'd lose a few fingers for even trying.

As we approached some of the civilian shops in the middle of the city, the crowds became more affluent in terms of dress. Brightly coloured dresses had become something of a trend as dyes became more affordable and widely available. A swelling middle class had opened new markets and opportunities for those willing to take the risk. I wasn't in the city to shop for dresses – just some extra underwear. I had packed too few to last and cleaning them by hand twice a week was driving me crazy. For all of the luxuries that we were given as students, we still had to do our own laundry.

Before we could find a shop to do just that, we stumbled upon one of my other targets. A hunting goods store. Not only did they sell a select few guns, but also everything that you needed to look the part while posing with them outside of your multi-million-Walmark mansion in the countryside. A poser's paradise, if you will. Or you could even cut out the middleman and buy an already stuffed animal corpse to mount above the fireplace. The front window was filled with ducks, beavers and other 'pests' that had been mounted on wooden plaques.

"I'd like to buy Father a gift from this shop."

Franklin observed the front façade, "Hm. As long as the shopkeeper is okay with a young lady being inside."

He walked up and opened the door, allowing me to enter. The smell of leather and gunpowder hit me like a brick wall. Even as a gun nut, the smell wasn't a good one. It was a confined space and every last inch of it was being used to display various items. Clothes, animals, accessories, and most importantly – books and registries. Printing presses had resulted in an explosion of books covering just about every topic you could think of. A lot of stores liked to print catalogues that explored a list of products that were available. It was exactly what I was looking for. I could use it to find guns that used the calibre of the bullet I had retrieved from the clock tower. The shopkeeper spared a glance at me before returning to his business. It didn't seem like there'd be an issue.

Franklin was going to ask more questions if he saw me screwing around. I peered around the edge of the aisle and saw him standing guard by the front door instead of following me. Perfect. I headed to the reference area and opened one of the books that covered the small selection of rifles that the store offered. That was where the convenience ended. None of the guns were organized into their respective calibres, meaning I had to scan over every single page to try and find what I was looking for. I came away with three different candidates that all used the cartridge I had found.

One of them was a lever action rifle produced by Burs called the five-six. There were also two others produced by the Blackwell Hunting Company. Both were chamber loaded and could only carry one round before needing to be reloaded. They were very much intended to be used for hunting wild animals and not in a military context. The more advanced mechanism in magazine-loaded guns made them more expensive. Most would be just fine with a lever action rifle for clearing their farms of pests or protecting their property. The difference between the guns was not significant in terms of size – but at least I knew what I was looking for now. I made extra sure that there were no other guns that used those bullets by checking the other books until I exhausted my options.

With that done, I hurried to complete my other tasks before Franklin grew suspicious. The leather section contained everything that I was looking for. A selection of holsters for firearms small and large. I had already memorized the size of my own pilfered gun, and my Father would find something to do with whatever I bought him. I grabbed the nicest-looking thing I could spot and brought them to the register. The towering man who stood behind it had to lean forward over the edge to see me standing there.

"I'd like to purchase these as a gift."

I stood on my toes and placed them down for him to process. He chuckled and started to hammer numbers into his register, each press of the buttons releasing a loud click; "You've got a good eye, little miss. I'd easily recommend both of these to anyone looking for something nice. That'll be three-ninety."

I handed over my Walmarks and took the holsters into my arms. "Thank you."

Only one of them was intended to be a gift. I could drum up an excuse to Franklin about why I was keeping one of them for myself. He smiled and led me back onto the road. He already had a good idea of where we needed to head, "Let us go and purchase some new clothes."

"Yes. Let's."

The easiest part of the trip was over. Now to find some good underwear.

 

[DWS]

It was a hard fact that I had to get used to the clothing I was expected to wear. I couldn't just start dressing in masculine stuff and expect everyone to accept it. Maria already boasted a large and diverse wardrobe of different items – dresses, nightgowns, blouses, skirts and dress shirts. I had some amount of leeway in choosing what I wanted to use, but immersing myself deep into the 'character' of Maria was essential to fitting in. In the grand scheme of things, I had performed much more humiliating acts to complete a job than wearing a dress. I just kept in mind that I had become Maria and that nobody would find it odd for me to wear my own clothes. With that said, there were many elements of current-day fashion that I could not abide by. Corsets were used by many women to try and give themselves a curvier figure. I much preferred being able to breathe properly.

The full weight of the gap between my old self and new persona became apparent when I entered the underwear section of one of the many high-class boutiques that surrounded the main avenue. A rainbow of pastel colours descended upon me from all sides, complete with ribbons and floral patterns carefully weaved into every silk panel. This was not my natural territory. Franklin recused himself from coming with, averting his eyes and claiming that "the women's segment is no place for a man like me."

I felt that very strongly.

But I was Maria Walston-Carter. What kind of girl my age didn't engage in things like this? I had already pushed my luck with becoming an experienced sports shooter – this was just for the sake of balancing things out. I found myself going slowly for the sake of giving off the impression that I was taking my time and closely inspecting each option. To me, every bundle of underwear and bras were the same, just in differing colours and materials. I'd already made my selection of something sensible and dark before I even entered the building. Sensible was in short supply, but it was enough to keep me in clean underwear for a full week without having to clean them. I paid for a bundle of underwear and returned to Franklin.

"There's no need to be so red in the face. Do you not need undergarments yourself?"

He sputtered, "There's a lot of differences between men's and women's... you know. It's rude to stare."

I was just messing with him.

I had successfully completed all of my chores in record time. We exited the store and travelled back down the main avenue. There was an almighty ruckus that had broken out along the way. I had noticed a small wooden soapbox that someone had set up by the side of the plaza, and it was now occupied by a man who sought to destroy his own vocal cords by shouting at the top of his lungs. There was no way to ignore what he was saying. He even had a wooden sign painted with a catchy slogan to really sell the street-corner protestor look. A small crowd of irritated onlookers had gathered to try and shout him down.

"The Compromise is nothing more than a tool for parliamentarians to control the proper working order of our nation! Walser thrived for hundreds of years under the guiding hand of our royal family – we have no need of these 'lawmakers,' ones who don't have the divine right to lead! Have we so readily forgotten that the Van Walser family protected us from evil time and time again? We are walking to our own destruction!"

Franklin was not amused, "Is this what they've been making such a fuss about lately? How foolish."

"Someone is going to attack him if he is not careful," I whispered. Franklin grimaced and ushered us away before such a thing occurred. The wounds of the internal conflict were still fresh to some. Those who sought to modernize the nation through democratic revolution, and those who believed that the old ways would continue to serve it well. From a monarchist's perspective, the compromise was not much of a compromise at all. It served exclusively to intrude on the traditional powers of the royal family and prevent them from interfering with parliament.

There were a lot of people like that lone protestor. They shouted into the void in the vague hope that their perspective could sway the masses. It had been done a thousand times before with hundreds of other self-styled revolutionary leaders. A soapbox and slogan weren't enough in this era of entrenched power structures. It would take time for people to come around to a new form of government; but they were not eager to burn everything down to go back. The government would have to anger them directly through its policy-making first.

"They're nothing more than a nuisance. Don't they have anything better to do?" Franklin despaired.

"There's no harm in speaking your mind, at least until someone takes umbrage with it."

Franklin was sceptical, "What good does the voice of a single man do? The Van Walser family is hardly going to follow his recommendations and assert their power again." He paused as he realised that he was speaking about politics and current events with someone less than half his age. It would be best for me to not push the matter any further lest I arouse undue suspicion.

"I can't say I'm familiar with the matter at hand."

I was very familiar with the matter at hand. It was one of the things that I had done deep amounts of research into using Father's newspapers. Years after it happened it was still the topic on everyone's minds, something that had divided Walserian society clean down the middle and brought about a significant level of turmoil. The author was trying to lay the groundwork for sequels and spinoffs to come but I never played any of them. It could have been a piece of unused set dressing for all I knew. It took on new significance now that I was living in a world that had brought things into reality. It was realistic that those events would come to affect me in time.

"Ah. I think I'd be happier without knowing, Ma'am, but what's done is done. We all must live in the same times together for better or worse. I would be overjoyed to state with confidence that you need not worry about such things."

Remaining silent was my only good choice, so I did just that. The rest of the walk was mostly uneventful until we neared the lot where the carriage had been parked. I could instantly tell that one of the women walking in the opposite direction was looking at us. Combined with their huddle posture and restless hands, I identified her as a pickpocket. My instincts were proven correct as she intentionally stepped into my path and tried to 'accidentally' bump into me. I stopped dead in place and didn't allow her to execute the sleight of hand required to pilfer my purse. Her eyes widened in blind panic as her hand met empty air.

I was not expecting her to try it again after already missing the first time. Her arm lashed out like a coiled viper and tried to sneak into my pocket, but I deflected the movement and slipped my leg between hers, hooking the back of my foot around hers and pushing. She wailed and tumbled back at the simple self-defence technique. It wouldn't have worked on someone with any training at all. Franklin finally caught on to what was happening and leapt between us so as to protect me from harm.

"Take your hands off the young Mistress this instant!"

She scrambled back to her feet and ran for it, slipping away between the crowd and out of sight before he could stop her. Franklin was furious that someone had tried to rob me on his watch, and even more angry about missing it the first time. I checked my other pockets and made sure that everything was still in place.

"I appear to be in one piece, Franklin."

"We should speak with the police and have them-"

I cut him off, "The police aren't going to be able to find a single pickpocket based on a description from me. And they have bigger problems to solve." Franklin grumbled but accepted my point. It would be a tremendous waste of time for everyone involved to report the incident to the police. It would get thrown onto an ever-growing pile of other non-violent acts and ignored for months. Violent crime was the big issue of the day, and the government had made a big deal about directing the police to crack down on it.

"The Master is going to be furious," he despaired.

"What he doesn't know will not trouble him. I remain unharmed and un-robbed."

Franklin objected, "I cannot keep my silence on matters referring to you, Ma'am. That is the one essential responsibility that he gave me. I would be betraying both his, and your, trust in doing so."

I could have ordered him to do whatever I pleased – but I saw no reason to. Franklin was going to report back to Father regardless of what angle I attacked him from. It was irritating because he'd surely institute new rules to try and keep me out of trouble. As the only heir to our branch of the family, he wanted to protect our collective interest as much as possible.

"If that is what you wish to do. I will not object." Franklin wasn't sure if he had offended me or not through his stubbornness, but his loyalty to the job and my Father was greater than his loyalty to me. We returned to the carriage and waited for the horses to finish recuperating before departing for the campus. It was an eventful trip, but not as eventful as the worst case may have been. The killer hadn't followed me.

On the ride back, I tried to come up with a new approach.

---​

Claudius was starting to grow frustrated. His instincts were screaming to him that something was going on. The teachers had all started to act differently, and none of the others in his class had noticed that the promised practical magic lesson from last week had not occurred. Instead, they were hastily bundled back into the classroom for a lecture on some of the future topics that they would be covering. It had all started after their third session together in the yard. Claudius thought back on all of the books that he had read and took inspiration from them. When Thaddeus Jones became stuck during the mystery of the bloodied curtain – he returned to the starting point of the story and found an essential clue.

Claudius had noticed some of the teachers loitering in the training area. Despite that and the cancellation of the practical lesson, there had been no edict issued to the students about staying away from it. If he was going to find a foundational clue, this was going to be the place. Maria and Felipe had stayed behind to speak with each other at the time. What had they spoken about? And how did it relate to the behaviour of the staff afterwards? It demanded a thorough and detailed investigation of the site.

Initially, it seemed as if nothing had changed at all. All of the dummies were in their usual places, as were the markings on the grass. But something did catch Claudius' eye. One of the trees had been damaged. The lighter colour that had been exposed on the inside made it extremely obvious from a distance. He leaned in and took a closer look. The bark had been ripped clean from the trunk. Several sharp pieces jutted outwards as if they had been struck by a severe impact. His imagination kicked into gear, transporting him back to the moment when Maria and Felipe confronted each other away from the eyes and ears of the others. Harsh words were shared, menacing glares cast on each side, and then came the first blow!

Thwack!

The shattering of aged bark rang out across the academy as Maria unleashed a devastating punch. Claudius shivered as he imagined the fear that must have run through Felipe's system, as he discovered that he was in clear waters with a bloodthirsty shark! There would be no objection from his side as Maria demonstrated her mastery over him. In reality – it was the mark left after the bullet impacted the tree at a shallow angle. Claudius had never seen a bullet hole in person before, and the collateral damage to the relatively soft tree had obscured that fact from him.

"I can't believe that Maria would do something like that," Claudius murmured gravely. Considerations like the strength required, the wounds that would have been left on her knuckles, and the leaps in logic he was making were mere background noise in the face of an overwhelming and rapidly developing conspiracy. Claudius had done his research into Felipe and Beatrice Booker, so he knew that they were betrothed to be married once they graduated. It was the clearest motivation that he could think of. Was Maria trying to exploit Felipe in some way? Was she trying to make him break his betrothal for her own sinister purposes?

Whatever the reason, he wasn't going to stand for such a foul injustice! He swivelled on his heel and marched back towards the main building with a head full of frenzy and a chest filled with bravado. He was going to expose Maria for the villainess that she was in due course. All he needed now was the testimony to support his case.

 

[DWS]

A physical exam.

Human physiology expert and part-time teacher Winston Moss had careened through the lecture room doors and declared that we were becoming part of an experiment. He adjusted his glasses and smiled as he launched into an explanation as to the purpose of the forced exercise. I recognized this as one of the early 'special events' that contained unique dialogue depending on which romance track you had taken. It still surprised me that even this had been translated into 'real life.' Depending on what stats you trained Samantha in, there could be several different outcomes. Generally, those stats didn't have much of an impact on the game besides gating certain events from the player.

"As part of my tenure here at the royal academy, I've been conducting research into the effects of exercise on younger people. It'll also provide us with a fine opportunity to talk about the human body."

There was a groan of protest from some of the non-active class members, but they could not go against the orders of one of our teachers without incurring penalties and detention periods. I was suffering under a completely different dilemma. I had been training my body for years at this point – resulting in an enhanced level of stamina, strength and speed that would be sure to elicit many questions from those watching in the peanut gallery.

"I always say that a healthy body is a healthy mind. I won't ask you to do any more than what you are capable of, but I want some earnest effort from all of you. We'll be recording times," he said, holding aloft a brass stopwatch and piece of paper. "Let's go. We only have an hour together."

Everyone dragged their feet as much as possible as we were led to the sporting grounds on the extremities of the campus with spare clothes in hand. Sports like football and a modified version of baseball were popular forms of entertainment, and formalised sports leagues were starting to congregate and host competitions to see who was the best. The academy also had its own internal teams for each. Most participated without any expectations of turning it into a job. It was a social event designed to keep fit more than anything else. To accommodate them, there was a selection of facilities designed for sporting endeavours – including athletics like running and long jumping. They were rather anachronistic additions to the setting, but I wasn't the original writer. I'd have to reserve my complaints for the next life.

The girls and boys separated into the changing rooms and started to switch into more appropriate clothing. I found a nice, isolated spot in the corner and attempted to do the same without anyone drawing attention to me. It was going to be tough. I couldn't contort my body into the correct position without flexing my muscles, and the clothes I had with me exposed my legs and arms much more than the uniform. The whispers started to circulate quickly about my choice of underwear and my build.

"Woah, check out Lady Maria!"

"She's so pretty, but she has such a muscular body..."

My eye twitched as yet another bullet point was added to the increasingly lengthy list of urban legends about me. I did my best to change quickly and get out of sight before anybody else got funny ideas about why I was so ripped at the age of thirteen. Not that it was possible for a young, pubescent girl to build muscles like I used to have in my old life, anyway. The difference was still loud and clear. Anyone who took their health seriously stood out from the crowd. Samantha was not spared the observational comedy thanks to her height and robust build. She was the very image of a girl who ate well and worked hard.

We left the changing room and lined up at the edge of the track. Since I was the one who had left first, I was also the one who had to wait the longest for everyone else. It was a nice day, but it was still cold when I was standing there in a shirt and knee-length pants. Professor Moss was beside himself in anticipation. This was one of the concessions that the headmaster had given away to earn his spot on the rotating roster of tutors we had to deal with.

Unethical? Perhaps. A convenient excuse to have Samantha, Maria and the love interests interact? Certainly.

Adrian was already limbering up behind the line. He smirked and flexed his arms in a poor attempt to intimidate me. "This is going to be a rare humiliation for you, Maria. There is simply no prospect of you getting one over on me in athletics. It'll be my victory!"

I stared at him, "This is not a competition."

"Running scared already! It is okay. I will accept your surrender without conditions attached."

I wasn't going to stand for that kind of talk. Adrian had activated my competitive side. Initially, I was going to hold back and avoid making myself stand out, but he pissed me off by running his mouth again. I was going to crush him and his pride into little pieces, and everyone would get to see it happen. I did some stretches to warm up my muscles while the rest of the class filtered out into the yard.

Moss was rambling his way through some factoids about the human body; "The muscles that we use to move are made of fibres, long connected strings of cells that can be broken down and rebuilt. By moving today, you'll reconstruct them in a few days' time to be stronger than before. I'd like to go through some exercises that will work every part of your body! Let's begin with some shorter challenges, before moving to the longer ones."

He had already retrieved a basket filled with baseballs from the field shed. The first task was to throw one as far as it could go. He'd measure the distance travelled and make a leaderboard so that we could compare our scores. Samantha was up first. She took one of the balls from the basket and wound up, releasing it with a fairly powerful throw that carried it halfway across the field. Moss unwound a long tape measure and travelled from her launching point until he had a firm estimate of how far it had gone. The audience was impressed with her initial effort. A lot of the boys struggled to get close to her record. She was only pipped for the top spot ten contestants later by one of the athletic kids.

Adrian was up next, and there was a collective eye-roll through everyone present as he started showboating before he even stepped up to the mark. He took his sweet time selecting the 'optimal' ball to throw too, hoping that every little edge would allow him to finally win a contest versus me after years of acrimonious meetings. He wound up, kicking his leg into the air as he went, and released it at a poor angle. It lacked both velocity and height, skipping off the ground and coming to a halt some distance behind the rest of the top quadrant. Regardless, he believed that it was enough to beat me judging by the cocky smirk on his face as he returned to the line.

"Miss Walston-Carter."

It was fate. I walked up and took a random ball from the basket, palming it to get a feel for the texture and weight. I stepped onto the mark and cracked my wrist. I wound up and threw it, using my reflexes to pick the best possible angle. It soared through the air as I put more strength into it than I had intended.

It kept going, and going, and going. I winced internally as it flew past the number one spot and landed at the other end of the field. The class was left in stunned silence as I leapfrogged the rest of the competition and took my place at the top spot. Moss threw up his hands and grumbled knowing that he had to walk the full length of the field to measure it, "I suppose that's the winning throw!"

Adrian was silent as the other boys ribbed him for pouting about it.

---​

Samantha, Claudius and Maxwell were regrouping away from the crowd after the first round of their impromptu sports day. Samantha had seen a lot of strange things through Maria, but this was a new high in terms of absurdity. She had destroyed the record of one of the boys who was a full-time member of the baseball club! She hadn't even broken a sweat, and it was impossible to ignore the muscles that popped out from under her skin when she did it. In fact, her entire body was extremely toned and well-maintained. It was embarrassing to admit – but she had spied on her briefly while she changed.

"I keep telling you, there's something going on with that girl," Claudius gloated, "Do you think that a normal lady would be capable of doing something like that?"

"She's good at throwing, so what?" Maxwell replied.

"Ah, don't say that! She just made Johnathan look like an amateur!"

"He is an amateur."

"You get what I mean," Claude scoffed. Even if Johnathan was a new member of the club and he wasn't particularly amazing at fielding, he still should have been able to beat Maria in a throwing competition. Maria had never indicated that she was secretly a huge fan of sports. It only acted to further inflame his curiosity. It also reinforced his mistaken belief that Maria had punched a tree to pieces to intimidate Felipe.

Samantha was similarly entranced with the young noble. She had a clear view of how her limbs reacted as they moved through the air, "I have to say that her body is very well trained. It looks like she has been exercising regularly."

Max's brow raised, "What did the professor say, a healthy body is a healthy mind? I guess it would make sense given how much of a perfectionist she seems to be."

Claudius jumped back in, "Or perhaps it's just training so that she can be a human weapon! She could kill us all using her bare hands!"

Maxwell laughed, "She might be athletic, but I highly doubt a girl that short could wrap her hands around my neck." He always lavished in the attention that came with being one of the tallest boys in the first year. His admirers were numerous – though he did not often humour their attempts to win his heart as he had no interest in romance at the moment. If anyone, Samantha was the girl who interested him the most by virtue of being so different to everyone else. Out of respect for her decision-making, he had not revealed this small crush openly.

Though at the moment, it seemed to him that Samantha was more infatuated with Lady Maria than him. Was she starting to fall for her feminine wiles as well? Heaven forbid that one of the female students not become a rabid fan of hers.

The next challenge issued was a short sprint from the mark to the halfway line on the field, which would be recorded using a stopwatch. Moss travelled through the list of students once more. Adrian Rederro would not be deterred by his first defeat at Maria's hands. He set off from a kneeling position like a bloodhound seeking its prey. He managed the full sprint in nineteen seconds. Maxwell, Claudius and Samantha could all feel the punchline coming from a mile away.

Maria lined up from the same spot, touched the ground with the tips of her fingers, and launched herself at full pelt. The girls cheered and squealed as her black hair waved in the wind. She dashed across the grass at a blindingly fast speed – skidding to a halt as she passed the professor. He pressed the button, his eyes bulging outwards at the recorded time.

"Fifteen seconds, very impressive."

Adrian was furious, again. Though any words he could have offered as an excuse would only further his alienation from the class. Maria had smashed his record and didn't even break a sweat while she was at it. She returned to the starting line without a single indicator that she had just performed an intense sprint. Her breath remained even and her skin was untouched by the cruel hand of perspiration.

"God above, she was like a bullet!" Claudius yelled, "At what point does this stop being normal to you? She's strong, she's fast – it's completely contradictory to the way that she carries herself."

"Even a noble lady might be interested in staying fit," Samantha said.

The excuses continued rolling, as did Maria's categorical dismantling of the rest of the class. Even at an age where the physical differences between the boys and girls had become more apparent with the onset of puberty, she ran rings around them. Every achievement would be undercut by her in short order, and every single time she returned to the group with the same expressionless glare. Adrian had made a serious error of judgement by challenging her. Claudius was feeling a similar sense of frustration as his friends continued to bat away his observations.

It didn't add up! How could a lady like Maria have so much athletic acumen? Where did she find the time to study, train and practice magic all at once? There must have been a secret to it. Claudius wanted to know – and there was only methodology he could think of. Maria had spoken with him at length while tutoring him in biology a few weeks ago. If he could convince the professor that he needed tutoring again, then perhaps he could pry away some answers by making small talk. He smirked. That was it! A great plan that couldn't possibly go wrong.

Claudius had to admit that he scared himself with his own genius sometimes.

 

[Dradel]

Ah yes, convince the teacher you're bad at school and need particular attention to make up for your shortcomings. This can't backfire on you in any way.