Meeting with Ayla

As we walk through the academy, Lysandra is practically brimming with curiosity at every new sight and sound. Though she's doing her best to contain it, there's an undisguised wonder in her eyes. I suppose this experience is entirely new to her.

I'm lost in thought, planning for every possible contingency, when I realize Lysandra's stopped in her tracks. She's staring at some popular restaurant, her eyes wide and her nose twitching at the smell of the various dishes wafting from the inside.

Sighing, I pull her closer and look around, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I told you already, but I want to make sure you get it. Who am I? And who are you?"

Lysandra turns to me, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "I'm not a child for fucks sake. You are V, you have a shop here in the capital, and we are old friends. I am Lysandra, I am a human, I am from a remote village on the outskirts of the kingdom, and due to some personal reasons, I couldn't arrive until now. Thankfully the Dean was kind enough to allow me to attend this late. Tsk, who would believe this bullshit? Wouldn't people check some records or something like that?"

I pass a bag to her and sigh, "Darius has dealt with that. I'm just placing the finishing touches. No one will suspect anything as long as you don't spill it."

I don't know how long she'll last before accidentally spilling something. Fuck, I need to watch her twenty-four-seven.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, I make her look at me. "Hey, promise me you won't fight someone without my permission, and promise me that you won't go telling everyone you're a dragon."

She pushes me away, irritation in her eyes. "And why the hell do I need your permission to fight someone?"

I groan, my patience wearing thin. "Just listen for now. You can do that, right?"

She groans back, clearly not enjoying this conversation any more than I am. Rubbing her head, she looks at me, her eyes suddenly turning serious. "Will you let me feel that fire again?"

What the hell is she on about? That strange uncomfortable fire I conjured flashes in my mind. Ugh, whatever. As long as it keeps her quiet, I'll deal with it.

"Yeah, yeah. Just behave, okay? We can't afford any mistakes here. And from here on out make sure to only refer to me as V."

The hallway is practically silent, save for the muted chatter of students in the distance. The doors are all closed, but I recognize Professor Ayla's office from the emblem on the door. It's an ancient symbol, I have no idea what it means but it looks cool.

Before I knock on her heavy wooden door, I turn to Lysandra. "Hey, you wait here," I say, my voice firm but tired. "I'll deal with this, so just stay here and don't move. Don't make eye contact with anyone and don't talk to anyone."

Lysandra's eyes flash with annoyance, but she doesn't retort, just leans against the wall with a huff. Despite the casual posture, I can see the tension in her posture. I hate treating her like this, but the situation calls for caution.

The weight of what I'm about to do makes my hands tremble slightly as I reach for the door, but I knock confidently, just like always. Professor Ayla's voice, a mix of authority and exasperation, answers, "I'm busy, please come another time."

Busy? As if. I can practically smell the alcohol from here. Is she drinking again?

Ensuring that the coast is clear, I allow my hand to be covered by the shadowy essence of Umbra. The darkness seeps into the keyhole, morphing and shifting, until it forms a perfect key. With a soft click, the door unlocks, and I push it open.

I step inside her office, which is more of a suite than a mere room. Various artifacts and books line the walls, and at the center of it all is an ornate desk with a plush chair behind it. Without a second thought, I make myself at home in the chair, reveling in the soft cushion. I spot a bottle of wine on her table and chuckle. "Is this her favorite?" I muse, picking it up. Knowing Ayla, she probably wouldn't even notice if a bottle or two went missing.

As I'm contemplating the merits of sneaking a sip, the door to an adjacent room swings open. Ayla, wearing a rather casual set of pajamas, looks slightly taken aback at my audacity. Her pointed elven ears twitch, a clear sign of her surprise. "H-Hey V, h-how did you get in here?"

Ignoring her question, I smirk, "You are busy huh? Just what are you busy with?"

Ayla's frown deepens as she sprawls on a nearby couch, stretching languidly. "You know," she starts with a yawn, "I didn't expect you to visit me. I was wondering when you were going to change your look."

"Change my look?" I raise an eyebrow, puzzled.

She smirks. "I get that you are attempting to look as normal as possible for your mission, but you made yourself way too ugly. I thought you were a goblin at first. Now you look slightly normal. I mean, your new look is still ugly, but I'm assuming that's what you're going for."

A pang of offense hits me, and I clutch my chest in mock pain. Not my fault I ended up possessing this body! I manage a wounded look. "Y-yeah, I thought I overdid it so I slightly improved my look," I mutter, deflecting the sting of her words.

Wanting to redirect the conversation, I reach into my bag and toss her a small, gleaming memory crystal. It emits a soft glow, hinting at the data stored within. Ayla groans, catching it effortlessly. With a wave of her hand, a holographic display springs forth, showcasing the contents. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she looks through it. "Um, I'm sorry, but who is she and why are you giving me this?"

I sigh, feeling the weight of my request. "I need you to make her your student. Her profile's all set up. Just inform the Dean."

She nearly chokes on her incredulity, jumping up from her relaxed posture to lean across the desk, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. "You can't be serious! I don't want another student," she says, giving me her best pleading look.

Taking a momentary reprieve, I sip from the wine bottle on the desk. Damn, that's potent. Elves and their damn strong wine. Setting it down, I lock eyes with Ayla. "You owe me," I remind her. "She won't be too much trouble. She won't bother you as long as I'm around."

Ayla falls dramatically onto the couch again, whining like a teenager. "I don't want to~"

I remember that elves mature at an entirely different rate than other species. They're in their teenage years for what feels like forever, lasting until they're over 70, in elven culture that is. It's a quirk I've always found amusing. I didn't add this detail but it's very interesting and actually makes a lot of sense.

A grin spreads across my face as I pull out another wine bottle from my bag, making sure she hears the clink of the glass. Hehe, let's see how much she likes a wine bottle picked out by Darius himself. Her ears perk up immediately, and she turns, her eyes widening at the sight of the bottle. "T-this is an Eldritch Reserve," she murmurs, awe evident in her voice. "It's not produced anymore. This is also... banned."

Just as she reaches out to snatch the bottle, I quickly move it out of her grasp. "Ah ah ah, what do you say?"

She huffs, crossing her arms. "Fine. I'll take her in as a student. But that bottle better be worth it."

I chuckle, handing it over. "The Dean is already aware of her, you just need to tell him you took her in, make sure not to mention me."

I grin as Ayla cradles the Eldritch Reserve, protective and enamored, like a dragon with a treasured hoard. "Seriously, Ayla, your obsession with wine is beyond me," I murmur with amusement.

Ayla shoots me a glare, though it lacks any real malice. "Don't be ridiculous. It's not an obsession. It's...a refined taste."

A soft chuckle escapes my lips, but her next action has me blinking in surprise. A key. She tosses it effortlessly to me, and I catch it. "A dorm key?" I question.

She hums in affirmation, casually leafing through the file I handed her. "You're having her attend your classes? That makes the paperwork significantly easier. How convenient," she notes with a lazy smile.

The atmosphere in the room grows heavier when I broach the topic of her visit. "How did your trip go?"

Her eyes cloud over, a mix of frustration and worry. "It wasn't... as expected. Everything was off. Everyone acted differently. She did agree to take the letter to the king, but... well, you probably don't care."

I sigh, wishing I could afford to be more transparent. "Look, I know things aren't ideal, but trust me when I say someone's going to fix things."

She raises an eyebrow, but I refuse to divulge anymore. Turning, I grip the door handle, "Don't meddle in their affairs, trust me it won't end well," I advise before exiting.

The hallway greets me with its muted ambience, but a familiar foreboding feeling instantly washes over me. "Lysandra...please," I silently plead, hoping against hope that she hasn't done anything rash.

The scene that unfolds before me confirms my worst fears. There, a few feet away, Lysandra stands facing Biana. The air between them crackles with tension. The two women stare each other down, like predators ready to strike. Biana, with her cold disdainful eyes, and Lysandra, fierce and unyielding.

A wave of exasperation courses through me. Of all the people Lysandra could have run into... it had to be Biana. Our relationship isn't exactly warm at the moment, the potion should still be in effect so who knows how crazy she is right now. With her penchant for picking fights and her newly instilled insomniac state, Biana was a wild card I don't want Lysandra engaging with until Biana can get her sleep schedule back.

As their silent standoff continues, students pause, sensing the brewing storm. Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Some shoot me sympathetic glances, knowing well the imminent spectacle. My heart races, dreading the impending chaos. Fuck, did Biana go around causing chaos in just a couple of days for people to stare at her like that!?

I sigh deeply, both in relief and frustration. It seems like they're content just standing there, sizing each other up like two animals circling each other. Good. I really don't want Lysandra breaking Biana's bones, and the last thing I need is Biana, with her current erratic state, lashing out and making Lysandra mad. But then, how did it come to this?

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Oliver, watching the scene intently, a smirk playing on his lips. He's hoping for a show, and from the glint in his eye, probably hoping his sister gets a well-deserved thrashing. Well, that was sibling love for you.

"Hey, Oliver," I call out, walking over to him, my gaze flitting back and forth between the two women. "What exactly happened for your sister to be staring at Lysandra like that?" I point discreetly toward the ongoing spectacle.

Oliver chuckles, clearly finding amusement in the whole situation. "My dimwitted sister saw you with her earlier," he begins, gesturing toward Lysandra, "and her anger couldn't be contained. She started searching for you all over the place. When she finally decided to confront Lysandra about your whereabouts, she got no response. Nothing. Not a word. Biana tried again and again, only to be completely ignored. It drove her mad."

I rub my temples, feeling the onset of a headache. Biana's behavior was both predictable and worrisome.

Oliver continues, barely suppressing his laughter, "She even tried to punch that girl you call Lysandra, but her hand just...bounced off, as if she hit a wall."

I wince. Damn, Lysandra's natural defenses were working better than I expected. But why the hell would Biana try to punch her simply for ignoring her? That damn potion is causing more trouble than I anticipated. I silently curse myself for my carelessness. All of this was indirectly my fault.

My thoughts scatter as Oliver's laughter grows louder. "Honestly, the look on Biana's face was priceless!" he cackles.

As much as I'd like to share in his amusement, I'm too busy trying to find a solution. Should I just knock Biana out and run off with Lysandra?