Note 1 - The Empress

The classroom was silent, with only the teacher's voice echoing through the walls, swiftly absorbed by students typing each word frantically on their smartphones.

As expected from Taylor Academy, students were equipped with cutting-edge technology and trained to become the next global leaders. Outsiders often questioned the academy's methods. Despite the questionable approach, its success in shaping capable and effective leaders was undeniable.

One by one, Marie looked apathetically at her nails, precisely brushing the clear polish. She was not upset, but clearly bored. High school was no longer as intriguing as it had been the previous year, where everything was novel and the way things worked had left her enthused. Now, she already had her crown, and the excitement seemed to have faded.

"Marie Sinclair, pay attention in class, please." A middle-aged woman, with a tired look and a few strands of white hair lost in her dense brown hair, struggled to explain to the students why the decrease in national interest rates increased the value of foreign currency. In any elite school, everyone paid extreme attention, except for the young girl who was casually brushing her nails, completely ignoring the teacher, who seemed to be getting irritated. "Miss Sinclair, as the student council representative, you should set an example for other students." The teacher walked briskly towards Marie, who appeared to pretend not to hear her. Sitting exactly in the middle of the room, one of the students gave her a slightly scared look and shook her head as a signal, but before she could understand exactly what that meant, the teacher was standing in front of Marie.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense.

Larissa was the substitute economics teacher, with an extensive resume and over 20 years of classroom experience. However, she had only been at Taylor Academy for less than 3 days, and no one had properly briefed her on how things worked. She had noticed some peculiarities but chose to ignore them.

The other students stared straight ahead, not daring to look at Marie, something the poor substitute teacher did not know.

Marie gave a slight smile, then extended her right hand with freshly painted nails, the still wet polish glistening. She said, "Blow."

A slight smile on her face showed a certain innocence, but Larissa wondered why she felt so nervous.

The teacher, not quite understanding, remained silent because her mind seemed not to have grasped the absurdity of what her student was asking.

"Well then." Marie, realizing that the woman in front of her would not blow on her nails, reached for her classmate next to her, and he promptly began to blow without her having to ask.

Today was Berto Mauri's 17th birthday. His hair was too long, the reddish curls falling over his face. In a way, he was excited to see such a situation, as he remembered the first time he saw Marie. She seemed certain and confident that she would reign supreme over the school, and she did. He admired her and secretly envied her. Berto wasn't stupid; his wounded pride didn't prevent him from doing exactly what Marie wanted. He delicately took the girl's hand like a precious gem and blew on those fragile fingers that belonged to perhaps the most powerful girl he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. In that moment of humiliation, Berto smiled as he blew and thought that one day, that girl would be under his feet.

"Substitute teacher Larissa Meier, it's a pleasure to meet you." The black-haired girl smiled, but it was a smile that resembled a trigger about to be pressed. "It seems that things haven't been very well explained about how Taylor Academy operates, and well, it's not my duty to explain."

Larissa had a vast career as an educator, having taught in countless different institutions, but this was the first time she had seen such a scene – a student with so much arrogance and presumption. However, the most frightening thing was the reaction of the other students. They seemed completely submissive to what Marie was doing, reacting to every nuance of her voice, as if she had absolute control over them.

"However, Mrs. Larissa, there is only one rule that I personally dislike when broken, and I make sure to explain it." Marie took a deep breath and felt something like gratitude; she was grateful for the opportunity to teach someone. "When referring to me, it's not 'Marie Sinclair' or 'Miss Sinclair'; you must say 'Your Majesty' or 'My Empress.' That is the minimum decorum I expect from our teachers."