Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summers at Night Raven College were markedly quieter and less likely to run afoul of scandal than the rest of the year.

Summer school students were dressed in their special summer issued uniforms (simple vests over white shirts and knee length shorts), the staff was reduced to less than half of the main staff during the school year, but it was the custodians who were usually hard at work.

Like most of the staff intended to be kept on call for the entire day—especially during the school year—the custodians in charge of maintaining and preserving the school had their own set of dormitories and hierarchies within. For the most part, the custodians kept to themselves, often blending in with the shadows of the prestigious school and practically disappearing from students’ view on particularly crowded days.

Today, two such custodians occupied the janitorial staff room’s personal kitchen. An older man who had scruff around his neck but an impressive grey mustache atop his upper lip leaned his hip against the communal kitchen counter. A young woman in her late teens, who looked more childlike than was normal at her age, sat huddled at the kitchen table, one knee propped onto the chair while she bounced her other knee up and down by bracing her foot against the floor.  

“You know, Key, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Mr. Alastair, with all due respect— of which you deserve none —” That last part was muttered quickly and unobtrusively as possible, but given the twitch in the older man’s smile, he heard Key loud and clear. “—I don’t think you can tell the difference between a good and bad idea.”

“And when’s the last time I gave you a bad idea?”

Key opened her mouth, closed it, and then gave Alastair a stare that could have given some of the more formidable students in Night Raven College a run for their money. When she realized she had no leg to stand on, the young woman sucked in the air in her cheeks and then let out a sigh that sounded a lot like a dragon trying to get rid of phlegm from its throat.

In other words, it sounded a lot like she was being petty on purpose.

“See, what did I tell ya? Rule number one when you’re in my house: Respect your elders.”  

“I thought you said that you were as fit as a fiddle and young enough to hike up and down the mountains? Both ways?” The sardonic edge to Key’s voice was softened by the smile that struggled to grow on her face the longer she stared up at Alastair. “Or were you just talking out your ass like usual?”

He waved a finger at her, mocking austerity twitching his lips and ruffling his impressive mustache quite well. “Like I said, respect your elders and that includes not swearing at them.”

The both of them shared a grin before Key glanced morosely at the enjoining hallway that would lead to an unobtrusive door. If Alastair could read her mind—not that he needed to, the young woman could be an open book with how little she tried to mask her emotions—he probably knew that she was still rankled at her recent visit to the Headmage’s quarters. As much as Alastair wished that he could help her out, he was more than well aware of the problems that she faced when trying to convince their boss about urgent matters. The birdbrained magician was more than adept with magic (having run the school for centuries), but when it came to empathizing with the common folk?

It was like pulling teeth.

Now, usually Alastair could say the same for himself. He wasn’t exactly the most charming of people to be hired at Night Raven College, but even he knew that there were limits to his gruff nature. After the Headmage had unceremoniously found the young woman who apparently had no memory before coming to NRC (which was looking more and more like a well-maintained lie the more he observed his subordinate) and had dumped the care and training of the new addition to the cleaning crew into Alastair’s capable hands, he also took it upon himself to task the young woman with other menial chores that were befitting that of a secretary.

To be clear:

Alastair Caine was not a man who pried into the affairs of others. It didn’t matter if you were a mercenary in your youth or you liked to torture small children for candy; as long as you didn’t mess with his life, he wouldn’t interfere with yours. For at least three decades, Alastair turned a blind eye to some of his more intriguing colleagues.

There was Dr. Park who worked at the infirmary and had supposedly run a drug ring masquerading as a school for potion making when he was younger (or that was what Alastair had been told). Lady Fairchild who must have been consuming aging potions or had made a deal with one of the stronger fae from Briar Valley because in the three decades Alastair had been working at the school, not a single wrinkle had seen fit to mar her features. The worst part about it was that whenever she tried to entice him with methods on how to best moisturize his skin, she would joke about bathing in the blood of fair maidens and well… He was no scholar, but he did recall an old ritual from the dark ages about that, but he’d rather not dwell on those implications…

Anyway, the point stood:

Alastair kept to himself. It was better that way.

He liked to keep his days fairly quiet and scheduled to the very letter. When he had first applied to become part of the maintenance crew, the Headmage himself said that had he the magical fortitude and the money (because it was always about the money), Alastair could have been placed into Heartslabyul. “And who knows,” the Headmage cheerfully admitted when he perused Alastair’s resume, “you could have become Housewarden!” It was gratifying to hear at the time, but now Alastair recognized it as condescension. People like Alastair were firmly chained to the bottom rung of magicians: they could barely power a lightbulb for a few minutes much less commit to the magics that even the most esteemed of mages could ever hope to perform.

It had been thirty years since he had been part of the cleaning crew and if there was one thing that Alastair learned, it was that it was best to remain low and out of sight. If the Night Raven College staff were filled with people with dubious backgrounds and with startling skill in their chosen fields, then the students themselves were in the very process of becoming such dubious characters. Just last year, there had been a student swindling his upperclassmen into buying his study guides! You would think that would be the end of that, but no! It wasn’t simply just for money, but to create an ultimatum where the Headmage had no choice but to acquiesce! (And for a student restaurant, no less!) And the year before that, there had been that one incident with that lion prince from Savanaclaw, such a messy little thing that was!

The only way you could remain sane after keeping your eyes and ears peeled for so long was to keep your distance.

And while Alastair could care less about the ravens flocking to the school to become great mages, he couldn’t quite say the same for Key.

She wasn’t too special, but she did need his aid.

“Listen, if it would help, I can cut down your working hours to four and you can have the weekends off.” He held up a hand when she was about to object. “Yeah, yeah, you feel like you have to pay the Headmage back for housing you all this time, but it’s not like the school is short on money. With all the donors and blue bloods we got running around we could actually afford to hire a dozen more staff members. The Headmage chooses to keep us understaffed.”

Key hugged the knee that remained on her chair closer to her chest, her head bowed forward in thought. “Four hours, huh? It’s not like being his personal errand runner is going to take that long, Mr. Alastair.” However, she gave the matter some more thought and then proceeded to give out the world’s longest and most wheedling sigh Alastair had ever heard. “You know what really gets me angry? It’s not that he asked because I already know that I owe him a lot concerning my background.” Or lack thereof , but that went unsaid. “It’s because he knows that I have no choice otherwise and he made it quite clear that he wouldn’t entertain a ‘no’ and then decided to guilt me into doing this for him.”

Alastair couldn’t help himself.

He laughed.

It wasn’t a full bellyaching laughter like his old man before him, which was a laugh that would have knocked him down to his knees and jiggled his swarthy, pudgy face as he smiled in glee. No, Alastair was far too slim for that, even if there was a noticeable paunch underneath his custodial uniform. Alastair’s laugh was light and wheezing, like a balloon that was quickly losing air until someone decided to cut it short before deciding to let the balloon die a miserable death.

“Let me guess, he said—” Alastair rose to his full heigh, spread his hands in a mock placating nature, and continued. “—for I am most gracious and magnanimous, I’ll allow you to stay at my prestigious institution for learning as long as you complete the arduous but fulfilling task of catering to my students’ needs!”

Key threw her head back and silently screamed.

“Why, for the love of god and the stars above—” Even if it had been a while since they had first met, Alastair was always taken aback by the swears that Key would use. A part of him wondered if she was that religious and what ‘god’ she was referring to, but ultimately decided that it didn’t matter. Even if he dug deeper into the matter, all he would get were either coy remarks meant to deflect against the matter or blatant lies that were told so badly, Alastair felt himself die on the inside. “—do you sound so much like your Headmage?”

“Hey, hey.” He shook his finger at her, mock austerity lining his tone. “Not my Headmage. And besides, you spend as much as I have in this school and you start realizing that there’s a pattern in how he speaks.”

“No kidding.”

Key happened to glance at the wall clock, an old analog model that someone twenty or so years ago had retrieved from a garbage bin from their hometown. Before you ask, Alastair had never asked why someone felt the need to haul a clock from their hometown for their interview with the Headmage, but he supposed that it made some sense: Ol’ Harper was as fastidious in maintaining the grounds as he was making sure that he clocked in and clocked out at the same time every day.

“Ah, geeze,” Key sighed again. “I have to get going or else he might start sprouting feathers and pecking at me for ditching him.”

“I have seen him do that. Once.”

Key’s dark brown eyes widened behind her thick frames. “Wait, I was joking. Seriously?”

The older custodian ignored her, choosing instead to gesture at the hallway outside of the kitchen and give her a bright, mockingly encouraging smile. “Clock’s ticking, little lady, better get going!”

Chapter Text

Key ran her fingers up and down the straps of overalls, the comforting feeling of the rough fabric against the sensitive skin of her fingers keeping her calm. As she scurried away from the dormitories that housed the school maintenance crew, she inwardly cringed at the sound of her work boots clopping against the flooring. It never boded well to make so much noise, especially since she was in an environment that still felt new to her. It didn’t matter if she had been there for two or so months at that point—it rankled at her knowing that this world was vastly different than what she was used to.

She couldn’t do anything about her footwear—it came with the outfit that the kind librarian had helped her fish out of the lost and found box—and until she amassed an amount of money that she was not dedicating towards her other long term goals, she would not be wearing anything else any time soon. At the very least, she mused as she dragged herself up towards the third floor, the boots fit her and they were comfortable.

Finally, she reached the topmost floor she was allowed to enter and then stood in front of the door.

There, like a young child who had been sent to the principal’s office for naughty misdeeds, Key took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. To her horror, she felt her fingertips were coated with the unmistakable wetness belonging to her sweat. Had she exerted that much effort running here? She wasn’t out of breath, but she supposed it must have been the warm weather affecting her body. Still, though, she felt like a mess.

And then she felt vindicated.

The Headmage didn’t spare her more than a passing glance on the days they happened to pass each other by (despite his promise to send her back home!), so why should she care that her hair was more than likely askew?

At that thought, she brought her fist to the door and knocked three times in a quick staccato .

At the affirming call of “Enter!”, Key eased her way inside and shut the door.

As always, the young custodian found her eyes wandering towards the assembly of portraits that rested above the Headmage’s desk. Despite their regality and the masterfulness of the brush strokes that graced the canvas, Key suppressed the urge to smile too broadly in what most would consider an impish little smirk of an impertinent child.

It was not her fault that for some odd reason, this school decided to adopt Disney villains as their supposed measures of success! Even after hours of reading into the history of this world, Key didn’t know when and where to distinguish how history became legend and how legend began to intertwine with history. All the stories that she had watched on VHS on an old boxy television (heavily pixelated and sometimes distorted) seemed to come to life in this world.

And yet it was all… twisted.

“I dust off their portraits every day, Miss Key.” Startled out of her thoughts, the young woman finally dragged her eyes down towards the Headmage who had smiled benignly at her underneath his mask. “If that is the reason why you’re so interested in the majesty of the Great Seven, then rest assured, my respect for them far outweighs other pressing priorities.”

“Other priorities like sending me home?”

The magnanimous, yet sly smile on the Headmage’s face, twisted into something resembling shock before rapidly untwisting until his features were calm once again. It was times like these that Key realized just how out of her depth she was when it came to the inhabitants and dynamics of this world. Unlike Mr. Alastair and herself, the Headmage was not human. In fact, some of her fellow custodians were not human as well.

There was a dwarf who often volunteered to help out the gardeners at the Botanical Gardens.

A rabbit beastman who helped Lady Fairchild keep the school library in tiptop shape.

And at least a few others who Key was only faintly acquainted with.

Someone had told her that there was a merman—or was it a fae?—who worked during the school year full time, but was not part of the skeleton crew over the summer months.

And that was not counting the students who decided to stay during the summer. These students were either attending because they had to endure remedial classes, or they wanted to graduate faster (provided that whatever classes they wanted to advance in were offered by the educational staff). Most students opted to go back home to reunite with their families or because they were burnt out from attending school daily over the course of the year. When she asked, Key had been told that it was both a matter of pride and practicality. There was a stigma surrounding students who went to school in the summer; most thought that they were either really terrible students or nerds who wanted to be done with schooling quicker.

(There was also the added fact that summer classes required payment… even if the students who made up the population of the summer classes were supposed to be there for remedial lessons).

Whatever the case, Key had long since repressed the urge to shudder at the Headmage’s otherness. In this world, his species were regarded as something more than just magical. They were like forces of nature that outlasted and outlived countless other cultures and species. Even if their race was supposedly hidden away in Briar Valley (one of the northernmost regions of the world that Key had casually spotted on a map), the Headmage seemed awfully interested in butting into her business every so often.

That didn’t mean that she let her gaze fall from the Headmage’s piercing golden eyed gaze and down to his left shoulder. There was an uncomfortable beat of silence that Key did not want to relish in, but had long since allowed to swallow her whole.

Underneath his gaze, it almost felt like she was a bug ready to be ground into the carpeting by his feet.

“You know, Miss Key—” His voice lingered over her name, the name that she had decided to give him a few short months ago. It was nice and simple; that was what she had thought when she felt so disoriented and so confused at who and where she was. Her eyes had caught the tinkling and twinkling of the keys that rested on the right side of his hip, and without even thinking, she had stated that the name she would give him was Key. Not her name, she had said with decisiveness, but a name that she would willingly give. “—you are free to speak your mind. I am not your Headmage, by all technically, just your employer.”

As if that was enough incentive for her to actually do what he said. It was for show, she knew that. No matter how smooth and suave his voice may be, there was no denying that it wasn’t altruism she was hearing.

Key’s voice came out in a rush, muttered, and nearly incoherent. It was probably due to the grace that his ears were pointed and some species (as she had been told from offhand accounts and brief perusals in the library) like the fae were inclined to having keen hearing.

“Just checking in, is all.” She blew the few strands of hair that fell down her eyes before adjusting her glasses across the bridge of her nose. Crossing her arms, she then adjusted her gaze towards the window that was behind Crowley’s desk. Did he sometimes turn into a crow and fly out the window? She had to wonder. Perhaps that was the reason why he was so flighty and never where she wanted to find him. “It’s whatever, though.”

The Headmage hummed a little, the tips of his fingers caressing his chin as he studied his newest charge. His keen sense of smell could detect the scent of slight sweat and harsh chemicals tickling the sensitive hairs of his nose. Early morning shift? Or was she that nervous?

“Don’t lose hope, little one. The way back home was never said to be easy.”

They stewed in that silence for a few minutes before the Headmage decided that he had enough of this.

With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a chair for Key and motioned for her to sit down. As always, she hesitated at such a casual, blunt display of his magic even though it had been months for her to acclimate. At first, he had been amused by how wide her eyes had gotten—as if she were a small child from a forgotten village instead of a young woman who was about the same age as his fourth years. However, as time went on, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something she wasn’t telling him.

Despite his misgivings, the Headmage was quite happy to provide her with the basic necessities and even a job until he could finally send her back home.

“I assume that you considered my proposal?”

Key reached inside the front pocket of her overalls before pulling out a battered notebook and then turning over to what appeared to be the appropriate pages. “I took notes… and then talked it over with Mr. Alastair and some of the other guys.” If the Headmage was miffed that Key had chosen to seek out others for the advice and approval of his harebrained scheme, he was polite enough not to outwardly show it. Too much. “Will you increase my wages, then?”

A long, heavy sigh left the Headmage’s lips, but even Key could spot the ever so slight upward lilt to his expression.

“Two months and you’ve already picked up on the transactional nature? Mayhap, congratulations should be in order?” At Key’s unamused frown, the Headmage sobered again, the mischief in his question abruptly disappearing as if he had never lightened his tone. “Regardless, I have already given you lodging, a job, a purpose for you to be here—”

Key tuned him out, not willing to listen to him so early in the morning. A part of her felt guilty that she was affording someone with this much power and respect like him with something markedly close to disdain, but at the same time—

The only reason she was asking for a higher wage, to be given somewhere to stay, and to be allowed to stay in the capacity as she was now was because:

This entire situation was the Headmage’s fault.

Her old world had no magic and even if there was, Key did not have any contact with that sort of phenomenon in her day-to-day life. Speaking of her day-to-day life, she had a family. She had a life. Just a few months ago, she had been walking her niece to kindergarten! And then, out of the blue, something happened.

Something that Key didn’t want to think about.

“—but I am willing to raise your wages to what is expected of a first year member of the maintenance team when the semester officially starts. Does that sound fair, Miss Key?”

Key looked beyond the Headmage and found herself staring at one of the portraits that the Headmage claimed to dust off every day. Like the rest of the paintings in this enchanted school, these portraits were spelled to move and to emulate the personality and behaviors of the object they were supposed to portray. It had taken a quick trip to the library and some searching on Magiggle, but the basic premise was that a skilled magician who was also well versed in painting would imbue their magic and their knowledge of the person they were portraying onto the canvas. The more skilled you were, the more lifelike and truer to their flesh and body counterpart the final product was.

So, it wasn’t too out of the blue for Key to lock eyes with the Sea Witch and see her leaning on something (her tentacles?) and giving a narrow smirk that practically oozed with trustworthiness. The Sea Witch locked eyes with Key, shot her a wink, and then shooed Key away with excitement in her every movement.

Yeah, no.

“Not really, but I have a feeling that you’re going to smooth talk your way into taking away such a generous offer—” Key could have sworn that the Sea Witch was snickering behind her hands while the rest of the portraits either snoozed in their frames or regarded Key and the Headmage with calculated disinterest. “—so I suppose I’ll have to say yes.”

“Oh my! Such slander from someone as young and as innocent as yourself!” He simpered underneath her withering glare, his golden eyed gaze seemingly both comically large and teary as he pretended to weep at her audacity. “As if I, benevolent and magnanimous as I, would think to manipulate someone who is already in a severely disadvantaged position?”

Wow. It was almost as if he was self-aware.

“Yes. You would. And you’re doing it right now.”

Before the Headmage could squawk some more, Key finally asked a question that she had been meaning to ask for a while now, the urgency coming back to mind now that she finally secured this meeting.

“If you’re not going to budge on my wages—which is fine, thank you—have you thought about my proposal? With the summer term ending, it’s about time I get a definite answer.” No longer as stoic as she appeared only moments before, she brushed at the thick denim of her overalls, hoping that her trepidation wasn’t too evident. However, birds of prey usually had keen sight, so she wasn’t too comfortable following that hope.

“And another proposal? So soon after such harsh reprimands?” The Headmage embellished his words with hand movements that Key was almost too embarrassed to look at. “How transactional of you, Miss Key. Unfortunately—” The Headmage cast a glance at one of the portraits of a light green skinned fae, her imperious features staring haughtily down at them both. “—admission into the school isn’t up to me.”

“But you’re the Headmage! Don’t you have paperwork, admissions exams, or whatever else to sort through?”

This time, the Headmage did little to disguise his amusement at the young woman’s earnest anger. “The gate is the one who decides. Sometimes, it is the most unlikely of candidates who are entered into the school. Other times…”

“Other times it’s the person who has the biggest influence or the heaviest purse?”

The Headmage shrugged his shoulders, but a small, low chuckle left his lips nonetheless.  

“Be that as it may, I don’t believe that this… cat creature of yours would be a good fit for this esteemed institution of education.” He paused, frowned, and gave Key a measured look. “Did you even get this beast’s name? That would be a step in the right direction.”

Key groaned and hoped to whatever deity thought that it would be a good idea to send her to this weird universe that she didn’t suffer from a stroke from the nearby future.

Crossing her arms, she decided that this was the best time to lock eyes with a fae with the golden eyed gaze, the smug look on his face feeding the irritation brewing in the pit of Key’s stomach. “He’s a brat and he won’t tell me his name. Something, something, something… Something about him being too awesome and too great for him to reveal his name to someone who is clearly not worthy.”

“Yet, you believe that he would be a beneficial addition to the school?”

Key shrugged, clearly perturbed by his inquiry. “What does beneficial mean to you, Mr. Headmage? I think that any student who expresses an interest in school and will go to great lengths to get admitted… I think that speaks as a testament to character more than his rudeness implies.”

Dire Crowley continued to gaze down at his newest charge, something akin to fondness and awe in his eyes. And then, before Key could being to backtrack or skip to another topic, he rose from his seat and practically jumped around the edge of his desk to embrace the young woman. Thank goodness that she was already somewhat used to his antics. Before his arms could come around her much smaller figure, she hopped up from her seat and put up both of her fists.

“Ey! Personal space!”

“Apologies, Miss Key! It’s not every day that you see someone traversing my school is kind enough to look past the boorish exteriors of our contemporaries!”

“… sometimes, I think you choose three syllable words just to sound fancy and knowledgeable.”

“And I think you need to expand your horizons. How about this—” The Headmage wandered behind his desk to pick up a Manila envelope that was practically bursting at the seams. Although old and clearly weathered from what Key could surmise came from months or perhaps even years of handling, there was still an air of importance. At the very top of the Manila envelope, there was a string of cursive writing: Current Housewardens. “—while you go off in search of your cat-beast-creature-friend-thing—” Key tried her hardest not to smile at that. “—you may also familiarize yourself with the students that you will be aiding in the following school year. Meanwhile, I’ll see what accommodations can be afforded to magical creatures who are not entering as familiars, but as full-fledged amateur mages.”

“Is there not a precedent, Mr. Headmage?”

He waved away her question with a pointed glance at another pile of papers that were laid upon his desk in various piles. “The past has a use, yes, but today’s donors may not always be conducive to such a sudden change as this.”

Not wanting to continue this conversation any longer, Key decided to take the Headmage’s mercy and leave. However, she couldn’t help but sigh in barely concealed disdain. It was always money with him, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

After the talk that she had with the Headmage, Key headed down towards the wings where the classrooms were. Today, if her resources were correct, there were at least three rooms that were preoccupied with active lessons. Although normally spread out, it seemed that the teachers who were present (some of whom were  regulars during the normal school year while others were only part timers) had decided to coordinate with each other on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It wasn’t any of Key’s business (she was rendered a custodian after the Headmage had taken her in), but she did happen to talk to both student and teacher on the rare occasion they had come across her shadowing her seniors whenever they were assigned to working in the main campus buildings.

Today, Mr. Alastair and the other custodians didn’t need her. Despite the fact that she was quick to pick up on the routine and management of most of the spaces within the Night Raven College campus, it was quite clear that she wasn’t just a “custodian”. Some of the other custodians who were younger than the senior custodians, but were still at least half a decade older than her, had joked that she would be poached by the Headmage for administrative duties at the school. For them, it was quite obvious that she was quite the favorite.

Hmph.

The Old Crow’s first nestling, they called her. Hah, or worse, his little chick.

Emilio, one of the newest hires from a few years ago, had taken her aside and explained that they were only ribbing her when he suspected that she was getting put out by their combined teasing. It wasn’t often that there were female staff members, especially those who worked in the main building and as a custodian no less! There were at least three or four other women, but some of them decided to take summers off considering that most facilities were closed off due to their lack of need. There was also the librarian—Lady Fairchild—but she kept to herself in the library’s archives and was rarely seen outside.

(Zahur, another custodian who doubled as a gardener in the botanical gardens, often whispered that she was a witch who dabbled with blood magic. When Key asked him, Zahur could only shrug and mutter something in the language common to the locals of the Scalding Sands before throwing a broom at her (business end first) so she could start sweeping already).

There were a few more women who worked at the stables and at the botanical gardens, but Key was rarely assigned outside of the main campus building, the library, and the Hall of Mirrors. Sometimes, if the custodial crew were in dire need of help, she would accompany one or two to some of the smaller and inconspicuous structures like the school store and the tower that was fairly close to the stables, but had no discernible use.

(That was a lie. There was a use, but no one could make heads or tails of what its true purpose was).

So, if one were to include Key in the main roster of the skeleton crew that made up the population of NRC, it would be… At least a dozen or so.

During the school year, when all staff was expected to be on the premises at all times, the number was expected to quadruple, but it wouldn’t be impossible to say that the number wouldn’t dramatically increase.

And speaking of the school year…

Key didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she was stuck in a world that was far different to her own and that she was basically an outlier in terms of both knowledge and ability regarding magic or that she was stuck at a school. Out of all the places she could have been drawn to without consent, it had to be a school! Not that Key personally had anything against schools—or magical schools in particular unless she was thinking about a particular young adult series from back home—it just felt like there was something… cliché about this situation as a whole.

Aside from the Disney characters that were masquerading or were portrayed as figures that were meant to be lauded, Key thought that Night Raven College was familiar. Her memories, while not absent like she had explained to the Headmage and to her senior coworkers, were fuzzy and at times, it took a while for her to recall them. Yet, she could not deny that this—all of this—was reminiscent of something , she just didn’t know what.

As Key made her way towards the classrooms, she heard one of the doors open, the hinges groaning due to lack of lubrication. Within seconds, she whipped out her notebook and made a note underneath the to-do list that she updated every day that she would have to inform Mr. Alastair or whoever was in charge of this specific wing that they would need to check on the doors and oil them. As her pen scratched across the page, the figure of one of the students towered over her.

“Did you get that promotion?” There was a laugh in the student’s voice, a melodic melody that started high before falling down an octave a beat later. When Key looked up, because it seemed like everyone in this world had to be taller than her, she found the mischievous green eyes of a fox beastman looking down at her. Behind him, she could see the white and red tuft of his fluffy tail swinging back and forth, a teasing sort of joyfulness apparent in his expression and actions.

"I wouldn't call getting saddled with a babysitting job a promotion.” She raised her fist up, to which the fox beastman immediately obliged. Before she could make contact, though, the student quickly pulled his fist back. “Mr. Norton!”

Enraged at his antics that she should have been more than accustomed to over the past few months she had known him, Key tried to punch him, but only managed to graze his side before he completely sidestepped her.

There was laughter in his eyes. “You’ve gotten faster, Key! Although…” His grip tightened around her wrist and Key had to swallow down the retort that was itching to bubble out of her throat. “It’s Cameron, Little Bird! Ca-mer-on.” With each enunciation of the syllables of his name, he experimentally tugged her closer and closer to him until she was barely a hair’s breath away.

Before they could actually touch, however, Key kicked him in the shin.

Hard.

Normally, people who had been kicked in the shin would have been expected to fall down in agony, a rivulet of tears falling down their cheeks. However, the most Cameron could do was swallow down his groan, his teeth biting down onto his bottom lip.

“Uuuuuugggghhhh.” Was the only coherent thing Key could make out.

“Mr. Norton—” She broke free from his grasp without any trouble and watched with malicious pitilessness as the fox beastman tried to collect himself. “—I’d appreciate if you just… didn’t do that.”

He smiled, the sharpened canines faintly glinting in the early afternoon sunlight. “Will do.”

Together, they walked down the school’s cool corridors, the faint green flames floating in the sconces lighting their way. Eventually, they made their way down into the school courtyard and together, they sat on a bench that was slightly shadowed by an apple tree. Today, the apples were looking to be in good health.

Then again, Key supposed that it was probably due to the combined efforts of the gardeners and the fairies that made the fruits look so delightfully luscious.

“So, you’ll be busier than ever, huh?” Cameron draped his lanky body over the bench, his freckled face drifting into a facsimile of relaxation as he closed his eyes. “Sevens, I knew that the Headmage was out of touch when it came to other people, but it seems like he’s really got it out for you, huh? I almost feel sorry for you, Little Bird.”

Key rolled her eyes. “You have got to stop hanging out with Emilio.”

Cameron Norton wasn’t just a wayward student who found himself at Night Raven College taking summer classes. He was actually really smart and, if he was a normal student, he would have graduated in two years’ time. However, Cameron didn’t want to continue his tenure at the school for much longer, knowing that his situation as a scholarship student was tenuous at best. Sure, he had stellar grades and had a monthly allowance to take care of his needs, but his situation at home wasn’t ideal (his mother was often ill and lived alone) and his mental health wasn’t faring better due to his constant worry over his scholarship status and his mother’s chronic illnesses.

After having talked to his professors at Night Raven College and his mother back home, it was decided that Cameron would receive the last of his credits this summer so he can fulfill the requirements needed to attend the magic academy that was situated closer to his hometown. While not as prestigious, it still offered scholarships and there were plenty of alumni who lauded the effectiveness of the education promoted there.

When Key had asked about his thoughts concerning his leaving Night Raven College, he had said:

"Before you ask," Cameron muttered, "yes, I am giving up. I already talked to some of the profs for recommendation letters and stuff like that to make the process easier, but it's all the same: I'm giving up."

Now, normally, Cameron wasn't one to look so glum and doom and gloom. There had been a rabbit beastman who was often riled up by how easily he adapted to strenuous circumstances and had never seen him look so down. They were childhood rivals, those two, but Cameron couldn't deny that if that cute bunny would see him now, she would immediately hug him around the waist and give him a scolding for not taking care of himself. Sevens, it would be a miracle to see her again without feeling a sense of loss.

The fox beastman looked up to see his companion gazing at him in concern. Without even thinking about it, his lips curled up in a jocular smile, the beginning of a joke just about to materialize from years of repression about to leave his mouth. Before he could impress upon her the makings of a cool, possibly problematic "yo mama" joke, she said:

"I think you're brave for doing what you're doing."

Cameron blinked.

Foxes were wily, cunning creatures. Always willing to test the limits of authority, but never fully going all the way in terms of actually crossing any legal or ethical lines.

Brave? What a joke.

"I'm serious. You know your limits and that you're pushing yourself too hard here, you care about your mother, and you know that you can receive the same opportunities at that local school of yours." Key frowned when she saw that Cameron was ducking away, as if he was looking for a way out or to just run away from his embarrassment.

"It takes a lot to admit that some places simply aren't for you. If you're confident that you'll be happier somewhere else, even if you aren't granted the same scholarship benefits and prestige as you are here, then I wouldn't say anything about it."

She paused for a moment before the right corner of her lips curled up in a grin that Cameron usually associated with other foxes, or worse, cats.

"'Course, if someone does say something about it, just point me in their direction and I'll make sure that they're set straight."

"You're… you're less than five feet tall."

"I can take on anyone I put my mind to."

"You're less than five feet tall."

"And?"

Cameron sighed before launching himself right into Key's personal space and giving her the roughest noogie of her lifetime.

Brave, huh?

But that was a thought that Cameron would save for a rainy day.

Because Cameron was a scholarship student, he had been drafted to take up odd jobs around the school. Sometimes, he would be a cashier for the school store, other times he would be a teacher’s assistant for some of the labs. Most of the time, though, the fox beastman preferred to help out the maintenance crew, even going as far as to volunteer on the weekends. If something happened to his scholarship status (at least before he made the decision to transfer to another school), he could at least count on the connections he made with the custodial crew to keep him afloat until graduation.

(It’s a good thing that Emilio and the others were well aware of how independent and self-serving the NRC students were because if he had known that Cameron didn’t think of them as friends… That would have broken his overly large heart).  

Come the end of the summer, he would be off to a country far from the Isle of Sages so he could start building his life anew. For the most part, Key wasn't privy to much of Cameron’s plans for the future, but she did know that he wanted to advance his way into the world. The details were fuzzy, but he said he had a dream that he wanted to fulfill since he was young.

To be a person his mother would have been proud of.

“Don’t worry, by the time I get my transcript and pack my suitcase, I’ll be out of your hair and Emilio’s.”

Key chuckled, purposefully bumping her shoulder against Cameron’s bonier structure. Much to her annoyed delight, he pretended to keel over and rub his shoulder in what she could assume was distressed pain.

“Aghast! Somebody, call Dr. Park! I’ve been ruthlessly—” Sudden, explosive giggles filled the air as Key relentlessly tickled his sides. “Shoot! Come on! Birdie!”

“Okay, okay.” Key leaned against the wooden bars behind her back, her head tilted back to view the rays of early afternoon sunlight filtering through the leaves. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, yet she felt no pain as she focused on the sun floating in what she assumed was a blue, cloudless sky. “Hey, Mr. Norton.”

Key could hear him rolling his eyes before he rolled his shoulders and looked back at her with heartbreakingly familiar brotherly irritation that masked the barely present concern. “Yeah, Little Bird?”

Deep brown eyes stared deep into the sun. It seemed so dull compared to the world she had once known. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

The young man, who she had met less than three months ago, and who, for the better part, spent most of his time teasing and playing around with her when he admittedly should have been studying, tensed up. Before he knew it, he was staring down at her, clinically tearing apart her intense gaze as she continued to stare up into the sun. And just as suddenly as he stared her down, did he finally breathe.

Carefully, he tilted her head down, muttering, “Didn’t your mother tell you not to stare directly into the sun? You’ll go blind.” He paused. “Blinder than you already are.”

Swatting at him, she replied, “There’s leaves blocking most of the sun, anyway.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you got tears in your eyes?”

She hummed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Psshhhh! Nah, of course not. I gave you my personal email address, right? It’s not like I’ll miss you when I have to take the extra steps of pressing on my email app, composing a well-structured essay just to say hello, and then remembering to check my inbox pretty much every day just to know that you replied.”

Key shrugged. “I keep your mind sharp.”

“You could just get a Magicam account, ya know?”

“No.”

Eventually, both Key and her wily fox friend decided that they had enough resting in the shade of the apple tree. Once the sun gradually grew less powerful in its radiance, they headed away from the main school building and towards an area that most people, especially students, weren’t keen on entering.

When they first went out on these excursions together, they were newly assigned partners who were assigned to work on the ground floor of the school. Although expansive, Cameron was well versed in the art of Practical Magic (and had the grades and thesis to boot!) and he was more than well aware of both his limits and tricks to speed up the process. What should have been a full day’s work of mopping and dusting floors had been halved by their combined efforts. Because they had finished their work early, they had (after dropping off their cleaning carts in the nearest supply closet), decided to explore the school.

To be fair, it was Key who had asked for a more intimate look of the castle. She, of course, was well acquainted with the common areas like the cafeteria and the multitude of classrooms, but what about the lore behind the school? Were there any rooms without ghosts? What about the paintings? Could they move between paintings or were they stuck in one frame for eternity?

Cameron was leery answering those questions and often deflected or redirected her curiosity to other things that required more answers, but eventually he caved into her whining. He talked at length about some of the more popular forms of magic in layman’s terms, the history of the Isle of Sages, and everyday trivia that even people living under a rock should have known.

He had asked Emilio and Zahur about Key and her apparent lack of knowledge concerning the world, but the custodians only reiterated what they had been told by the Headmage and the Little Bird herself. It was confusing, perhaps even a little mystifying, but at the end of the day, Cameron decided that it wasn’t his place to pry.

After all, he had his own life struggles to deal with. 

Key, on the other hand, didn’t have too much of an opinion on Cameron in the beginning, but eventually, they gained some common ground through well timed quips and jokes. Despite what misgivings he might have had about her (“ Seriously? I gotta babysit the newbie? ”) from the start, he quickly realized that she was fun to tease and surprisingly, fun to teach as well.

But there were always questions lingering at the back of his brain that he couldn’t shake off no matter how much he wanted to get rid of them.

For example—

Why was she always fascinated by casual displays of magic?

Why was she so nosy?

And this was the most concerning—and by that, he meant that he would rather not understand why he felt certain things when he thought relatively hard on this—why did she always look so… sad? Lost?

He never asked, and he simply didn’t have the courage to look further than the surface, but—

“Has anyone ever told you that this is a lost cause?” The wily fox peered through the rusted, wrought iron gate, his bright green eyes narrowed in boredom, his lips curled in a half-hearted sneer. Although the gate had a lock and chain affixed to it, giving off the impression that the property beyond was not passable, the lock hung open and the chain itself was in a similar state of disrepair as the rest of the landscape.

As Cameron gazed through the bars, he—like everyone else in Night Raven College—found himself fixated on the old, dilapidated building that sat atop a hill. Like the gate itself, the building was horribly aged and even from a distance, seemed to emit a foul air of stagnation and decay.

It was definitely not a place anyone would want to visit, no matter how bored they may seem.

Like most other Night Raven College students, Cameron had once been mystified by the abandoned building in the midst of the prestigious educational grounds. Of course, there were a number of other buildings who were just as deserving of the same mystified shock and awe from any first years. One of the other structures that came to mind was the tower that was within the same area as the riding stables. The tower itself was old, almost as dilapidated looking as the abandoned building here, but for some odd reason, it reeked of old potions and strong magic. There had been dares and hazing rituals in the past (before some of the professors from a couple decades back had put a stop to that practice) that included going into the tower and seeing how far up you could walk up the winding staircase inside before going mad.

The dilapidated building, dubbed the ‘Ramshackle Dorm’ as some of his seniors had called it, was rumored to house a festering pit of evil spirits. Apparently, there were at least a dozen poltergeists screaming into the dead of night, using their unholy powers to shake the earth and cause debilitating misfortune. Those who wanted to graffiti the walls or explore the tainted halls were effectively cursed.

Back in his first two weeks as a first year, some of the older students had taken him aside and had asked him—baited him, more like—to go to the back of the gated dormitory and retrieve a few herbs meant for… illicit potion making. Already versed in the art of knowing when someone older, stronger, and wilier than him was taking advantage of his much smaller stature, Cameron had declined and had hightailed it out of that situation by feigning to hear the footsteps of a teacher passing by.

(It was by pure luck that the seniors bullying him weren’t beastmen and if they were, they were of a species that didn’t have as good a hearing as his).

Ever since that day, Cameron had decided to keep to himself. His dormmates weren’t too bad, but there were a few that got on his nerves. One of them tried to coerce him into a few shady “business deals” wherein Cameron wouldn’t have to worry about his scholarship. Now, Cameron was all for side hustles and tricky maneuvering ways up the ladder. However, that didn’t mean he liked the underclassman weirdo who made it his mission to make everyone’s business his business. All of Cameron’s fur stood on end, especially when his esteemed “coworkers” happened to be within earshot.

And you know what was worse?

It was the fact that Cameron’s feelings weren’t unfounded. As soon as the first semester examinations were over, at least two hundred students were missing aspects of their magic or some of their prized possessions.

Again, no judgment, but Cameron was glad to have kept his distance.

“Look,” Key muttered as she pushed the gate open, flinching slightly at the grating sound that greeted her ears. “I know it’s a fixer upper—”

“Setting fire to the place would be a better alternative to whatever you think you’re doing.”

“—but—” Key said, completely ignoring what he muttered under his breath “—considering that I’m going to have my hands full what with being part of the cleaning crew, a secretary, and a side helper for Dr. Park—”

“Dr. Park got you too?” Cameron affixed her with a look that bordered on exasperated and bemused. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were a masochist. Good thing Professor Crewel ain’t around or he would have sunk his claws into you as well.”

“Is he a beastman too?”

“Worse.” Cameron idly kicked at the door that led straight into the old dormitory, much to Key’s consternation. “He used to be Housewarden of Pomefiore.”

As Key tried to stifle the giggles escaping her throat, the door into the world’s dankest building ever creaked open.

Showtime.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that a lot of students at Night Raven College got wrong, it was that the entities at the old, dilapidated dormitory weren’t complex victims of satanic rituals that went awry. Rather, they were students from another time who used to be great players at Magishift. An accident or two occurred and they could never quite pass the veil to the famed “other side” that most people would have gone to if it weren’t for their unfinished business.

And the unfinished business?

No one truly knew, and since Key was one of the few people to actually talk to the ghosts without being thrown out (“ I actually tripped down the stairs running away from one of them… I think his name was Gabriel ?”), she was practically the most knowledgeable concerning the undead residents… well, aside from the other aged staff that still worked at the school.

She claimed that there were only three ghosts, but Cameron couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. The fox beastman was more than aware of the presence of ghosts at the school. Considering that NRC was imbued with vast amounts of magic and had at least a millennium or two of history that predated some of the lessons that were usually discussed in the history course, it was to be expected. Furthermore, while Cameron was more than aware of the ghosts taking the brunt of the workforce in the kitchens, they certainly weren’t the type to chase students away from the second or third floor down rickety staircases. He may have spent most of his interactions with the kitchen ghosts as a sous chef whenever he had to volunteer in the kitchens to augment his scholarship, but he knew that ghosts as a whole weren’t malevolent as part of their core beings.

Mischievous perhaps, but not evil.

(But, he supposed that the Headmage must have a convincing incentive to work at the school kitchens because how else could you pay ghosts?)

“Hey, guys!” Key called out as she stepped into the foyer. She watched as the dust motes drifted, disturbed from the sudden movement of opening the door. What little light there was from the dying afternoon sun was more than enough to let anyone know that the building was in great disrepair. The walls were dank and discolored, the air was on a mission to choke anyone who dared breathe in too much. With every step they took, both Cameron and Key were more than well aware that some of the hardwood flooring, which might have looked impressive decades ago, had rotted away. “Not sure if you remember, but we introduced ourselves to each other last week? Thursday!”

Cameron pulled back the urge to slap a hand over Key’s mouth. Against his better judgment, he trusted her, but he wished that she learned at least some of the art of self-preservation before diving headfirst into situations like these. Sure, she might have established contact a few days ago, but that meant nothing if the ghosts decided to chase them out, possess them, or downright kill them.

Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “Has anyone ever told you that when you yell, your voice cracks and it becomes higher pitched?” He expertly ducked away from her halfhearted punch. “Seriously! It’s like I’m listening to a recording of myself when I’m practicing for a speech or something.”

“I bet you got good grades, Mr. Norton. You can be quite the persuasive linguist when you want to be.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Birdie, remember that.”

“And yet, you’re here.”

He scoffed and pushed her further into the dusty hallway, his ears pricked alert in case the ghosts decided to pull something.

As they continued further into the building, the fox beastman’s keen eyes saw that there was a hallway to their right that probably housed the first floor dormitories. At one point in time, there could have been students hurrying to and fro from this quaint hostel and to the school. If it weren’t for the ghostly infestation and the fact that Cameron had resigned himself to shifting his concerns from purely academic means to providing for his mother in his hometown, he would have bargained with the ghosts for free housing.

The building itself could do with dusting and remodeling, especially where the flooring and parts of the ceiling were concerned, but Cameron had withstood worse in his dorm. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to deal with the very real fear of drowning in his sleep if the magic surrounding his dorm ended up failing.

“Phillbert? Ezekiel? Gabriel?” Cupping her hands around her mouth, her voice came out much louder than she intended, her calls echoing throughout the seemingly empty expanse. Despite that, however, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up at attention. Furthermore, if she thought about it longer than she had to, she could practically feel the air temperature in the room they were in (presumably the student lounge) had dropped by at least ten degrees. Already, it was a tell that they weren’t alone—outside, it was practically sweltering compared to how cool it was within the old dormitory. “Just so you know, I’m not angry about last time, Gabriel. I got a few bruises on my legs, but nothing broke!”

Just like the last time she had been within the premises, the instant the cold seeped into her bones, the trio of malicious ghosts appeared. However, this time, she was prepared.

Ol’ Harper who had been around just as long as Mr. Alastair had been, had given her a canister of salt alongside a pocket watch that he made her swear she would check now and then so she wouldn’t end up staying too long in a “place of ill repute”. Naturally curious as she was, Key could barely grit out an embarrassed but grateful “ Thank you, Mr. Horace ” before the older man merely nodded dismissively in her direction. If she was feeling more motivated, perhaps she would have prodded him with questions like “ How exactly does a canister of salt help ?” considering that this world operated on both the logic of magic and science, but ultimately decided that she would bring it along.

Mr. Harper didn’t seem the type to be one for pranking, but he certainly was stuck in his ways and his thought processes were hard to grasp at times.

Key’s fumbling around the insides of her backpack caught Cameron’s eyes, his focus previously directed at all the dust that coated the couches, the broken rocking chair, and the upturned bits and bobs that littered the floor. It was almost as if the dormitory had been brimming with life one day, then suddenly everyone had abandoned all of their belongings and had decided to leave things as is.

If that was the case, he wondered what treasures he would find within the dorm rooms.

But the logical, rational part of him warned that this was a place festering with—maybe not evil—but with presences that had certainly outgrown their senses of morality years prior.

“There’s no point, Key.” At the mention of her formal name in this world, the young custodian shot him a concerned look. He shrugged, almost as if he could care less, but his eyes kept darting throughout the dank and dim expanse of the lounge. The dust that littered every surface also grimed up the tall windows. What should have been a magnificent ray of sunlight filtering through an admittedly quaint setting, was made moot when he could barely make anything out through the glass.

What light could be filtered through was weak.

“I know you want to renovate this place out of some misguided attempt to… I don’t know, prove to yourself that you’re useful, but it’s not worth it. You’ve hurt yourself once, who's to say that the ghosts won’t hurt you again?” Cameron grabbed her by the shoulders and began steering her way back to the hallway that would lead them back out and into the safety of the outside world.

However, while his intentions would have resulted in a positive outcome for everyone involved, it was all for naught.

The instant they turned around, Cameron and Key found themselves staring up at three ghostly apparitions who glared down at them with a mixture of glee and befuddlement.

“Ohohohohoh!”

A tall, thin ghost cackled. His ghoulish features were distorted, almost as if the skull had been stretched thinner, like someone had grabbed his chin and pulled it down. Atop his head, like his fellow compatriots, there was a top hat and around his shoulders, a cape. 

Researchers theorized that ghosts’ original appearances disappeared over time, often resulting in ghosts that looked more like skeletons than humans who have just passed. Furthermore, since ghosts often forgot what it was like to be human, they often shed their prized materials—the most obvious of which was clothing.

Only ghosts who had abnormally powerful wills (especially those who were accompanied by a high caliber of magic) could retain both their appearance from when they were alive and with their clothing to boot. Sometimes, when magic rose to great heights and permeated throughout various regions, ghosts could appear fully whole once more. Those were the days when parents would warn their children not to step too far from their house lest they  see someone wearing centuries’ old clothing or someone speaking in aged vernacular wandering around, purposeless, but haunting all the same.

“We’ve got a smart one, lads!” This one was short and squat. If his figure had any weight to it, he would be far from floating in the air. Rather, his great figure would have crashed onto the floor. “Say, you wouldn’t mind joining us in your soon to be afterlife, would you?”

The last and shortest one laughed, but had seemingly cast a guilty glance at Key, his eerily bright blue eyes studying the young woman for a few seconds longer than what Cameron would call a cursory glance before he joined his friends in gloating. “Didn’t your falling down the stairs serve as an adequate warning, doll? It’s only courteous that we let you live since you’re a dame and all, but courtesy goes both ways.”

Key, who had been slightly leaning into Cameron’s hold, seemed to deflate a little before she shrugged away from Cameron’s tight grasp on her shoulders. She moved an inch forward, almost as if she was going to confront them, but Cameron was quick to latch onto her again and pull her back until she was safe behind his much taller and thicker frame.

“Mr. Nor—!"

“Gabriel, right?” He addressed the shortest ghost first, who looked surprised that he was the one being spoken to, but quickly erased that sudden emotion and replaced it with something akin to bored curiosity. “I won’t lie, Birdie here isn’t the sharpest knife in the crayon box, but you can’t kill her.”

Cameron assessed the way the little ghost’s eyes widened at that and how his grubby little fingers spasmed at his sides. Even if the ghost’s incorporeal forms were no longer human-like, their old mannerisms from when they were still alive seemed to shine through. Deep down, he was a young man, probably around the same age as Cameron himself. Should the time come, Cameron was hoping to capitalize on the ghost’s seemingly apparent remorse for what he had done to Key.

“We weren’t going to vandalize anything; in fact—” Here, Cameron emphasized his route by nodding at the hallway behind the three ghosts. “—we were planning on leaving. If you’ll excuse us, I promise that the Little Bird and I won’t ever bother you three again.”

The tallest ghost loomed closer to Cameron’s face. Like most foxes, Cameron was evasive in nature. Cunning and sly wit was the way of the fox, even if it was at the cost of others. However, while he briefly entertained the thought of throwing Key in front of his body so that he could save himself, the action would undoubtedly leave a disgusting taste in his mouth.

Key had already been hurt and Cameron was ashamed to admit it to himself, but he felt slightly guilty that after all of this, when he would receive his final requirements from the summer school sessions, he would be leaving her behind. He wasn’t close to her, not in the way true friends were like what he had read about in his childhood stories back home, but there was a connection. Not everyone liked foxes—the stigma surrounding them was too great—but to Key, she thought him an annoying, but witty young man who loved his mother before all else and was willing to sacrifice so much for her happiness.

Brave, she had called him.

It felt like a lie when he thought it, but coming straight from her mouth, it was almost like she was willing it into existence.

For some odd reason, in the less than three months that they spent interacting with each other, criticizing each other on how to clean oil spills and teasing each other for missing spots every which way, he treasured her words.

They weren’t friends, but he wouldn’t mind checking his inbox just to see her send overly worded letters or weird pictures on the off chance he would reply.

If the both of them made it out of this weird and dusty dormitory alive, he would make sure to reply.

Always.

“And what if I said that we weren’t bothered at all by your presence? What if I said that we would like to see you every day for the rest of our undead lives?” The tallest ghost loomed closer still, the rank and ice chilling breath ghosting over Cameron’s keen nose and cheeks. “What if I said that we would rather enjoy it if you died now?”

Cameron fished his magic pen out of his sleeve and brandished it with expert precision in front of himself.

“Nothing, actually, because you’re going down before you kill us.”

And then he started casting.

The thing about magic was that it was heavily based on emotions, practice, and your mindset when you’re casting. When Cameron was a child, he had accidentally used magic to evade some bullies who made fun of his fox beastman status, citing old stories and superstitions about how untrustworthy they were. It was the sort of stupid talk that would make Cameron grit his teeth and clench his fists, but his mother, when she was able, would take him aside and tell him to still his anger.

Young children didn’t know better, she had said. But you do. You’re better than them.

She would say that all with a closed, but firm smile. She would wipe away his tears that burned heavily with the rage that roared within his soul and smarted at the small, youthful part of himself that wanted to make friends with people who would like him for who he was. The only person in his age group who didn’t turn away from him was a young bunny beastman who made it her mission to befriend him and get under his skin at every possible moment.

She was the one who planted it in his brain that maybe he would be qualified enough to enter any of the prestigious magical academies. Of course, being who he was, he had laughed it off back when he was busy ditching his classes in middle school, but when that dark carriage arrived in front of his house… he had quickly given his mother a kiss on the cheek and a hug goodbye.

Using magic in a school specializing in the formation and maturation of future mages was different than practicing cheap spells that came from a child’s textbook or when he had been overcome by an overwhelming deluge of emotion. In Night Raven College, you had to deliberately harness the magical potential inside of your soul, invoke that aforementioned potential through a creative incantation with the proper pronunciation and intonation, and then, when you thought that wasn’t enough, you had to channel the steps through a proper vessel. In some cultures, and in ages past, budding mages would draw sigils onto the ground or craft special rods that could serve as an extension of the self.

It wasn’t until a couple hundred years ago, just a few decades shy of a thousand, that many peoples of differing nations would start using magestones to combat the effects of blot and as a way to better channel one’s magic. Nowadays, magestones were either incorporated into a magician’s vessel of choice (for Night Raven College students, the standard was a magic pen) or were simply used as is.

Regardless, one thing remained clear, magic began and ended with a magician’s will and determination to do what they wanted.

And at that moment, what Cameron wanted to do most of all, was to make sure that Key and himself would get out of the dilapidated dormitory without so much as a scratch on themselves. If he managed to land a hit on the ghostly miscreants who he assumed would not hesitate to cause them harm, then it would be all the better.

Often, when he was still just a kit and learning the ways of the world, his mother warned him about his fiery temper that when stoked, would cause himself and many others to fall to ruin. Violence was not the answer.

But violence was definitely an answer.

As he felt energy race from his core and spread towards every corner of his body before racing at tremendous speeds up towards his shoulder and down to his fingertips, his mouth moved almost of its own accord. Defensive Magic wasn’t his subject, but he knew enough to know that if one wanted to rid one’s house of ghosts, fire was the best way to go.

Not only would it combat the ghostly chill that ghosts were known to permeate the atmosphere with, but it served as a reminder that they were not of this earth. Their time laying in the sun was no more: fire and the warmth that came to them was no longer theirs to feel.

The kitchen ghosts were wary of their jobs, but still clung to their passion that rivaled that of most living chefs, but Cameron had the feeling that the ghosts haunting this old building wouldn’t be the same. If he timed it just right and if he moved fast enough, he could blast all three of them almost at the same time with a fireball that would come at a low cost to him, but would instantly drive them out.

Just as his magic pen began to glow with a red sheen that heralded the start of a fire produced by magical means, a hand not of his own or of the ghosts smacked into his wrist that clutched his magic pen as if it were his lifeline. Disturbed by the sudden movement, Cameron abruptly stopped speaking the necessary invocation and his arm lowered from the proper casting position (both no-no’s when it came to defensive casting). As the fox beastman gasped at the sudden shock of pain, the hand that held his magic pen lowered before defensively rising back up again to see who his next foe was.

To his utter surprise, when he turned to his left, it was Key.

Small and utterly drowning in the clothes that the school had seen fit to give her, Cameron was positive from first glance that she could barely pose a threat to anyone. She didn’t have the presence to invoke authority like most of the magicless members of the staff (he knew there were a few, but he never cared to memorize who they were unless he was appointed to work directly under them when it was his turn to volunteer), the stature to back up demands, or even the slightest hint of magic, but right now, Cameron found himself faltering.

For one, horrifying instant, he was hit with the vision of a bunny beastman looking up at him, her bright violet eyes glaring up at him in defiance when she told him off for not playing the game by the rules that everyone agreed upon.

Just as suddenly as Cameron’s thoughts were consumed with regret and nostalgia, the image of Key superimposed itself over Cameron’s vision.

He blinked, and once again, he saw a small human with full cheeks and thick spectacles looking up at him with something akin to annoyance.

If it weren’t for the threats that continued to float above them, Cameron would have been just as annoyed.

His grip tightened on his magic pen as his eyes continued to dart back and forth between the human girl and the three ghostly apparitions. Two threats, but which was the bigger one?

“Are you insane?” Or worse, was she possessed by another entity  he hadn’t been aware of? That could be the only explanation… “We’re both going to die!”

Key’s deep brown eyes watched as Cameron’s fingers flexed over his magic pen. Should he wish it, he could cast without so much as opening his mouth, but that took skill and a level of focus she doubted he had given how frazzled he looked.

“Mr. Nor… Cameron, come on. They were just teasing.”

The flames in Cameron’s bright green eyes could have rivaled the flames that lit the school hallways.

“They. Pushed. You. Down. The. Stairs.” If he were a true fox rather than a fox beastman, all of Cameron’s fur would have stood on end. There was something off about this situation and it had nothing to do with the fact that the three ghosts were still hanging around above them as if they weren’t actively plotting their demise. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Key kept defending these ghoulish pests. “I’m not a nice guy, but even I know that pushing someone down the stairs is not a thing that people who are teasing each other do.”

As Cameron explained his side of things, Key nodded her head, understanding what he was getting at. Certainly, if someone pushed a friend of hers down the stairs, she would be just as angry as he was. However…

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, lowering his spellcasting arm down until the tip of his magic pen was pointed towards the ground. Despite her intervention, Cameron kept his stance rigid and poised for a fight. If there was one thing years of getting bullied as a young kit and prospective student at Night Raven College imbued in him, it was that there was no way you ever let down your guard, even if it seemed like there was about to be a peaceful resolution.

“Yeah, Gabriel tripped me while I was running.” She directed that at the small, squat ghost whose pale, incorporeal cheeks began to flush a fetching powder blue. “And I was pissed about that, but we’re not here to fight. Remember how I said that I was going to start this new project to renovate this place? Well, we’ve come to an agreement.”

It seemed that the ringleader of the ghostly trio, the one whose skeletal appearance was made all the more apparent by how thin and taught his body was, took that as his cue to begin speaking. His voice was thin and reedy, decades of disuse coloring his timbre and intonation. However, underneath the decaying veneer of humanity, Cameron could almost detect a crisp baritone that Professor Trein and other educators on staff would have loved to hear during oral presentations.

“Apologies, old sport, I had assumed that Miss Key would have explained everything to you before arriving.” Here, the tall ghost sent an accusatory look at the custodian who had the decency to look remorseful at the unfortunate turn of events. Point clearly taken, the ghost pinned his unearthly blue gaze back on Cameron. “After she fell down the stairs, we sent for help and then… we started talking.”

Cameron knew that this ghost was baiting him into asking what it was they were talking about, but he knew better. Instead, his emerald green eyes glared at the ghost before the apparition finally relented.

“It has been a while since we’ve last had residents within our dormitory. So much time has passed that not even the history books in the library can remember us by our old, official names. What we used to think were pranks were probably viewed as attempts at murder by those outside of our aged dorm. I, and my two other dormmates, were never Housewardens during our short tenure as students of Night Raven College, but I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to help rehabilitate our image as one of the dorms of this institution, even if we no longer serve our original purpose.”

Finally, Cameron relaxed his casting arm as he tucked his magic pen into the pocket of his uniform shorts. “Meaning?”

This time, it was the large, rotund ghost who spoke. While he may have looked menacing and frightful when Cameron first laid eyes on him, the more Cameron looked at him, the more he looked… Almost kind? Cuddly? The fox beastman wasn’t sure how anyone could describe ghosts as cuddly, considering that they were mostly incorporeal unless they found reason to exert what energy they had to physically manipulate the living plane.

“We’ve listened to Miss Key’s reasoning that we at least try to maintain the property better since we are technically still occupying this space despite our lack of existence. From now on, we will do our best to clean up the rooms and to avoid pranking visiting students.”

Gabriel, the shortest ghost, piped up. “Unless they’re asking for it.”

“Unless they’re asking for it,” the two other ghosts agreed.

Sending an ‘ Are they serious ?’ look at Key proved to do nothing. The bespectacled young custodian merely shrugged before regarding the ghosts once more.

“Don’t kill the students. If I can’t kill the students, you can’t kill the students.”

Cameron spluttered. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Key carefully ignored him, but his keen beastman eyesight enabled him to see that Key was smirking.

“Anyway, you asked me if I thought this was a lost cause. Well, I’m informing you right now, Mr. Norton—” Ah, she was back to surnames again, wasn’t she? That was disappointing. “—with you and the rest of the scholarship students on board, we can get this place in tip top shape before the upcoming entrance ceremony in no time!”

Cameron blinked.

“But I’m the only scholarship student still on campus.”

“All the better! I don’t have to worry about introductions, then!”

Chapter Text

After spending time with some of the students on campus, whether it be helping them clean up after a few wayward potions experiments or accompanying the scholarship students on their requirements to keep their scholarship (which was only Cameron, but that still counted!), Key realized that the students of Night Raven College were… ornery and highly selective of what they wanted to do. They were teenagers, of course, and a little bit of asking around revealed that this school was modeled off European schooling. That is to say, they weren’t colleges in the American sense, which came after primary and secondary schooling, but it seemed to take place before tertiary education.

It reminded Key of the schooling system in Japan, actually, now that she was thinking more about it.

Nonetheless, they were high school students and while it was understandable that most of them weren’t keen on boarding Night Raven College during the summer, Key couldn’t help but feel rankled at some of their attitudes. She had barely landed in this strange new world when she had been confronted by the very real, and very sobering realization that she was at the bottom of the rung in terms of class.

Here, in a world that practically hummed and breathed with magic, magicless people weren’t always the norm. For certain races, like the fae and children of the sea, magic folk far outnumbered those who didn’t have the gift for the extraordinary. Furthermore, whereas it seemed like humans were one of the more dominant races, they weren’t the strongest or the most magical.

So, two strikes for Key: she was both human and magicless.

A third strike: she had a lot to catch up on when it came to understanding how this world worked and what it entailed. In fact, she had to dial back all the questions she had and sneak into the library just so she could browse how the internet worked and pick up some books.

(Later on, she would have to convince a very irritated Lady Fairchild that even if she wasn’t a student, she was still granted the right to pursue knowledge. That would lead to a spirited discussion on if she could peruse the library at night when the doors should be locked, or if it would be far more realistic just to give Key a library card. In the end, Mr. Harper had stepped in and decided that Key should have access to a library card and she could spend as much time as she liked in the library over the summer, provided that she locked up once she was finished).

Over the past few months, when Key wasn’t busy researching mirrors, gates, and trans-dimensional travel (she wasn’t a physicist or a scientist by any means so she couldn’t quite make heads or tails of anything… yet), she was busy reading up on the history of several lands, the cultures of different ethnic groups, and sometimes, she would pick up fictional novels just to see what the literature was like in this strange, yet oddly familiar world.

A few of the nations that she encountered on her readings resembled some of the continents and countries back in her home world. Although she couldn’t say that the nations were one for one copies of each other, she was positive that the Land of Pyroxene (sometimes called Land of the Lustrous), mostly resembled Europe. There were certain regions and cities that resembled certain European lands like the City of Flowers, which mostly took after France (probably Paris if Key was feeling pedantic). Meanwhile, Sunset Savanna reminded her of Africa and the Queendom of Roses was reminiscent of the United Kingdom.

As she continued her readings, she had come across some groups of students, all of them wearing their assigned summer school uniforms, but she had noted that there were certain differences in attire. Their uniforms could be personalized to a certain degree, but a few things remained constant among all of them. All students had to wear vests of differing colors that would complement the ribbons that wrapped around their left bicep. These colors corresponded to their chosen dorms, of which there were seven.

The Great Seven.

It surprised Key to know that the villains from Disney were revered almost as if they were gods (with the exception of Hades who was already a god), but she supposed that she could have ended up in a far less merciful world entirely. When she had first walked through Main Street, she had assumed that the school was “evil” or was propagating an agenda that would come across as malicious and filled with ill intent. However, she was proven wrong time and time again because no sooner did that thought cross her mind did she end up paired up with Cameron Norton as her accompanying custodian for the week.

Most of the students who stayed for summer remedial lessons were human—or at least appeared human. Thus, Key tried very hard not to look too often at his ears (so soft, and how they perked up when he heard something in the distance that she didn’t was so endearing!) but ended up failing when he rudely—and rightfully so—told her that they were supposed to be cleaning the grime off the Seven’s statues instead of admiring each other’s’ features. She had apologized—profusely, she might add—but he had huffed at her before turning towards one of the more voluptuous looking statues (the famed Sea Witch) and began using magic to blast a jet of water towards the base and into the crevices.

For the most part, the first time they worked together, was rather awkward and fraught with tension. Key wasn’t one to care too much about others opinions on her—if someone didn’t like her, that was more than fine, people were allowed to dislike or like whoever they wanted and she had no say in that—but she badly needed this partnership to work. Mr. Alastair and the Headmage were some of the only people at the time who seemed to realize that her presence may not be as temporary as the other custodians and available staff were led to believe, and had treated her with more respect than what most would expect when treating a pest. Plus, after spending time being the “baby of the family” (apparently, the rest of the cleaning crew were in their mid-twenties or older), she found it a relief that she could spend some days hanging around someone closer to her age.

As much as she hated to say it, this strange thing that had befallen her happened in the novels and shows that she used to watch back home. Depending on the genre, she could end up stuck in this world for as short as a week or for as long as years. There was no way she was going to chance a life of isolation and regret when she could better spend her time at least enjoying however long she spent in this world with at least one friendly face entertaining some of her whims.

Of course, Mr. Alastair had already informed her that this summer was the last time Cameron would ever step foot in Night Raven College—having cited that he was not interested in maintaining his scholarship and that he wanted to help his mother out in his hometown—and she was sad for it, but she had to take this chance. Long distance friendships were still friendships and technology was just as advanced as it was back home—if not better.

She had joked about never getting a Magicam account, but maybe… Ah, but there were other ways to reconnect; she would cross that bridge when it came to it.

It wasn’t until Cameron had caught her breaking down in  one of the cleverly hidden supply closets in the main campus building that he had softened up.

The incident itself was small and normally, Key would have brushed it off, but the fox beastman looked concerned. 

She had gone about her day as usual and had completed the dusting and sweeping of the floors within the library, the polishing of some of the shelves in some of the hidden sections that were reserved for the third years and above, and had even been nice and organized some of Lady Fairchild’s paperwork! That last part was meant to curry favor with the much older woman, but had only garnered Key a chilling smile that revealed just a touch too much fang for Key's taste. Regardless, it was a job well done and with Cameron mustering the strength and magical capability to levitate all the books on a shelf so she could quickly dust the many varied surfaces, what should have taken a couple of days only took the better part of their one shared shift.

He had sniped at her a couple times, but his quips over time had gone from overly callous and blunt to something almost teasing and kind. Sometimes, his words were a little more caustic than usual, but Key could handle it. She had to. If this was his way of connecting with others, then why should she fight him on that? It hurt, but if he were to completely ignore her, or worse, abandon her and ask Mr. Alastair to pair him with someone more experienced, then she would most definitely not be okay.

(An understatement, but she would not know this until much, much later).

On this particular day, after having labored in the library, the two of them finally went back into the main campus building so that they could clock out and grab a snack from the communal kitchens within the staff quarters. Cameron, the fox that he was, was quick and harried in his movements. There were times when he would do his tasks too quickly and Key would have to reprimand him for a poorly done job—to which he would bare his teeth in a faux display of aggressive dominance before he would pick up his broom or his mop just so she could “stop clinging to his fur like a tick”.

That afternoon, though, having sweated and done so much with his magic to the point  that his entire body felt like he had run an entire obstacle course devised by the evil mind of one Coach Ashton Vargas, his patience for Key’s micromanaging must have reached its peak.

Not long after he had put some of the cleaning products in the wrong position, did she go up to him and gently ask if he could take better care of the supplies and equipment. After all, he wasn’t the only one who was going to use them; the rest of the staff deserved some courtesy. Key would be the first to tell anyone that sometimes, she didn’t always use the right tone of voice when talking to people. There were times when her voice could be deemed as blunt and as callous as a knife that could be sharpened, but was just as deadly if wielded the right (or wrong) way. Sometimes, her face would be rigid and stoic, even at the wrong moments. It was a pain trying to accommodate the sensibilities and norms of everyone else, but she learned.

It had taken a long time, but it happened.

However, Key was tired.

Cameron was tired.

They weren’t friends and considering that Cameron had more experience working as a custodian, but had to treat Key as his superior, it was a recipe for disaster.

If her words had come about at a time when they were better rested or if Cameron wasn’t so keen on leaving right away, perhaps he would have just put away his belongings without much retort and then left. However, it wasn’t that sort of day where all good things would come to pass.

Cameron had said, words biting as if he were physically sinking his teeth deep into Key’s neck just to shut her up, something to the effect that she should be the one to put away the cleaning supplies because since he had all the magic, he obviously exerted more energy than Key. When she was about to talk back with a reasonable argument, he quickly steamrolled over her, his emerald green eyes flashing with an anger and quickness that pointed to the fact that this was an emotion that had been brewing for some time now. Yet, Key did as much work as him because she had to dust the shelves and push the books back into their proper places since Cameron wasn’t always diligent when releasing his levitation spell. Whereas Cameron was strong and clearly utilizing the foundation of practical magic, Key was keen on the details—making sure that if Lady Fairchild or any of their superiors were to take a glance at the shelves that they were assigned, they wouldn’t have to go back and redo everything.

Normally, Cameron would have let it all go, but his irritation at the situation had probably been mounting for a while now. From Key’s constant questions to his withering patience concerning the school when all he wanted to do was go home…

“No, I don’t care. I’ve wasted two years at this dumb school, cleaning up shit while also getting shit on by people who think they’re better than me. And then, when I finally have hope that I can leave for good and not have to worry about anything else for a while, I end up having to babysit you!” He scratched at the back of his neck, the hairs at his nape pulling at his skin. The pain was enough to ground him, but not enough to make him realize that he was speaking from a place and from an anger that Key did not deserve.

“Mr. Nor—Ca—”

“Maybe that’s the reason you were orphaned, right? Don’t give me that look, Emilio and Zahur aren’t always the quietest and I’ve seen how the others look at you. I bet you were kicked out; maybe it was because you’re so useless and clueless about things that little kids should have known by now!” He shoved past her, the sudden movement pushing the small human into a shelf, the cleaning products rapidly rattling. “But sure,” he groused, “nag me for putting the window cleaner on the wrong counter. Woe is me.”

Cameron slammed the aforementioned cleaner into its correct place, pointedly ignoring that Key was silent, her breathing had gone shallow.

Without even glancing to check on his partner, Cameron left the supply closet.

Now left behind, Key finally sunk down to her knees. The fox beastman hadn’t noticed, but when he had shoved past her and knocked her into the shelf, she had almost toppled over and let the ground swallow her whole. His words, while spoken in anger and  muttered for the most part, with a few outbursts to highlight some of his points, were more than loud enough to pierce her skull, his complaints and criticisms against her reverberating like haunting echoes.

Useless.

Clueless.

Orphaned.

None of them were true and yet, at the same time, they were.

Not for the first time, she wondered what she had done to deserve this. Once upon a time, she was someone who was looking forward to going to her local college, her sights set on a bachelor’s degree in psychology. And then, out of the blue, she had been coughed up by a large mirror and had her wits tested time and time again by the witless principal of a magical school. With all of the hubbub of trying to adjust to this strange life with its slew of cultural differences and the near universal embrace of magic, she hadn’t always had the luxury of time to allow the reality of the situation to settle in.

But she supposed that was partly her fault.

She had blindly accepted a job as a custodian and was basically indebted to the Headmage because for all of his eccentricities, he was kind enough to research into the phenomenon of traveling to different worlds.

However, now that Cameron was gone and she was too tired, too burnt out from trying to cope with this situation, Key didn’t have to dwell on her situation anymore.

She was going to drown in it.

As Cameron’s footsteps receded from the doorway, Key’s knees gave out beneath her, her breaths becoming shallower and shallower, her vision growing blurry.

Useless.

Clueless.

Orphaned.

Useless.

Clueless.

Orphaned.

Useless.

Clueless.

Orphaned.

Cameron’s words were like a mantra, a chorus of a song that had been humming in the background of Key’s mind for who knows how long. She was useless because the skills that she had in the other world didn’t play as big a role here; clueless because she knew nothing about this world other than the key bits of trivia she picked up as a child; and orphaned because… Well…

She was alone.

Even when she had coworkers who laughed at her jokes and included her in conversations—

Even when the sky was almost the same shade of blue that she would spot above her house—

Even when the sun seemed a tad too pale and a little too cold—

Even when she found out that she could no longer taste food or even feel the telltale pangs of hunger—

She was alone throughout it all.

Who was Key other than a pale imitation of her former self, an eggshell that had cracked and spilled all of the albumen before someone had taken notice?

Fully on the floor now, her head tucked in between her knees as she lay on her side, Key allowed the smallest of whines to escape her throat. She had meant it as some sort of release that she would later rein in. She tried to promise herself that she would spend only a few minutes moping, her tears pooling in the corners of her eyes before she would blink them back, the resulting fluid stuffing up her nose until she had no choice but to blow all of the mucus out.

When was the last time she had felt so pitiful? So pathetic? If the reputation of the school was anything to go by, she was somewhat glad that this was happening over the summer, when most everyone had gone home and the staff had already packed up and left for their assigned dormitory.

Despite her earlier promise to herself that she would not cry, her inner determination and will paled somewhat to the common adage of mind over matter. A part of Key thought that she didn’t try hard enough. Maybe if she pressed her chewed nails into the soft flesh of her palm, allowing the tiny, red crescent moons to pool with blood… Or maybe if she had bit down onto her bottom lip and embraced the pain, the tears that blossomed in her eyes would vanish like that second-year spell Cameron had used a few days—

Focus.

Not on Cameron.

On the pain, on the tears, on the radio static that filled her head as if someone had stuffed her skull to the brim with cotton.

Useless.

Clueless.

Orphaned.

Useless.

Clueless.

Orphaned.

Use—

Something warm and soft covered her shoulders and over the majority of her curled body. Pain and tears forgotten, Key raised her head slightly from where her forehead had met her knees and wished that she hadn’t. No sooner did she try blinking the tears out of her eyes and onto the lenses of her spectacles did she abruptly tug herself deeper and tighter into a ball. Big mistake, she should have kept her eyes closed, her mouth closed, geeze, she should have just kept to herself this entire time.

She shouldn’t have asked to be partnered with someone her age despite the fact that she knew that most of the staff probably thought that she was some illicit love child of the Headmage and that she was probably putting a financial strain on everyone else—

And—

And—

Gentle, calloused fingers brushed her hair away from her face before those very same fingers plucked her glasses away. With her eyes still shut tight, Key tried to hide away, her face seemingly so naked without her customary accessory. It was rare that she took her glasses off and when she did, it was like switching online videos from 1084 pixels to a measly 144. It was worse here, Key belatedly realized when she opened her eyes to check if her tears were still flowing.

Spoiler alert: they were.

The colors in this world… They were simply not as bright or as saturated as they were back home.

Or maybe she was just romanticizing.

As Key closed her eyes again, she became somewhat aware that  the static that overflowed from her brain and out  the canals of her ears, was being slowly supplanted by another sound. It was a melody that rose and fell, low pitched notes dancing and intertwining together to form somewhat comprehensible syllables.

It wasn’t until later, when she opened her eyes again, her arms numb from staying in one position for so long, but so pleasantly warm from the cloth that enveloped her from before, that she realized  she had fallen asleep.

Key kept her eyes closed and tried to remember where she was and how she—

“If you’re thinking about pretending to fall asleep, don’t even try it. Fox beastmen aren’t the most sensitive when compared to other species like certain canines, but I can definitely hear your breathing change.”

Key sniffed and burrowed even further into the source of heat. “So? A change of breathing doesn’t mean anything.”

A finger poked at her side. “It kinda does when you end up answering my question.”

A small laugh left Key’s lips before she let the mirthful sounds die in her throat. She had forgotten it in the midst of the slight ticklish feeling that had accompanied his poking and the warmth that encompassed her, but there was a reason why her eyesight was so blurry, that her nose felt so crusty, and her throat dry.

All classic signs of crying.

“Hey, Bir—Key.” Someone—Cameron—shifted his weight, probably adjusting his legs. Sometime during her impromptu nap, he must have laid her head in his lap. The comforting weight that warmed her, that surrounded her with softness, must have been his cardigan that he liked to wear around his waist on the off chance that he felt too cold, even if it was  the dead of summer. Did he happen to wear an oversized cardigan, or was she seemingly that tiny curled up like this?

Key breathed in deeply. “Cameron.”

“I… I’m not sure if it means anything to you, but…” Another shift and Key couldn’t help it. She had to look up and see his face. Without her glasses, she could barely make out his features, but she saw enough to know that he was looking up and away, more than enough body language to make her realize that he was embarrassed. If there was one thing Key knew about the students of NRC, it was that they were too proud to even think about apologizing let alone showing weakness like this. It felt so out of place on Cameron that Key was tempted to stop him. “I… I haven’t been a good partner to you. I… I said things that I don’t mean, they just came out and…” He finished lamely, “You’re not useless and you shouldn’t have to apologize for it.”

Key huffed. “You make us sound like we’re married.” A thought struck her. “What do you mean, apologized?”

This time, Key was more than sure that Cameron was hiding himself away from her. If he could, his legs were harboring the latent energy to flee, but even he was considerate enough to realize that with such a movement, Key’s head would have graced the floor with a resounding smack.

“Uhhhh, I’m not good at this…. You kept crying and apologizing when you saw that I had come in. You stopped. Eventually.” He coughed. “When you started sleeping.”

“And then you kept me company.”

Through her poor vision, Key finally made contact with Cameron’s emerald green eyes. “Yeah, but that’s because you now owe me something. For my benevolence.”

“And now you sound like your Headmage.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he won’t be my Headmage by the end of this summer or else I would feel really offended.”

Their laughter filled the air, Key’s a little more hysterical while Cameron was noticeably more subdued.

It hurt knowing that this was the closest to an apology that she was going to get, but as Key clutched his cardigan closer to her, she realized that it didn’t matter. He was here; it was a sign of hope that maybe she wasn’t as abandoned as she had previously thought.

Chapter Text

It had taken at least two hours for Key and Cameron to dust and sweep most of the debris and dust that had gathered within the old, dilapidated dormitory. While the fox beastman had the upper hand (having magic as well as more strength and stamina than his friend), he mainly decided to stick with the manual method of brooms and dustpans. There was efficiency, yes, if he decided to use magic, but he had just finished a practical exam earlier that afternoon and while he wasn’t at risk for blotting too much, he didn’t want to risk blot poisoning within the next few days just because he wanted to make this job quicker.

Plus, while Cameron was smart and a talented mage in his own right, that didn’t mean that his magic was precise. He had his moments when he could get his cleaning duties done on the first try, but mostly, he had to go over his previous steps just to make sure that he didn’t miss some specks of dust or dirt—which was surprisingly often.

(There was also the added benefit of hanging out with someone who didn’t automatically make him feel annoyed, but he would never let Key know that).

During their task, the ghosts mostly kept to themselves, but pointed out which steps on the stairs needed repairing, the holes in the ceiling, and various other problems that an accomplished maintenance crew would have to look over.

“I hope you got Emilio and Al to help out after this. They’ve been lobbying for years to get this place either destroyed or renovated.”

Cameron wiped sweat off his brow, smearing ashy grey dust over his forehead. Meanwhile, Key fared no better. Like her companion she was filthy. The first and second floors were now relatively dust free (when compared to their state before their efforts), but she shuddered to think what the third floor would look like. Given how the ghosts said that there were leaks in the ceiling… Ugghhhh… She could imagine just how much of the roofing had rotted away, and the mold…

“You should have seen the looks on their faces.” She laughed and flopped on the grass outside of the old dormitory. “It was like they had been struck by lightning when I told them that all I had to do was ask the Headmage nicely… but now they, and probably everyone else, thinks that I’m the Headmage’s kid.” Cameron looked up at that. “I am not! Seriously!”

She dug through her backpack before her hands emerged with two large bottles of water. Although it was lukewarm, the familiar feeling of water pooling down her throat was divine. Even Cameron, who initially waved away her concern eventually caved, and emitted a low purr that he abruptly stopped when he spotted Key smiling mischievously down into her water bottle.

“Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“And don’t smile like that, too. You look like you’re going to do something weird.”

“What else do you not want me to do? Breathe?”

“That would be preferable, yes.”

Key was quick to throw her empty water bottle at Cameron’s head, but he was just as quick to dodge it. Normally, she would have thought that he was lucky, but knowing the capabilities of beastmen, she knew that his reflexes were just better than most humans. Idly, she watched as he juggled his newly acquired water bottle up and down, the plastic crinkling every so often as he crushed it in his hands.

As the afternoon sun gradually made its way down the horizon, Key stretched one final time before jumping up to her feet. A half hour had passed since their playfight, but the end of the day was dawning.

“Shall I walk you back to your dorm?” She offered a hand to Cameron who gently nipped at her playfully wiggling fingers, before he got up as well.

Eyes rolling, he asked, “What are you? My mom?”

“No.” She poked his side hard enough that he winced. “I’m technically staff and it’s my job to make sure that you’re okay since you’re under my watch for the time being. I know you guys don’t really adhere to curfew, but dark is dark and it could get dangerous.”

“Says the human with no magic or fighting experience.”

“I fight with you on a daily basis.”

“And yet, I remain physically unscathed.”

“Psychologically?”

“… I fear that I may have to seek therapy for all the trouble you’ve given me.”

Despite his insinuation that he didn’t need a minder for his return back to his dorm, he didn’t push her away when she tagged alongside him. Together, they walked away from the grounds surrounding the old, dilapidated dorm and strolled down the path that would eventually lead them to the students’ dormitories.

Back when Key was new, she had asked why the dormitories, or rather the Hall of Mirrors, were so far away from the main campus building. Given how far everything was relative to each other, it would take at least ten to fifteen minutes of brisk walking just to get to school. You could technically cut down that number to five minutes, perhaps even three if you were quick footed, but it seemed like an unnecessary hassle. 

The Headmage had merely shrugged and claimed that it would be better for the students to be greeted by the familiar likenesses of the Great Seven on the way to class. Furthermore, given how the newest generation was so focused on the consumption of technology, it would do them good to hone their physical stamina, even if it was out of mere inconvenience.

Whatever the case, as they passed by the statues, Cameron finally asked a question he probably should have asked earlier. In hindsight, it was probably obvious why she had tagged along; she did tell him sometimes what she liked to do whenever she wasn’t assigned an evening shift.

“Why are you coming with me anyway? The staff’s rooms are in the main building, right?”

Key skipped ahead of him, before she turned around and faced him; she was now skipping backwards, one leg skipping on one cobblestone before she would land on both feet before the alternate leg would land once more on another cobblestone. Hopscotch, but without the numbers, lines, or even a small stone to play with. A playmate, though, could play along, but Cameron wasn’t keen on it at the moment.

“It gets stuffy in there sometimes. I’m actually going to use one of the mirrors to visit the town.” She landed on both feet, precisely in the middle of the cobblestones. “Do you want to join me? There’s this little café that sells items for dinner for dirt cheap.”

“And what makes you think that I want dirt cheap café food?”

“It’s not about what you want—” She nodded at his stomach, which chose that exact moment to growl pitifully at her. “—it’s about what he wants.”

Cameron shook his head before briskly walking past her. “You’re paying if my budget doesn’t cover it!”

His budget did in fact cover it.

Apparently, it was a small-town café that allowed discounts for students who were able to show their student IDs at the cash register. The cashier was more than happy to accommodate both teens, even if Cameron ordered plenty of food (as was usually customary of a growing beastman) that could easily serve at least two people and Key had only asked for a glass of water. They received strange looks for having such polar opposites in terms of ordering, but they simply ignored them and set up shop at a booth nearest to the windows.

Outside, the shops were lit by faintly glimmering lights, the evening heralding a sort of quietness that could only be accompanied by the townspeople resting for the next workday. It was quaint. In the street, there were only a few people walking away with the last of their shopping or friends who decided to take a stroll underneath the lampposts. Since this one lone town of the Isle of Sages was said to be booming during the holidays and certain events corresponding to school activities, Key could only imagine what it would be like to see the streets filled with people milling about, eager to catch a glimpse of the famed students from either of the rival schools for magic.

Key wasn’t sure if she preferred to see the town brimming with life or if she would like to bask more in this corner of the world as is.

“You know, I’m surprised they actually served us.” Like Key, Cameron’s eyes were glued to the sights outside of their window. As a scholarship student, he often kept to the grounds of NRC. It was rare for him to find the time to visit the town (not that many of the NRC students wanted to go down to the small town anyways, considering that most if not all of their needs were provided by the school store), but on the few times he did, it was usually during tournaments or school events, which meant that the quiet solitude that he was experiencing now was just as foreign to him as his first time seeing the town. “If I move too much, a cloud of dust poofs up!”

Key blinked. “Come on, we don’t look too bad!”

“Says you. I swear your glasses don’t actually work half the time.”

“Oh, hush. Just because I happened to miss a spot dusting that one time doesn’t mean that you get to rag me on it for the rest of time.”

Cameron smirked.

“No. Don’t start. Please don’t—”

Key tried to stave off his foxlike mischief and Key failed.

“A spot, you say? Try an entire meter of grime that you accidentally stepped over and ignored for Sevens knows how long? I thought you were joking, but turns out, your eyes are horrible.”

The young woman leaned back in her booth and gave him a hard look that was barely eclipsed by the bemused, but knowing look in her eyes.

“If you think my eyes are horrible, then you obviously haven’t seen how my stomach reacts to food.”

Cameron nearly gagged. “Nah, I don’t need to see your stomach. After watching you try to eat the world’s saddest excuse of a sandwich ever, I don’t think I need a demonstration of what happens if someone tries to force feed you anything because of your so-called dietary restrictions. I swear, it’s like you’re cursed!”

 Key shrugged, a little accepting but morose all the same.

“Honestly, after talking to at least three doctors, specializing in both magical and non-magical fields of medicine, I think it’s safe to assume that I am not cursed. But,” she waved a finger at Cameron to make sure that he was paying attention, “I do have dietary restrictions, not that it really matters, it’s not like I feel hungry anymore.”

Cameron laid his head on the table, not at all minding that his cheek was flush against the slightly sticky surface. He made a silent note to himself to wipe his face later, they probably didn’t clean or sanitize the tables here. What a shame, he thought, but he supposed that some establishments weren’t going to have the same standards as his junior’s newest restaurant on campus.

“Do you miss it? Eating?”

It’s times like these when Cameron wishes that he knew what Key was thinking. He teased and prodded whenever he could, but there was always something… off about her. Not off in a weird, unsettling way like a few of his dormmates or the fae in Diasomnia, but in a way that reminded him of a lonely little kid who had been left alone in a playground. It wouldn’t be strange to find a child playing in such a place. But to see them all alone? In the dead of night?

It was eerie and it was somewhat concerning.

Looking at Key now, he wondered if he would see her cry.

Although it had been a while since he had seen her initial breakdown, the first of what he assumed to be many, she had never shown an indication that she remembered what happened or that she wished to talk about it. Against his better judgment, he had sought out Emilio and Zahur, both his former partners during his first two years as a student in desperate need of work to retain his scholarship before Key had decided to monopolize his time. He had a lot of experience as a young kit using his silver tongue to bend situations to his advantage (and if that didn’t work, he could be quite fast when he wanted to be), but he had hesitated when he cornered the both of them when they had been busy hosing down a few carnivorous plants from the Scalding Sands.

They were confused and had told him that Key was all right and had been busy with a few of the female custodians  cleaning up the alchemy workshop. Rumor had it that one of the summer boarding students had decided it was a good idea to finish a lab experiment without proper supervision.

Relevant information gathered, Cameron had bid them goodbye before making them promise to save him the best bits of a herb for next week’s experiment.

(He would have to clean the cafeteria’s windows in return for their help, but he knew that he could coax Key into helping him. Besides, he was being both pragmatic and benevolent: he would get  the windows cleaned faster and he could keep an eye on Key while giving her the company that she so desperately craved).

Right now, gazing up at her while her eyes were fixated on the street outside, it was as if she was like any other human. Magicless, yes, but content. Not at all sad.

Or frustrated.

Or lost.

“Sure? I guess?” She shrugged helplessly at the window—he wondered if she was truly looking at the sights outside or if she was staring deep into her reflection. “I mean, after a week of straight up throwing up within a few minutes of force feeding myself, the idea of eating doesn’t appeal to me anymore. Especially since Dr. Park and a specialist from the local hospital both agreed that it would be advisable if I relied on medication to give me the necessary nutrients, as well as the few foods that I know don’t give me terrible stomach aches.”

“Medication?” He scoffed before reaching out to flick her gently on the nose. That caught her attention at the least. It was uncomfortable watching her speak to the window when he knew that she usually gave people her full attention when speaking to them. “Little Bird, they’re called elixirs.”

“Not potions?”

“Do yourself a favor and ask Lady Fairchild—”

“Not gonna happen.”

He continued, unperturbed by the grimace on her face at the very mention of the school librarian. “—for a book about potionology and its subsets. I’ll have you know that it’s not simply medication. If it were, you wouldn’t need the expertise of a magical healer. No, that weird purple and green stuff you’ve been drinking is an elixir.”

“My apologies, Mr. Scholarship Student, I didn’t realize that this was going to be an impromptu study session.” She pulled out a battered notepad from the front pocket of her overalls. “Shall I also write down the similarities and differences between potions and brews then?”

The laugh that attempted to bubble out of his throat was halted by an effort that was near Herculaneum in strength. Donning an expression of faux severity, he straightened in his booth and affixed her with a look that would have made one Professor Trein proud.

“Well, Miss Key, if you’re aiming to accrue extra credit for this summer’s course, you’ll have to brew three different concoctions that correspond to the subsets of these potions.” Maintaining an overly serious expression was hard work, just how did any of his professors live like this? If Cameron didn’t smile at least once a day (even if it was mean spirited), he would surely die within the first few hours. He wiped off the offending expression on his face in favor of his customary smirk, “In all seriousness, I know that you’ve been busy reading up on history and children’s fairy tales—” He had asked about that, but she had smiled and said that you could learn a lot about a person’s culture and upbringing by familiarizing oneself with the values they were taught through children’s bedtime stories. “—but it wouldn’t hurt to look into the other subjects that are offered.”

“Hmm… Considering that both the Headmage and Dr. Park approached me for extra tasks, that would be beneficial… But, at this rate, I don’t even know where to start. It was somewhat easier with learning history because some of it seems familiar—” Cameron’s ears flicked at that. Is that so? “—but with alchemy? Potioneering? They seem interesting, but do I have to learn them? It makes sense for future mages, but for someone magicless like me?”

Cameron nodded thoughtfully. He used to follow that train of thought when he was in middle school and when he had been busy deciding where his path in life would lead him. Among his peers, he was one out of four students in his class who had the propensity for magic, but he was by far the most powerful. However, power meant nothing if he didn’t have the money or the ambition to go forward in an educational institution that specialized in the formation of prospective mages.

When career day came along, he had submitted a near blank piece of paper, only stating that he hoped to work as a cashier for some nondescript café. Or maybe even retail. It had taken a talking to from his teacher, a parent-teacher conference wherein his mother had pleaded with him to rethink his life decisions, and a talk with his favorite bunny beastman about his future that he decided to at least try to be a good student and send in some applications to a few magic schools.

The bunny beastman had told him that he had to at least try, if not for himself, then for his mother. Mages were in high demand because their training was highly versatile in a world that was heavily leaning towards the integration of both magic and non-magic folk. While magicless people couldn’t properly enact spells or speak incantations with the right intonation and force, they were still taught the basics of potions and cures to certain hexes should such phenomena ever befall them. It was like learning geometry in a way: while it may seem useless and tedious when one was in school, it proved to be an exercise in learning how to think abstractly and reason logically. Similarly, learning the basics of magic was important to make sure that those who are magicless would at least have an understanding that casting magic had its limitations, and that certain abilities could be nullified: you just needed to be observant.

“If you want, I can give you my notes that I took during my first year to start you off. My notes from second year are based on first year anyway, so I won’t miss them too much.”

Cameron was startled when he heard Key slam her hands upon the table. Concerned now, he looked up, only to be assaulted by Key nearly yelling at him—

“Is the great and powerful Mr. Cameron Norton helping me? Of his own free will?”

“… I’m telling Mr. Alastair that you forgot to dust the classrooms in the east wing.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Mr. Norton! I’ll—”

Before the bespectacled teen could verbalize a threat that would have made a toddler shake in their diaper, someone—finally—came by with Cameron’s order. How long had it been? Fifteen minutes? More? At that point, Cameron didn’t care, he was overcome with a hunger to do nothing but start stuffing his face with a juicy burger and accompanying fries.

“Be glad that I’m not hungry or else I would have stolen your fries.”

“Take initiative,” Cameron said in between bites. “Why wait for an incentive like hunger when you can just—Hey!”

Chapter Text

“And you’re sure that you don’t want to head back with me?” Cameron paused in front of the mirror that was housed in a special building that held a variety of magical transports. There was at least one dated teleportation device and a few other portals, some of which would lead to various other lands. All of the portals were closed considering it was late at night and one would have to seek permission to use them in the first place. It was a good thing that both of them had their IDs with them, although Cameron’s was a student issued card while Key’s meant that she was part of the staff (a temporary card, but she assumed that she would be granted a newer one in a few weeks). “I keep joking that curfew isn’t enforced, but there is a good reason why most of us like to be in our dorms or at least on campus when it gets really dark.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Key waved his concerns away. “But like, you keep on forgetting that I’m not a student. And it’s not like they’ll need me early in the morning anyways.”

“And what about your plans for that old dormitory you want renovated?”

“I already informed Mr. Alastair. He said that he and Mr. Emilio have time to spare in the afternoon to fix up the leaks and rotting floorboards. He’ll leave the mold and a few other details to Mr. Zahur when he finally has an off day from tending to the botanical gardens.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow, somewhat impressed by her ability to wrangle some of the members of faculty into her cause before another thought came to him. A sly smirk fell onto his features before he could dial it back. “And the furniture? What are you going to do about the upholstery and the bedrooms?”

“Ha! I’ve got Miss Dolly to help me. She mentioned that it would be great to update the furniture since it’s so old and the style was… tacky, to say the least. However, seeing that we don’t really have the budget for it, she’ll have to make do with extensive cleaning spells.” Key furrowed her brows. “As for the bed situation, I imagine that we don’t have to worry about that for a bit. Seeing that everyone keeps telling me that all of the students room in the assigned dormitories in the Hall of Mirrors, I doubt that anyone is going to volunteer to sleep in an old building, especially with the reputation that it has.”

“Hmmm…” That was one thing Cameron couldn’t glean from Key’s naïve looking features. She was hiding something from him, but he couldn’t discern what. Why was she so adamant on renovating the old dormitory… It aligned with the way she thought that she had to make it up to everyone else, especially to Crowley, but renovating the old, abandoned dorm didn’t seem to have any function. Unless… “Are you expecting to house a student there?”

She shrugged, but the upward lilt to the right side of her lips and the sparkle in her dark brown eyes gave her away.

“Key.”

“Whaaa~t?” She sing-sang. “Better head back to your underworld dormitory before someone finds out that you’ve been hitting the town with me~!”

Cameron, who had slapped his hands over his sensitive ears, growled. It was far from the threatening sound he would give to those who actually angered him, but it was enough—he hoped—to get his point across. Unfortunately, all that got him in the end was a Key who cooed gently at him before she practically shoved him in the direction of the mirror that would lead him back to Night Raven College.

“First of all, you’re talking about Ignihyde. I room under the sea. Unfortunately. Second of all, fine then. Keep your secrets.”

She saluted him in that peculiar way of hers, heels clicking together before she practically sang, “Nighty night!”

Cameron rolled his eyes, but did give her a wave goodbye before stepping straight through the portal.

As always, when confronted with the reality that magic was in fact something that existed, Key stared in awe after it, like a child. It was a good thing that Cameron or Emilio weren’t there to see just how much she wanted to eschew her plans for the evening and follow after him. She had no magic, and had even less of an affinity for it, but there she couldn’t help but feel like gravity or the rotation of the planet’s axis had shifted just a tiniest bit. For the people who lived in a world where magic not only existed, but was in so much abundance that the very fabric of culture and societal expectations were heavily centered around its very existence, this was merely a facet of everyday life.

Even those with barely a lick of magic, or none at all, knew and embraced magic.

Such was the way of things that were embedded so heavily in the genetic makeup of what was Twisted Wonderland.

After the last of Cameron had vanished—the tip of his tail twitching a little when he realized that she was still staring at him—Key left the building designated for magical transport and headed away from the town. Because it was summer and most of the facilities didn’t need upkeep until the advent of the new school year, there were often times when some members of the cleaning crew weren’t needed. Since Mr. Alastair was getting on in  years—Mr. Harper was quick to follow in his footsteps considering they were hired at around the same time—they had offered to show Key around the island.

Mr. Alastair showed her how to navigate the forests and the trails that led up and down the mountain should she find the need to head into town without the mirror’s help. Sometimes, he would jokingly tell her that it was as if he were young again, taking his long estranged daughter camping in the woods. In return, Key would reply that she wouldn’t mind camping with him, so long as the conditions were right. There was a hint of truth in Key’s reply, and there was a hesitant vulnerability in Alastair’s admission. Unfortunately, their hiking sessions only lasted a few hours before they had to turn back to the school due to conflicting priorities.

On the upside, though, he had taken her to many sites around campus that most students weren’t aware of or were forbidden from entering, like woods behind the main campus and abandoned dormitory. There were a variety of flora and fauna there; it was like it was straight out of a fairytale book she read as a child.

On the other hand, while Mr. Alastair focused on having Key memorize the fastest routes around the school (including the hidden passageways and alcoves that were largely unknown to the general student populace), Mr. Harper had taken it upon himself to familiarize Key with the town below the mountain on which the school was situated. Quiet, yet predisposed to his unique ways, Ol’ Harper (as he was known to the rest of the staff) or Horace Harper as he had introduced himself to Key, was a rabbit beastman who was punctual, quick, and just a tad too mouthy at times—especially when anxious.

Although short and slightly round, with a temperament that was fierier than what was expected of a man his age, his bespectacled features and propensity to check his pocket watch was enough to endear him to Key. While Mr. Alastair was more of a mentor, Mr. Harper was almost like a grandfather figure, even if his head was stuck in the clouds. His mood swings were also something to look out for, and his somewhat eccentric way of thinking was an affront to others, but a number of the staff had attributed it to his days as a young Heartslabyul Housewarden affecting his mental health.

Or something like that.

Whatever the case, he had taken Key out to the town before, introducing her to the best shops in town that apparently could rival the deals one could obtain from the famed Mystery Shop (Key had yet to see the place in business since it wasn’t open during the summer). In fact, the café that Key had taken Cameron to had come highly recommended by Ol’ Harper himself. The food usually came out late, he would say with marked distaste, but it would rapidly dissipate to give way for his love of sweets and the cute presentation of the food that he would order.

He had also shown sympathy and regret when Key had told him that she couldn’t eat many things, often citing dietary restrictions.

One of the many spots Harper had taken her to was the beach, and beyond that was the boardwalk. It was a small, almost paltry affair compared to the rest of the tourist worthy destinations on the Isle of Sages. While well maintained, and wide enough for at least four people to walk side by side, and long enough to jut out a fair distance away from the island, it was not visited by many people.

Perhaps due to the fact that summer wasn’t a time meant for tourism, and it was a fairly secluded spot.

It didn’t matter why: Key wanted to be alone for a little while.

In Night Raven College, it was rare to be alone. In the main building, there were paintings in almost every classroom and most hallways. Furthermore, there were also a series of ghosts that would come and go, their purposes forever unfulfilled the longer they were bound to the mortal plain. One could argue that Key could find solace in one of the many passageways that served as shortcuts (both magical and logical). However, she had spent enough time in some of them to know that if she was on duty and needed a breather, there was always a slight chance that there was already someone else there.

That simply wasn’t a chance she wanted to take.

Bad enough that she had been on the verge of breaking down due to the stressful circumstances (with there being even more stress to deal with… courtesy to one certain Headmage) and that she had been seen by someone she cautiously—and then wholeheartedly—trusted while she was in the midst of spiraling. She had seen Cameron’s questioning looks, but the more she put off that conversation (and she hoped that she would never have to talk about that ever, because that would lead to other questions with answers she couldn’t even think about), the less she thought she saw him look so concerned.

(There were the probing questions, of course, but she wouldn’t exactly be lying if she didn’t know what he was talking about, right?)

So, away from the hectic stresses of tending to the various buildings at Night Raven College, and the normality that graced the town behind her, Key walked down the boardwalk and when she reached the edge, pulled off her backpack and laid it beside her as she sat down. Approximately twenty minutes had passed since she had left Cameron, which meant…

When had they eaten dinner? Seven in the afternoon?

How late was it anyway?

Question pestering at the back of her mind now, and knowing that she wouldn’t be able to relax if she didn’t at least try answering that question, Key pulled out the pocket watch from the side pocket of her overalls. Much to her displeasure, her protests about being given a gift from Ol’ Harper had proved fruitless. Apparently, it was tradition for him to give timepieces of various different types (Emilio had shown Key his wristwatch while Zaria had idly showed her a tiny hourglass that hung from a small keychain attached to the lanyard she had around her neck) to new additions of the cleaning crew. He was of the mind that if he gave them a way to not be late, they wouldn’t be.

(Rumor had it he used this same tactic when he was Housewarden, but there was no proof to show for it).

The truth of the matter was that most of the custodians were keen on keeping to their schedules because all hell would break loose if certain chemicals in the labs were left unchecked or if the various types of flora in the botanical gardens were left unattended. That, and the combined disappointment from Mr. Alastair and frenzied anger from Mr. Harper was more than enough to deter tardiness. And turnover? It was at a surprisingly low rate, so maybe it wasn’t too bad of an incentive.

It humbled and sobered Key when she had been presented the pocket watch by a quivering but excited rabbit beastman. It was just a gift, a wonderful welcome compared to the trials and tribulations that she had been going through, but a part of her felt like it was one of many nails that were being drilled into her coffin. First, she had been given duties to help out the school. Then, she had been offered flexible hours and a wage. And now? It was like Mr. Harper was telling her that there was no way she was leaving this strange, magical world. Months had passed and yet, wasn’t it too early to even think about giving up?

Key had been diligent in researching, but even she had to admit to herself that sometimes she would be looking into books that had nothing to do with trans-dimensional travel but rather with culture, politics, history, and the various collections of literature from an assortment of cultures.

Was she also giving up on herself?

Key pressed the fob atop her pocket watch (a small affair that fit in her palm and was engraved with an elegant design of a bird—a crow or raven perhaps—resting on a gnarled branch) and allowed the gentle light of the moon to reflect off the timepiece. Reluctant she may have been in the beginning, but now, there were times when the sound of the constant ticking relaxed her when she was alone with nothing but her thoughts.

“I still need a phone, though,” Key muttered to herself.

What a pain this whole being dumped in a new world thing was, she couldn’t help but think. If she was going to be a secretary, she reasoned, she would have to convince Crowley that she would need a communication device. Preferably one that wasn’t the walkie talkie that was used when multiple teams of the custodial crew were expected to be on duty at the same time. Not only would she no longer be disconnected from the rest of her coworkers when she wasn’t on duty, but she would also have access to the internet… Perhaps she could try strong-arming Crowley into paying the cell service?

Unfortunately the nighttime atmosphere, with the gentle sound of waves crashing upon the shore and the gentle light of the moon shining down upon her, wasn’t enough to illuminate the pocket watch. This time, Key tapped her other pocket and pulled out a lighter. Disposable and transparent, the light purple lighter was about three quarters of the way full. As she expertly pressed down on the sparkwheel before smoothly transitioning to the button below to activate it, a burst of flame sprouted forth. Although small, it did not flicker and she angled her pocket watch to get a glimpse of the time.

Hmmm….

Quarter to nine already?

As staff, she didn’t need to heed curfew. Furthermore, she was done with her assigned areas and wasn’t expected to turn up for night duty for a while yet. It would be smart to go back now, but…

Lazily, she laid on her back, the cool and rough wood of the boardwalk providing a facsimile of stability and comfort as she allowed her bare feet to dangle off the edge. She was not tall and the water had not risen enough for her feet to dip in, but that was fine. She could walk alongside the beach later if she wanted to get her toes wet.

Eyes closed now, she fiddled with her lighter, the comfortable weight providing a familiar sense of security. Despite knowing that the fluid in the lighter would eventually disappear, she flicked it on.

And off.

On.

And off.

On.

And—

“Oi! Henchman! Did I get admitted or what?”

Key released her finger from the trigger of the lighter and blearily opened her eyes. Above her, appearing upside down, was a creature that looked like a feline if it were not for the bright blue flames that grew from his ears and the tri-pronged tail that swished with irritation behind him.

There was also the added fact that this strange creature had spoken.

“I keep telling you this, call me Key.” She closed her eyes again, trying to relive the peace from before, but found herself spluttering in indignation when a furry mass of indeterminable weight suddenly cannonballed onto her stomach. “Geeze! I can’t get you into the school if my internal organs have ruptured!”

“But, Henchman,” the strange beast whined, “you told me that you would put in a good word with that Headmage of yours. Did I get in? Did I? Did I?”

Perhaps if the creature was a small excitable child or maybe if his voice wasn’t so loud like he was trying to broadcast to the entire world his presence, she would have felt the urge to scratch under his chin or around his ears. Instead, all she did was sit up straight, almost causing the catlike creature to bowl over into the ocean.

“Sorry, Boss,” she muttered in half-hearted apology. “But it’s not up to him, you know? It’s up to the Dark Mirror and besides, we still have to find accommodations for you on the off chance that he does admit you even if the Dark Mirror doesn’t recommend it—”

The strange creature pouted at her, his blue eyes glinting ominously in the darkness. Had this been their first meeting, Key would have been scared enough to manhandle him into the ocean. Yet, sadly enough, this wasn't their first meeting.

It wasn't even their second meeting.

If Key cared to keep track, she would have said that this was actually the fifth time this week and at least a couple dozen times in total after this strange creature had basically imprinted on her all those months ago. Why he thought that she was his ticket into the school she had no clue.

Though, she supposed it was because he took great pains to avoid staff considering he was still a trespasser.

Out of all the custodians stationed at Night Raven College, she was practically the only one who had yet to lay a hand on him.

"Why look for accommodations?" He placed his paws against his hips, the very picture of indignation, expressing his displeasure on Key's lap. "I've seen you and that fox guy around that creepy old building. If you're fixing it, maybe I can stay there too!"

Key shrugged. "That's the plan, but again, the Headmage still has to accept you as his student. Last time I checked, he still thinks of you as a familiar and that's if he's even convinced that you're still lurking around campus." She thought for a moment. "Why hide from him anyway? It would be so much easier if you talked—”

"Psssht! Nah! I want to amaze that Headmage of yours at our first meeting!"

Key took off her spectacles before her right hand massaged her temples. "You say that every time, but the more you say it, the more I think that you're just afraid. Also, he's not my Headmage. Employer, sure, but I am definitely not his student."

The creature laughed, the roughness of such intonations made Key's own throat hurt, but she supposed that his anatomy was made up of much stronger stuff. Just how many times had he been thrown out of the school? You would think a creature as small as the cat beast would not be able to withstand the force of getting booted out of school property. The creature should have sustained some sort of injury at least, but he still looked fine. 

All too soon, that laughter stopped. "I am not afraid. Henchman."

"Could’ve fooled me." She lay back down on the boardwalk, her gaze steadfastly focused on the waxing moon above. "If you're so brave, why not tell me your name? It'd be a step in the direction, or so I'm told."

The creature rolled his eyes before hopping off Key.

“I’m too awesome to introduce myself to you!”

Key wished that she could turn her brain off, but then decided against it when she felt furry paws prodding at her cheek. Once upon a time, before it had been established that this delightful bane of her existence was actually a sentient beast with delusions of grandeur, she had tried to scratch the area between his flaming ears and even coo at him for being cute. Sure, his head reached her knees when he stood up and he was far from the cutest, furriest cat she had ever seen, but she lived under the unspoken rule that if there was a furry creature in her midst and it wasn’t immediately trying to claw her face off, she would pet it. Fortunately for her, while the beast did in fact have claws, he actively chose to threaten her with a dark scowl and an even darker tone of voice.

Small mercies, she supposed.

“All right, Mr. Too-Good-For-Introductions, I guess I’ll just have to call off the whole thing. It’s not like I was trying to help you out all this time for nothing.” She yawned and felt him flinch at the puff of air that must have fluffed up his fur. “I guess I won’t save money for your precious tuna anymore.”

A beat.

And then his paws disappeared from her face and the feeling of warmth that accompanied him wherever he went (flaming ears and fur and all) was no longer felt. Like a ghost in the night, the cat-like beast had fled, leaving her alone on the boardwalk with her back pressed against the wood and her feet dangling above the water.  

She sighed, disappointed that he had seemingly decided that it was better for her to wallow in not knowing who he was or why he wanted to be a student at Night Raven College when there were at least a dozen reputable academies that could easily rival the school (believe her, she had checked) and hundreds more that were just as good. While the beast was rude and made Key want to pull her hair out—a feat that the Headmage was usually the one to accomplish—she could not deny that she found him… endearing was a word that probably didn’t fit, but she did somewhat tolerate him, which bordered on caring at times.

She had lost track of how many times she had seen him skulking about whenever she was either on duty or wandering the campus grounds. Sometimes, he would blow raspberries or throw a few harmless fireballs at her that would dissipate into thin, but humid air before hitting her. He would laugh and she would threaten him with eviction, but she never did follow through with her threats. There were a few close calls—especially with her beastman coworkers—but for the most part, the creature’s presence largely remained unknown to the rest of the staff.

Whatever the case, the beast had gone and with him, Key’s ability to care about going back to the school.

It was fairly warm on the boardwalk and she was largely comfortable lying there. Spending the night outside wouldn’t be against any rules; it wasn’t like she was under any obligation to go back until sometime in the early morning. Besides, it wasn’t like anybody would care if she showed up out of nowhere.

As she settled against the boardwalk, lighter once more in hand, she resigned herself to the elements and closed her eyes.

And then something sharp caressed the arch of her foot.

Chapter Text

Springing up in shock, Key brought her knees close to her chest as she sat up and peered into the water. Because the moonlight wasn’t the best at illuminating her surroundings, Key decided it was a good idea to lean over the edge of the boardwalk and use her lighter to brighten up the water. Unfortunately, while her lighter could show her the time on her pocket watch, it couldn't do much against the brackish water that continued to swirl and crash against the legs of the boardwalk. 

She had felt something touch her foot! It couldn’t have been a twig or drifting seaweed, her legs had dangled over the water, yes, but she was still so short and the ocean had not risen enough for her feet to submerge themselves. To have something touch her foot, it would have to be reaching out of the water!

Scared, but mostly curious, Key continued to hold the lighter over the water, the flame dancing brilliantly in her fingers.

As the minutes passed and her fingers began to tire from pressing down so harshly on the lighter, she had no choice but to switch the lighter off. Again, she was bathed in mostly darkness, but that did little to shed light on the situation that had occurred.

Was it just her imagination?

A part of her thought that she had already been desensitized to most of the strange and weird creatures of this world. However, in hindsight she supposed that having only spent her days with either the cleaning crew—albeit, one made up of an eclectic menagerie of members hailing from many parts of the world—or going down to the town in the middle of the island probably did not include the greater, vaster picture of what Twisted Wonderland was like.

If this was simply her imagination, Key was already lamenting her stupid decision to waste the butane that was rapidly dwindling in her lighter. She was no expert when it came to lighters, but she knew that if she used it enough, all of the gas would be gone and this was a disposable lighter; it wasn’t meant to be refilled, but thrown away.

Which would be a shame.

It was one of the few things that she still had from home.

Pocketing the lighter back into her overalls, Key decided that it must have been the stress of the inevitable that caused this lapse in judgment. With all of her secretarial duties, her janitorial work, the ongoing process of adjusting to a new world, and of course, Cameron leaving for good come the end of the summer…it was not exactly unexpected that she would be mentally suffering in such a way. At the very least, she thought with a wry smile, she wasn’t curled up in a ball on the floor bawling.

Losing her sense of reality was almost preferable.

Key drew her knees up to her chest, toying with the hem of her overalls’ pants. It had been folded over many times to accommodate for her much shorter frame, with certain areas being frayed. Denim was a hardy material, but time and usage clearly hadn’t been kind to it. That wasn’t surprising; Key didn’t expect to find something of high quality from the lost and found bin. As she played with the material, she glanced up at the sky again, the moon slightly obscured by a slew of clouds covering the waxing moon. Had she felt so inclined, she would have laid upon the boardwalk again, her legs dangling once more, but she decided that she had enough fun for one night and decided to roll onto her side, still in the fetal position.

This position was uncomfortable, but she wasn’t planning on sleeping soon.

She still wasn’t sure if she was going to spend the night sleeping outside or if she wanted to head back to the staff dormitories.

As she lay on her side, eyes fluttering closed, she reached a hand out and tapped the boardwalk. Once upon a time, she had been trained by a retired piano player who frequented the church that she and her family attended. Through a series of coincidences and odd conversations around water fountains, she found herself introduced to a world of music.

Hymnal and Catholic, yes, but she had eventually moved onto more secular music.

At the moment, Key tapped out the sung melody of “Lord of the Dance”. It was a lively dance tune, one that sounded particularly beautiful on an organ, but could pack an extra punch on piano. Whenever it was Easter Sunday, the pianist would play this exact song as the ending hymn as the priest and the altar servers would go down the aisle and towards the entranceway to say goodbye to their parishioners. Always, Key would find her hands wrapped around the hymnal and her little face pointed upwards.

She was no singer, but she loved this song so much.

As Key tapped along to the second to the final verse before the chorus, she heard something that, at any other time she would have ignored, but at this precise moment, startled her. Her tapping ceased and without consciously deciding to do so, she held her breath. For a moment, all was silent.

At this point, two very strange things happened.

First, something sharp had touched her ankle.

And then, she heard something… tap . It was almost like that sound was as if in answer to her little tune that she was playing. As if it were parroting her.

Slowly, she sat up, conscious as to how her weight shifted upon the wood. The boardwalk wasn’t too old or aged, but she didn’t want to chance making the wood creak or giving away her position. Again, like the last time she had been startled, she glanced around her surroundings.

There was no one behind her.

No one on either side of her. 

That only left…

She crawled on the boardwalk, feeling slightly foolish at having landed herself in this situation, and peered over the edge. Water, just dark water.

That feeling of being slightly foolish immediately morphed into stabbing clarity of mortification. When she had accompanied Cameron to dinner earlier, she was certain that she had not touched a morsel on his plate—there was no way she had ingested something that could have done something to impair her cognizance. What was more, she was also sure that if she had indeed eaten something, wouldn’t have the effects appeared earlier?

Then again, she did happen to ask for a glass of water (for free!)…

Whatever the case, these two coincidences would eventually make way for a third incident and knowing how certain things came in threes, Key didn’t want to chance fate and see what Twisted Wonderland had in store for her next. Screw walking around in the dark, she was going back to the staff dormitories because the boardwalk was clearly more haunted than the cafeteria.

As turned away from the boardwalk’s edge, intent on tugging on her socks so she could walk in her boots, she heard another tap.

A thud against the wood beneath her feet.

And then—

A deluge—a wave?—of water came crashing down upon her from her left side.

Shrieking in dismay, Key hopped up to her feet and thought screw society and ethics, guess I’ll have to wear my boots without socks as she tried to make a mad dash for her boots and then her backpack and—

Where was her backpack?

Her eyes had long since adjusted to the dim lighting underneath the pale moonlight, but even that was hardly enough for her. She brought out her lighter again, fully knowing that the flame could barely light up more than a few inches in all directions—maybe even a few feet if it was dark enough—and flicked it on. It took a couple harried tries, with her becoming more and more frazzled by the second, but the instant the lighter was flaring with flame, she dashed over to the edge of the water, taking care not to get too close—

“Oh my god, there’s a face. There’s a freakin’—”

The fire from her lighter went out and had she not held a lot of sentimental value for something she could easily replace at the nearest corner store, she would have immediately dropped it in the water.

She stumbled away from the boardwalk’s edge, intent on running away, but found herself tumbling backwards when her legs caught on the strap of her—

WHAT THE FUCK.

Was that her backpack just now?

Key’s backpack was clearly gone only moments ago and now it was suspiciously behind her and if this was all  because of that stupid cat beast’s doing, she was going to throw him into main building’s kitchens and then turn him into stew and—

Tap.

Tap.

Thud .

That last thud rocked the boardwalk and all thoughts of killing the creature with the flames died as she felt the reverberations through her socked feet. 

Not. Good.

Gone, she was going to be gone. Carefully, she hooked her fingers around the straps of her backpack and wore it. She then decided to just take her boots in hand and run, but as she was about to grab them from the floor (she could have sworn they were a lot closer to the edge than she had dropped them), she immediately drew back.

Because a very clawed—

—and a very slimy—

—and a very dark—

—hand jutted out of the water…

And if she were to look past the hand—

—let her eyes follow the path of that arm (with fins)—

—to the very broad shoulders—

—and into the eerily glowing eye upon an inhuman face—

She would see that she was not alone.

A while ago, she was aching for more light so she could glance at her watch for the time. Now, she wished that there were more clouds to cover up the waxing moon. As her deep brown eyes stared into the swirling gold that seemed to wink and laugh back at her, she happened to glance down at where there was supposed to be a mouth, and was met with the glint of teeth—so sharp, very sharp, almost like needles—and she felt the pit in her stomach drop to her toes.

How desperate was she to keep her footwear?

On one hand, she had very few pairs of shoes and the work boots that she had been given (and was supposed to be wearing at this moment) were supposed to be used for… work . It had taken Mr. Alastair ages to find a pair of second hand boots for her to use. Sure, she had another pair of shoes, but there were times when working in a magic institution that you needed material that could easily withstand corrosive potions that were spilt or could provide comfort while traipsing the large expanse that was the campus grounds.

However—

She liked her fingers. They weren’t the prettiest or the slenderest fingers out there, but she liked to believe that having all ten of them attached to her hands added to her charm.

Was she willing to sacrifice a pinkie just so she wouldn’t have to beg or shell out what little money she could spare for new work boots?

Decisions, decisions.

The disappointed face of Mr. Alastair popped into her mind’s eye.

“Carpe diem,” she muttered and went for it.

And then wished she hadn’t.

If before she was wondering if the creature below the water was a predator, she was quite certain of it now. As her fingers grazed against the worn fabric of her secondhand boots, the clawed hand shifted from petting the footwear to gripping her tight on the wrist. Before the realization could strike her down and render her as useless as a deer in the headlights, the hand then pulled.

Hard .

It wasn’t a soft tug to grab one’s attention.

And it wasn’t a grasp that could lull someone into a false sense of security.

No, the clawed hand that jerked her face first into the water was tight and yielded no mercy, even as Key tried to pull away or right her balance. It was far too late, even as she screamed and begged—only the first few syllables coming out before she was dragged underneath the waves.

The water was frigid, the sudden change in temperature caused Key’s muscles to lock up and her breath to be stolen away from her throat. She kicked out, her arms (both of them now free) clawing upwards. Eyes wide open now, she was barely aware of something—perhaps two somethings—circling around her. Every so often, as the creatures passed around her in a completed revolution, she would spot at least one glowing eye leering at her, laughter and mischief evident even in such a dark setting.

Dimly, she thought she could hear something amidst the water rushing through her ears and the customary muffled sounds that came with being dunked underwater.

Key had heard once before that sounds traveled faster and far longer in the water than in the air. It had something to do with physics and water molecules, but the reason why humans and presumably other animals not adjusted to life under the sea couldn’t hear much of anything underwater was because they already had a variety of fluids in their brains. Whatever sounds humans could process in their brains was long since scrambled by inherent biology.

The sounds she heard… it sounded like it rose and fell rhythmically. A cadence. Like… language? Spoken language?

There were at least two tones, one more mischievous and the other a little calmer…

But that was all Key could discern before she finally broke through the surface of the water, fully intent on escaping what she assumed were bloodthirsty locals hellbent on dragging her to the bottom of the ocean and harvesting her organs. (She’d later find herself foolish, but to be frank, not everybody can think rationally after having been dragged into the ocean).

Gasping for breath now, Key hurriedly paddled forward.

Or, at least she tried to.

You see, while Key was quite knowledgeable on a variety of topics, she was quite literally out of her depth when it came to water that was over five feet. She didn’t grow up visiting the local pool or going to the beach on vacation. Instead, she had climbed trees or babysat some of her neighbor’s kids for some extra cash.

As much as it pained her to admit, she wouldn’t be surprised if she actually drowned here. Even those weird humanoid beings who dragged her below must have sensed that she was no use in the water. If they wanted her to die, all they had to do was wait a few minutes until Key’s panicked flailing would eventually tire and she would succumb to the frigid chill of the ocean before passing from this plane of existence.

And then—

When the young custodian was about to go under after having swallowed so much saltwater, she felt a pair of arms grab her by the torso and—

The scream that forced its way from her saltwater filled lungs and out of her mouth was nothing short of terrifying. Had the ghosts from the Night Raven College grounds accompanied her on this excursion, they would have given her a ten out of ten for perfect execution. An inborn talent for haunting, the ghost who patrolled the area near the Headmage’s office would say.

Perhaps the Ramshackle ghosts would welcome her with open arms considering the fact that she had been putting a lot of time and effort into their property.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. At the end of the day, Key supposed that it would make more sense if she ended up haunting this boardwalk… at the very least, the locals would end up profiting from a haunted attraction since normal tourists weren’t allowed to visit any of the campuses on the island without special permission or relation to the students.

Her head hit the boardwalk first followed by the rest of her body.

As the reverberations of the blunt force trauma echoed throughout her skull, she opened her eyes one last time to see a large, imposing black mass that dropped water everywhere before curling around her frame and gently letting her rest on her back.

Before submitting to the cold, the accumulated stress from the past few months, and this weird incident, she could barely make out icy blue eyes regarding her from behind that same writhing black mass.

Chapter Text

“Time and a place! A place and a time! Were it not for my unsteady pace, I could surely better rhyme!”

Please.

No.

Key, who had been barely stirring from pained sleep, tried to screw her eyes back shut and chase after Morpheus for leaving too soon. Unfortunately for her, the person who had been singing the senseless little ditty must have heard her—an obvious oversight on her part considering that the singer owned a pair of very sensitive rabbit ears.

Gloved fingers tapped her cheek and flicked her nose. “Oh, yes, my dear Miss Key. Try as you might, I’m afraid that running away would be far from beneficial at the moment!” He tittered to himself before sobering. “There’s a time and place for everything, Little Miss. Sleeping outside is all well and good—encouraged even in some circles!—but I fear that you’ll catch a cold since you’re not wearing the appropriate clothing!”

Key groaned and finally faced her current minder.

Horace Harper, a rabbit beastman, used to be the Housewarden of Heartslabyul a couple decades back. Although it had been a while since his two year tenure as dorm head, he still carried with him the memory and spirit of austerity of the Queen of Hearts herself. Short—with just a few scant inches on Key—and stout, with a magnificent mustache that he liked to twirl when bored, he was a man whose head was usually found in the skies, but when he finally made his way back down to earth, most of the cleaning crew found him to be a reliable mentor and stringent custodian.

But he did have a temper and a vindictive steak if rumors were to be believed.

With his owl rimmed glasses slightly askew, the joyful crow’s feet dancing around his eyes,  and his customary red checkered waistcoat he chose to wear whenever he was out of uniform, he looked the very image of a grandfatherly gentleman taking a midnight stroll.

“And yet,” Key muttered as she tried to swallow away the roughness in her mouth, “you’re wearing a waistcoat and brogues on the beach, Mr. Harper.”

“Time and a place,” the rabbit beastman tutted. “Rudeness is quite fine in the right contexts, of course, but one might find that your outspoken—nay! brash—behavior to be extremely distasteful in this particular circumstance! What with your carousing about, taking with you one of our dear students without explicit permission from the proper authorities, and then, I am informed by that same student that you would not return to the staff dormitories! A few decades ago, a scandal would have followed in your wake!”

Had Key been standing tall, she would have bowed her head low and taken it all without complaint. She liked to tease and enjoy the tentative camaraderie that she had with the rest of her peers, but at the end of the day…

In place of a bowed head, she closed her eyes and angled her head away from the rabbit beastman. He didn’t usually cut an imposing figure, but considering that he was kneeling beside her, his glasses glinting underneath the waxing moon, one would have to say otherwise.

She muttered, a mere whisper passing through her lips.  “Sorry, Mr. Horace. I just… Time and a place, right? I just wanted to be by myself where I can…” She paused, brows furrowing as she tried to find the right words. “… where I can actually be myself.”

Because when she was alone, she didn’t have to play up the part of the wayward orphan that Crowley happened to find. When she was by herself and pretended to think that the sky above was her sky, she could almost believe that she hadn’t fallen into some twisted reality where her childhood VHS tapes had become godlike in this world’s reimagining and that she wasn’t so hopelessly lost.

The rabbit beastman made a slight noise before Key could hear him ease off his knees, resuming a cross-legged position. Had she not felt so ashamed from before, she would have teased him for sitting in a fashion reminiscent of a child during reading time.

“I apologize, Miss Key. Sometimes, it is I who forgets that while it seems like there is always a time and place for everything, that is not always the case. Sometimes, there is neither a time nor a place like the present.”

Key kept quiet, not yet keen on risking getting herself reprimanded again for saying the wrong thing.

“It was wrong of me to scold you so early in the morning, and when you’re in such a frightful state as this.” Had Key kept her eyes open, she would have seen him gesture at her, a concerned frown etched on his wrinkled features.

“Hmmm…”

She opened her eyes, noting for the first time, the lack of a light weight upon the bridge of her nose. Pressing a wary finger against the back of her eyelids, she noted her surprisingly dry skin and how her clothing seemed… starchy and stiff, completely lacking all of the water that should have been still soaking her… How long had it been?  

“I suppose now is the right time to tell you thank you for finding me, drying my clothing, and then waiting for me to wake up.” A beat. “I’m sorry, again, Mr. Horace. A simple thank you should have been enough.”

A paternal hand on Key’s shoulder prompted her to look back up at him, her myopia obscuring most of his features, but she knew that he must have been looking down at her with sympathy. Or maybe even pity.

There must’ve been something on her face, maybe even in her eyes, because he simply held her. The pressure on her shoulder was enough to warm the skin underneath, not at all tight or restrictive as the grip that held her down and pulled her underneath the water of the boardwalk had been.

“Miss Key, you are quite welcome. Although—" His gloved fingers flexed upon the fabric of her clothing, and while she could not see the brilliance of his red eyes, she knew that he was cataloguing every facet of her form with a scrutiny usually reserved for scientists praying at their microscopes. “—while I am a man of many talents, I don’t believe that drying your clothing was on my to-do list when I first found you. Making a brief health assessment, yes—which, by the way, I am not above waking Dr. Park even at this late hour because based on both that unsightly bruise and swelling on your forehead alongside the way you’ve been responding, you have a concussion—but other than that… Did you fall in?”

Key thought about sitting up, but realized that even if she had the strength to move, she definitely did not have the strength to grin and bear it. Pain was gathering at the edges of her consciousness—a sort of throbbing quite like a drumbeat, or maybe even her heartbeat, pounding in her ears. This pain… Whatever happened to the strange things she had seen, that had grabbed and pulled her under?

Had they…?

She heaved a breath and slowly shook her head, almost instantly regretting her decision when she felt the throbbing in her skull escalate to a full-scale pinprick, akin to a knife embedding and twisting into the very meat of her brain.

Shaking her head, she sighed a brief, but very regretful, “No.”

The rabbit beastman hummed a tune, similar to the one that he was singing earlier. “Hitting your head as hard as you did, that might mess with your memories, and with the way you've already been experiencing memory problems...?"

His voice trailed off, but Key had heard enough.

Like always, as with the other members of the staff, he was probing. Key had first been inducted into the custodial crew after it became apparent that the journey home the Headmage had promised her wasn't in the cards as of yet. She had been understanding—but overwhelmed, very overwhelmed—but after some time, she hated it. All of that attention—unneeded, unnecessary—it should have gone to someone far more deserving.

She was alone, yes, but she wasn't an orphan.

Lost and confused were words that could easily describe her here, but she wasn't a helpless little foundling that the Headmage happened to find in his wanderings in the forest or whatever story he managed to cook up on any given day.

Over time, she had grown to deflect their concerns and their questions. Maybe they were well meaning, but over time, it hurt Key deeply. She just wanted all of their platitudes, their curiosities to stop.

When she was an orphan with a brain that was gaping more holes than swiss cheese with a story to match, that's all she was. A charity case who wore clothes too big and given gifts meant for someone else.

She was Key, but she wasn't supposed to be.

But Key was here and Key liked to make things light even when the atmosphere around her was dark.

"If I bump my head again, do you think memories will start pouring into my brain? Or will they start falling out again?"

An intake of breath. Was that an aborted laugh from Mr. Harper?

"Time and place, Miss Key." He rose to his full height and swatted at the back of his pants to get rid of the imaginary dust so that his equally imaginary audience wouldn't see and straightened his waistcoat. "Can you stand?"

Key swallowed back the urge to scream when she moved her upper body into a seated position, but managed to get her legs underneath in working order. For a beastman, he was not as powerful as his carnivore contemporaries, but he was leagues ahead of a human who had taken a fall. That didn't mean that she wanted to take advantage of him. He had already done so much for her.

So, undeserving little orphan that she was, she stood up on her own.

She swayed a little, but righted herself.

"You wouldn't have happened to have seen my glasses have you?"

"Ah, yes." He stretched out the 's' in his yes, as if testing the waters of what he was about to say to her. "I found these—" He snapped his fingers as the gem on the pocket watch attached to his waistcoat faintly glowed. Key watched dazedly as her glasses appeared in his gloved hands. "—near your head, neatly folded like so, and yet..."

"Hmm?"

“You didn’t happen to have dropped them in the water did you? They were wet and before I had the chance to stop myself from touching and drying them by hand, I noticed that they were… slimy.”

All doubt that Key had been ambushed by at least a pair of undersea miscreants had been instantaneously quelled and with a fanfare that nearly quashed the air out of her lungs. So, everything that happened before her mishap was true…

“Mr. Horace?”

“Ask away, Miss Key. No time like the present, but I would prefer we get moving soon enough.”

“Do merfolk come by these waters?”

The staff dormitories were separated like their student counterparts. Education had their own dormitories sequestered behind a painting a few paces away from the Headmage’s office, the gardeners had their own private space known only to them in one of the zones best suited to their tastes, stable hands and farmers had quarters close to their stations, but Key liked the concept behind the custodial staff’s dorms the most.  Because the grounds were expansive, every janitorial closet had a hidden nook visible only to the initiated cleaning crew and could only be opened by such. Each of the supply closets were interconnected by a mixture of transdimensional and defense magic—a relic of when castles used to employ mages so that they could evacuate both royals and their loyal servants quickly when under attack. So, entering one supply closet would lead the custodians into one shared space, their dormitories, kitchen, and general living quarters.

It didn’t take long to walk back from the boardwalk and to the portal that would take them  to the hall of mirrors. Despite the relatively short distance and Key having mostly recovered from the previous events, Mr. Harper took it upon himself to offer his arm for her to grab. Reluctantly, but still shaken from before, she took it and allowed herself to lean against him from time to time. It did not help at all that the fabric of his clothing, no matter how fancy and austere it might have appeared, was actually really soft and his high body warmth made her sleepy and content against his side.

As they seamlessly stepped into the mirror and into the hall of mirrors, they took an abrupt left turn a few steps away from the closest mirror and toward a nondescript wooden door. Although most students weren’t aware of the nature of the supply closets that were all over the campus, it was no secret that the scholarship students and repeat disciplinary offenders were fairly acquainted with the custodial staff. It wasn’t common for the custodians to reveal their living quarters to their assigned charges, but it wasn’t unheard of.

Sometimes, staff grew close to the scholarship students and revealed to them a few shortcuts scattered all over the school. Some of them were already known (as they were often called open school secrets) while others were revealed to them upon a binding oath of secrecy. And well… if your academic and tutor professional life was on the line, you’d keep mum about it, too, wouldn’t you?

Most of the time, though, most students who were affiliated with the cleaning crew just thought the supply closets were simply that: closets full of supplies. Often, there would be shelves filled with bottles of disinfectant, a station meant for charging various electronics like walkie talkies and the odd cell phone, and a few cleaning carts for those ready to attack the ever present battle of grime and dust. On the off chance that students were allowed to acquaint themselves with the finer workings of the supply closets, they would need the express permission and direct supervision of an actual custodian. And if not?

Well; some secrets refused to reveal themselves while others bit back to remain undisclosed.

Once inside the supply closet, Mr. Harper pressed a finger against one of the walls of the closet. There, visible to those who were privy to the secrets of the custodial staff, a web of interlocking and intricate cracks formed what appeared to be an indistinct representation of the inner workings of a lock. Once a registered custodian pressed a finger at the center point of the web of cracks and turned counterclockwise—like a key—the web of cracks would turn.

Any locksmith worth their salt could see the cogs and the pins line up and turn, the telltale shadow of clicking mechanisms whirring together in harmony as the cracks began to grow and morph into a shadowy mass. Once the mass was large enough to become as tall as a regulation sized doorway, the custodians (and any available guests under their discretion) would be able to enter.

To anyone new to the living spaces of the custodians, you would be hard pressed to not be surprised by what you saw. The teachers’ staff rooms were modeled after a gentleman’s lounge, but with a few distinct touches here and there to signal that there were at least a few female educational instructors; the stable and farm hands had a simple, rustic homestead on the grounds; and the gardeners had a small little cottage that was covered in prickly ivy and poisonous flora to keep trespassers away. However, it was the custodians’ lounge that had Key looking forward to coming here at the end of every day.

Most would say that the living space was messy and cluttered, but all the furniture looked well lived in and if one were to look closely, every artifact was rather distinct and different to form an amalgamation of everything that should not go together, but seemingly did. There was a coffee table saved from a fire that ravaged the City of Flowers a few decades ago. On the walls, there were a plethora of non-magical paintings that were salvaged from a young, disillusioned artist who was no longer passionate about her work. And in the communal kitchens, although the plates, dishware, and silverware were all from different makes and years, they all cohabited together to create harmony.

For every scratch and blemish, there was always a helping hand willing to buff, polish, clean, or fix the newest addition to the janitorial dorm. Most of the other staff (those who deigned to visit the custodial dorms instead of messaging them in a group chat about the newest potions lab incident or a leaky faucet gone awry), turned their nose up at such a practice. Why not use magic (for there were a number of strong mages in their ranks) to fix or make anew their belongings? Or, why not use the money they made to actually buy furniture that belonged together?

Outsiders would take one look at the hodgepodge of horribly clashing aesthetics and turn up their nose at it, but they failed to look further and see the love and care each custodian had for their living space.

Magic was efficient, yes, but there was something inherently magical about using all of your physical strength to wipe away the dust, sand away the imperfections, and use an old fashioned hammer and nail to set things upright.

Teachers were guides, the stable and farm hands were producers, and the gardeners were cultivators.

But it was the custodians who helped maintain balance and find beauty in the discarded and broken.

(The provision of salvaged items was more than likely due to the fact that contrary to popular belief, just because they worked at a prestigious institution, that didn’t mean that they were paid fairly. Thanks be to Crowley as always).

On one of the couches that was taken from Pyroxene (a beautiful piece that hailed from a time period that only the very old could even remember), there was a woman in her mid-thirties who looked up at them from behind the cover of a raunchy romance novel and immediately stood. Tall and muscular, Zaria Smirnova was a native of the snowy mountains famed in Pyroxene. She came from a line of snow leopard beastman, renowned for helping tourists traverse some of the tallest peaks to compete in world records. Why she decided to forgo her prestigious line for that of an ordinary sanitation worker was beyond anyone’s guess. For the most part, she kept to herself, but she did have moments where she interacted with her fellow custodians and it wasn’t uncommon to see her prowling around the library to talk to Lady Fairchild about… “politics”.

The instant Zaria’s verdant gaze settled on Key’s figure, like a heat seeking missile launcher finally setting its sights on its final target, Key knew that she was doomed. While she and Zaria were amicable, they weren't all too close with each other. In fact, the only custodians Zaria could claim to be close to were Emilio and Zahur. Those three had a special sort of relationship that Emilio alluded to with jokes, but he always regarded his partners with tender gazes and loving touches. 

It was cute that Emilio often called them Z-Squared since they often worked together and were often the people who cleaned after Emilio’s bouts of carelessness and pranks. 

"It's not too late to take me straight to Dr. Park," Key faux whispered under Zaria's waiting gaze. The bespectacled young woman did not miss how the snow leopard beastman's ears twitched and the warning growl that slipped past her canines. Clearly, she was not in the mood for games. "I said I didn't want to suffer another lecture, not that I wanted to die a painful death."

At the same time that the rabbit beastman pushed Key in the direction of her fate, Zaria pounced from beside the couch and intercepted the young woman halfway before Key could stumble into the couch. The raunchy erotic novel was open to an illustration of a young man swooning in front of what appeared to be a dragon before Key was made to sit down as Zaria crouched in front of her.

"Up."

At Zaria's command, Key immediately looked up and did not resist when the older woman gently moved her face from side to side, her long, sharp nailed fingers grasping Key's chin. Verdant green eyes took in all of Key's flaws and tiniest imperceptions. Had it not been for the fact that Key knew that Zaria didn't mean any harm and that this was simply a physical assessment in case Mr. Harper had missed something crucial, she would have panicked more. However, being under the close scrutiny of someone who was basically another one of Key's superiors did little to quell her rising anxiety.

She didn't feel like she had a concussion, but no one could deny that she did pass out for a brief time upon that boardwalk. At the very least, if the worst came to happen, then she could hold out for a meeting with Dr. Park, even if it was going to occur very early in the morning. However, even if it wasn't so bad, she was still going to have to deal with Zaria or a number of her other supervisors, all of them suffering from varying degrees of overbearing parenthood that most of them had either left behind after their own children had grown and left the nest or had now recently acquired even though they had never given parenthood a spare thought beforehand.

Sometimes, there were benefits to being the youngest to be adopted into the fray, but most of the time, it felt like Key was being gradually suffocated by the shackles they called "family".

It reminded her a lot of home.

Funny how she ached to go back to her home world, even if everything and nothing would change.

Key was startled out of her thoughts when the snow leopard beastman finally pulled back to nod at her rabbit beastman counterpart.

"No concussion and she seems lucid and functioning properly."

The words barely left her mouth before both women heard the distinct sound of Mr. Harper's scampering feet hurrying towards them, the feeling of restlessness and satisfaction brimming in his every step. Not too long did the thought that he seemed just a little happy that she was all right cross Key's mind before something very cold was pressed against her forehead.

The relief from the throbbing that had been plaguing her every thought, but gradually fading in and out like the waxing and waning of the moon, had become somewhat soothed by the divine feeling of cold upon her swelling forehead.

Key looked up to find Zaria leveling Mr. Harper a look that was as cold as an ice cube in the middle of winter.

"Now? Now you finally give the poor girl some pain relief?”

Neither of them heard him get up and leave for a cold compress, so he must have magicked it out of thin air, which he could have easily done before the trip back to Night Raven College.

"Time and a place, Miss Smirnova! Time and a place!"

Key watched in faint bemusement as Zaria's eyes traced the outline of his crisp waistcoat and the chain of his pocket watch that peeked out of his pocket like any old fashioned gentleman. Zaria never had to say much, her eyes did all the talking. And if that wasn't enough, her turning up her nose at the both of them to go back to her novel said the rest.

Key perked up at the mention of her name, the pronunciation crisp and clear despite the Russian accent. (In fact, Key could swear that sometimes, whenever Zaria was mad or talking to herself, she could identify some Russian words that she had picked up from old spy movies).

"Come, Miss Smirnova! The girl has suffered no concussion, she will more than likely learn from this experience--"

"I most definitely will not!"

"—but she probably imagined merfolk attacking her." Mr. Harper canted his head and thought for a second. "Probably."

Zaria went from trying to ignore both of her colleagues behind her romance novel to giving Key her full attention.

"Merfolk?"

Time to go to bed.

Now.

"Time and a place, Miss Zaria!" Key echoed Mr. Harper's words as she danced away from the leopard beastman's attempts to whack her with the paperback. "Time and a place!"

Chapter Text

Bumps on the head were not new to Key. Whenever her siblings would bully her (which was often), she would end up running out of the house and into one of the many trees that made up the forest behind her home. After a while, when the fuss would die down and her cries would turn into crusty pouts, one of her siblings would eventually muster up the courage to climb up after her and then apologize.

(Unfortunately, Key could be vindictive when she wanted to be. It wasn't often, but when she felt especially slighted, she would gather rocks and sticks into the pockets of her shorts before throwing them down as ammo. She missed (often), but when she hit the mark, she hit hard.

After the events of last night (or rather, early this morning), it was understandable that Key woke up hours later than she normally would have. Shock froze her when she realized that she had woken a little past noon, before realizing that she had been released from her duties for the day so she could recuperate. Yet, there was still the sinking feeling that she was forgetting something...

Something that she had been putting off thinking about when she was hanging out with Cameron... or when she was lazing about near the waves....

That feeling came to a head when she checked the contents of her backpack on a whim (and because she liked making a weekly inventory check in case she needed to clean out a few compartments). Whatever the case, the instant her fingers grasped the manila envelope within the compartment that she reserved for important documents and books, she felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.

Right.

She was given time to study the files of the prospective and returning Housewardens.

And given that the first Housewarden meeting was in a week or so...

Ah, geeze, getting an injury right in the face was always embarrassing, but the fact that it’s what their first impression of her is going to be...

Aaaaahhhhhhh...

She'd rather not think about it.

After taking a quick shower and changing once more into another pair of overalls and a shirt that she had salvaged from the lost and found box that was brimming with other articles at least a couple months to a few years old, she headed to the janitorial staff lounge area, the manila envelope in hand. At this time of day, most of the night shift custodians were fast asleep in their dorms while their day shift counterparts were hard at work at whatever regions of the campus were under their watch for the day. Aside from the circle of couches of varying makes and aesthetics, there was a coffee table that had clearly seen better days but was actively being taken care of, and a whiteboard that had a written schedule for both day and night shift workers. Every other week, the custodians would switch between day and night, barring a few exceptions who specifically requested that they work certain hours due to medical or personal restrictions.

Key saw that the schedules had been amended in her favor, she was going to be working nights for the next few weeks or so, which was a boon for her. Night shift workers didn't have to actively expect new spills or accidents to occur and they could work at their own pace without students gawking or members of faculty breathing down their necks. Presumably, this change in schedule was to assist with getting Key accustomed to her role as secretary while also trying to juggle the errands she had to run for Dr. Park.

Learning to brew her own medication was fun and she enjoyed his instruction when it came to first aid drills and trivia. However, she supposed that once the school year officially started, she would have to limit her time at the infirmary—who knew what strange things the Headmage would do now that she would have to cater to his dorm leaders' whims?

After Key perused the board and made notes into a little notebook that she had found provided in her desk, she then sat in an overly cushioned armchair, sagging with stuffing and lopsided in some areas of the seat. To make up for the armchair's shortcomings, there were a plethora of pillows that formed a little tower atop of it. It was up to the person seated to make for themselves a chair they’d like sitting on.

Sometimes, whenever Key's coworkers were particularly tired or had nothing better to do, they would pile their clothing or blankets on top of it; it was called the laundry chair because of that.

Fortunately for Key, it was relatively clear of any strewn clothing except for a pale brown cardigan that had embroidered teddy bears over the sleeves and near the hem. If she had to guess... It was probably Dolly's cardigan, but then again, Key wouldn't put it past Emilio to plant a fake cardigan just to have fun with the rest of their coworkers.

Key ignored the cardigan and threw a few pillows off the seat and onto the nearby couches. It would be fine; Key was practically alone with everybody else working their respective stations or sleeping soundly in their dorms. Once curled up in her favorite position, with her back hunched forward and her knees drawn up to her chest, she pulled out the sheaf of documents and began to read carefully.

Key was no stranger to self study. Once upon a time, she had been admitted to a fairly good preschool growing up, but the separation anxiety she had caused her to cry relentlessly. Because of her disruptive behavior in the classroom, she had been taken out of school and started homeschooling. She had tried many methods over the years, but she preferred unschooling. She wouldn't say that she was the brightest light bulb, but she did know her way around finding the right resources and taking note of the most important aspects of what she was studying.

Right away, as she perused the different profiles of the Night Raven College Housewardens, she noticed that there was a plethora of information to be had upon first glance. There was, of course, the usual information that came with student profiles. Their full name, date of birth, birthplace, current residence, etc. There was also a brief description of the students' talents, higher scoring subjects, subjects that needed improvement, and notes on what internship the students might pursue in their fourth and final year.

Key assumed that the notes were taken by a guidance counselor, but upon further inspection, they were written in a plethora of different hands with differing names to accompany them.

D. Crewel was featured heavily in Houseawarden Schoenheit's profile, stating that this student was the prime role model for Pomefiore and that his propensity for brewing was unparalleled and unmatched in this year's roster. D. Crewel continued to state that while the Housewarden was both skilled and talented in the fields of academics and in the social arenas, Schoenheit was so focused on improvement that he tended to lose sight of himself. Key deduced that the Pomefiore Schoenheit must have been a "the ends justify the means" sort of person.

Key set that aside, mind simply focused on taking in what she had read. While studying up on the Housewardens would help her in both the identification and creation of rapport with her supposed charges for the next school year, she also knew that the notes were taken from the subjective viewpoints of an amalgamation of professors, all presumably with their own agendas and personal biases. With that in mind, Key made a special note that this Housewarden Schoenheit seemed trustworthy and a people person if D. Crewel's emphasis on his sociability was anything to go by.

The next Housewarden that Key investigated at random was someone whose smile was beaming with a radiance she rarely saw nowadays. His short hair was bound in an off-white turban and the cardigan that he wore above his customary school uniform (reminding Key of the pale brown cardigan that rested somewhere above her head) was actually really cute and looked comfy. Did NRC sell those cardigans in the school shop? Maybe when Key was feeling frivolous, she should invest in one.

One of the first few items of clothing she had been given was a pale blue cotton jacket with an attached hood. While it provided some protection against the wind and cool nights, it would do little to protect against the harsher elements once the seasons began to turn. What was worse, however, was that the garment had either been through a lot in its long life or it was made of cheap material. Considering that the hoodie she wore bore the NRC crest—albeit a much older edition from at least a decade or so back—it was probably both.

This Housewarden, unlike the last, had a Middle Eastern influence (if she remembered correctly). If it weren’t his tanned skin and upturned eyes that clued her in, it was his name. Kalim al Asim… son of Asim according to her vague memories of how other countries produced patronymics.

Unlike Schoenheit, Asim’s grades weren’t up to par. He clearly struggled in some subjects, but a few professors noted that he was very sociable and had clear talent in the fine arts. Under M. Trein (whose penmanship resembled that of old handwriting samples you would associate with aged period pieces), this professor noted that Asim lagged behind considerably in history, but improved the most within the second half of his first year. To be frank, he would never be in the top list of students, but this Housewarden was hard working and polite—traits that M. Trein emphasized within the brevity of his curt statements.

Key decided that maybe the secretary schtick didn’t seem so bad if Asim was serving as a good omen.

And then Key read the rest.

Royalty attended Night Raven College?

Wait a minute…

Key flipped back a few pages to check again and found herself palming her forehead in frustration. She was so focused on their academic prowess and general personality from the comments littering their pages, that she had conveniently glossed over information most would consider VERY IMPORTANT.

Oh gosh, was she supposed to refer to them by titles? Is that the reason why the Headmage made her his personal secretary? To give these guys some special treatment?

Speaking of special treatment, were the Housewardens specifically in their current positions because of their status? Key had checked both Schoenheit’s and Asim’s profiles and while they weren’t royalty, they might as well have been. The Pomefiore head was a world famous actor and the Scarabian hailed from a long established line of wealthy merchants with ties to royalty, which at least made him part of the nobility in his home country.

Of the seven Housewardens, the only students who were raised in an environment that sort of resembled Key’s own status back home was the son of a renowned magical physician and the heir to a restaurant owner. However, it was these two who had the highest grades and standings in the eyes of their peers… Key had to wonder if there was some sort of inverted correlation or if she was looking into things that need not be looked into.

She thought a little more on the matter.

And then made the executive decision to not think anymore about it.

Objective, remain objective. The only reason she was given these documents was to familiarize herself, so she could know who she’d be dealing with. What the professor’s remarked, the grade point average, and their upbringings had nothing to do with who they were going to present themselves as.

For the most part, Night Raven College students seemed to be more of the independent type, but then again, she didn’t really spend any time with them other than Cameron.

And a small sample of an already niche subset of students was not good enough to warrant a fulfilling conclusion.

In order to do that, she would have to actually meet them in person.

“Eyyyooo, Birdie!” A tanned arm flung itself around her shoulders as a young man at least eight years her senior hopped onto the protesting arm of her chair. Broad shouldered and built like a barrel, Emilio Alvarez cut an intimidating figure until one realized that he was just as cuddly as a Rottweiler puppy. And just like a Rottweiler puppy, his dangerously sharp smile boasted a pair of canines that were more fang than blunted teeth. “Cammie almost got caught sneaking back into his dorms yesterday, got anything to say about that?”

Key rolled her eyes and shoved his arm away from her. To her mild horror, his hairy arms were faintly glimmering with a sheen of sweat, the façade of warmth overcome by the swampy nature of his skin.

“Ewww!” The young custodian pretended to hold her breath and fan him away with an available hand. “You stink!”

Emilio obliged her, falling to the ground when her weak swats at his chest made contact with his uniform. Toppling onto the ground, he eventually sprawled out all over the floor, his tongue lolling out as he threw his arms askew in awkward directions.

"Dead! Totally and never coming back type of dead!"

Key peered over the sheaf of her documents, eyes narrowed in irritation as she muttered, "Good. Stay that way."

Emilio did not stay that way.

When Key turned to the last of her files, (seven out of seven and she was already feeling the stress of it all weighing down upon her…) she was abruptly brought out of her concentration when she felt rather than saw the looming shadow of her superior leaning over her.

Valiantly, she ignored him for the better part of twenty seconds, but at the twenty second mark, her will crumbled into the finest dust. It was probably for the best, anyhow. She had barely taken in the last student’s name—M… M something… Dragon?—when she had found herself distracted and well… It may have been some time since her siblings would take time out of their day to annoy her, but she knew the feeling well. Sometimes, it was best to play along with their whims, but other times, it paid to fight back.

With the way Emilio was leering down at her, mischief clear in his gaze, she knew that she would have to play along in the hopes that he would leave her alone.

It would be a long shot and probably a blow to her ego, but her inability to overcome her anxieties concerning her “promotion” overwhelmed everything else.

“Okay, fine!” Key tried to lightly kick him in the shin, but he had danced away, clearly well aware of her tricks. “Mr. Norton and I decided to go eat dinner at that one spot Mr. Horace was waxing poetic about earlier. After that, I sent him back through the gate and then I decided to spend some time at the boardwalk.”

Key paused, a furrowed crease in between her brows. “What? Did something happen to him?”

“No… but something obviously happened to you.” Emilio, again, made himself comfortable on the arm of Key’s chosen chair as his fingers traced around the edges of her bruise. She tried her hardest not to look into the mirror, but she did manage to catch a glimpse of mottled purples and blues. The yellowing hadn’t started yet—as far as she could tell—but she assumed that it would by this time tomorrow. She braced herself for twinges of pain to echo down her forehead and spread to the rest of her body, but to her surprise, Emilio’s warm fingers were careful. “Wanna talk to me about it? Z the First worked graveyard so she won’t be up until a few hours from now and Ol’ Harper was out like a… like a shot before I could ask. So…?”

“Mr. Horace thinks that a group of merfolk must have played a prank on me, but their playing eventually got out of control." She laughed a little to herself, internally wincing when she felt her head throb at the reminder that while their pranks may have been harmless, the eventual ending still hurt the morning after.

“What is up with you and being in places you’re not supposed to be?”

Key rolled her eyes, but once again winced at the strain that she was putting on herself. To compensate, she took off her glasses and closed her eyes, hoping that Emilio was going to leave her be soon enough. “What is up with you guys and being so overprotective? If you’re worried about kidnappings, I checked the local news and asked around: there’s relatively little crime going on around here, especially when the island is so empty.”

“Beeeeccccaaaauuuuussseeee~!” Emilio booped her nose, laughing when she tried to bite his offending finger. “If our Little Birdie ends up dead somewhere, guess whose old man is gonna go after our butts?”

“First of all, the Headmage is not my old man. Gross. Second of all, my name is Key.”

“And yet, you immediately realized that I was talking about the Headmage. I could have been talking about Al or Ol’ Harper, but no! The old crow is immediately on your mind.”

Key abruptly slammed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and rose from her seat, Emilio pretending to flail and fall dramatically into the cushions.

“And now I’m immediately leaving. Catch ya later.”

“Cool! And while you’re at it, try and make some normal friends, yeah? Like the girls down in town! The boys up here aren’t good for you!”

As she brushed all of her accrued documents into her folder—Mall… Dra… Whatever, she was going to end up reading about him later—she scooped up a random pillow that had fallen from the floor and shoved it onto Emilio’s cackling mouth.

“Suffocating!”

“Leaving!”

The walk down to the library was quiet, serene even. Most, if not all, of the summer students were either cooped up in one of the classrooms or staying in their dormitories, so she wouldn’t have to worry about stumbling across any of them. Along the way, she saw two professors chatting amongst themselves, one of them bearing a bundle of what looked like newly graded test papers if the red marks scattered throughout the margins were of any indication.

After moving into her own little lane, she greeted the professors with a nod, to which the both of them reciprocated. They were only hired for the summer and kept mainly to themselves, but Key knew that they were pleasant whenever she happened to converse with them.

Finally, she made it into the library.

When she first visited the building, she had been struck dumb by just how many books were all sitting in one place. It wasn't simply one single floor with at least a dozen shelves to satisfy the student populace, but rather at minimum three grand floors that contained a treasure trove of knowledge that only museums and fellow prestigious schools and universities could ever hope to match. In her childhood home, she had her own little bookshelf, and there were times when she could visit the local town library, but in terms of grandiosity,  the building itself was like comparing a dismal little shack to a palace.

Careful not to make a sound, the young custodian strode deep into the stacks, walking this way and that as her fingers gently ran across the spines. Eventually, she made her way into the heart of the library: an open space that was inhabited by long tables and a plethora of chairs that provided ample studying space for the students. Of the many tables, only three were inhabited, the seating sparse and randomized.

There were two prey beastmen huddled over a laptop while a few other students pored over books. One of the students, Key couldn't help but notice with a muffled chuckle, was sleeping, his blazer draped over his shoulders.

Summer was nearly ending... Was it last minute projects or exams keeping them up?

She would have to talk to Cameron later.

Today, however, instead of sitting at one of the tables, she instead made her way up the stairs. Up on the third floor, there were windows with special seating at their base so anyone could view the spectacular grounds outside.

Key wasn't sure why students didn't frequent these special seats at the windows, but she supposed that not many would think that the view was spectacular enough to warrant climbing two flights of stairs.

As she sank into the dark plum cushions, her gaze drifted outside. Her childhood home wasn't nearly as tall or as luxuriously furnished as the college's many facilities, but there was still a pang of longing deep within.

But she would have to think about the past later.

For now...

"Who am I missing again? Mr. Mall..." She flipped through the student records, once again noting the differences amongst all of them. "Ah, here you—"

Well.

This was interesting.

Unlike the other Housewardens, this one lacked any visual evidence that he existed. Sure, there was his birthplace (Briar Valley), his status as a royal (Crown Prince to the Draconias), and his grades, but a photo? Nada. Zero. Zilch.  

Did he not get his photo taken?

Key supposed that it wasn't too much of a big deal because she was going to eventually end up meeting all of them sooner or later, but she wanted to know everything as soon as possible.

It wasn't even out of curiosity.

You would think that the Headmage would at least be thorough enough to give her pictures of all of his highly esteemed students!

Such a disappointment, but was she really surprised?

(Nope. Not at all. What little hope she had for any tangible help from him was close to nonexistent at this point).

"Dear, hasn't anyone told you that you should pay more attention to head wounds?"

Key chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying not to grimace.

"Good afternoon, Lady Fairchild! Did you talk to Miss Zaria about... stuff?"

One of the first things Key did when she arrived in this strange world was investigate all the available resources that the Headmage had at his disposal. Oddly enough, he tried to leverage a lot of grunt work in exchange for housing her in that poor dilapidated dorm festering on the main grounds, but Alastair had put a stop to that. There was a sense of procrastination, or maybe evasiveness, that Key detected from the Headmage, but she didn't want to judge too hard.

At least she wasn't starving or left to rot in the streets.

(Immediately giving her responsibilities that she wasn’t qualified for was a red flag that she couldn't just ignore, though).

After having spent what little time she could spare from her duties as a custodian (and general errand runner), Key discovered that there weren't many resources on alternate universes or dimensions. There were plenty of books detailing portals and how mages over the centuries liked to streamline the production resulting in modern-day gates that looked exactly like mirrors. However, while mirrors were one of the faster modes of transportation (alongside teleportation devices that almost worked on the same principles as gates, but with much less magic and much more physics), there wasn't much in the way of traveling to different worlds.

Key knew that, obviously, the Headmage would have more answers than her because a) he was technically a professor of an esteemed educational institution and b) he lived in this strange, magical world all of his life. Yet, despite that, the same evasiveness and tendency to elude her plagued most of their attempted interactions.

It was on her first full day at Night Raven College, after having been spat out by a mirror and right at the feet of the strangest man she would ever meet the evening before, that she would meet Lady Fairchild.

Young and fair of skin, Lady Fairchild's dark raven locks cascaded down in an elegant curtain that easily put the rest of the female members of the school to shame. Not that anyone wanted to compete: Lady Fairchild's beauty regimen was comparable to that of the famed Fairest Queen's lifestyle. If Dr. Park was to be believed, the librarian bathed in the blood of virgins, but Key laughed that off.

(Mr. Alastair told her not to laugh... Lady Fairchild could use that for something).

The librarian had been helpful in Key's quest to learn all about gates and when her curiosity had been temporarily stifled due to the technical jargon used, Lady Fairchild had pushed Key into pursuing other interests. History had always been one of Key's favorite things to study when she was child (alongside literature and the softer sciences), and so Lady Fairchild pointed her in the direction of the specific aisles where the history textbooks were housed.

It had taken a while to get acquainted with the numerous countries and lands that made up Twisted Wonderland, but she found that there were quite a few that resembled Key’s old home world. She wouldn’t say that there was a one to one similarity between every country represented in Twisted Wonderland and the cultures that she had either grown up with or had learned about in her studies, but she would say that she wasn't all too surprised to see certain clothing styles or beliefs.

Was this convergent or divergent evolution?

Assuming that her life before this sudden change had nothing to do with this universe, then why were the Great Seven classic Disney villains?

It had shocked Key at first when the Headmage had dragged her into his office and she had caught sight of their portraits! The both of them had a conversation that Key wished she could remember more clearly, but her mind was in a jumble and her emotions were clearly in charge.

One thing she could remember despite the rest of that night becoming a blur that faded into a dream was this: he didn't answer many of her questions and if he did, it wasn't in a clear, linear manner.

"Stuff," Lady Fairchild whispered, almost as if in a trance. With her head held high and her skirts slightly swaying with every movement, she looked very much the product of a time that had long since passed. The whispers of virgin blood roared in Key's ears, but she pushed them down. Even if they were true, the much older woman had helped her adjust, even if it was in a vaguely condescending manner. "I wouldn't call a bruise the size of the human heart 'stuff', dear."

Cheeks flushing, Key subtly tried to brush her fingers against her forehead. As expected, there was a tingle of pain that greeted her at the touch, but other than that, she couldn't gauge how big it was.

Gloved fingers pulled Key's wrist away from her forehead. When the custodian looked up, it was to Lady Fairchild looking down at her, brows furrowed and tongue clicking in disapproval.

"What's more, you left without telling anyone." One dark brow, perfectly plucked and arched just so, rose like a snake coiling to attack.

Key figured that now wasn't the best time to say that she technically told Cameron that she was staying outside school premises.

So, she opted for the safer route, which was to give an uncertain smile.

"I'll make sure to be back before curfew next time, Lady Fairchild." Calm and measured, always remain calm and measured.

Lady Fairchild held her gaze for one long moment before turning. “Continue your studies, dear, but don’t stay out too late.”

Chapter Text

That’s where Mr. Harper found her later that afternoon, when the sun was blocked by a few wayward clouds and the idle chatter from the first floor had given way to complete silence. Unlike last night, he was no longer dressed in that smart, snappy way of his. Gone was his waistcoat, now replaced with the customary custodial uniform: a white polo shirt with black slacks and a simple pair of brown shoes. From his right-side pocket, Key saw that he left the chain of his pocket watch loose to dangle at his side.

Key yawned, already knowing what he was going to say.

“You don’t have to keep inviting me, you know. It’s not like I can eat anything and I don’t have much to say.”

The older custodian raised a brow, already challenging Key’s statement. “Hmm? And have you’ve taken your elixir, then?”

Key grimaced, bashfully turning her gaze away from Mr. Harper’s bright red stare. “In my defense, I got hit in the head pretty hard last night.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to immediately go back to work?”

Key tried to bite her lip so as to keep herself from saying the phrase that was immediately flooding her mind… but she ended up saying it anyway. “I thought it was the right time!”

Mr. Harper’s mustache twitched, the bushy tufts looking like they were about to wriggle to life and start crawling up his cheeks.  

“Then you should also know that now is the perfect time to get your nose out of your books! Fairy tales, Little Miss?”

A while ago, Key had written little notes to herself in her notebook, alongside the complementary advice of “ remain objective remain objective if I don’t I might just blow up and possibly kill a student which is probably not covered in my contract ”, the young custodian had traversed the shelves on the third floor for her favorite section.

Fairy tales.

They were organized by region, and spanned novels that were retellings of childhood stories to anthologies one would find in a nursery. From one of the smaller provinces of Pyroxene, there was a tale of a young woman who made a deal with the fae so she could attend a gathering to meet her fated true love. Another one, from the Sunshine Lands, recounted the tale of a witch who tried to keep her daughter safe from the dangers of the world. (Supposedly, the daughter had magical potential in her hair or something to that effect… Translators were unclear as to what the original text meant).

In the end, after at least ten minutes of debating, Key decided to read a modern romance novel that was based on the adventures of a thief from the Scalding Sands. While standard fare, Key found herself engrossed in the plot and the writing style of the author.

“I find them informative,” Key defended. “Ini this one story, I really liked the part where the Sorcerer of the Sand tried his best to warn the Sultan about the dangers of marrying his daughter off to an orphan from the streets."

Mr. Harper's bushy mustache twitched, as if conversing with Key was of higher importance than gathering her for dinner. However, just before he could say something to that effect, or perhaps indulge the younger custodian in her literary adventures, his pocket watch glowed brightly within his pocket and the chain at his side tinkled a merry little tune. Within seconds, the rabbit beastman was all up in arms as he urged Key to gather her things and walk— quickly! quickly now, Miss Key !—down the staircases and out the library's exit.

Knowing that only hell and high water would hinder Mr. Harper, Key followed suit with little complaint. When they finally reached the ground floor, she waved a brief (but still respectful) goodbye to Lady Fairchild. The librarian's farewell was stilted, but still gracious; her smile just as thin as her tapering fingers and as sharp as the fangs that she bared.

It was Mr. Harper who was warmer in his goodbye, though still just as quick as his species. Without breaking stride, he called out, "Good evening and good night, my lady! May your books provide you comfort in the twilight hours!"

Lady Fairchild did not say a word, but she did see them out, her heels clicking behind them.

"Have you been flirting with Lady Fairchild long?" Key's nose scrunched up in distaste, but anyone with good hearing, beastman or no, could hear the jocular tone in her voice. She peeked up at him, neither hoping nor expecting a flustered response, but she was smug all the same when the rabbit beastman regarded her with a faux austere look. "Come on, Mr. Horace! You always volunteer to go to the library if no one else is willing to and I've seen you smile!"

"Of course I smile!" Mr. Harper scoffed. His stride lengthened, quickening his pace so Key was no longer at his side. "It is only polite to be courteous, especially to one's fellow coworker!"

Key shook her head, absolutely taking her superior's word for it before skipping ahead.

"Fine then,” Key shrugged, willing to concede the point. “I can see that this is not the right time or place for whatever that is. Who was on dinner duty tonight?"

It was a toss-up on whoever managed to land the grand honor of making dinner, but since Key had her dietary restrictions, she wasn't expected to contribute in that respect.

"I checked the board, but I don't think it's been updated in a while."

A beat.

"It better not be Mr. Alastair."

Another beat wherein Mr. Harper cast her a mischievous sidelong glance before he continued to hurry down the path towards the school.

"No! Please! Take me back! I didn't get to finish the last chapter—!"

It was not Mr. Alastair Caine who had cooked that night's dinner.

It was actually Dolly.

Another of one of the few female custodians, Dahlia "Dolly" Tempest, was a fair bit older than most of the crew, but appeared younger than both Alastor and Horace. Her hair, once a dark, lustrous blonde, had become almost silvery during the daylight hours. Wrinkles like crow's feet danced around the edges of her eyes and her voice (whenever she felt like speaking) was as crisp as a bell and soft as the midnight breeze. An eighth fae, some had claimed. Someone distantly related to the noble families from Briar Valley, they said. Yet, all attempts to broach her about her past ended up with her laughing.

She wanted to work a simple life and if that meant toiling away at dust and grime, then she would do it for as long as she lived.

(How long she had already lived and for how much longer she would continue to, no one knew and she wasn't one for telling).

After seating herself at the table, right between Mr. Harper and Emilio, Key spotted a pot filled with some sort of stew that seemed to froth and bubble despite the lack of apparent heat source. She couldn't quite see the contents of the main dish, but judging by the way Emilio’s eyes were glazed over in anticipation, she could only assume that Dolly had once again surpassed everyone’s expectations.

“Hey, Birdie! You hungry?”

The younger custodian rolled her eyes, but humored him all the same. “Of course, Mr. Emilio! I’m practically salivating in my seat!”

They shared a laugh, the memories of Key trying to eat still somewhat fresh in their minds. While Key couldn’t eat, it would be a lie to say that she didn’t like sitting amongst them, conversation flowing as freely as the punch that Dolly made from a series of fruits common to her homeland. There were times, of course, that certain jokes or references flew over her head (resulting in her feeling like an outsider), but she merely basked in the camaraderie that was built over years of trust and close living quarters.

Just as Key was about to ask what Dolly made that evening, Emilio reached into his jacket to pull out two battered notebooks. They were spiral bound with three punch holes on the side. The covers were creased and somewhat torn on the edges, but the appearance of it assured Key that these notebooks were well used.

With a flourish, Emilio placed them in front of Key—right in the spot where Key’s plate would have been should she actually have the capacity and ability to eat.

“Love letters from our favorite scholarship student!”

“The Little Bird got herself love letters?” Zahur, who had been engrossed in his phone, glanced over to the both of them, brows creased in confusion. Unlike Emilio, who was brawny and short, Zahur was gangly and lean, like the light posts on Main Street.

“They’re not! Uggghhhh!” Key ground out her reply with gritted teeth, already peeved by Emilio’s childishness. What annoyed her even more was that Zahur had to call her by that accursed nickname. “Mr. Zahur, I thought we were friends!”

Zahur shrugged. “Coworkers, Little Bird. And even if we were friends, I was friends with Emilio first.”

“Just friends, Zahur?”

“We’re not friends?”

Key and Emilio asked simultaneously, their voice overlapping in both tone and pitch. Whereas Key grumbled in a mockery of irritation, Emilio managed to sound crestfallen but still bearing a teasing expression in his eyes.

For his part, Zahur only nodded once before his gaze rested once more on the notebooks that laid in front of Key. Noticing his interest had shifted, Key flipped through the first notebook, her curiosity replaced with a sense of gratefulness and awe.

As she skimmed through the contents, she heard Emilio explain to Zahur and a few other curious onlookers what the hullabaloo was all about.

“Cammie’s potionology notes,” Emilio said. “He came right up to me while I was dusting the paintings in the west wing and told me to give them to Birdie. Say, are you planning on enrolling into a school or something?”

That last question was directed at Key, but it took a second for her to reply because she was too busy trying to decipher the text on the pages. When she saw Zahur’s finger tap on the metal spiral that bound the notes, she looked up to find him gesturing at the bemused face of one Emilio Alvarez.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I’m just so excited to get some notes. I tried reading up on some of the references that Dr. Park recommended, but it can get wordy sometimes and Lady Fairchild limits my time on the computers.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Emilio leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were serious, probing as he stared into Key’s eyes. “But, like… you’re always doing research and studying up on things. Have you thought about enrolling?”

Key’s eyes widened, surprised by what he was implying. “I’ve thought about going into tertiary education, but I’d rather stockpile some money—” And knowledge about this world and its customs . “—before I make decisions like that. And even if I did, what school would take me?”

For all intents and purposes, she was still a Jane Doe, only going by a different name.

No papers, no identity, and only a dismissal away from losing both her job and her tentative home.

Emilio gave her a surprised look, almost as if he thought that Key was playing him for a fool.

“Well, I know I keep saying that you shouldn’t mess with the boys here, but I think you can listen to some of the lectures and watch a few demonstrations. At the very least, maybe you can ask some of the professors for help, too.”

“Two problems, Mr. Emilio,” Key began. There were actually more than two problems, but she had two that instantly came to mind. “One, no magic. Two, not a boy.”

“Gender is a social construct and I need someone to beat sense into some of them. Did you know that someone blew up two labs a few years ago? They were trying to mix some alchemical equations and transpose them to potionology principles.”

“And that relates to gender… how?”

“If girls attended, I think the school would be a lot cleaner.”

“Clearly you’ve never had to clean a girl’s restroom before.” She rubbed her temples and peered at Cameron’s notes again to hide her discomfort with the topic. School was fine, she supposed, but it wasn't exactly on her list of priorities at the moment. Besides, if the Headmage found her a way home, it wasn't like she was going to need schooling anyways. "I already know my ABCs and my 123s, so it's not like I’m completely unaware of how things work.”

“That’s not what Dr. Park says.” This time, it was Zahur who piped up. Although Key could see that his phone was still flashing with some sort of video from Magicam, Zahur was giving Key an oddly serious look. "He finds your lack of experience disturbing in some aspects."

Key bit back the urge to faceplant into the table.

Not only would that only enforce the idea that this topic bothered her, but it would also land her in the infirmary. Again.

"I concur; however, I do believe that it should be up to Key on how she should proceed. For all we know, her memory could return."

Key wanted to sink into the floor. Standing at the entranceway to the dining room, Dr. Park stood with a bemused grin on his pale face. The doctor was dressed down for this occasion, opting for tan slacks and an off-white shirt. His lab coat was nowhere to be found, but Key supposed that he must have left it in his office before coming over to the custodian's dormitories.

"Eyyy, Dr. Park!" Emilio saluted him from his seat, his canines jutting out as he smiled broadly at the interloper. "Come to mock us peasants?"

Similarly, the rest of the maintenance crew uttered their greetings, with Key simply waving at him before she turned back to her newly acquired notes.

Her head was abuzz with thoughts about schooling and note-taking, of the possibilities of the future. However, what really consumed her was the idea that maybe they were right. Maybe she should make another plan instead of mindlessly researching for ways home when in fact—there was probably no way of getting back home in the first place. But she wanted to hold out hope that there was a way back home. 

Maybe was not a guarantee. 

Maybe was not a promise. 

Maybe was not a certainty and what was not certain, should not be taken as indisputable fact. 

But then Dolly hopped into the fray, arms full of the main dish, and Key had to tune back into the conversation.

According to Dr. Park, some of the professors that were in charge of the core subjects were supposed to be returning to campus over the next few days. Professor Crewel—Divus, Dr. Park called him—was supposed to come mid-morning so that he could visit the botanical gardens and take stock of how well the gardeners minded future school projects.

"I've also told Divus about you, Key," Dr. Park nodded at her as he spooned some broth into his mouth. "Don't worry, all good things, but feel free to clarify any misunderstandings should they arise. I told him that you don't have any immediate chores in the mornings and he thought it prudent to ask for your help when he visits the gardens tomorrow."

"Already tired of me, Dr. Park? I thought that you were finally satisfied with my work!" Although not meant for the teaching profession, the doctor was patient and lenient when teaching Key how to properly brew her medication and a few other ointments meant for pharmacological use.

"Yes, and I am very proud of how much you've improved when identifying certain herbs and fungi. However, I think it would be a good investment if youwere taught by someone trained to actually... well, teach."

"And is he?"

"Is he what?"

"A good teacher?"

Dr. Park's dark grey gaze twinkled with mischief while the rest of the custodians titteredwith laughter.

"He's the head of the potionology and alchemy departments for a reason."

"And what a reason that is!" Emilio exclaimed.

Key… Key had a very bad feeling about what that entailed, but discreetly wrote in her notebook that she would have to be on the lookout for one Divus Crewel come morning.

For the most part, the meal proceeded as usual. Some of Key’s coworkers complained about readying the school for the upcoming new semester while others were eager to get back into the swing of things.

As they ate, Key tried to keep her head down, seemingly engrossed in Cameron’s notes. In truth, they were well written, if a bit illegible and written in weird shorthand at times. Clearly, he hadn’t thought that he would be sharing his notes at the time of writing them.

Not only did keeping her head down minimize interaction with the others, but it also gave her an excuse to not look at the food. Hunger no longer overcame her; she had no need to eat and if she was low in nutrients she just needed to take her medication. However, sitting there surrounded by others who held a special bond that existed before and would likely persist after she was gone—if she ever left—left her feeling somewhat alienated.

It wasn’t as if she was the only magicless human on staff.

And she certainly wasn’t the only woman.

However, there was still a large gap between her and whoever used to be the youngest staff member before her.

As their voices overlapped and intertwined in a melody that she never learned how to dance or sing to, Key reread Cameron’s thoughts on elixirs and their role in pharmacology.

As soon as dinner finished—Dr. Park commended Dolly for her delicious food—a few of the custodians either left for their respective dorms or took a walk while the others helped clean the table. Often, Key helped wash the dishes because the chore was simple, yet soothing to her. Her past memories were still somewhat cloudy to her, with a few facts jutting out here and there, but she could distinctly remember that she hated washing dishes. Here, in Twisted Wonderland, it was like a switch had flipped. Now, the very actions of bathing the dishes in water and scrubbing away residue was like a religious ritual.

As Key bussed the plates and pots into the kitchen sink, Dolly followed swiftly behind, her fair skin practically glowing with happiness. She was signing rapidly, her gestures grand and jubilant to match the wide smile that was on her face. Most of the signs that Dolly used were foreign, but Key knew enough to know that she was happy that everyone was present for dinner—and even Key didn't look so dejected today!

Key laughed despite herself, the sound ringing false in her ears. "Yeah, I think I'm getting a hang of things. Some, not all, but I'm definitely getting somewhere."

Dolly signed again, emphasizing how proud she was of Key. There were a few other signs that Key sort of glossed over or didn't understand completely, but eventually, she realized that her coworker was talking about...

"Cameron, right? You've spelled out his name... twice I think? But you also mentioned fox, too." At Dolly's insistent nod, Key said, "Yeah, he's helping out with renovating that old dorm near the main campus building. I also heard earlier that Mr. Alastor and a few others were there to do most of the heavy lifting. Did you see?"

More signing, a little more subdued, but once Dolly began talking about upholstery and interior decorating—that took a little more time to decipher and Dolly pointing at the kitchen table and counters for Key to understand—she became more animated. From what Key could gather, once she was assured that the first two floors were okay for habitation (the wonders of experienced mages who had their fair share of maintaining larger buildings than the old dorm), she rushed inside to get a good look at the decor. It wasn't anything fancy—the styles were out of date and tacky, an admission that elicited Key's startled laugh—but she would have the upholstery and beddings cleaned by at least next week.

If she wasn't so bombarded with other tasks, she would have finished in half that time, but her magic was fairly weak and she was prone to blotting, even if her supposed lineage should have prevented that.

After a while, Dolly whipped out her phone and pulled up a playlist of an eclectic collection of music. One minute Key would be listening to a series of death metal screams in a language that sounded German and in the next, a group of young men were crooning romantic lyrics in a language adjacent to Italian.

Like a well-oiled machine, Key would wash the dishes and Dolly would rinse and dry them off. It took at least half an hour because sometimes Dolly would not like the song that her playlist had randomly selected for her, so she would scroll through different choices before choosing something that better suited her tastes. Key could care less, but she did try to get Dolly to backtrack to a song that sounded like a group of inexperienced teenagers trying to outrap each other.

Eventually, Dolly walked Key back to her dorm—a short walk, but an appreciated gesture nonetheless—and signed her a few parting words.

"Don't worry, Miss Dolly," Key saluted her goodbye. "I'll be good for Professor Crewel tomorrow."

Dolly laughed, the sound like tinkling bells, before she shooed the younger custodian into her dorm room.

However, Dolly signed one last thing before leaving:

Behave.  

Now what did that mean?

Chapter Text

“I beg your pardon?”

A beat.

“I beg your pardon, Professor?”

“Good, you’re already learning, pup. Please take note of the references that I’ve given you and take some time to memorize at least a third of the assigned flora in the first chapter of the student manual.” Professor Crewel withdrew a sheet of paper, the perfectly written script obviously done by his hand. “Furthermore, if you’re going to be working closely with Dr. Park, I suggest that you acquaint yourself with basic first aid and what medicines and potions we have on hand.”

Key’s left fist clenched at her side while her right hand grasped the paper with a vice-like grip.

Earlier that morning, she had risen with the dawn and had wandered the grounds in search of her favorite tree. In the courtyard, she had scaled an apple tree, the boughs heavy with the ripe fruit. Up on one of the sturdier branches, Key straddled it and leaned forward until she lay fully on top of it, her arms dangling just like her legs.  

As Key lazed on top of the branch, she heard two pairs of footsteps along the path. Humming a little to herself, she moved her head away from the rough bark and saw that it was Dr. Park and someone who she had never seen before. This person was at least a head taller than the school doctor, his hair split into black and white. Furthermore, there was a fur jacket that hung from his shoulders that swayed with the wind and with every movement he made.

For a moment, the custodian was lost in thought, her mind going a mile a minute.

That person… Looked an awful lot like that villain from that one movie with the Dalmatians…

What was her name again? Cruella? Cruella de Vil?

Wait a minute…

Just as Key was about to tuck her face back into the bark of the tree to stop her from silently screaming into the void— was the guy below her a murderer? a puppy murderer ?—Dr. Park called out, earnestness in his voice.

“Miss Key! I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Divus here to accompany me on my morning walk! Come down and get yourself acquainted!”

And the following meeting should have gone off without a hitch, except for one little thing.

Professor Crewel was kind of a hardass.

And not in the way that Key expected from people who you would normally expect to be a hardass (that was fine and not a total loss), but Crewel was also somewhat of an asshole. Maybe he wasn’t aware of Key’s lack of knowledge concerning this world or maybe he knew and wasn’t going to let that deter him from being horrible, but Key would not let his treatment of her stand.

She could take unexpected tasks any day.

She could understand that there might be some people who would get tired of her cluelessness and general naivete concerning how this strange world worked.

What she didn’t want to stand for or encourage was the fact that he called her—

“Puppy! If you’re going to be helping in the infirmary, then you must remain alert!” Professor Crewel looked at her, the stern expression on his face turning her stomach. “One wrong potion ingredient could upend an experiment and the consequences are more severe if you were to employ the same sort of focus in a professional environment.”

Key nodded, understanding that, yes, obviously, she couldn’t sleep on the job. That said, Dr. Park had already taught her basic first aid, she already knew her way around the infirmary, and how to prepare and combine different ingredients for basic potions. Why Professor Crewel was treating her like she hadn’t had two months under her belt assisting Dr. Park was beyond her.

Maybe Crewel was mistaking her for one of his students—she couldn’t exactly blame him. She was very young and still wet around the ears.

Or maybe Dr. Park omitted the fact that while she was a new addition to the staff, that didn’t mean that she was new new .

Or maybe—

“Puppy!”

He was just an asshole.

Fed up with the crude nickname and still flummoxed by his attitude, Key finally slammed the documents that he had given her—politeness be damned—and stood up from her chair. Seated in one of the classrooms in the main building (his actual classroom, he had said with a hint of pride), Key already felt the oppressive atmosphere of what it would have been like to have Professor Crewel as her teacher. How did people who go to school every day survive people like this? It boggled her mind.

At least when she was homeschooled, she didn’t have to endure hard wooden chairs and the oppressive weight of authority boring into her for any perceived slight or mistake.

“I am not a puppy!” Fighting back the urge to cover her mouth with her hands, the young custodian kept her eyes fixated on Crewel’s left shoulder. If she glanced at his eyes, she would lose track of what she was fighting for or worse, apologize before she actually got into the thick of things. “I get that I’m just an errand runner for Dr. Park, a secretary for your Headmage, and a maintenance worker, but you can’t just call me things like that!”

A brief image of Cameron and Emilio calling her “Little Bird” came to mind, but she shrugged that off. At the very least, the nickname had a teasing backstory to it and they meant no harm. Even Key, who was irritated and embarrassed at times, could laugh at the nickname. Professor Crewel, however, upon meeting her and without engaging in some pleasantry or conversation unrelated to work, directly called her a puppy to her face!

If he was going to be rude, might as well just tell her that she wasn’t worth his time. Or better yet, just shoo her out of his classroom and then ignore her. At the very least, she wouldn’t have to deal with his cold attitude.

At Key’s outburst, Professor Crewel’s grey eyes narrowed at her. Yet, despite the change in expression, he didn’t immediately reprimand her or even look like he was about to use the pointer that he had placed on his desk to punish her (not that Key thought he would use corporal punishment, but his magestone did gleam nastily at her whenever she looked at it for too long). Instead, as Key tried to pretend that his left shoulder was of interest to her, Professor Crewel decided to clarify something that had suddenly piqued his interest.

“Puppy—” At Key’s hurt look that she tried to disguise with a glare (still directed at his shoulder), the professor amended his greeting. His voice, while still authoritative and commanding, had become low and soft, almost as if he was apologizing in his own way.

“Apologies… Miss Key was it?” He made no further remarks on her name, despite how strange it may have seemed and continued with his questioning when he saw an affirmative nod. “Did I hear you correctly? You’re working three jobs for this institution?”

“Ahhh… maybe?” For the first time since her outburst, Key looked at Professor Crewel’s eyes. A part of her was ready to see derision in his eyes, but she was startled when all she saw was cold anger. That would have been terrifying on its own, but for some indiscernible reason, she somehow knew that most of the anger wasn’t directed at her. “I have to help out because…” It was probably for the best that she didn’t say too much about her situation. For all she knew, she could be giving him the impression that she was playing up her misfortune even if there was nothing to exaggerate.

“Speak up, Miss Key.”

If it weren’t for his use of Pup or Puppy from before, she might have been a little miffed at his commandeering tone, but she brushed past it. For some odd reason, he was listening to her and that meant she had to take advantage of this opportunity to reestablish boundaries or gain an understanding.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I can’t say no or I could risk getting thrown out onto the streets.” This time, when Key’s gaze drifted away from Professor Crewel’s face, she focused on his ruby red tie. It was such a nice contrast to his black and white ensemble that she almost commented on it before remembering her place. “If you think I’ll be doing a poor job in the infirmary because I’ll be too tired or focused on my other tasks, don’t! I have a schedule, Mr. Alastair already cut down my hours, and I only have to keep tabs on the Housewardens during meetings and special events so it’s not like—”

With alarming speed, Professor Crewel gathered up his fur coat in his arms, brandished his pointer like it was a sword, and then stalked towards the door.

“Miss Key, with me.”

Key thought about disobeying him—if nothing else, then to see how far she could push him—but ultimately complied when his grey eyed gaze seemingly set her nerves aflame. Quickly, she dashed out of her seat and ran after him, like a puppy nipping at her master’s heels.

(And no, the irony was not lost on her).

At first, Key didn’t understand where the professor was taking her.

While Key had worked in most areas of the school due to shadowing Mr. Alastair and a few other custodians, there were still some areas she hadn't ventured into yet. Through the winding hallways that were lit up with the eerie green flames and up grand staircases, Key became more and more wary. She had long since ruled out the dungeons (yes, there were dungeons and the only reason Key knew was because Z Squared decided that it was a good idea to bring her down there for funsies... And Zaria made her promise to never let anyone know that she said ‘funsies’ on purpose), but that didn't mean that there weren’t other areas of the school that could offer just as much torment. There were a couple labs that were open and that meant that there were a number of chemicals for free use nearby...

Just as Key contemplated making a break for it, the ornery professor turned a corner and—

No.

Please.

Perhaps Key was really bad at hiding her noise of pain because Professor Crewel looked behind him, a cold glare in his eyes. Instantly, Key shut up. She didn't want to give him a reason to call her a ‘ whimpering puppy ’ or something close to that effect.

"Enough with that," he mildly scolded. "Eyes forward, spine straight, and walk with confidence."

He turned away from her again before Key could retort. Normally, she would have said something, but knowing that Professor Crewel was on the hunt for someone or something had already put her on edge. The both of them had already gotten off the wrong foot, but now it seemed like they were continually stepping on each other's toes until Professor Crewel finally finished what he had set out to do.

And if Key's eyes weren't betraying her, then Professor Crewel was knocking on—

"Ah, Professor Crewel! What brings you here on this most propitious day?" The Headmage peeked his head outside of his office's doorway, his eerie golden eyes blinking in a mixture of aloof politeness usually reserved for coworkers and honest surprise. However, that same surprise morphed into bewilderment when he saw that Key trail behind the potionology professor. "Miss Key? Ah, I see that you've finally acquainted yourself with—Professor Crewel!"

With all of the grace and elegance of a queen striding into her royal chambers, Professor Crewel brushed past his employer and right into the Headmage's office. As Key trailed in after, resigning herself to what she assumed was going to be a series of reprimands followed by punishment, she happened to glance up to see the Headmage splutter in shock.

At any other time, she would have laughed because seeing the Headmage look like anything other than a pretentious little crow was always entertaining, but she was still apprehensive. Professor Crewel had years of tenure under his belt and he was a renowned professor, while Key was just a girl lost in a strange world.

Professor Crewel swung his pointer, the collar that was attached to his magestone swinging violently at the force. At his unspoken spell, the door slammed shut behind the Headmage and Key was abruptly shoved (a little more gently than the door) into one of the chairs that the Headmage kept for any guests who wanted to visit his office.

"Professor Crewel! Where are your manners? It's barely been three hours since you've arrived and already—”

Professor Crewel raised a hand, the ruby gloves catching the light and drawing the attention of some of the portraits that hung on the wall behind the Headmage’s desk. Key didn’t want to put more attention on herself, but she couldn’t help but catch the eye of one of the sorceresses. If she remembered correctly, this was the Evil Queen from Snow White… Queen Grimhilde? But she supposed that in this weird, rewired reality, the Evil Queen was actually known as the Fairest Queen.

The Fairest Queen smiled at Key, her thin blood red lips curling gently at the corners before her eyes darted towards the potionology professor. Hmm… Perhaps she liked the ruby gloves and the rest of Professor Crewel’s admittedly impressive outfit. Key had long since resigned herself to wearing second hand clothing for the unforeseeable future, but that didn’t stop her from feeling particularly grungy and insignificant—like the dregs of dirt found on someone’s old, dirty shoes.

Professor Crewel sat beside Key; his right leg crossed over his left. Sitting beside him, the young custodian imagined that this must have been what it was like to actually be in school and brought before the principal for any misdemeanors or perceived slights. Although, she supposed that this was an even stranger case because all it took was at least half an hour of painful interaction and ‘puppy’ or ‘pup’ nicknames before Key somehow earned this treatment.

“Take a seat, Dire,” Professor Crewel practically hissed. “We have a lot to catch up on and even more to rectify.” Crewel inclined his head towards Key and in a lower tone that barely eased the tension in her spine, murmured, “Pay attention, Miss Key. You can’t always rely on others to help you in circumstances such as this.”

What?

Had Key heard him correctly? Help? What did he mean by that?

She tried to ask, but found herself unceremoniously shutting up in awe at how… reticent the Headmage looked at that moment. Usually so pompous and larger than life, it seemed that his colleague’s impromptu visit to his office had shaken him more than what he cared to admit. A sense of satisfaction ran through Key, but a thought struck her at that instant.

If Crowley was cowed by such a grand entrance and cold greeting, then what was in store for her?

“Have you found the assistant that I procured for you and Dr. Park to be unsatisfactory?” The Headmage chortled under his breath, trying to offset the awkward atmosphere, but only succeeded in bringing attention to the fact that he was still not in control of his office. Despite the fact that he was seated behind his great desk and still radiated magical power that only the most powerful of mages could ever hope to emulate, it was still Professor Crewel who held all of the cards in this situation. “I can assure you, she’s very bright and willing to do many of the tasks that you see fit to give her.”

Professor Crewel set both feet on the ground now, seemingly fed up with all pretenses of civility at the Headmage’s last comment.

As the potionology professor tapped his pointer into his opposite hand, he kept his keen gaze on the Headmage. The air between them was charged with electricity; Key felt her chest heave with the need to inhale, her breathing had long since become shallow and quiet with mounting anxiety.

Was it always in Professor Crewel’s nature to draw out punishment? That in itself was punishment already! That was simply cruel!

“That’s precisely my point! The poor girl is willing to do anything and everything!” With one resounding smack upon his ruby red glove (Key winced at the sound of the pointer hitting leather, how did he not feel it? it seemed so painful just listening to the smack), Crewel continued, his eyes flashing with anger. “Janitorial work, learning how to create potions under Dr. Park, and serving as a secretary? Your secretary?”

The Headmage placed a finger upon his chin, the way he canted his head to the side showcasing his confusion perfectly.   

“Yes? I am well aware of her strengths and have deemed her capable for these tasks.”

A sound, almost like a growl, could be heard from Professor Crewel’s throat. If it were not for her previous exposure to Zaria and Emilio, Key would have balked at hearing that. Now faced with the idea that he must have either have had a few beastman genes in him or he was just that angry, she made sure not to make any sudden movements lest his attention stray towards her direction (though she did try to shrink a little more into herself). 

“Look, Dire. Really look at her.”

Key may not have known Headmage long, but she knew that he usually didn’t answer to just anyone. He was still a respected authority figure (why, she didn’t know) and commanded respect among his employees, but most would agree that he did have birds for brains. After a prolonged second of confused staring, the Headmage sighed before casting a glance at the young custodian. The golden eyed gaze wasn’t anything new—she had long since gotten accustomed to how alien the sheen and intensity of his eyes were—but she didn’t want to be scrutinized any longer than necessary.

“Yes, I can see Miss Key.” The Headmage pressed a finger to his chin as he contemplated. “Are you not well, Miss Key? I would assume that it would be prudent of you to visit the infirmary if that were the case, considering your… fragile constitution—”

Professor Crewel sat up straighter—if that were even possible. “Fragile constitution!?”

“—but I doubt that is the reason for this sudden inspection.” The Headmage faced the irate potionology professor once more. “Unfortunately, the practice of mind reading has been outlawed for the past few decades so I can’t begin to fathom the catalyst for all of this drama, Professor Crewel. The girl looks to be in good condition.”

Professor Crewel took a breath.

He looked like he was contemplating his life choices.

And then—

“That. Girl. Is. A. Child.” Professor Crewel gestured at Key, but kept his steely gaze trained on the Headmage. “I don’t care if she has the credentials or experience to take on any of the tasks that you thought she could take on—training is always expected—but you think she can carry the combined stress of three separate positions? Aren’t you well aware that we can afford to hire more people instead of burdening one child? This is unacceptable and something that I would expect from institutions that lack the prestige and respect that one would usually conflate with Night Raven College!”

Key coughed before raising a hand. Although Professor Crewel was still clearly aching to rip off the Headmage’s head, he spared her a glance that only marginally softened when he caught sight of the earnest light in her eyes.

"Can I say something? Real quick?"

The Headmage opened his mouth, but it was the professor who responded. "You may."

"Right, um..." Key squirmed a little in her seat, unused to having this much attention. "Look, Professor, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I already talked to the Headmage about compensation and what tasks he expects me to accomplish. It's not... much. Honest."

That was a truth that was stretched a little too far, but it wasn't thin enough to quite see through that easily.

Yes, Key might be naive and new to this strange world, but she wasn't that stupid. She could speak up on her own behalf and she knew her limitations. Three jobs? Bah! This was simply a lesson in time management!

The circumstances weren't ideal, but it was a challenge that she was willing to shoulder because she had to.

She owed it to the Headmage so he could try and spare some time to find her a way home.

She could do it.

There was no room for failure because she would succeed.

She would.

The young custodian's gaze had fallen to the floor, her fingers playing with the fabric of her overalls.

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence that made Key think that she should have said something more, maybe something more profound, but then—

“Well then! It appears that the matter has been settled!” The Headmage popped up from his chair, his customary cheer back in his tone of voice and skip in his step, as he tried to usher Crewel out the door. “Thank you so much for your concern—I can see that you’ll have a grand time mentoring such an inquisitive and determined mind as hers—but I fear that I have other matters to attend—”

“I will not allow the girl to take on errands for Dr. Park. Not unless you release her from the duties as either your secretary or as a custodian.”

Key bristled at the way the professor referred to her—she was more than just a ‘girl’—but her tongue refused to move. She was willing to accept more work on her plate, but she didn’t think it was possible that someone would actually advocate for her within moments of introduction.

It had crossed her mind to ask for more than advice from either Alastair or Ol’ Harper, but she got the sense that even if they were the senior most members in the maintenance crew, that didn’t mean much to the Headmage. Furthermore, she also got the sense that they must have had their fair share of arguments and failed proposals—if their comments regarding the old, dilapidated dorm were any indication—before they just decided to swallow their complaints and accept it as their way of life.

Dr. Park was a shrewd and crafty character, someone who could easily talk some sense into the Headmage, but unlike the rest of the janitorial staff, Key didn’t maintain a relationship outside of professional matters. She was nothing more than an informal apprentice and she wasn’t keen on sharing too much of her struggles with the doctor despite his concerns regarding the “curse” on her appetite.   

To know that this… insufferable teacher was going to intervene on her behalf so quickly felt almost heartwarming. Like something she would see on those sappy tv movies over the holidays. It was too good to be true, but Key couldn’t help but think that he didn’t want anything out of it.

He was helping her because he could.

It was almost frightening after the treatment she received from the Headmage.

"I can assure you, Professor, she already gave her consent. What's another task to the list? The girl is headstrong, hardworking, and what's more, a quick learner. You'll find that she'll have no problems with it."

"Miss Key may not have a problem with it, and you clearly have not put in enough effort to think about it for more than a few seconds, but I can assure you, I will not endorse your decision to work her into the ground."

And that's how Key spent the next hour and a half. Not knowing what to do—but already aware that if she were to cut in now, she would lose all credibility in front of Crewel—Key tried to pay attention to the proceedings. The key word being tried.

There was only so much she could do to remain mentally present as the two educators on staff continued to ream into each other with thinly veiled insults (Crewel) and unnecessary derailments and deflections (Crowley). Dimly, Key thought that this must have been what it would have been like if her parents actually divorced—the feelings were certainly there.

Anger, tension, bitterness, and vague hints of confusion and stress pervaded Key's mind.

She drifted in and out of the conversation, only paying attention whenever she heard her name or if there was a sudden change in pitch or tone. Every once in a while, she would glance at the portraits of the Great Seven only to find that they were either very invested or just as tired as Key.

This time, it seemed that it was the Greek God of the Underworld and the Royal Vizier listening in.

Both portraits seemed engrossed in the conversation, despite the fact that they were nowhere near each other. Unlike the majority of their female counterparts, they muttered underneath their breath, their condescension and suggestions on how to best handle the situation just barely audible. The Queen of Hearts tried to shush them, citing that it was rude, but the Greek God called her “an old bag” whereas the Royal Vizier chuckled under his breath. The royal from Wonderland looked like she was mere seconds from blowing her top at such insolence, but one concerned glance from Key stopped her in her tracks.

The Queen of Hearts looked down her nose at the young custodian before withdrawing a fan from somewhere out of frame, before she proceeded to fan herself with all of the force of a hurricane. Had it been possible, the fan waving could have ended up affecting the other portraits—maybe the Greek God’s hair would have been completely put out.

That would certainly be a sight to behold.

It was funny in the movie, at least.

Key’s attention was drawn once more to the Headmage and the Professor who were—

Key chewed the inside of her lip and hoped that any apparent bashfulness would mediate any disappointment or ill will towards her.

“I didn’t catch that,” Key murmured softly. She played with the fingers on her left hand, wishing that she was actually toying with her lighter. Something told her that if she were to pull it out now, it wouldn’t serve as a good impression for Professor Crewel or an incentive for the Headmage to acquiesce to whatever Crewel wanted in the first place. “Could you repeat that?”

Crewel muttered something to himself, something along the lines of “clueless puppy” before he said, quite pointedly at both the Headmage and Key—

“Two jobs, Miss Key. There is no reason for the Headmage to burden you with so many tasks when not even the senior most members of the janitorial staff are allowed to handle just as much work. He wants to keep you on as his secretary—” He sent a disgusted look at Crowley, as if he couldn’t believe that he was foisting off so many of his responsibilities to such a young lady. “—but you’re given the choice of either supplementing your duties with that of apprenticing under Dr. Park (and by extension, myself) or you can continue working with the rest of the maintenance staff.”

That was certainly a surprise.

“I have a choice?” Key’s deep brown eyes darted between both gentlemen. If there was one thing she learned at Night Raven College, it was that good things came with a price. Normally, Key would associate such thinking with the students, but one should never underestimate the authorities that they mostly answered to.  

The Headmage offered her a smile—a little stilted and a little lacking in warmth, but he didn’t seem too annoyed at this turn of events. Still, though, Key would make sure not to step on his toes any more than necessary come the next few days.

“We all have choices to make, Miss Key. Some are more important than others.”

Chapter Text

“It’s clean, but the décor looks nasty.” Zaria wrang out the last of the dirty water from the rag that she had been using, drops of light brown falling into a plastic blue bucket of dark grey water. She wiped her forehead, the back of her hand covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Today, her hair was carefully plaited into box braids, her normally voluminous hair tightly wound into thin ropes that swayed elegantly every time she moved. “Are you sure we can’t afford to reupholster the couches?” 

“That’s the thing that demands your attention first, Z?” Emilio lugged the bucket that Zaria had been using, his nose scrunching up in disgust at the smell emanating from its contents. “You should take a look at the roof.” He shook his head in disappointment, as if she were personally responsible for its state. 

The snow leopard beastman shrugged as she dusted off her custodian’s uniform, the light grey dust smearing over the fabric of her white shirt. “You can avoid looking at the roof, but you can’t tear your eyes away from that… monstrosity.”

Both Emilio and Zaria shared a laugh before their gaze fell upon their newest recruit. Although it was fairly early in the afternoon, Key looked the most disheveled out of the lot. She had told everyone that she had managed to finish cleaning the classrooms during her evening shift and had retired earlier, but there were small bags under her eyes and the telltale fervor of panic as she continued to spray and swipe at one of the windows. 

She must not have heard them—or if she did, she didn’t want to bring attention to herself—because she usually would have laughed or quipped back about even more terrible things about the old dorm. Instead, it seemed as if she were trying to rub a hole through the glass through sheer willpower alone. It would be impressive, Emilio thought, if it were not so concerning. 

“You think the Little Bird got her wings clipped?” Emilio stage-whispered. Ever since her first meeting with the potionology professor, she had been a little more antsy than usual. She tried her hardest to keep her little secret under wraps, but it would take a deaf and blind person to not know that there was something wrong with her. And by something wrong, Key was clearly stressed and overthinking things. 

… which was interesting because she said that she didn’t have to work for Dr. Park anymore (a shame, Zahur wanted to ask if she could brew some stuff that wasn’t medically or legally advisable for fun) and had more free time as a result, but she acted like she had been given unpaid overtime. 

Zaria cast a glance at her fellow female custodian, frowning as she did so. For as long as she could remember, it was usually just her and Dolly—and maybe a few other women—on campus, most of whom were already in their early thirties to rapidly approaching retirement age. It was rare for such a young woman to be hired, especially one who looked like she had barely finished school. Having lived in a male dominated sphere for so long, Zaria wondered how Key would fare once the school year actually started. 

Poor girl, having to deal with the weird Housewardens… 

Zaria hummed a little to herself before gently elbowing Emilio aside—” Hey, I’m too cute for that !”—and walked towards Key’s side. 

As a beastman who doubled as a predator, she learned from a young age how to act around both humans and prey beastman. Prowling and stalking creatures who were not as strong as her was second nature, so it was out of politeness that she usually announced her presence first by appearing (slowly) in the corners of their peripheral vision so as to give them time to acknowledge her or leave. With Ol’ Harper, he was already used to being at the mercy of beastman who decided to mirror their animal counterparts; he was not as easy to rattle, but he was appreciative of her efforts to minimize his flight instincts. There was only so much stress he could handle at his age and Zaria did not want to be responsible for an early death. 

It was with relief that Zaria spotted Key’s eyes dart towards her approaching figure before smiling bashfully in greeting. 

She did not stop wiping the already clean window, though. 

“H-hi, Miss Zaria!” Key stumbled over her words as the snow leopard beastman waited patiently. It wasn’t often that she spoke with the younger custodian, but Zaria sorely wished that Key was a little more comfortable with her. There were only so many women around who weren’t already halfway in the grave or too busy with their other duties to bother talking to her. “Did you need something?”

“Yes.” Zaria held out a hand and gestured for the spray bottle filled with window cleaner and the rag that Key had been using. It took a second for the meaning to click, but once it did, Key seemed to panic a little before she placed both the items into the beastman’s strong, but gentle grip. “Take a break.”

“But—!”

“It’s the Housewardens, right?” The maternal instinct that Zaria thought she reserved only for small cubs and a few kin, rose up in victory when she saw the flash of recognition in Key’s eyes. “You’re worried, but being worried won’t help you.”

“I’m not—”

The snow leopard beastman shook her head before gently taking Key by the shoulders and guiding her out of the dorm. Behind them, Emilio piped up with a chipper goodbye before he began heading towards another area of the building that needed cleaning. As Key called out a tardy reply, the three ghosts of the dilapidated dorm called out their own farewells, although they were far more subdued if Zaria’s cold expression towards them was any indicator. 

After tucking in a stray fly away hair behind Key’s ear, Zaria adjusted the straps of Key’s backpack so that it rested comfortably over her shoulders before looking at her charge in approval. “Take a shower, read a novel—you’re more than free to peruse my own extensive collection if you like—but no more paperwork!—or go talk to that fox boy you’re so fond of.”

“Mr. Norton is the only student who willingly talks to me,” the young custodian defended. “And don’t you need my help? There’s a few more rooms on the second floor—”

“Dolly and Al got that covered, solnyshko.” The much taller woman booped Key on the nose at the endearment before she once again pushed her towards the wrought iron gate. “You work yourself too hard at times and we still have a few days before term begins. Realistically, we’ll be done by the time school starts even if you aren’t there to help.”

This time, the sigh that left Key’s mouth was less that of a pouty, teenage rebellion sort of sound and something more like acquiescence to the inevitable. 

“Fine. But are you really, really, really sure?”

“Absolutely. Now get before I test the hypothesis that you can actually fly.”

Admittedly, Zaria was right. Key had been working herself much too hard these past few days even though she no longer had to report to Dr. Park or to Professor Crewel. The infirmary doctor had been saddened by such a prospect—he mostly used those instances just to make sure that Key was still adjusting and getting her nutrients—but he had ultimately said that it was a good thing. 

“It doesn’t matter at what stage of life you’re in,” he said wisely, “too much stress will always lead to poorer outcomes.”

Besides, Dr. Park would be short handed. He had been busy these past few days with an influx of emails from a number of universities. Apparently, several applicants from the Land of Dawning and the Land of Heroes wished to intern at the infirmary for one semester. And even if there weren’t any interns to contend with, most of the time the infirmary was usually empty considering how selective the school was when it came to procuring prospective students. 

And as for Professor Crewel, Key hadn’t seen too much of him after that bout of negotiations with the Headmage. Whenever they came across each other, the potionology professor would greet her with a stern, but professional expression on his face as he nodded. In turn, Key would always give him a shaky smile and a quickly muttered “ Hello ”. She had thanked him after that conversation with the Headmage, but she couldn’t help but think that maybe she should do something more to show her appreciation. She didn’t know what though, and it wasn’t like she was in the habit of potentially stepping on toes or pushing past professional boundaries. 

So, to keep things simple, she made sure to not antagonize him and whenever she was assigned to clean the magical sciences wing in the main building, she would make sure his desk and surrounding furniture was spotless. 

The days leading up to the first Housewarden meeting and the welcoming ceremony were hectic and stressful. While the summer school students were up to their ears in last minute exams and presentations, the teachers and the rest of the staff needed to keep the school running had returned to campus in droves. There were a few female professors and support staff, but the vast majority of the returnees were male. Among them, there was a Professor Trein, a Coach Vargas, and a rather eccentric character who went by the name of Sam. 

“Be careful with that one,” Alastair told her one day when she accompanied him to the shop to help clean and dust the inside. For now, the shop was mostly bare except for a few nick-nacks and baubles that lay underneath a protective glass counter. However, there was a shipment ready to arrive before the students’ return, so the shop would be fully stocked by then. “He’s a good businessman, which means he’s always looking for a good way to increase profit. He’s fair and if you catch him in a good mood, open to bartering and haggling, but if you don’t need something immediately, you should probably head down to town to explore your options first.”

Key huffed a laugh as she lifted a tarp away from an upright piano, pausing only to play a few notes on the weathered keys. It was slightly out of tune, but in relatively good condition considering it looked old and a little worse for wear on the outside. “That bad, huh?”

“Not bad,” Alastair shook his head. “Brilliant, but too brilliant if you ask me.”

Key hadn’t had the opportunity to meet most of the returning staff members from most departments, but she made sure to remain cordial and affable should the need arise.  

Today, now that she had nothing to do after getting kicked out of the dilapidated dorm, Key made a beeline towards the courtyard of the main building. There were a few people she wasn’t overly familiar with traipsing the halls, their conversations mostly of idle gossip or recounts of what they were doing over the summer holidays, so she sped past them when she was able to or hide in corners so she wouldn’t have to inevitably look them in the eye. Despite her eventual habituation to wearing her overalls and other miscellaneous Night Raven College merch that she took from the lost and found box, the embarrassment returned whenever she had to contend with new pairs of eyes staring at her. 

At least, with the summer school students and the teachers, they were mostly focused on their studies and what mischief they could get up to when classes finished.

After a few close calls and an awkward mishap involving a pair of untied shoelaces and an absent-minded professor with an armful of binders, Key finally reached her quarry. 

Cameron, ever the slothful fox, was curled up under a tree, his uniform messy and unkempt as he draped his blazer over himself like a makeshift blanket. As Key neared, his ears twitched at the sound of her approach, but he neither moved nor said a word when Key stood above him. 

And then she pounced.

“HEY! WHY?” Cameron yowled in false pain as he tried to protect himself from her assault (read: a very tight hug around his middle). Batting her away, he tried to sit up again, but found himself pinned to the ground by a very smug, and very sweaty custodian. 

“Hey.” 

“Don’t bat your eyes at me, Birdie. You’re not a vixen and if you were, you wouldn’t smell half as bad.”

Key allowed that insult to sink in. 

And then she headbutted his chest so hard, he thought that his ribcage would implode from impact. 

“I’m not taking it back!” Cameron screamed. “You stink!”

“I’m only slightly sweating!” The young custodian laughed before peeling herself off the offended fox beastman so that she could sit beside him, his limbs still sprawled on the grass. “If it’ll make you feel better, I was planning on taking a shower after talking to you.”

He glared at her, his olive-green eyes narrowing in a mixture of disappointment and disgust. “Couldn’t you have taken a shower before you decided to ambush me?”

“Is it an ambush if you knew that it was me all along? Face it—” She poked his cheek, only to get her pointer finger nearly bitten in retaliation. “—you’re just as happy to see me.”

He pointed to his deadpan expression as if to say that happiness was far from the first thing on his mind. 

“Come on! You know you love me! So,” Key said conspiratorially as she crossed her legs and leaned over in anticipation, “how did you do? Pass? Fail?”

Summer school was rapidly coming to a close. For Night Raven College, summer classes commenced one month after the regular term had ended, which allowed students to spend some time among family members. It was rare for students to stay the entire year—unlike some staff members who chose to live full time on the grounds—but it wasn’t unheard of. Now that there were a few days short of a week left before the opening ceremony, the students were tasked with final submissions, examinations, and presentations. For Cameron, he had just taken his last exam before he could leave NRC for good. 

Cameron smirked before turning over on his side so that his back faced Key. 

“Hey! Mr. Norton!” Key uncrossed her legs so that she could lightly kick at his. “You can’t just ignore me! I helped you study last night!”

Cameron shot a less than amused glance at her general direction. 

“Okay, you got me. I kept you company when you studied last night!”

After she had finished wiping down and sweeping the classrooms that doubled as offices for the returning teachers, Key had spent most of the late evening and early morning hours cuddling a pillow on one of the pristine white couches in Octavinelle. Before she had been assigned a role as a custodian, Alastair had been kind enough to give her a tour of the student dorms. It was during school hours, so most of the dorms were quiet and empty.

The first thing she noticed was that all of the dorms reminded her of Disney films and she desperately wanted to comment on it, but when she tried to make a joke about Disney attractions and how money hungry the corporation must have been to make a school based off the villains, she had been met with a blank faced stare. Now that she knew better, the thought of Disney villains and their counterparts didn’t cross her mind as much anymore, but she still had questions lingering at the back of her mind of what all of this meant… 

Whatever the case, she didn’t have a strong opinion on any of the dorms, but all of them had their pros and cons. 

For example, she loved the underwater aesthetic and how the light from the surrounding aquarium always looked so blue and serene. However, she knew that she would never make it past a few days of living in Octavinelle as a student. It would eventually get dark and eerie in this particular dorm and she liked waking up to the sun resting gently on her face. Where was that underwater?

And besides, she felt even more confined than when she was on land.

She had voiced those thoughts to Cameron when he took a brief fifteen-minute break and he had given her a sympathetic glance. 

“Sevens, same! I thought I was going to lose my mind my first few weeks here! I swear, the only time I ever came here was to eat breakfast and sleep. It’s fancy and nice, but it’s not my type of den, ya’know?” 

They had talked at length about different matters—so much so, that fifteen minutes stretched into three quarters of an hour—and had even approached some serious topics that they normally wouldn’t have broached during the daylight hours. Cameron wanted to make a difference in his community, especially with regards to discrimination and prejudice while Key revealed that she didn’t know where life was going to take her. She even mentioned a thought that Emilio had about her getting an education, but she wasn’t sure if she was mentally ready for that. For her, things were moving too fast or not at all. 

Eventually, Cameron had to return to his scribbled notes and Key went back to watching aquatic wildlife sway with the current. 

Key left around three in the morning when the fox beastman announced that enough was enough and that if he failed, then he failed. 

“I think…” 

A pause. 

“Did you want a drum roll to go with your announcement?” Key was being sarcastic, but instantly obliged when she saw that Cameron was smiling at her impishly. “Ugh, drama queen.”

“Drama king,” Cameron punctuated. 

“Behold, your long-awaited drum roll.”

Key smacked her hands against Cameron’s back—"Gahhhhh, I did not ask for a massage, Birdie whyyyyyy!”—before he finally rolled over and proclaimed—

“I dunno.”

“Seriously?”

“I asked the prof if he could give me a hint, but nah. He said I would have to meet with the Headmage first thing in the morning, though, to get my documents and the grade.”

“Seriously? Not even a hint?”

Cameron finally rolled over so that he could face her fully, his eyes uncharacteristically kind. “Don’t worry about me, Key. Believe it or not, I am smart and I was not at all distracted by your nervous chatter in the lounge.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t say anything unless you said something first!”

Cameron pointed at his head. “Your thoughts, you project them very loudly whenever you’re stressed.”

Key reared back, clearly taking offense. "I most certainly do not! And besides, I was reading a book!"

The fox beastman gave her a knowing look. "Uh-huh. So you weren't just staring daggers into a book about... what was it? A treasury of children's nursery rhymes and folk tales?"

Key shrugged. "What can I say? If the classics are amazing, then they're amazing and I'll read them." A moment. "And I do not broadcast my thoughts!"

His olive-green eyes narrowed in mischief as he observed the young custodian. "Sure. So, you're not at all guilty about the fact that you have less work to do now that Professor Crewel stood up for you?"

"... it was a mistake telling you about that."

"It was a mistake for you to come here without taking a shower." Before Key could protest, he withdrew from his pocket a ball of crumpled tissues and shoved it into her hands. "Use that to dry your sweat, your forehead looks so shiny and sticky and—"

"Did you freakin' use these already?" Key was looking at the tissues in horror, her deep brown eyes wide behind her glasses. Hurriedly, she threw the wad of tissues at Cameron's face, shrieking as she did so. "Tell me the truth, Mr. Norton! Did you use these?"

"Sevens, no! But since you're throwing such generosity in my face, I might as well!"

After a brief fight that included playful little slaps and threatening bites that resulted in quick nips upon Key's arms, the both of them lay exhausted, but amused beneath the aged apple tree. It had been a while since they let loose like this, especially since Key had been stressed with the preparations for the college and at the dilapidated dormitory and Cameron was busy keeping up with his studies and getting the necessary documents ready for his admission to his local academy. If everything went well, Key would end up officially instated as a custodian and secretary at Night Raven College and Cameron would leave come morning with his transcript and belongings in tow. 

"That soon?" Key pouted as she sat up straight so she could gaze down at Cameron better. He lay flat on his back, but his blazer was tucked behind his head like a makeshift pillow and both the hair atop his head and the fur from his tail were ruffled from their previous shenanigans. "Doesn't sound fair, Mr. Norton. You should be given more time."

"Nah, no time like the present to kick me out." Laughing a little to himself, he mirrored Key's posture so that they were finally eye to eye. "'Sides, the sooner I turn in my documents and stuff, the sooner I can get admitted. My exams have already been processed, it's just a matter of getting the sealed copies from the Headmage. Speaking of..."

"If you're thinking I have the clearance to go inside his office and get them out early, then you're out of your mind."

"Damn. It would be so cool, though! We could pretend like we're in those horribly complicated heist movies! I could even say…” He posed as if he were a movie star, a sly smirk on his face and a smoldering look in his eyes that would have looked seductive on someone who had experience. On Cameron, though, it looked like he was trying to make Key laugh by making a fool out of himself, which, if that was his intention, was a success. “This is my last job, gotta make it a good one.”

The young custodian punched him in the shoulder. 

“Stop! Please, I get enough theatrics from Mr. Emilio, I don’t need more from you!”

Eyes widened like a young kit’s stared up at her in a faux expression of devastation. “But it’s my last day! You’d take away my right to heist knowing that you’ll never see me again?”

“You don’t deserve any rights.” She chided. “And, even if you went through with it, chances are I’ll see you again and again on the local news.”

“At least you’ll have something pretty to look forward to.”

“The lovely news lady? Why, yes, of course!”

Afterwards, the both of them made plans for their last evening together before Cameron’s departure tomorrow morning. Cameron wanted to splurge with what little money he had left, so he decided to get some food from the nearby town. Although the ghosts in the cafeteria were always giving their all when cooking for the students, Cameron sometimes complained that it tasted… dated. The techniques used were of their time and the menu took a long time to change given how static the ghosts’ dispositions were. 

Not that Key could say anything about the taste or presentation of the food. 

“And don’t worry, I’ll get you a little something too, Little Bird.” 

Key gave him the look, but the fox beastman only gave her a mischievous grin that either spelled trouble or an advantageous boon in the future. 

“Ugh, fine. I’ll come with you, but I can’t stay out for too long.” Although the bruise on Key’s face had mostly faded and didn’t garner as much attention as it did before, she felt it smart as the memories of what happened to her at the boardwalk filled her head. 

“You got work tonight?”

“No, the Headmage told Mr. Alastair that it would probably be best that I get some rest. I mean, with the Housewarden meeting tomorrow and all—”

“What.”

For some odd reason, the fox beastman had thought it prudent to grab her by the shoulders and stare directly into her eyes, his gaze unfathomably serious. 

“The Housewarden meeting? The one I’ve been telling you about for the past few days?” Key watched as the dread that began mounting in his eyes seemed to overflow to the brim. “Have you forgotten about the House—”

“The Housewarden meeting? It’s tomorrow?” Cameron fell away from her before picking up his rumpled blazer, slipping it on, and then grabbing her by the wrist so that they could practically run out of the courtyard. “Shoot! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“But I have been telling you?!”

Key didn’t even bother asking where they were going. At that point, she was too busy stifling the urge to laugh at the urgency in Cameron’s over exaggerated horror at the upcoming meeting.

Surely, they couldn’t all be bad, right? 

Chapter Text

The plan to order out and bring back the spoils to eat at Cameron’s dorm was woefully shot down. After Cameron had shoved Key into the nearest supply closet—" For the love of the Seven, take a shower or whatever and meet me at my dorm within thirty minutes or I’m leaving you ”—the young custodian had simply followed along. After an uneventful shower and changing into a pair of baggy jeans (held up with a frayed belt that had clearly seen better days) and an equally baggy shirt, she grabbed her backpack and headed out.

Before she could leave, however, she had to tell a very concerned Alastair and Dolly that—

“I’m heading out with Cameron for a victory dinner. Don’t worry, I’m not planning on staying out too late. I’ll probably be back around…” Key glanced down at her pocket watch, inwardly jumping with glee at the clicky noise, and noted that it was still early in the afternoon. A very sunny and warm five in the afternoon, in fact. “I’d say ten? Maybe eleven if I’m feeling frisky?”

Alastair clapped both his hands over his eyes. “Please… I’m begging you, don’t get frisky with Cameron. Or anyone else.”

Dolly seconded that statement by signing a very large and emphatic NO .

Which, considering Key wasn’t even thinking about things like that, made her confused before immediately connecting the dots and deciding that she can have one last laugh of the afternoon before Cameron stole her away.

“Are you sure? It is a celebratory event—"

“Just go before I throw up!”

Key laughed and promised that she was joking, but still managed to reassure both of her colleagues that it was simply one last dinner before Cameron would leave in the morning.

While running down Main Street, the confusion at Cameron’s sudden urgency resurfaced. Was he nervous about the Housewardens coming back? From what she could gather, yes, there were a few students she found to be somewhat intimidating from the profiles themselves, but really. How could seven students be so scary? Then again, this was a boarding school for the most powerful and elite of magicians. For all that she knew about educational institutions, she still found herself surprised by some of the mundanities of Twisted Wonderland.

Soon though, she found herself skidding to a halt in front of the Hall of Mirrors.

As always, she was entranced by the different emblems above the entrances, how their very designs were reminiscent of the Disney films she used to watch on VHS with her siblings. During her first few days adjusting to her new life in Twisted Wonderland, Alastair and Emilio had taken her on a tour of the different dorms on campus.

(In reality, Alastair had given her the tour. Emilio was tasked with making sure the pocket dimensions were in proper working order because certain subsets of magic were prone to rebelling or distorting if left unattended for long periods of time).

After checking out the different dorms and noting the differences, Key had come to realize that she had a favorite.

“Which one?” Emilio had asked after he had stowed away his toolbox. He had recently emerged from a supply closet located in a corner farthest away from one of the mirrors. “Personally, the student dorms are too chaotic and ya know… not my style. The teachers’ dorm, though…” He whistled and sighed with wistful appreciation. “I bet they’re hiding some really good liquor in there. And that pool table? Talk about excessive! But I guess it’s a small price to pay when you’re dealing with teenagers all day.”

Key thought for a moment, recalled a fun fact that Zahur had whispered to her and said, “The dorm at the Botanical Gardens seems pretty awesome! What do you think?”

Key got an earful about dorm loyalty—" Sevens! You’re a custodian, member of the maintenance and support staff and you willingly side with the dirt obsessed freaks, was it Zahur who put you up to this? I’m gonna kill him dead and then ” — before Zaria had come to her rescue with a stare that could freeze oceans.

It was unfortunate: she actually did like the Botanical Gardens and the many wonders it held.

To get back to the matter at hand, Key was already familiar with the layout and general atmosphere of Octavinelle, but there were certain areas she hadn’t crossed yet. The lounge was open to all and she had seen the inside of Cameron’s dorm room, but there was a cordoned area labeled Mostro Lounge, and she had no reason to investigate the other student rooms. She had heard from secondhand accounts of the creation of the student run restaurant (she was already in awe of it because the student was only sixteen when he founded it and had become even more floored when she found that it was successful), but she wasn’t keen on seeing it empty and bereft of life. Perhaps when the school year started, she could visit?

It was just too bad; Cameron would be gone and it wasn’t like the support staff had any reason to enter a dorm unless they needed to attend to the students’ needs.

So, it was with a faint sense of surprise and fascination when she saw that the door to the Mostro Lounge was open.

Had Cameron opened it? She thought back to the students she saw sometimes and concluded that there were around less than half a dozen Octavinelle students taking classes… But, as far back as she could remember, she had never seen it open.

Then again, that may be due to the fact that she didn’t make it a habit of inviting herself over to Octavinelle. Most of the time, Cameron and herself usually hung out elsewhere in the afternoons or whenever they had tasks to complete.

Curious now, and knowing that she may never get a chance like this again, Key threw all caution to the wind and made her way to the Mostro Lounge.

It was darker than expected. Most of the illumination came from the tanks that made up one of the walls. From what little she could see, there were a series of couches and tables (most of them covered in tarps), an area that looked like a bar, and various light fixtures that reminded Key of jellyfish and coral.

Bolder now that she hadn’t seen anyone yet, Key crept further in.

Based on the tarps that lay in one corner and that there were a few lamps that were left on, Key assumed that there must be at least one person around? But where were they? For a moment, she thought about announcing her presence, but decided against it. It was nice exploring something without anyone else guiding her—one of the main reasons why she liked staying out late at night.

Before she knew it, she had climbed up a small staircase and towards what she assumed was one of the best seats in the house. Here, the couches were bigger and positioned in a way that it could cater to at least six people—probably as a means to encourage study groups—while affording the diners the spectacular view of the restaurant with the aquarium as a backdrop.

It was beautiful.

But not her favorite dorm.

As Key faced the glass and saw an entire ecosystem thriving in such still waters, she could hear the faintest tapping noise. Footsteps.

Someone was behind her.

Be still, her mind told her. Considering how pretty much all of the summer school students were aware of her presence and she had once said hello to a few Octavinelle students while accompanying Cameron, she assumed that it must have been her favorite fox beastman trying to startle her. Jokes on him, she smirked a little to herself, her eyesight may have sucked, but her hearing was exemplary!

Hmm… Had he already got her something? Or did he want to startle her again before dinner?

It took everything in her power to stifle the laugh waiting to bubble out of her mouth. If he was going to pull a prank on her, she was ready to repay him tenfold.

Yet, as the footsteps neared, Key realized something crucial. Cameron’s footsteps were featherlight, almost nonexistent. Not only was he a predator beastman with instincts that made him adept at stalking prey, but whenever he was in a mischievous mood, he was absolutely silent. No, the clicking of these footsteps were relatively loud in comparison and clicked with a melody that was very unlike Cameron’s gait.

Slow and steady, like a drumbeat.

Maybe even the steady thrum of a heartbeat.

If it wasn’t Cameron, then was it one of the summer school students? How strange, they were cordial if they ever interacted with her, but none approached her willingly.

Key was so consumed in her thoughts that she failed to notice that in the reflection of the aquarium, there was a looming presence behind her that grew taller.

And taller.

And taller.

And that’s when she happened to look up. 

Who was that behind her?!

Key was a short person. She knew this. In fact, she had been the shortest in her family for as long as she could remember and short compared to her peers. However, her shortness was nothing compared to the very tall entity that skulked up to her now, his footsteps stopping with an emphasized click that had Key's shoulders reaching her ears.

She dared not look back.

But she did look higher up the aquarium glass, the reflection of whoever stood behind her as clear as day.

Well, maybe not so clear.

Behind her, she could make out masculine features, a height that was well over six feet, and one golden eye that gleamed from the low lighting. Strange, she could make out the other eye, but it wasn't as clear as the golden one. Was it magic?

Well, it was no use pretending that she wasn't alone. Not only was she going to be late to meeting with Cameron, but it was also rude!

(Her decision may or may not have been made because she could have sworn that whoever was behind her had been staring deep into her eyes. The unpleasant feeling of being spied on increased).

She took a deep breath and slowly turned around as if she wasn't expecting to see someone. Lo and behold, as expected, the student who was staring her down had pasted on an overly pleased smile, as if he were glad that she looked so startled.

And even though Key had known that she wasn’t alone, she was still very much startled.

Her heartbeat, which had been steadily increasing in heart rate, seemed to pick up even more speed. As her deep brown eyes honed in on that one lone eye that gleamed an eerie golden glow, she saw that the student was smiling at her.

A smile too sharp with a maw just a hair too big.

A beastman perhaps?

"Heya," the student began, "what's a little shrimpy doin' here all by yourself? Tresspassin' ain't gonna get you nowhere."

At that very last mention of trespassing, he leaned forward so that not only was he still looming over the young custodian, but his face was obscenely close to Key’s own visage. You would think that after a summer of getting flashed by teeth of varying degrees of dangerousness Key would have gotten used to it, but she had never been so close to a person with veritable shark teeth! Clearly a predator if it wasn’t obvious already, but what kind?

Was it rude to ask?

“Uhhhh, hello?” The sharp smile had quickly faded into a thin, drawn-out line on his face. Even his eyes, which looked barely open at first glance, were now wide with an irritation that was quickly growing into anger. This could be Key’s instincts talking, but she was pretty sure that was not a good sign. “Got water in the ears or what?”

Key swallowed.

“S-sorry about that.” She coughed to clear her throat and to ground her racing thoughts. She had met people who were over six feet before, why was she scared now? “I’m not trespassing actually. I work here.”

The tall boy looked down at her as if in disbelief before his eyes roamed up and down her figure. Shamefully, she realized that he was taking in the oversized shirt that hung loosely over her torso and the long sleeves upon her arms. She was also keenly aware that his eyes were resting on her scuffed shoes and voluminous pants that were frayed and had seen better days. For first impressions, she wasn’t sure if she would rather be caught in her overalls or in this sorry excuse of a get up—she had the feeling that he would be taking in everything the same way and she would end up feeling horrible about it later.

God, she thought that she was over this already. Weren’t the first few weeks of getting gawked at, being questioned, and being pitied enough to desensitize her? Obviously not if the first thing she wanted to do was to run away or to ream into this student for being so rude.

What the fuck was he even wearing anyway?

She looked—actually looked—and felt herself grimace in pain.

Oh god.

That looked expensive.

Key had been too preoccupied with the boy’s facial features, but a quick perusal of his figure (approximately ten seconds of dumbfounded staring because wow he was seriously way too tall and why are his teeth like that??? why??? ) revealed that he was wearing clothing that was clearly cut to his figure with material that was far more expensive than cheap cotton blend. He was wearing dark jeans and a pale colored shirt that he left unbuttoned near his collarbones. Under the aquarium light, Key wasn’t sure what color his shirt was, but she didn’t think that it was pure white. He also wore a dark blazer (deep navy, she surmised) that he didn’t care to button at the front, and had managed to roll up the sleeves. Inwardly, she cringed at how wrinkled his blazer and shirt would be when he took it off, but then Key’s eyes drifted down and wow.

Just wow.

Those were the loudest pair of shoes she had ever seen in Twisted Wonderland.

Perhaps it was the lighting, but she supposed that couldn’t have been the case. In fact, given the blue luminescence from the tanks, it should have muted the coloring of his sneakers, but it somehow seemed to make the neon colors (startling blues and greens) pop. Unless, of course, the colors were even more obnoxious under regular lighting—a scary thought, but not as scary as the boy who continued to glare down at her.

“Are those custom made?” She pointed down at his shoes, idly noting that the rabbit ears on his looped shoelaces were tight and uniform, as if he had either spent countless times tying and retying them to perfection or he had done it in one go without thought of how it looked—he looked like the sort of person without any in between. Besides, if they were custom made, it would explain why she couldn’t find any branding on it… but she hadn’t seen the shoes on all sides, so it might be because of perspective.

The tall student had caught her eyes then, and she was a little disturbed to find that there was a renewed interest in his gaze.

Before she could ask him (she wasn’t sure what was going to come out of her mouth, but it was either about the shoes again or if she could have his name), there was movement behind him.

Another student who Key had seen before… because his twin was standing right in front of her.

“Oh my, a guest? It’s a bit too early in the year for that, I’m afraid.”

If Key had been feeling intimidated by such a tall, imposing presence, she now had to be assaulted by two.

Both twins were practically mirrors of each other, but there were significant differences that Key noticed upon a few seconds’ delay of gawking in awe. It had been a while since she had seen twins who looked so alike…

The first twin had a strange strand of hair framing his right side; his twin, on his left. The same could be said for their eyes: the first twin’s golden eye was on his right; the second twin, on his left. Furthermore, their choices in clothing and footwear were remarkably similar, yet there were marked differences that showcased personal preferences.

The second twin was also wearing a button-down shirt, yet instead of a blazer, he had chosen to layer his outfit with what appeared to be a cream sweater and the pants he wore looked like dark brown slacks to offset the lightness of his torso. His shoes, Key noted, were markedly less obnoxious in color, but were just as expensive.

Men had different styles of footwear, right? What were these called again?

The pair of shoes he was wearing was honey brown in color with the laces intertwining with each other at the front in a closed laced system.

Specific name… Specific name…

Derby?

Loafer?

Oxford?

Monk?

Wait, go back… He was definitely wearing Oxfords!

Huh, all the boys Key knew wouldn’t want to wear such dressy shoes in informal settings like this. Maybe for school as part of the school uniform, but still. They didn’t look comfortable to wear for long periods of time, but then again, Key had never worn those sorts of shoes before, so she couldn’t say anything about them either.

Whatever the case, there were two towering skyscrapers looming over her and they were steadily getting under her skin. You would think that talking to Crowley every so often would have desensitized her to eerie golden eyes, but she was proven wrong. At the very least, the Headmage made it clear that he wasn’t about to hurt her.

These strange twins? Not so much.

The silence stretched on for a moment longer than necessary before the second twin inclined his head forward and smiled genially at her.

The look in his eyes, though, said differently.

In fact, Key had to wonder if his referring to her as a “guest” was just to cover up “trespasser”.

She had a vague, but ominous idea as to what they did to “trespassers”.

“I guess this is the part where I should introduce myself? Hahaha,” she awkwardly laughed as she adjusted her glasses—an old habit that helped her focus on something other than the menacing twins. She could have sworn that most beastfolk were a lot less intimidating than this… Unless all of her interactions with them were biased, which they were in a way.

Briefly, she wondered if the types of beastman influenced their personalities—were mammalians more cuddly and able to coexist better with humans than beastfolk based on reptilian species?

And what about merfolk?

When all the twins did was just stare at her in an anticipatory—nay, predatory—manner, Key realized that she should probably get on with it or else they might put those sharp teeth of theirs to good use.

And that was another thing, wasn’t it? Not only were they two veritable skyscrapers, but they were also honest to god sharks.

“Yeah. Hi. Hello. You can call me Key.” She rocked back on her heels and hoped that the bashful smile on her face was not actually a grimace. As far as how first-time introductions went, it probably wasn’t the worst. The first time she encountered the Headmage, she had rocketed out of a mirror and had either headbutted him or punched him in the gut (her memories of it weren’t clear) and had ended up lying about her name (good timing and a strategic move on her part). She held out a hand. “Yours?”

The twins shared a brief look between themselves, but it was the second twin who took her up on the offer by stepping forward (thankfully, not as close as his brother had done) and grasped her small hand in his.

Another difference that Key had failed to see during her first appraisal. Black leather gloves encased his hands. The fabric was cool to the touch (did he not emit body heat?), but that wasn’t what caught her attention. Most boys her age were stronger than her, but the strength that she felt from his grip alone far exceeded her expectations. He must have noticed because he gave her another thin smile before his grip noticeably loosened so it felt less like he was trying to establish dominance and more likely an overly friendly hug around her hand.

“Jade. Jade Leech.”

Key nodded to herself at that, mumbling his name under her breath to get it memorized. It sounded oddly familiar, though. Had she heard it before?

The handshake was brief, but welcome. After they had let go from each other, Key turned to the first twin, who had been watching the interaction with a bored look on his face, but he had seemingly bounced back from his musings to give her a much wider and perhaps a more genuine smile. There was a hint of danger whenever she stared at his teeth or his eyes for a bit too long, but she paid that no mind.

His grip was just like his brother’s—strong and far more than what she had expected in a friendly encounter—but there was a noticeable difference in that he held his grip just a tad looser so she didn’t feel like she should asphyxiate on her poor hand’s behalf. There was also the fact that he had decided to not wear gloves, which automatically made him more approachable… if it were not for the fact that his hands were very, very, very cold. They were almost clammy. Unlike his brother, who chose to introduce himself before ending the handshake, the second twin had pumped their hands once before letting go.

It was almost comical—as if he couldn’t wait to let go even before holding her hand.

“Floyd.”

She nodded, noting their differences, similarities, and names. Very easy to remember, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to deal with these guys again. She already had enough on her plate already, what with the Housewardens and all.

“Nice to meet you.” She turned to them respectively, nodding her head as she did so. “Mr. Jade. Mr. Floyd.”

Time for her to go, this was getting more embarrassing than she thought.

“I should probably get going—” She shouldn’t have come here in the first place! Was Cameron going to kill her or what? “—but it was nice getting to meet the both of you!”

As she was about to sidestep the both of them and hightail it out of there—why yes, she was planning on running away, why do you ask?—Floyd blocked her exit while Jade moved a little closer with a hand to his mouth to cover his grin.

Floyd’s smile was menacing now, as if his earlier reign of terror was merely a taste of what was to come. “Leavin’ already? Kinda rude if you ask me. Whaddya think, Jade?”

“I must admit, I didn’t think that a lovely guest such as yourself would leave without a tour.”

Oh, he was baiting her.

The Mostro Lounge, up until now, has been closed off to her. Cameron and the other Octavinelle students technically had access (and since she was part of staff, she could get inside if circumstances called for it), but things had always come up before she could ask about it. And if she did ask about it, Cameron often redirected her attention or he would talk about how the manager of the restaurant would not be happy to have someone meddling in “his property”. Never mind the fact that it was located on campus and therefore wasn’t totally his.

So, Key has never seen the inside of this little establishment.

Which meant…

Her curiosity was at an all time high and she was already in a place she wasn’t supposed to be. That was her on a typical Tuesday night, so why not?

A little bit of exploration into uncharted waters never hurt anyone…

“—and I’ll be out of your hair. Or tails. Or fins. Or whatever. I’m leaving first thing tomorrow, so it’s not like you can hire me on the spot now. That’s plain predatory! Has anyone ever told you how shady you make the rest of us look? And for the record—What are you doing here, Birdie?”

Before he could finish the question, Cameron bounded up the small staircase, ducked around the sharp toothed skyscrapers, and grabbed Key to drag her behind him. The end result was that Key’s vision was obscured by Cameron’s deep red and orange tail swishing back and forth, tension with every movement. She tried to peer around him, obviously knowing that he had at least one other person with him because of the tail end of his conversation, but Cameron held her fast.

“Hiya, Clownfish! Whatcha doin’ with this Lil’ Shrimp?”

“Yes, I am also curious as to why we have a guest in the Mostro Lounge so early in the year.”

The twins spoke up, one speaking up before the other followed suit. It was a bit mesmerizing—confusing even—but Key felt something weird. It almost felt like… What was it? Recognition?

What a strange feeling.

She could have sworn that she had never met this pair of twins before, but something nagged at the corner of her brain. It was the same sort of feeling a person would get if they were to listen to an ambulance wailing down the street. There was an urgency in the air, but a normal person wouldn’t be too affected by it. Startled and curious for sure, but they wouldn’t understand the significance of that ambulance until way later.   

Key was startled out of her thoughts when she heard a third voice cut in amidst the chatter.

The boy’s voice was confident—smarmy even—but the way he spoke was formal and polite enough that he could potentially get away with it for unsuspecting people. Key still couldn’t see him due to Cameron’s height and his tail swishing every which way, but any attempt to wriggle out of a beastman’s grip (especially that of a predator’s) never boded well for most humans and prey beastfolk.

Cameron’s grip neither tightened nor loosened, but held firm.

Once again, he was being protective over her safety and Key felt a sense of happiness well up inside of her. Why did the end of the summer term have to arrive so quickly? Navigating the new school year with even newer responsibilities would have been more palatable if Cameron could stay.

Still, though.

That hand on her wrist had to go.

Breathing steadily in through her nose, she used her other hand to lightly pat his wrist in a silent request to release her. It took a moment for him to respond, but Cameron finally let go, but not before he tapped her wrist in warning.

No sudden movements.

“Oh my, not only are you leaving us early, but you’re also depriving us of a guest? I’m never one to say no to customers, Cameron. You know this. Although,” a pause that Key could only assume was for dramatic effect if the rest of the boy’s intonations were worth anything, “I must say, it’s a bit unorthodox, but I never let any potential clients go without.”

Cameron scoffed. “Yeah, you don’t. Not unless they don’t have proper payment.”

As the boys continued to talk, Key chose not to pay too much attention—it sounded a lot like a conversation that she shouldn’t be privy to—she finally peeked around the large tuft of Cameron’s tail. For a moment, her eyes were filled with the twins from before (kind of hard not to notice them), but then she saw that they were flanking a shorter boy. This new person may not have been as tall as Jade and Floyd, but he still had the height advantage over both Key and Cameron.

He was dressed as nicely as the other two, but his tastes leaned towards darker clothing that slimmed his already slender figure. Furthermore, his clothing formed a silhouette that somehow made him more menacing than the twins. He wore a collared shirt that was covered by a dark grey sweater vest that was further layered by a dark blazer that hung loosely over his shoulders. His slacks were just as dark and upon his feet, he wore dress shoes that clicked every time he stepped.

Overall, he looked like the stereotypical preppy schoolboy getup from movies about high school.

And then she glanced at his face.

Whimsical white locks curled around the left side of his face, the rest of his hair artfully tousled and combed over in tufts of locks that seemed to float around him. If she thought that the Leech twins’ hairstyles were eccentric, then his was a lot more flamboyant… Almost ethereal under the aquarium lights.

But it was his face that made Key finally gasp out loud, her glasses somehow slipping down her nose at the sight.

It was Azul Ashengrotto.

The Housewarden of Octavinelle.

Chapter Text

Key hadn’t told anyone outside of Dr. Park and the ophthalmologist that she had seen in the town below, but her eyes simply weren’t what they were supposed to be. A part of her knew that she had worn glasses in her previous life, but her eyesight was ten times worse now. Before, she needed glasses only when she needed to see things farther than a dozen feet. Now, her eyes could barely distinguish objects farther than half a foot away and the colors…

The sun that rose in the sky wasn’t as golden as she thought it was.

The sky was not nearly as blue.

She was alive, Key would tell herself. She would not succumb to missing things she could barely remember. But it was almost getting too much. She lost her home, her family, her purpose in life, her eyesight, and her ability to eat or even feel hunger.          

It felt stupid to feel grief and sadness over silly things like her eyesight and newfound dietary restrictions, but she still felt those emotions every so often. It built and roared behind a wall that she made sure to reinforce and maintain, but sometimes…

Sometimes she could feel it cracking all the same.

Whereas the golden gleam of the twins’ eyes was brilliant, she had chalked it up to the contrast between the dark room and the dim aquarium lighting.

But now, as she gazed at the Octavinelle Housewarden’s eyes, she saw that they were a brilliant shock of calm ocean blue. Bluer than the skies above and the bluest blue she had ever seen in a person’s eyes.

It was breathtaking.

And then she saw his blue eyes pierce through her own gaze and she lost her ability to breathe.

Those profile pictures did no justice to their real-life muses if Azul was any indication.

“And who is this?” Key’s ears burned just the slightest bit when she felt his stare scrutinize her clothing. She was all too aware of the fact that she was massively underdressed compared to everyone else in the room—even Cameron was wearing clothing that actually fit him—but still. At least with the Leech twins, she didn’t get the feeling that they cared too much about what she wore, only her purpose coming to Octavinelle.

That sort of dismissal was not apparent in Azul Ashengrotto’s eyes.

With the way he was staring her down, his eyes both curious and calculating (with a hint of something else… something she couldn’t quite suss out, but still made her nervous), she knew that he wasn’t the sort of person to throw away first impressions. He was cataloguing her, making a profile and taking a note of who she was and what her intentions were. Even though he was clearly wearing clothing that wasn’t as expensive and as distinguished as the twins, he wore it as if he were encrusted in the world’s most luxurious fabrics. He was proud of himself and he carried that sort of confidence in both mannerisms and speech.

Not the sort of person Key would want to willingly hang out with, but he was still a Housewarden, which meant that he had to have at least one or two good qualities.

“Key,” she muttered loud enough that he could hear. He raised a disbelieving brow at that, so she quickly added, “And you are?”

Best not to reveal that she was going to be seeing him anyway at the first Housewarden meeting.

He straightened and bowed a little at the waist, his bright blue eyes never quite leaving hers. “Azul Ashengrotto. I am the manager of the Mostro Lounge and Housewarden of Octavinelle.”

Ah, that’s right.

He was also an overachiever.

Key nodded absently, finally realizing that at some point, Cameron had slung his arm around her shoulders. When had he done that? Before or after Key had realized just how bright and cold Azul’s eyes were? The weight was comforting, but she was all too aware of the predatory glances that each of the three Octavinelle boys were giving them.

This was worse than whenever Lady Fairchild got mad at her for turning the pages in her books too loud.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ashengrotto.” She leaned forward with an outstretched hand, jostling Cameron a little, but he managed to adjust, still draped over her shoulder as he did so.

Azul’s hands were also covered in gloves—like Jade’s—but he took the time to take one off so that he could shake her hand. Key thought it odd, but decided to let that go. They shook once and he let go immediately. For a young man who was still a teenager, he was both professional and perfunctory; Key was almost swayed by those charms.

(His skin, however, was just as cold and as strong in comparison to Floyd’s grip. Maybe even stronger). 

“And you as well, Miss Key.” Azul stepped back and gestured grandly at his beloved restaurant. It was like he was performing from a script that he himself had written. “I will admit, we don’t have all of the necessary ingredients for some of our best sellers, but if you like—”

“We’re good, thanks.” Cameron yawned a little into his hand, the stress of the exams and lack of sleep obviously still taking a toll on him. “You’re probably all exhausted coming here so early in the year and like… Key and I got places to be.”

Azul adamantly shook his head, a condescending smile on his face. “Nonsense! We can surely cater to your tastes. Our menu has not been updated, unfortunately—" Azul sent a pointed look at the twin on his right side, Floyd if Key was keeping track. "—but we can make do with what we have stocked in our kitchens."

"Hard pass." Cameron tugged Key closer to himself, his body heat a comforting balm against the cool air of Octavinelle. "And anyway, I can't imagine that you guys are well rested after the trip you guys took here." He said trip like it was a joke, but Key couldn't imagine how. What Key could decipher, though, was that all three of the tall Octavinelle students displayed three starkly different reactions.

Floyd bared his teeth as if he was about to bite into prey and his eyes were wide with manic glee.

Jade, on the other hand, continued to plaster a placid smile—something that made Key realize it probably wasn't a real smile at all. It was a lot like those customer service smiles that you would see on those employees who were fresh out of the will to live.

But Azul? Azul's entire demeanor seemed to clench. His geniality was there—unmuted—but there was a tension to him that made his spine go rigid and the blue in his eyes appear much darker.

"Pardon, but I think we should ask your friend what she thinks? After all, she's the guest."

And then Key felt the overwhelming power of four pairs of eyes stare down at her.

It took Key a second to gather her thoughts, but she said, "I think I'll check out your restaurant at a later date. Mr. Norton and I... We already had plans?"

Cameron shot her an encouraging smile before turning towards the Octavinelle students. "You heard the Little Bird! And anyway... My mama always told me to never keep a woman waiting, so..."

The fox beastman made sure Key was tucked deep into his side as he began heading towards the exit. All the while, he continued to smile and wave at the trio behind them, all of whom remained silent and watching.

Predators watching their prey slowly get away.

Before Key turned the corner, she looked over her shoulder and gave a slight wave.

She saw them all for less than half a second, but she could have sworn that they were looking at her as if they knew her.

Was that… Recognition?

Walking out of Octavinelle after such an interesting encounter was surreal to Key. She may not have frequented the students' dorms all that often, but she was familiar enough with the surroundings to know when they were finally a safe distance away to start speaking again.

Speaking quietly—she still had no idea what sort of beastman they were and didn't want to take the chance of them eavesdropping—she said, "You can let go of me, you know. You're acting like they were going to eat us both alive."

Cameron thought for a moment before swiftly wrapping his arm around her neck and then giving her a noogie that had her yelping in surprise.

"Come on!” Key shrieked, her voice echoing down the halls. “I surrender! I surrender!"

Little did Key know, Cameron was onto her game. If he stopped grinding his knuckles against her scalp, she would do something just as vicious in retaliation and if he knew his juniors, they would probably be walking or swimming around to get some last-minute information. Although, since he was cutting loose tomorrow, he wasn't particularly worried if they were going to find something on him. Key, however...

Poor girl.

She was going to deal with Azul for the rest of the year and then some. (And that was being generous. If Key dealt with Azul, then there was a very high chance she would also have to interact with the Leech twins. Never a good thing).

Ah, well.

Little Bird suffered enough.

Cameron eased up on her, allowing his arms to rest on her shoulders again. "Sorry, instinct."

"Instinct? To what? Annoy me?" The custodian shoved her shoulder against his side, but the smile on her face said it all. She didn't hold it against him. "Am I allowed to ask questions? Or am I going to have to figure them out on my own?"

The fox beastman hummed under his breath, before flashing his canines at her teasingly. "Well, that depends on what questions you have. And the information I'm willing to give."

"So any information on Mr. Ashengrotto?"

"I think it's funnier that all the information you have on him is based on his profile." He paused. "By the by, when you do email me, make sure you describe in great detail how surprised he is when he realizes that you're gonna be babysitting him for the rest of the school year."

"Noted." Key thought for a moment. "And the twins? Are they like... beastfolk?"

Cameron flashed her another smile, but this one was small yet filled with mirth and hidden jokes. "You could say that... but it's not accurate."

"How?"

"Well, beastfolk are usually classified as land dwellers. Beastfolk who live under the water are..."

"Oh!" Memories of her mishap upon the boardwalk about a week or so ago flashed to the forefront of her mind. " Oh ."

She thought for a moment, the truth seemingly out of her reach, before she finally manifested it into existence.

"Merfolk." She said with quiet conviction.

"Merfolk." He pointed at the bruise on her forehead, already fading into her tan skin. "It's a reach, but do you think...?"

Key thought for a moment before shrugging. "Probably? Probably not? I'm not too mad about that, actually..."

Admitting that was startling, but it felt right in a way. After Key had that talk with Mr. Harper about merfolk, she didn't find it within herself to be mad at whoever was the perpetrator. What did it matter if it was the Octavinelle students she had just met or other sea dwellers who happened to swim too close to the Isle of Sages? In the heat of the moment, she was scared, but after thinking about it, she didn't detect any signs of intentional malice. Playfulness maybe, but other than that?

She was never going to press the issue anyway.

After all, she had no proof that it was actually merfolk or an overactive imagination coupled with an accident.

In between huffs of laughter, Cameron managed to splutter out, "You are way too nice."

They continued to chat as they took the portal down into the town below the mountain. It was about six in the afternoon and the sun was slowly making its descent into the horizon. Most of the shops were still open; some of the kitschy tourist destinations were boasting a few people milling about inside, drinks hanging from their hands.

They continued walking down the streets and into another little cafe, this time a little more secluded and a lot less fancy than the one they had visited the last time they decided to eat dinner off campus. It didn't matter if the food was cheap and the server wasn't exactly the friendliest of people, Cameron had laughed it off.

He needed something greasy after spending so much time studying. Normally, he wasn’t one to stress eat, but this was a celebratory dinner and he had escaped the jaws of death (read: his Octavinelle juniors). Afterwards, he promised that he would take Key to her favorite place in the entire island—“ What is it? A tree? A playground ?”—after his dinner.

"Can you at least tell me what they serve at that restaurant of yours?"

"Better not say that to Azul's face. He'll turn blue if he thinks that I'm stealing his brand."

"Fine. Can you tell me what they serve at Mr. Ashengrotto's restaurant?"

"Hard to say." Cameron's ears twitched as he tried to think of the most common dishes that were available on the menu. "They change it up seasonally, but sometimes Floyd likes to overhaul the menu for a week when it suits him creatively. Most of the time, seafood, but they also dabble in cuisines from other countries. It largely depends on who's contributing to the menu, but it's usually Floyd who experiments whenever he feels like it."

Key scrunched up her nose, her mind trying to grasp at the details of what he had said. Phantom feelings of taste exploded at the tip of her tongue before they gradually faded away into nothingness.

"Is something wrong?" Cameron's question shocked Key out of her reverie. Had something shown on her face? "You looked... I don't know, lost or something? Concerned?"

"Do I look like the sort of person who would like seafood?"

Cameron's green eyes widened in disbelief at that question.

"Are you remembering something?"

She shrugged her shoulders before glancing down at the laminate surface of their table. It was streaked with fingerprints and marks from years of abuse. Idly, she reached into her backpack that she always carried with her to pull out some wipes. They weren't the disinfecting kind—she made a note of that in her little notebook to get some—but they would have to do.

"I'm just curious." Balling her wipe in one hand, she scanned the establishment for a garbage can and after finding one, began to rise from her seat. "Hold on, I'm going to throw this away, but I just get the feeling that I would like it. Maybe."

She hurried away from  Cameron's gaze and towards the garbage can.

When she returned to her seat at the bar area, Cameron had already been served his food and her customary glass of water was standing proudly at her place. 

"To answer your question," Cameron said as he took a bite out of some pasta, "I think you would be the sort of person who likes sweets. Maybe something with flaky crusts and warm fillings. But fish? Maybe?"

Did she like sweets? Every time she happened to see them in storefronts or in the dorm kitchens, she thought they looked cute to look at, but… She felt no hunger for them. Hell, she couldn’t even smell them either!

"Sweets? Any reason why?"

"Because you're so sweet?"

Unbidden, a wide smile bloomed upon her face as she registered his words. But then—

"Hold on, why was that phrased like a question?"

"I just said that you were sweet!"

"Were? Past tense?"

They bantered some more as Cameron finished his pasta and his soft drink, but most of the time, Cameron's speech was impeded by the food that he had crammed into his mouth. It was mildly disgusting, but their time together would definitely be cherished once Key got over the fact that Cameron had come very close to spraying her with bits of noodles covered in tomato sauce.

Other than the fact that the fox beastman continued to evade the more probing questions about his Housewarden and his closest associates, he was very good company. (Key knew that whenever she finally made good on her promise to start emailing Cameron, she was going to grill him even harder). The tone of their dinner was jocular and merry, which concluded in Cameron getting a selfie with Key.

(She covered her face with her notebook, but made sure to flash a peace sign at the camera).

"Come on, Birdie! My ma's been asking about you—"

"You've been talking about me?"

"Kinda hard not to, you're weird."

"Thanks."

"You're very much welcome. It's good to know that you finally understand my wisdom." Cameron finished the rest of his drink. "But yeah, ma thinks that you're a good kid. Or something." Cameron's cheeks might have appeared flushed, but anyone could say that it was probably a trick of the low lighting. "So, come on! Without covering your face?"

Key swished some water in her mouth before abruptly swallowing and throwing a grin at Cameron. "Nope. I like my privacy."

Cameron shrugged, not willing to pursue the matter further. Instead, he scanned all the silly pictures that he and Key took and added a few filters to some of them while others he cropped out some details he didn't like.

"Would you like me to email these to you?" He grimaced as he asked that, still very much concerned that she was very much adamant in not kowtowing to societal pressures like downloading Twisted Wonderland's most popular app. "Or do you finally see sense in downloading Magicam?"

"Not a chance. I'm above social media."

After paying for their dinner—it was mostly Cameron's dinner—they finally ventured out of the cafe and into the street where Cameron expertly guided her into a bookstore.

It was an adorable little place, one of those stores that you wouldn't pay attention to if you were in a hurry, but if you allowed your eyes to wander, to take in the sights, you would find that it was one of the more interesting places that you could find in such a tourist-heavy destination. The sign on the storefront was aged and engraved onto a wooden placard that hung from a pole; it swung to and fro as the night breeze jostled it upon its hinges. Cozy golden light lit up the storefront windows, revealing a plethora of books, both new and old, on display. Past that, the viewer was welcome to a sight of tall bookshelves that were boasting tomes that ranged from historical textbooks to trashy erotica that Zaria often took back to the dorms.

Key paused on the sidewalk outside of the bookstore, her eyes wide and taking in everything.

"Toldja that we'd go to your favorite place on the island."

"I don't see the arcade, Cameron."

"Oh shush, you're smiling and I'm not going to blow the last of my allowance for you to kick my ass at Twistunes."

"It was only one time!"

"We went twelve rounds and you won ten of them! And those losses were because your glasses slipped off in the middle of the dances!"

"That's why it's my favorite place on the island! It's because it actually has something that I'm good at!"

Before Cameron could object, Key took hold of his elbow and tugged him inside excitedly. She was vibrating with so much happiness that she was practically skipping and dancing in the aisles. There were so many selections available and the newest arrivals included novels and cute shoujo manga that Key liberally flipped through.

"I'll be waiting by the register, okay? I got a budget, so don't get too liberal with your purchases, kay?"

"Don't worry, I got it." Cheekily, she skipped backwards into another aisle—stationery—which included brush pens, calligraphy sets, planners, and notebooks. "You're not going to buy anything?"

"Nah, I'm already set for tomorrow."

With that, Key set off for her own personal mission.

Stepping into the store, she already knew what she was going to get. The library at Night Raven College was well stocked and if it wasn't, she could talk Zaria into getting her some new books if she was desperate. What she really wanted was a new notebook. Despite her small, cramped handwriting that took advantage of any and all spaces in her notebook, she was going to run out of paper soon.

For months now, she had been cataloguing names, locations, and the many references she found about Disney. There were other notes like scheduling, speculation about different universes, and what textbooks and references could best serve her interests. Most of it was written in shorthand—a practice that survived her fuzzy memories of writing down notes from her favorite encyclopedia entries—but her handwriting was too illegible to read anyway.

Hmmm... but with a fancy notebook (because this was a fancy bookstore with equally fancy stationery), she would need a new pen. Or two. Maybe even a highlighter.

Okay, so one of those cute notebooks... Maybe the one with the flower designs, there were some nice selections with that branding! Oh, Key knew what she wanted! There was a light lavender notebook with thick pages (the kind where you can use those really expensive ballpoint pens that didn't bleed through) with bright yellow and orange flowers sprouting upon the cover.

Hmmm... What were they called again?

Daisies?

Daffodils?

Forsythia?

Marigolds?

She thought they looked the most like marigolds.

What a lovely flower.

For some odd reason, it made her happy.

As for her writing utensils... There were some ballpoint pens with thin tips, at least 0.3mm with pure black ink that wrote beautifully when she decided to try it out on the practice pads located near the selection of pens. For now, she'd get one pen and maybe one of those ink refills just to keep it safe. And, just because she wanted to see how much money Cameron was going to put on the line for her, two highlighters one in light lavender and another in blue. A quick test revealed that they were light pastel and didn't bleed.

Nice.

Tearfully, she bid adieu to the lovely shoujo isekai manga (and some of the tamer erotica that Zaria would love to read at the dinner table if Horace and Dolly weren't there to chastise the snow leopard beastman).

"Took you long enough." Cameron was hanging out at the counter, a paper bag folded over and grasped in his right hand. Key eyed it in curiosity. Did he buy a textbook or something when she wasn't looking? The paper bag held something that was too thick for a notebook and by the looks of it, noticeably heavier, but not as tall as some of the textbooks she had seen in the NRC library. "You know Sam sells those things too, right?"

"I also know that the prices and quality are better here, too. And," she placed her haul onto the counter, "you're paying, so why not?"

Turns out that Key hadn't broken Cameron's budget at all. In fact, Cameron encouraged her to get more stuff, but she turned him down. It wasn't like she was in want for anything else that couldn't be provided at NRC or from elsewhere at a later date.

And she had to admit, while it was nice for someone else to pay for nice things like a notebook and pens, that didn't mean she would guiltlessly take advantage of Cameron's seemingly no-strings-attached kindness. She had been prepared to put things back, not to add more to the bill.

As the cashier bagged up the purchases in another paper bag, Key tried to press Cameron for what exactly was in the bag, but he had merely dodged her attempts by painstakingly counting his change.

“Don’t worry about it, Little Bird. It’s all on the house… on one condition.”

“I knew the other foot was gonna drop, I just didn’t expect it so soon.”

“Ha. If you can put all of the stuff into your backpack and carry it back to the school then you don’t have to pay me back at all.”

“Sounds too easy.”

“That’s because it is, Birdie.”

Key shook her head and complied with his request. She didn’t have much in her backpack anyway, so her newest purchases alongside Cameron’s package didn’t weigh her down too much.

Once their purchases were secure, the both of them used the gate to get back to NRC. Once their feet stepped outside of the watery surface of the mirror, Cameron turned to her and said his goodbyes, his voice trying to cover up a yawn while he tried to wave her away. Unfortunately, Key couldn't help but add one last quip as he began walking away towards his dorm.

"Tired already? You could give Mr. Alastair or even Mr. Horace a run for their money—you're basically an old man at this point!"

She giggled into her fist, but then abruptly stopped with a shriek when Cameron darted towards her, as if he was about to attack.

"Looks like I'll have to take your gifts back if you don't show me the proper gratitude!"

Again, he made another mad dash towards her, his fingers barely grasping the straps of her backpack, but Key continued to evade. It continued that way for a couple more seconds, his movements calculated and quick. Meanwhile, Key was trying very hard not to laugh or get too close to him. Unfortunately, the both of them knew that if Cameron truly wanted he could easily just steal the bag from her. It was all an elaborate pretense that humored him and gave Key some much needed exercise and enrichment.

Finally, the predator in Cameron must have been too impatient with the chase because he finally lunged at Key and knocked her to the ground. It wasn't the most gentle fall that Key ever had, but it wasn't so much painful as it was shocking. That bout of surprise gave way to bemusement when Key realized that Cameron was halfheartedly trying to steal the backpack from her shoulders.

"Okay, okay!" She laughed as she lobbed the bag at the fox beastman.

Cameron pouted. "Oh, come on! You know that it's not fun if you just give up." He tossed Key's backpack up and down into his arms before holding it out to her. "Anyway, I gotta go now because a) I have to meet with the Headmage in the morning and b) I'm guessing I'll be accosted by... three of the new second years."

Key canted her head. "Mr. Ashengrotto and the Leeches? Should I be worried?"

"Nah. They can be very persistent, though, so I'll just have to duck inside my room before they can catch me."

Well, so long as Cameron wasn't going to get into any trouble...

"Okie dokie then! Good night!"

"Ugghhhh. Sure."

And he was off like a shot, his tall, slim figure blending into the darkness the farther he ran.

Back in the custodians' dorm, Key readied herself for bed. Her return wasn't eventful, but she did accidentally bump into Horace who was on his way to the kitchen for a soothing cup of tea. She had apologized profusely, but he laughed and bid her goodnight because it was going to be a long day tomorrow if past Housewardens' personalities were anything to go by.

Well. That was certainly an omen, but Key had yet to figure out if that was positive or negative.

Either way, Key was only seconds away from collapsing into her bed, but she was hit with the urge to organize. Besides, it wouldn't do to keep her new notebook and stationery cramped in her backpack for too long. And, if she was being honest, she would probably forget about it for much too long and then it would all get crumpled. It was as she was digging through her bag that she realized—

The package that Cameron had left her was still in her backpack. Looks like she had another reason to see Cameron off tomorrow. However, just as she was about to place the parcel down, she saw Cameron's sprawling script on top of the brown wrapping paper.

The words upon it read:

You really thought I was just gonna let you off the hook with just stationery? Nah, I got something better for you, especially since Lady Fairchild keeps complaining that you’re going to wear out her antique books one day. You still don’t owe me anything, okay? This is just a thank you for all your help this summer and to get you settled in better.

Carefully, Key removed the brown paper away from what was hidden inside. Although the paper was thin and fragile, she wanted to save it. It would be a waste if she didn’t. 

And inside? Once the wrapping paper had been removed, her jaw dropped and she just about shrieked in delight. Out of respect for Horace’s and Zaria’s sensitive hearing, she kept it down a minimum, but she did allow herself a little dance. 

As a thank you, Cameron had given her a treasury of fairy tales. Thick and well bound, the pages were gilded in gold and the cover was shimmery, the illustrations of differing fairy tales transforming from  one to another. Not once did the illustrations repeat. It was always different, but the brilliance of one was easily overshadowed by the next. 

It took a while, but Key eventually went to sleep, her heart bursting in happiness for the first time in a while. 

Chapter Text

"You don't have to do my hair," Key groused as she sat primly at the kitchen table, one of her legs propped up on her chair while her knee bounced in slight agitation and anxiety. "A simple ponytail would be fine."

Zahur tugged on one of her locks of hair, causing her to yelp a little. Key glanced over her shoulder to give him a dirty glare that he easily rebuffed with a smirk and a gentle pap on the cheek to get her to face forward again.

"Ol' Harper kept harping at me about first impressions because you weren't here for dinner. Thus, I had to sit through an entire five minutes—are you hearing me, Key? an entire five minutes!—of a lecture that I did not deserve! And then, Ria had to head down to the Mystery Shop because Sam needs help and Dolly has a headache. So..." He combed through another lock of hair, skillfully untangling the slightly damp strands. "You're stuck with me unless you want Lio or Al to do your hair."

Key rolled her eyes. "Can you at least tell me what you're doing?"

"Braids. Don't forget to return the elastics back to Ria. She does inventory every night and it would be a shame to see you hunted like prey right before school starts."

Key snorted at the mention of Zaria’s nickname—Zahur could be quite cute when he wanted to be—before asking, “And you would know because...?"

Key hid her smile at the sound of Zahur's harried intake of breath.

"It's not my fault that my hair is so thick that I end up breaking them after the first few uses."

After Zahur had successfully tamed the rat’s nest atop her head, he began tightly braiding it before securing it with one of Zaria’s elastics. Despite Key’s initial reservations, she found herself relaxing under his ministrations, her eyes fluttering shut more and more often as his sure movements traveled from the base of her neck down to the ends of her hair. As she righted herself after feeling her head bob forward without her permission once more, she couldn’t help but think that this position and the sensation of someone gently tugging and rearranging her hair felt so familiar.

Surely someone in her past had done the same for her, right?

She had siblings, yes. Parents, too.

But who exactly?

All she could remember was a pair of hands that were larger than her own, callused at the fingertips and nails chewed to the quick. And a song. This person—nondescript and out of reach—was humming a tune under their breath as they playfully tugged at her hair and tickled the lobes of her ears.

Key hadn’t realized that her head had fallen back onto Zahur’s chest until she had opened her eyes to find his copper brown ones looking down at her in bemusement. Pulling herself forward, she made as if to stand from her chair, but was halted once more when she felt his hands push her shoulders down. In the end, she had no choice but to comply with his unspoken demands. Once she was sitting tight once more, Zahur ambled towards one of the kitchen cabinets to retrieve an amber vial from a tray that held twelve other similar vessels, half of which had already been used.

“The Harpy himself also said that you should get this over and done with before you leave. And before you run away, Al said the same.” He gently placed the amber vial with a slight clink upon the table in front of the young custodian. “Drink it all up in one go and then you’re free to torture students.”

“More like the students will end up torturing me,” Key muttered.

Disdainfully, she regarded the amber vial.

Ever since she had come into this strange world, the concept of hunger and thirst had eluded her. For the first few days, she had accepted food and drink without question because she didn’t want to seem rude, but after intense nausea and vomiting, Dr. Park had set her up with a modified nutritional potion that was often reserved for disaster relief and was not meant for long term use. (There had been reports of people abusing this potion to lose weight, where it had ended up burning their insides until their digestive tract had to be replaced with feeding tubes). It was an elixir that was hard to obtain and even harder to replicate outside of a government facility. 

(How he knew the exact ratios and ingredients that were needed, most of the staff did not know).

A brief experiment revealed that Key still needed nutrition: collapsing after several days of trying to take in nutrients was exhausting. The only reliable thing that she could take in without fear of vomiting or severe nausea was water. Dr. Park had conducted a few experiments here and there with several samples of foods (with a garbage can and salt water at the ready), but Key ended up vomiting after each attempt. 

Because Key was still an anomaly and the Headmage himself had instructed the good doctor that it was best to keep her presence under wraps, Dr. Park had decided to get rid of the middle man entirely (read: the government). Piecing together information he had gathered in his younger, rowdier days and contacting a few colleagues in various laboratories, he managed to create a modified elixir that would suit Key’s needs.

It was supposed to supply her the necessary nutrients and allow her to maintain her current weight.

Dr. Park was trying to modify it further or to create a new potion entirely to supplement her lost senses (like her sense of smell, taste, and sight). He had a theory that since she wasn’t from Twisted Wonderland and thus not acclimated to the different environment (like air pollution, density of both latent and combustive magic, etc.), she would have to adapt in order for her to stay long term. Although she had not allowed invasive procedures like surgery (she wasn’t that desperate to adapt just yet), she did consent to blood tests. While she was perfectly human and presented with typical blood work, Dr. Park was more than keenly aware that she had no magic in her veins.

Even magicless folk among humans, beastfolk, and the sea dwellers had a thrumming pulse of magic within them. Magic was at the heart of Twisted Wonderland; it was folly to even think of a pure magicless being living and breathing in today’s society.

Key was an alien whose physiology couldn’t handle the sheer amount of magic that perpetually permeated the air. It was like asking a person with asthma to walk in a city filled with smog without any protective equipment like a face mask.

Dr. Park held out hope that she would be fine, especially since she was supposedly taking her potion, but that didn’t stop him from asking around and experimenting with potions that already existed.

“Habibti,” Zahur called out as he began pouring himself coffee. He bit into a cookie that had been lightly dusted with sugar, crumbs falling from his mouth and onto the table. “You almost collapsed last week while at the library. You’re lucky it was one of the returning profs and not Lady Fairchild or Ol’ Harper who caught you. They’d have your hide for sure.”

Key grimaced at the memory. She had been so caught up in finishing a romance novel from the night before that she had neglected to take her daily elixir. In the late afternoon, when most professors would have retired to their assigned dormitories to finish their grading or to relax, a kind old man with a foot long beard had managed to carry her to the infirmary without the prying eyes of most of the staff and students. Most.

“Ugh. Fine.”

There was no taste, no sensation of liquid coating the back of her tongue and splashing the walls of her throat. Instead, what she felt were akin tiny bolts of lightning biting and crackling at her sensitive skin. Thousands of electric shocks would crawl painfully slow down her throat, slide into her esophagus, before implanting themselves painfully into her stomach. It was as if instead of acid reflux, she had decided to drink a vat of hydrochloric acid for dinner.

When she had reported these symptoms to Dr. Park, he had been mildly horrified. These were the same sort of effects that one would experience if they had been overdosing on the nutritional elixir. He had monitored her for hours afterward, but she was fine and well. It was just that every subsequent dose was the same. Immense tingling pain.

After that initial trial, he always suggested that she take the entire vial (at least thirty milliliters) early in the morning once each day. That was equal to the number of calories equivalent to someone of her size and stature compounded with how much she was burning off due to the nature of her work. Furthermore, as a precaution, he also suggested that it was best that she remain seated before and after drinking the vial.

Sit before drinking the vial because she could never get over the shock.

Sit after to prevent acid reflux that would result in her vomiting the precious fluid back out.

After Key had knocked back the elixir, she had nearly dropped it back onto the table before she curled into herself. The knee that she had kept upright on her chair was kept tight to her chest as she hugged herself. Dimly, she was aware that Zahur was rubbing circles on her back, the soothing lilt of a language close to Arabic filling her ears.

Key’s forehead met the cool, wooden grain of the table. “I hate this so much.”

Zahur hummed. “Drink this water.”

“Not recommended,” Key muttered. “It’ll dilute the effects so I have to not eat or drink or anything for at least fifteen minutes.”

"Okay." Zahur left the glass of water in front of Key, his hand brushing against her forehead to gauge her temperature. "You're sweating a little. Does that always happen?"

Key leaned into the touch for a second before lightly batting it away. "Yeah, but I usually take it in my room so I can lie down."

Zahur hummed again, this time the intonation was a little more distressed. "If you like..."

Key shook her head. "It's fine. I'll rest here for a bit."

"Whatever you say."

He sounded doubtful, but Key couldn't blame him. There was a reason Key usually put off taking her elixirs and whenever she did, it was normally in the comfort and privacy of her room.

Ten minutes was more than enough time to recuperate, but the entire time, Key knew that Zahur was steadily observing her even while he was supposedly busy scanning different news posts and videos from across different social media platforms. Zahur often kept the volume low, but Key could hear the sounds of a hit song spliced together with some sort of meme as if he were blasting it in her ear.

Another side effect: for a few moments, the world was brought into focus as if she was back home.

It was a shame. She was usually in too much pain or too overwhelmed by sensation to enjoy it.

When her fifteen minutes had elapsed, Key knocked back her glass of water before slinging her backpack over her shoulders and letting the bag rest over her chest; the even distribution was on par with a safety blanket. (When asked, she had explained that it felt better for her to carry the bag backwards. Sometimes, she would hug it to herself as if she was holding someone close).

"Well, how do I look?"

Dolly and Zaria had given her some clothing that was close to Key's size. While Dolly was too short and Zaria too tall, they did manage to piece together an ensemble that could pass muster. Zaria had given her a button down shirt and slacks while Dolly gave her a pair of sensible shoes. A minimal amount of magic had been used to fit it properly to Key, but other than that, all three of the custodians were confident that it was fine to wear for the first Housewarden meeting.

(The Headmage said that in the future, she should wear her custodian’s uniform, but when she asked around, her coworkers had conveniently changed the subject or had laughed off her concern).

Zahur shrugged, but the fond smile on his face said otherwise.

"Oh! Before I forget—" Zahur rushed over to the famed armchair before coming back with a familiar cardigan with teddy bears embroidered upon the hem. Dolly's teddy bear cardigan. "—Dolly left this behind for you."

Key took it in hand, inwardly marveling at the soft texture.

"She already washed it and everything."

Key laughed at that. "Dolly is way too nice to give me clothing that isn't clean. Did she say why?"

"Something to do with making you look cute and because you get cold easily.” He thought a moment before snapping his fingers. “Oh, and you left your blue hoodie behind so she ended up putting it in the wash."

Key grimaced, but let it slide. Yet another weird thing that plagued Key: she was often cold or was always slightly chilled. The only times where her body heat was normal or surpassing that was whenever she was exerting a lot of energy. Maybe that was her normal, but if Key had any concerns, it was best to report to Dr. Park as soon as possible.

“Okay! Heading out!”

“Be prepared for an interrogation later! You know how the oldies get.”

Although the Housewarden meeting was supposed to take place at ten in the morning, Key wanted to be there on time. And being on time meant that she should be at least fifteen minutes early.

Key approached the Headmage’s office at half past eight.

While it was true that anxiety was coursing through her veins, she was also keen on meeting with Cameron again. There was only so much time left and while it was more than likely that they would have less than an hour left to talk… Key just wanted to thank him again for all that he had done for her.

“I can never get away from you, can I?”

Cameron sauntered down the hallway, his green eyes lighting up as he saw Key hanging out near the Headmage's office. Slung over his shoulder was a backpack and behind him, he towed a suitcase that rolled noisily upon the floor. Key inwardly winced at the squealing noises, but met him halfway to give him a half hug around his waist.

"What can I say? I have to make sure that you don't loot the Headmage's office..." Key looked up and down the hallway before exclaiming in a stage whisper, "Without me, of course!"

For a few minutes, in an attempt to procrastinate, they shared some idle chatter. During that time, Key tried to bring up the treasury of childhood fairy tales, but Cameron waved her off every time she tried to veer off in that direction. Each time, he either deflected the topic (most often about what her plans for the future were and if she was excited to meet the Housewardens) or straight up ignored her questions. Eventually, when he knew that the old Crow was probably a few seconds away from sending a search party after him, Cameron had left behind his suitcase for Key to guard before approaching the office door.

After three steady knocks, the Headmage called out for Cameron to enter.

“Welp, here goes nothing.” Cameron turned the doorknob before saying one last thing to Key, “Try not projecting your thoughts while I’m in there, okay?”

Spluttering did nothing to deter Cameron from waving a jaunty little goodbye before he allowed the door to shut behind him. Keeping quiet, Key leaned against the wall close to the door. Even if she chose to eavesdrop, it wasn’t like she could hear anything. Previous experience revealed that Crowley, while birdbrained on most days, had a propensity for privacy—often, he would charm his office to completely muffle the conversations behind his closed doors.

To keep herself occupied, Key dropped a letter that she had written to Cameron inside one of the many pockets of his suitcase. It was a shame she didn’t get the right opening so she could give it to him without wounding his pride or incurring embarrassment for either of them. Nonetheless, Key wanted to give him some parting words that weren’t totally immersed in inside jokes and both of their inabilities to confront some of the deeper truths about themselves.

After gently placing it inside of a side pocket, Key zipped up the compartment and sat cross-legged against the wall. Opposite her, there were a few portraits whose muses muttered or snored amongst themselves. Over the years, they had seen many students get up to the most mischievous or misguided pranks—hiding a letter inside of a suitcase was child’s play.

Click.

Click.

Cli—

“Best not to fiddle with that too much, Miss,” a strange voice interrupted the midst of her clicking her lighter on and off. “Playing with fire has never ended well for anyone.”

Key looked up, her fingers still pressing down on the button next to the sparkwheel. She had long since gotten used to the feeling of pressing down on the button, so it didn’t hurt, but the awareness of what she was doing had sprung to life when that voice had come out of nowhere. Out of instinct, she looked at her right and then to her left where a person should have been if they were approaching from one of the neighboring hallways. However, it wasn’t until she heard the polite clearing of a throat, did she think to look straight ahead. At last, the mystery was solved; a portrait bearing the likeness of a young woman looked down at her with bemusement in her eyes.

Key instantly relaxed when she realized who the young woman was.

Rosalia, one of the many portraits that lived within the school’s frames.

She was either in her late teens or early twenties, but it was apparent to everyone who had glanced at her visage that she was one of the prettiest portraits in the school. She mostly kept to herself in the west wing of the school building, having no ability to leave the confines of her portrait. On many occasions—at least, from what Key had heard from the rumor mill—Rosalia had complained about being lonely and that her frame was getting too old for her beauty. Key often passed her without much thought other than an absent wave, but the young custodian felt sympathy for the portrait bound woman.

It must be so hard to be restrained to one spot for an entire life—or maybe even several lifetimes. Key was no scholar when it came to art, but judging by the outfit Rosalia wore, it had been centuries since she had been painted.

To live life without moving. Key couldn’t simply imagine it.

Key’s finger left the lighter’s button as she acquiesced to the portrait’s unspoken request. Even if it had been centuries—boring ones, Key couldn’t help but think—all portraits were wary about any types of theoretical damage that could occur to their canvas or their frames.

All skilled magical painters made it their life’s goal to put a life and a soul into the canvas and then encompass it into a beautiful frame. It was just a shame that if the painting itself was not treated well or was subjected to irreparable damage, it might as well be a death knell to the muse inside the painting.

Key tucked the lighter into the pockets of the cardigan—the left pocket that had the face of a teddy bear staring at the viewer.

“Sorry about that, Miss Rosalia,” the young custodian apologized. It was too early in the morning to start a fight, even if it was with an inanimate object that couldn’t do much against Key except insult or complain. “I’m just a little nervous, ha ha.”

The young woman from the portrait frowned a little at that, her gaze drifting a little to the right and upwards in contemplation. The silence endured a few seconds too long—long enough where Key thought that it could be a prudent time to just leave—but Rosalia’s eyes snapped back down to meet Key’s gaze in recognition.

Her eyes were wide in delight, but there was a malicious edge to it that had Key grateful that her back was already against the wall and that the hallways were a surefire way to leave the situation.

“You’re working with the Housewardens!” Rosalia cackled a little to herself, a dainty hand elegantly covering her mouth in a mock attempt to stifle her mirth. She eyed the little custodian, disbelief in her features. “Oh my, the master of this school must really either dislike or favor you to honor you with such responsibility.” Her voice fell, but stayed in the same mischievous lilt. “Between you and me, he has a lot to say about you behind closed doors.”

Before she could think about it, Key immediately jumped up to her feet and ran to the painting, only skidding to a halt when she was a few scant inches away from Rosalia.

“The Headmage talks about me? What does he say?” It would make sense that there would be some talk about Key—who else had fallen out of a mirror with muddled memories and a strange name to boot?—but from the Headmage himself? Honestly, Key had assumed that whenever she wasn’t within earshot or in his visual range, she had all but ceased existing in his eyes. This was news, which meant…

“Did… did he say anything about different worlds? Interdimensional travel?” It had been a while since Key had broached the topic with the Headmage because she didn’t want to intrude too much upon his personal time, but there had to be something right? Even if it was an offhand comment, it was still evidence that at least the Headmage was still working on it. On his own, snail-like pace, but at least there was something being done about it.

“Huh?” Rosalia blinked in confusion, the imperious, holier-than-thou attitude slightly dissipating at Key’s questions. “What are you…? Probably? Probably not?” Rosalia shrugged her shoulders, always elegant no matter what she did. “He talks about you, but I don’t hear everything. But you know who does, Miss?”

Key felt apprehension crawl up and down her spine like spiders spinning cobwebs across her back.

She did not like where this was going.

“The Great Seven!” Rosalia whispered, her voice barely filling the air between them. Her brilliant eyes flickered between Key and the office door. “I bet they’ve got the whole story…”

It was not as if Key hadn’t thought about talking to the supposed Great Seven. She had often entertained that idea when she was supposed to be working late at night, cleaning the other offices and classrooms that happened to be close to this particular wing. However, the Headmage was very particular about who went inside of his office. For the most part, despite his seeming incompetence, he was actually the sort of person who managed to keep his desk tidy and his door locked shut.

And even if Key did not seem to believe that he was capable of it, he did say he dusted off his paintings every day. While that may have seemed like a baseless boast, the portraits had been listening and hadn't said or done anything to contradict that claim.

In conclusion, Key did not have access to his office room—but then again, not many others did. Even Alastair and Horace, some of the oldest custodians, weren't allowed inside of his office unless the Headmage had said that he needed their help. Even then, it was mostly light dusting and the routine cleaning of his windows.

Whatever the case, Key knew that if it were possible, she would like to have a conversation with the esteemed mages who represented Night Raven College. Hopefully, they would be the key or would have some sort of inkling as to the how's and why's she was in Twisted Wonderland in the first place. Throughout the rare meetings she had with the Headmage, she knew that at least one or two of them were listening at all times and if her suspicions were correct, she could only assume that they talked amongst themselves about Key's origin and her subsequent stay in the prestigious institution.

After all, they were portraits confined into one space! She was no expert in magical portraits, but she was sure that if the images inside could move from painting to painting, crossing frames as if they were merely checking in on their neighbors, someone would have said something eventually.

However, perhaps Key was reaching, but since she was allowed to do administrative work as the Headmage's secretary—even if most of the work that she was going to do was aimed at aiding and communicating with the Housewardens—maybe she would have more access to his office. It would make sense. The Headmage was a flighty creature and it was often—not alway, but often—that whenever Key tried to approach his office, she would find it empty of the Headmage's presence. It was highly irresponsible, Key couldn't help but think, and that was a sentiment often shared by the rest of the staff. Although, Key couldn't entirely blame him. It was summer term and that meant he had a decreased workload compared to the actual school year.

However...

Key couldn't help but think—and honestly believe—that he was avoiding her.

Which was fair.

She was the evidence of something gone wrong.

Whatever that something was, she knew that if the Headmage couldn't or wouldn't be able to fix it, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

Which meant that she would have to brush up on her history or try recalling the worn out vhs tapes from a muddled childhood.

“They probably do,” Key couldn't help but agree. She eased back onto her heels and began walking away from the portrait, eager to get away from Rosalia's pouting expression. My, she was much too pretty and a hair too mouthy for her own good. “But I don't see how that's any of your business, Miss Rosalia.”

“It's not~!“ Rosalia sing-songed. She leaned back in swoon, the back of her fair hand brushing against her forehead. “But I see a lot of things, even the things that most people forget or don't pay attention to.”

Key glanced up at the portrait again, a bit perturbed at the implications, but before she could brandish her lighter and possibly make Rosalia talk to her more candidly, the Headmage's office door swung open.

It was Cameron and he had the world's largest smile on his face.

“Guess who's busting out of this damn school!”

Chapter Text

Cameron was leaving.

Key had known this ever since she had met him. It was a fact that had yet to be proven, but one she had accepted as truth for so long. Now that his departure was rapidly approaching, she didn't know what to say, what to feel. She had written so many things in her letter, but right now? When she was standing in front of him with his bag slung on one shoulder and his suitcase standing upright at his feet? It was all too real and she felt like this day had come too fast.

Her throat felt tight when she saw him smile, the faint glimpse of his canines scratching at the bottom of his lips a familiar sight. That same smile seemed to falter, but Cameron was quick to recover as he gestured for her to come follow him down the main building.

“Come on,” he held out his suitcase handle to her and then began walking towards the exit. As Key hesitated, he looked over his shoulder and gave her what she assumed was a reassuring smile. “Hey, don't look at me like that. I need your help or else I'll be lugging this suitcase all day!” He lowered his voice as if he were imparting a sacred secret. “Between you and me, you're the stronger one.”

Key couldn't help it. She snorted and began hauling the suitcase, the wheels of it squealing noisily behind her as if it were fanfare.

“Liar.”

“Nuh-uh.”

They didn't need to say any more words. Everything that needed to be said had already been spoken.

The walk down to the main gates was mostly silent and was undercut by the sound of their footsteps falling into a soothing rhythm between them. However, as always, the moment had to end.

At the very front of the wrought iron gates, there were a pair of raven black horses that were attached to a carriage. The anachronism compared to the very modern world of Twisted Wonderland stumped Key for a second before she abruptly closed her jaw and handed Cameron his suitcase.

He basically threw it inside before holding Key close to him one last time, his warmth a reminder of the short, but enduring friendship they shared.

“Remember, I need all the details.” One of his ears twitched as he tried to recall something.  It was probably something humorous if the twinkle in his green eyes meant anything. “I hear Azul turned blue once after a first year from Savanaclaw accidentally screwed up his potion, but I always assumed that was a myth. I gotta know what he looks like when Mr. Know-It-All ends up looking like a jackass.”

“I get the feeling that he's already a jackass,” Key joked.

“Well, duh. But he likes to act like he isn't.” Cameron hauled himself into the carriage. “Which is a shame because if this were any other school, he'd just be an honors student with delusions of grandeur.”

“Careful, people would call that slander or defamation.”

“Well, it's a good thing that I'm leaving then.” Cameron waved one last time, a genuine smile glimmering brightly from his bright green eyes down to the broad smile that revealed dimples on his freckled cheeks. “Take care and don't overwork yourself, okay? Kick the Headmage if he gets too big for his britches.”

Key clicked her heels together and saluted—military style. “Will do, Cam!”

The fox beastman's eyes widened before raucous laughter left him.

The walk back to the main campus building was quiet and somber. Despite the sunny day, Key felt a little sad and was already feeling nostalgic for Cameron. However, she could not help but feel proud of her fox beastman friend. She hadn't seen his grades, but based on the wide smile, she could only assume that he had passed with flying colors. 

As if she had expected anything else.

After she had walked past the statues of the Great Seven, she heard a rustling sound behind her. As she turned around, she was confronted with the blurring image of the one and only cat beast stopping short of ramming his overly large head against the back of her legs.

“Henchman!”

“Boss.” Key knelt down to see that the creature was looking up at her, betrayal in his features. As a lover of all things cute, she couldn't help but inwardly coo at the sight, but she still frowned. What was wrong with him? “Come to finally tell me your name?”

The cat beast ignored that question, choosing instead to glare at her and harp at her for something completely out of left field.

“Did I miss it? The entrance ceremony thing?” The cat beast placed his forepaws against his hips, looking a lot like a disgruntled toddler who had just learned how to look disappointed. “If you think you can trick me—”

Key took her chances. Without waiting for the go ahead or for the cat beast to continue his line of questioning, the young custodian reached forward and gently dragged her knuckles in between and behind his ears.

The heat from the flames that sprouted from his ears was warm, but not unbearably so. Out of curiosity, she dragged her fingers among the blue flames, but instead of heat or her skin turning red from the stimulation, it was a gentle heat that caressed her skin. Hmm... That was certainly interesting!

Would she be able to get away with this in the future?

“Hey! You can't just—” The cat beast, unbidden, leaned harder and harder into her soothing touch, smooth rumbles reverberating through his chest. “—H-henchman!”

Key giggled, the last vestiges of the melancholia fading away at the realization that the cat beast was catlike not only in appearance, but also in personality! That was just so adorable!

“All right, all right.” She backed off, but remained sitting on her haunches, her smile still wide and open as she assessed the cat beast. “Sorry, Boss. I couldn't help but think that you were so cute right now!”

The cat beast rolled its peculiar blue eyes before saying, “Awesome! Amazing! Not cute!” The cat beast paused to see if the human was going to honor his preferred adjectives. (Key was nodding along, so he had no reason to push the issue). “Did the ceremony thing happen already? I saw some students comin' back today!”

Ah, so that's what it was all about! Key had yet to meet any of the new students (other than the ones in Octavinelle), especially the Housewardens (aside from one Azul Ashengrotto). In fact, even though she had been walking through Main Street just now, it was bereft of all signs of life. Aside from the cat beast, that is.

“You've already seen them?” Key finally stood up to her full height, relaxing the lactic acid that had built up from crouching for so long. “Do you know what they're like?”

The cat beast gave her a sidelong glance. “The ceremony hasn't happened yet?”

“Nope.” Key thought back to the schedule, recalling when all of the students were supposed to arrive and the shifts all of her coworkers were pulling in order to make sure that the school was presentable for the students' and professors' first day. “Three days from now, actually. Why? Did you think that I wouldn't warn you beforehand?”

The cat beast stuck his tongue out at her before he gracefully fell forward so that he finally stood on all four legs. It was a stark contrast to how he usually presented himself, but Key couldn't find it within herself to say anything about it. Whenever he was bipedal, he looked so ridiculously adorable. When he looked more like a cat, he was simply precious and Key had to fight the urge to take him up in her arms and cuddle him.

(She got cold really easily; she would be killing two birds with one stone!)

“Catch ya later, Henchman. Don't start the ceremony without me!”

“Sure.” The cat beast ran off among the statues, his small figure fading away until he was nothing more than a faint speck in the distance. Even when he was clearly out of earshot, she couldn’t help but mutter, “You do realize that I don’t have the power to start or stop the ceremony, right?”

Now feeling somewhat lighter after the tumultuous roller coaster of emotions earlier that morning, Key quickly began her return to the main campus building. Even though her steps were light and quick, there was no true urgency to return. There was still time before the meeting; according to Cameron, the Headmage had changed the meeting to the early afternoon instead of late morning because some students were held up in their respective countries.

(Key wondered if she should believe the Headmage or if this was just another example of his incompetence).

However, it didn’t matter if she believed the birdbrained magician or not; she would have to wait regardless. It didn’t take long for her to decide that she would hang around the courtyard for the most part until there was at least thirty minutes left until D-Day. She was a believer in being early (a boon when dealing with Ol' Harper), but there was a fine line between being punctual and weird hanging out in a room by yourself.

Thankfully, she had prepared for this eventuality. Lugging her backpack around campus was probably not a smart decision most times, but it was nice feeling the weight of it on her front. (Yes, it was weird, but if she held the backpack in front of her chest, it felt like she was cuddling into something). As she settled into one of the apple trees in the courtyard, she rifled through her bag's contents, eager to find the children's treasury.

Among her miscellaneous items that she kept just in case, there was: an old leather wallet that had clearly taken a beating before it ended up lodged stuck inside a desk in one of the abandoned classrooms; a small pencil case with her vast array of pens and highlighters; an emergency health kit that was filled with items that she was already familiar with (gauze and bandages) and a few magical items like low grade healing elixirs; a blanket; and a spare change of clothing in case of an accident. Key wouldn't call herself the most organized person in the world, but it didn't take long for her to dig through the contents to find her present tucked in one of the larger compartments.

Although Key was excited to receive such a beautiful book, she hadn't read through it yet. Yes, upon first seeing it, she had flipped through the pages, but she was too tired for an earnest perusal. Now seemed like as good a time as any to fully appreciate what she had been given.

After scanning through the table of contents, Key decided that it was better to just go from the very beginning to the end. She had no preference: each of the chapter titles bore names that equally piqued her interest. Some of them reminded her of tales that she had heard in her childhood, but she wondered how many of them would cross over into this reality. From what she saw, most of the tales were twisted or deliberately made 'grey' to contrast how Disney made things 'black and white' for their young, impressionable demographic.

The first tale was from the Land of the Red Dragon. Immediately, there was an author's note detailing the culture and the traditions from this particular land. Key skipped it, wanting to immerse herself in the story first before delving into its history.

Quickly, Key became absorbed in the tale of a white snake demon who later transformed into a beautiful woman. The white lady, as she was also called, fell in love with a young man and together their love blossomed and bore fruit in the form of their newborn son. However, because their love was unnatural—demons cannot intermingle with humans—a monk from a nearby temple decided to break them apart by forcing the woman to transform back into her original snake form. Yet, despite the fear that the young man had, he still retained his love for his wife and the both of them were able to enact vengeance against the evil monk.

It was a beautiful story and Key had to read and reread certain passages because the prose evoked so many beautiful emotions within Key. It had been a while since she was so invested. There was romance, action, and the element of horror as it seemed as if the snake woman was seducing the human man for her own gain.

When Key flipped back through the accompanying author’s notes to clear up any confusion she had, she discovered that throughout the years the tale had evolved from a cautionary tale of falling victim to seemingly innocent women to a folk tale that spoke of true love and filial piety. The alterations were derived from centuries of oral retellings and retranslations as well as the changes that resulted from infighting amongst the clans of the Land of the Red Dragon. As Key was about to delve into a paragraph about the origin of the white snake woman’s sister, a green snake, Key became cognizant of hasty footsteps and harsh breathing.

Carefully, she placed a bookmark—a scrap of paper that she found earlier that day—within the pages of her treasury of tales and glanced down.

At the bottom of the tree, a young boy with stark red hair was bent over gasping for breath. One of his hands bore some of his weight as he leaned against the bark of the mighty tree that Key rested in. As Key watched, she could hear the young boy mutter lowly to himself, his gasping breaths undermining the lack of goodwill in his tone of voice.

Normally, Key wasn’t a nosy person, but it wasn’t as if she could leave the tree without alerting the person below of her presence.

And it wasn’t as if she could pull a Tarzan and swing from tree to tree.

“—gah! Out of all the students to arrive early, it just had to be Floyd!” The redhead gradually straightened up and swiped the back of his forehead with a pale white hand. “My, you would think that Azul would exercise some restraint over those associates of his, but I suppose that’s too much to ask without asking for a contract.”

That last part, muttered as it was, still reached Key’s ears. Sometimes, she marveled that out of all her senses, it seemed that her hearing wasn’t impacted at all. In fact, she could have sworn that it was enhanced.

A minor boon in spite of what she had lost.

(She wished she could regain a sense of smell at least, but it is what it is).

Contracts? Didn’t Cameron mention them at some point? In fact, throughout all of the conversations that she had with the fox beastman, it seemed that whenever the topic of Azul was brought up, which wasn’t all that often considering she hadn’t heard of him until yesterday, the topic of contracts was also a given. Wasn’t he a little too young to be delving into legal documents like that? Or had she vastly underestimated the capabilities of the students of Night Raven College?

The young boy below the branch she had been resting on sighed before he eventually leaned his back against the tree and raised his face to the sky. Thankfully, he had kept his eyes closed so he wouldn’t get an eyeful of concerned custodian looking down at him, but Key knew that it was only a matter of time before her cover was blown. That only begged the question, though: When exactly should she alert him to her presence? He seemed a little too busy with whatever was on his mind, but at the same time, she didn’t want to appear rude…

Oh, wait! Now that Key was looking down at his face, she saw that he looked exactly like one of the Housewardens from the student profiles she had been given. Who was it again? Riddle… Rosehearts? When she had first read about him, she couldn’t help but coo at his name. It was so cute and adorable! The alliteration was also an added bonus. (She would say the same for Azul Ashengrotto, but Riddle Rosehearts sounded a lot more pleasant to the ears).  

“Maybe… Maybe I can rest under this tree for a while…” In between words, he gasped a little, allowing a breathy quality to his voice.  

And then the Housewarden of Heartslabyul opened his eyes.

Key waggled her fingers in an attempt to save the situation. “Sup.”

Shrieking, the young boy fell flat on his bottom, the red blooming on his cheeks matching the rose red hue of his hair. Like Key, he was dressed in civilian clothing, yet there was a certain air about him that had Key wrinkling her nose just the slightest bit. Despite the heat, the Housewarden was dressed in a deep maroon cable knit sweater with a crisp collared shirt underneath.

Key hated to say it, but he looked very preppy.

On him, though, he made the look sort of cute.

Scrambling back onto his feet, Riddle took a few steps back from the tree so that he could yell at Key directly. “Don’t you know that it is impolite to sneak up on others like that?”

Key blinked. So not only did he look like a prep, he also sounded like he had a barbed stick up his ass. What a lovely combination. Then again, if she were put into that same situation—that is, embarrassing herself without realizing that there was someone secretly watching her—she would have probably reacted the same way. Granted, she probably wouldn’t be as loud about it, but she supposed that things could be worse.

She couldn’t help but antagonize him just the tiniest bit. “I didn’t sneak up on you, though. I was minding my own business in this tree when you came barging in, disturbing the peace.” She waved her book filled with fantastical tales at him. “I was in the middle of a good story and you interrupted me. And that makes me impolite… How, exactly?”

Riddle’s eyes zeroed in on the book that Key showed him before he focused once more on her face. Key wasn’t sure what he was looking at or if he was searching for something, but the deep red flush that she was getting concerned about had gently ebbed into his baseline coloration. There was still a slight redness in his cheeks, but the young custodian assumed that it must have been because he was still wearing slightly heavy clothing and the running from earlier was still apparent in his labored breathing interspersed with gasps.

Finally, when Key thought that he was going to wind up and blow up again, Riddle relaxed his shoulders and sighed in defeat. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to act out irrationally. It’s just that I have been having… a rough morning.”

Key hummed a little. “Mr. Floyd, was it?”

The anger that had dissipated from earlier returned with a muted, but just as colorful shade of rose pink. It would be far more accurate to describe the emotion on his face as close to irritation, but Key wouldn’t be surprised if he abruptly veered straight into red hot fury.

And yet—

It seemed that Riddle managed to grab a handle on himself as he nodded slowly, a contemplative look on his face. “So, you heard that, hmm?”

Not like she had any choice in the matter. “Among other things.” She thought for a moment. “You’re not going to accuse me of being rude again, are you?”

The red haired Housewarden paused for a moment, as if considering her statement before shaking his head. At this point, his breathing had evened out and his face had long since stopped flushing with red splotches over his pale complexion.

“No, I fear that I will have to apologize for my rudeness once more. I’m Riddle Rosehearts.” His storm grey eyes  glanced expectantly up at her, his right hand raised up as if he were trying to grasp her hand for a handshake despite her being so far up in a tree. “You are?”

Key would never admit this, not even upon pain of death, but Riddle looked utterly absurd with his hand out like that. Even he, confident as he might have been while stating his name, seemed to slowly register that the young custodian couldn’t possibly reach down to shake his hand.

Well, she could if she were to hang upside down, but she didn’t want to risk falling on her face yet again before the first Housewarden meeting of the year even started.

Without even thinking about it, Key stuffed everything back in her bag and scaled down the tree as fast as possible.

She took his hand and shook it twice.

“You can call me Key.”

“Just Key?”

“It’s short for Keep-It-Simple.”

Key didn’t have a frame of reference on how Riddle was like on a day-to-day basis, but she was receiving a lot of information from this very first meeting. Although Key was initially put off by his outburst from earlier, she could not deny the surge of bemusement she felt rising in her chest when she saw that he was scrunching his nose in confusion at her supposed ‘name’. Was he still concerned about the fact that she was calling herself Key?

Or was he taking her seriously when she said that her full name was Keep-It-Simple? It was a stupid pun—actually, it probably wasn’t a pun—that probably warranted a chuckle before they could move on to another topic entirely, but he seemed particularly focused on that.

To save the Housewarden from further embarrassment, Key decided to come clean. “I was joking, by the way.”

The spluttering and stuttering was glorious. “I-I knew that!”

“Sure, you did,” Key indulged. Out of curiosity, she reached inside her cardigan pocket—Dolly’s cardigan—and pulled out the pocket watch. Right on schedule, she couldn’t help but preen a little to herself. Ol’ Harper would be proud. There were still forty minutes to spare, but she supposed that she could spend most of that time reclining inside of the meeting room and talking more with this particular student before the rest arrived. “Listen, I have somewhere to be. Do you want to join me?”

Appearing gobsmacked at the invitation, it took several seconds for Riddle to process the question before he answered.

Although his voice was even and slow, as if he was taking the time to choose his words carefully, Key could detect an undercurrent of confused excitement.

“It would be impolite of me to refuse.” Riddle gestured for her to start walking, to which she immediately acquiesced. “May I know where we are going?”

Key smiled. “I’ll make it a surprise.”

Chapter Text

Throughout most of the summer term, Key hadn’t had the chance to check out most of the students’ dorms aside from Octavinelle. Sure, there were times when she had to accompany one of her coworkers to check up on the magic maintaining the dimensional spaces that housed the dormitories and to make sure that all available students were maintaining their assigned living spaces. Yet, these occasions were rare and would often be relegated for work. 

Unfortunately for Key, she hadn’t been able to see Heartslabyul more than once. All of the students under the rule of that particular dorm had all gone home for the summer—apparently, under the tenure of the newest Housewarden, none of the students failed and were able to attend the next school year without entertaining summer classes. It was a boon for that batch of students, but Key had never gotten the chance to fully appreciate the beautiful chaos of the dorm.

Inside of the castle, there were stasis charms put in place so that it would remain undisturbed by both outsiders and by the elements. The placement of such a spell sought to reduce the amount of effort needed from the maintenance crew, but Key felt a little cheated. Seeing something so blatantly Alice in Wonderland themed was so enticing! Barring her from seeing the inside should have been deemed cruel and unusual punishment.

Now that she had the Heartslabyul Housewarden accompanying her, she eagerly delved into conversation about his dorm. At first, he seemed rather adamant that he should not be disclosing school secrets to outsiders, but really? Was there anything to indicate that he couldn’t talk about Heartslabyul? She meant no harm by it and there must have been a reason why she was allowed to roam the grounds, right?

Riddle stumbled a little in his footing as they walked up one of the many staircases of the main campus building. Despite his confidence in denying her, he seemed a little unsure of himself as he watched Key stride up the steps—almost as if she had done the same routine countless times before. Who was she? What purpose did she serve?

“I suppose you’re right,” Riddle conceded as he picked up the pace to fall in line with her. Despite being taller than Key, her strides were quicker and efficient, light and surefooted. This clearly wasn’t her first time here. “Do you have special permission from the Headmage to be here?”

Key shrugged. “I have regular permission if that’s what you’re asking.”

Riddle thought for a moment, and in a moment of clarity, thought that he had finally caught her. “Oh, of course! You’re a visitor?” He smirked a little, as if he were playing a card game with Cater and Trey and he had the winning hand and there was nothing his upperclassmen could do to steal away his victory. “Then where is your guest badge?”

Key inclined her head up so that she could meet Riddle’s inquisitive gaze. Although her lenses were thick and the frames woefully out of fashion, there was a youthful mischievousness that the Heartslabyul Housewarden had become all too familiar with in his first year, and only moments prior with one half of the Leech twins. In his past experience, this was never a good sign. 

Sighing mentally, he braced himself for what was to occur next.

Even if he were to be caught off guard—which he hoped he wouldn't!—he would rise up to the occasion to stop all troublemakers. This person, Key, may not be as troublesome as a few other people, but that didn’t mean that Riddle was going to let her slide just because it was their first meeting. Still, he could not deny that he was surprised and somewhat… content—glad? happy?—that she had immediately invited him out for a brisk paced stroll without further introduction.

It was nice in a way.

He hadn’t said that he was a Housewarden yet—he didn’t precisely know why—but the omission of what his status was seemed to take away the absurd amount of pressure that was often pressed against him on all sides. The pressure to be perfect; to uphold the law, the school’s rules, the Queen of Hearts’ rules; and to be the sort of person his mother had molded him to be was often suffocating to the point where he often thought that he had used his Unique Magic upon himself. Here, in this strange situation, walking up the staircases to some unknown destination when he should have been preparing for the Housewarden meeting, he felt… lighter.

It was strange and reminded him of when he was younger when he and Trey and Che’nya… Ah, but that was so long ago! And this was now!

His only saving grace was that the young woman was traveling in the same direction. 

(For what reason? He still did not know and while the urge to interrogate her on the surprise was on the tip of his tongue, he liked this shared banter of theirs. Was this what normal teenagers did in their free time? Perhaps he should allocate some time to this practice. If not among the members of his dorm, then perhaps he should seek this Key person out. She was more than likely someone from the town below, hopefully).

“A guest badge?” Key laughed; the sound was muffled behind a hand. Riddle immediately appreciated the gesture; his mother often did the same if the need to laugh ever struck her. (He couldn’t remember when was the last time his mother laughed, but she did. Once or twice before). “Then wouldn’t that require special permission? If it makes you feel any better, you can turn me into the Headmage’s office if you’re so concerned about security.”

What an agreeable person! She might have had a propensity for mischief (an unfortunate trait that he was sure she would eventually grow out of), but she was definitely leagues better than most of the students at Night Raven College. Not that the bar was particularly high.

Still, something was not adding up.

She acted like she belonged. Not once had she ever asked for directions and for every step of the way, she had been the one leading. Even now, she was heading down a particular route, without any meandering or dillydallying. Very Heartslabyul, in his opinion.

Perhaps alarm bells should have been ringing when they finally walked down a hallway and towards a certain room—the room where the Housewardens convened. Unfortunately, Riddle was astounded at such a coincidence rather than suspicious that Key was visiting this particular area.

She glanced at him, a small smile on her lips. “This is where you’re supposed to go, right?”

Riddle frowned. Now there was the slightest hint of an indication that something wasn’t quite right, but…

“How did you know?” Riddle ventured to ask. While he itched to go inside the meeting room—he did not have a watch on him, but he knew that while he was early, he still wanted to be the first inside—he very well could be in the presence of a troublemaker. Or worse... a rule breaker!

Both of them spelled trouble, but rule breakers were the worst.

It was a good thing that the Headmage's office was right there so he wouldn't have to expend more energy than needed to haul Key to justice.

A sort of tingling sensation, something bitter and hurtful crawled around his throat and tightened. It was a noose of his very own making.

Just when he had thought that he found someone he could trust and relate to, they turned out to be like every other person. He didn't know he had expectations for Key, but he supposed that she must have passed at first, but now...

She winked at him and gestured towards the door. "Go on, I'll go to the Headmage."

Riddle's storm grey eyes widened. That was not something that he expected at all. Willingly going for punishment?

Unless—

"You're not lying, are you?"

Key looked aghast at such an accusation, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that Riddle was slowly realizing that he should not trust. Doubtless, there were many other people who Riddle trusted far less, but this sort of mischievous nature usually only ever spelled trouble.

And trouble only ever meant broken rules.

"A liar?" Key scoffed, but she inclined her head towards the Headmage's office. "Tell you what, you can watch me go inside the office and then you can go inside whenever you're ready."

Before Riddle could even think about her offer further, Key practically frolicked towards her quarry: the Headmage's office. Eyes wide, Riddle stood frozen at his spot, not quite believing his eyes. However, before the strange girl could raise her hand to knock on the door, Riddle ran from his spot with a burst of speed that he didn’t know that he had possessed.

Such audacity was not something he normally employed, but this was already a strange situation.

Key's dark brown eyes blinked in confusion when she saw that the Heartslabyul Housewarden had placed himself right in front of her, his back flush against the door.

"... are you okay?"

"You can't go knocking on the Headmage's office door unless you have scheduled an appointment beforehand! It's against the rules!"

Key canted her head to the side, her gaze considering and contemplative. She happened to look up for a second, almost as if she was trying to remember something important before a light shone in her eyes. Before Riddle could ask anything about it, Key reached around his body and rapped against the door in a jaunty little tune that rankled at Riddle's ears.

"Miss Key!"

"Mister Rosehearts!"

Annoyance, the likes of which he normally associated with low-level troublemakers, filled his entire body. If Floyd were to observe him, he would have called him the cutest 'Lil Goldfishie'! Such a horrible nickname, it was a good thing that Riddle lost him. (Although, that was probably because the Leech had decided to give up the chase because he got too bored). Unfortunately, he was stuck with this strange person who was either a visitor with a horrifying sense of humor or a trespasser!

And if they were a trespasser, that meant this entire time, he was aiding and abetting her!

It didn't matter if he had nothing to do with Key before this excursion of theirs, he would surely be punished alongside her! Justice should always be served so that future decisions may be fair and equal for everyone, so he would be more than willing to accept punishment!

Still, though.

She should not just reach around him like that!

And, she should definitely not be looking at him as if she was the cat who finally got the cream.

It was almost as if she was amused by putting him in a situation like this!

Suddenly, the wooden door gave way behind Riddle's back, causing him to flail backwards. The strange sensation of feeling gravity tug him from behind was unsettling and he had to rein in the embarrassing desire to shriek aloud. Instinctively, he reached out, not fully expecting anyone to catch him, but a small hand, almost the same size as his, grasped him around the wrist. Riddle's eyes widened when he switched his gaze between the hand and towards the owner of the hand: Key.

She wasn't staring down at Riddle, like he was expecting. No, instead, she was focusing on his wrist and gently pulling him back on his feet.

"Careful," she said as she released him once he showed no further signs of tipping over, "you don't want to injure yourself before the Housewarden meeting."

"Thank you." Riddle prolonged his breath, trying to steady himself after such a mortifying scene. And then he finally processed that last part. "How did you know—"

"Causing harm to befall my students before the school term has officially started, Miss Key? I've always envied your punctuality and proactive nature, but I must admit, you go too far." A beat. "And a good afternoon to you, Mr. Rosehearts. I assumed that your journey here was pleasant?"

The Headmage was decked out in his usual outfit, sans the feathery overcoat that he usually draped over his shoulders. Seeing the Headmage underdressed, even if in the barest sense of the word, nearly had Riddle looking away to offer the Headmage a sense of privacy. Yet, if he were to look away from the Headmage's visage, he would more than likely end up glancing in Key's direction and that spelled nothing but trouble.

"Good afternoon, Headmage," Riddle enunciated clearly and respectfully. “My trip here was pleasant and went as expected. However, before we get sidetracked, I have a matter to discuss."

The Headmage, had he visible eyebrows to raise, would have raised them to his hairline. Clearly confused, but wary, the older mage inquired, "A matter reserved for the Housewarden meeting or is it something else of equal importance?"

"The latter." Riddle gestured towards Key who had the audacity to wave at the Headmage as if she were innocent in all of this. "Is Miss Key visiting the school? If so, where's her guest badge? One of the rules stated in the handbook states that all visitors should have a visible indicator that they are neither staff nor student because of security risks."

The Headmage, for some odd reason, seemed to sigh in relief. "Fortunately, Mr. Roseeharts, Miss Key does not actively pose a threat to anyone in this school. Rather, she is currently under my charge, but don’t be surprised if you end up seeing more of her this upcoming school year."

Dumbfounded by that admission, Riddle turned towards the subject of their conversation, his eyes wide and his mind going blank before abruptly twisting and turning in numerous directions as he tried to understand what the Headmage had admitted. While Key looked rather nonchalant at Riddle's sudden scrutiny, the Heartslabyul Housewarden was quickly doing math that easily rivaled quantum physics.

Was she...

Was the Headmage...

He did the math and drew lines between the connections.

If the Headmage himself had said that she was under his charge, did that imply a close relationship? Like an employer with his employee? A mentor and his mentee? Or a father with a—

The Headmage inclined his head towards the nearby room that was for the Housewardens. “Unfortunately, while I would like to continue this talk with you, I have to discuss some last minute details with Miss Key before the meeting starts. Until then, please take a seat if you like.”

Riddle nodded dutifully. “Will you expect me to take the minutes for the first meeting, Headmage?”

The Headmage shook his head. “No, that will not be necessary. I already have a person in mind for that task.”

Feeling like a child being dismissed, Riddle thought about trying to ask more questions, but the Headmage was already ushering Miss Key into the office, one of his clawed hands gently holding her shoulder as they walked inside. Before the door was closed, Riddle caught sight of the young woman giving him a puckish grin and a slight wiggle of her fingers.

Riddle didn't know if she was letting him in on a joke or if she was thinking that he was the joke itself.

Whatever the case, Riddle was expected to stay in the meeting room and review what duties were expected of him concerning the entrance ceremony for the incoming first years. 

It was relatively simple. 

Make sure that all of his students were dressed in their ceremonial robes and their visages adorned in the customary makeup that accented their dorm colors. Furthermore, it was up to him to guide all of his students into their dorms and to provide them with a brief history of the school and the significance of the Queen of Hearts to their esteemed dorm. Exclusive to Heartslabyul, unlike other dorms, Riddle would not only give each of the Heartslabyul first years the Night Raven College student handbook, but also the Rules of the Queen of Hearts and the card suit that would best define them from a deck of cards.  

There were other rituals that the other dorms would participate in to welcome their students, but Riddle was not privy to them. Nor was he particularly interested.

As Riddle opened the door to the Housewardens’ assigned room, he felt a chill rush down from the nape of his neck and travel down to the base of his spine. Before he could heed the call of instinct to flee danger, Riddle opened the door fully and found that his instincts were not unfounded. Seated at one of the chairs was one Azul Ashengrotto and standing in front of the windows was Jade Leech.

Where these two were, the third member of their unsavory trio was sure to follow.

“Oh my, it appears that we finally beat you, Riddle.” Jade bowed his head slightly, the tips of his sharpened teeth brushing gently against the rosebud hue of his lower lip. His lone golden eye glowed a little too brightly to be considered normal, but Riddle brushed it off. Having been placed together in the same classroom, it was to be expected that Riddle would grow somewhat used to Jade’s… shenanigans.

Or what could be considered shenanigans.

Azul, on the other hand, looked smug as ever. If this were any other day, Riddle would have preferred to have a one-on-one conversation with only one of these two, but he had no choice. If he were to leave, chances were that he was going to be late coming in again and that would be a dark spot on his record, never mind the fact that Azul and possibly a few other Housewardens would seek to mock him.

Riddle breathed in deeply. “Good afternoon, Jade. Azul. Congratulations on both of your promotions.”

If Azul was smug before, now he looked downright insufferable and smarmy.

“Yes, I believe that we will be able to enact meaningful change and promote a gentlemanly image within Octavinelle." His smug smile thinned considerably, as he regarded Riddle once more. His thin fingers, long and pale, tapped a little on the table, as if he were composing a melody on a piano before they stilled and he flexed, as if he were debating if he should lay his hands flat on the surface of the table or grip the edge of it. "And how are you, Riddle? What brings you here so early?"

If it were not for his adherence to etiquette, the redheaded Housewarden would have scoffed at such a blatant probe for information. It was just like Azul to never skip a moment for searching for new opportunities or creating advantages for himself to be utilized in the future. An enterprising businessman to the very end, that one.

Riddle took a seat across Azul. There was no assigned seating as of yet, and if they were following trends from previous Housewarden meetings, there probably wouldn’t be. The Headmage did not care if the Housewardens switched seats across a series of different meetings or stayed in the same place. As long as information was exchanged, the chosen agenda discussed, and the majority of members were present, then his job was completed. However, this was Night Raven College, students here liked to stake their claim or fight over territory even if such objects were trivial in the long run.

Sitting here was a good advantage: he could communicate better with arguably one of the more competent Housewardens (Azul and Vil being the other ones). The only disadvantage that Riddle could think of was that he would have to be in close proximity to someone who was overly ambitious and scummy as one Azul Ashengrotto was.

Riddle looked straight at Azul, taking care to look down his nose rather than up at the Octavinelle student. Nearby, Jade was probably observing them both, a gloved hand resting on his chin. Typical.

“As a Housewarden, it is my duty to be punctual for any and all meetings that we will have in the future.” Riddle inclined his head towards Azul in a show of recognition at what he was going to say next. “I commend you on your initiative to come early, but I suppose that it is expected of someone who’s as hard working and as determined as you.”

Riddle hadn’t meant to praise him that much, but it was the truth. Despite Azul’s faults and loathsome nature that the Heartslabyul Housewarden usually wished to avoid, Riddle could not deny that Azul’s ambitions led him to become an academically gifted student with a bright future in both entrepreneurship and potionology.

Azul was ambitious and at times chintzy, but those combined qualities led him to develop into a disciplined individual. (How else would Azul have the time and the will to create so many study guides for so many subjects within a limited amount of time?)

However, like most indulgences in life, one must realize that they should moderate themselves.

And that’s where Riddle and Azul differed.

Riddle had become Housewarden because it was inevitable and it was merely a display of what he had known already: he was strong and smart enough to take on the mantle of Housewarden. Meanwhile, Azul refused to stop spreading his influence until he had everything he could ever want—chasing things that would grant him more and more power (like his contracts).

“It’s only natural,” Azul laughed a little to himself. He leaned back in his chair a tad, looking a little too laidback. “It wouldn’t do to be inducted as Housewarden only to not show up on time.”

The images of two senior Housewardens haunted Riddle: one Leona Kingscholar and Malleus Draconia. At the very least, it was uncontested that the heir to Briar Valley was at least academically and magically superior to everyone at Night Raven College. For the second prince of Sunset Savannah, he had no excuse as to why he always arrived so late to every meeting and not only that, but also paraded about with such a rude temperament.

It wouldn’t do as a Housewarden to not show up on time, and yet those who should have been shining examples were far from role models.

Seeing Azul take to his role as a Housewarden better than his seniors was expected, but it grated at Riddle all the same.

Before Riddle could think of a suitable response to either extend or end the conversation (talking to Azul for too long was never a good thing, but that meant Riddle was stuck in silence or worse… engaging in conversation with Jade and that was better reserved for classroom chitchat), the door swung open once more.

“Hi, guys! Sevens, Azul! You’re a Housewarden, too!”

“Good afternoon, you three.” An artful pause that befitted the person who spoke. “Keep up the dedication and you’ll become fine Housewardens by the end of your tenure.”

Riddle felt the tension in his shoulders release. It was getting a little too stuffy with just the Octavinelle Housewarden and his Vice to speak with.

(Not at all like the somewhat easygoing rapport he had with Miss Key… He hoped he would see her again).

Chapter Text

Kalim really hoped that this school year was going to be just as exciting and grand as last year’s term! Walking in the halls of Night Raven College was always a journey and as a result, he felt refreshed and motivated to be as good a Housewarden as he could be. Even Jamil, who had been dry and quiet as of late, seemed a little more cheery as he helped direct all of Kalim's belongings and keepsakes from home into Scarabia. Kalim had offered to help—Jamil shouldn't have to work on such a joyous occasion!—but his best friend and closest confidant had waved him off with a tired sigh and said that he would accompany him to the Housewarden meeting to make sure that he was all right.

Kalim, however, saw that Jamil looked really tired. Stressed and irritated. It was something that was occurring more often nowadays, especially when his dear friend thought that he was left to his own devices. Perhaps Jamil was already feeling the effects of homesickness? Or was it something else that Kalim was missing entirely?

Before Kalim could think about the matter further—he saved the issue for later because he of all people would never abandon Jamil—another brilliant idea occurred to him!

"If you're too busy with this," Kalim gestured at some of their hired hands bringing in their combined belongings, "then I'd be more than happy to go by myself!"

As expected, Jamil's reaction was less than enthused. At best, he was dry and sarcastic, maybe even a little surprised. At worst, he was skeptical and disbelieving of Kalim's proposal.

"Are you sure?" Jamil crossed his arms, his eyes wary as he tried to keep an eye on both Kalim's mounting excitement at the prospect of the upcoming meeting and the way the movers were handling some of the more fragile items. "As a Housewarden, you shouldn't be too late on your first day."

"So you're saying that I would be late anyway?" Kalim joked, but it was almost disheartening to see that Jamil was taking his words too seriously. It was so like Jamil, but not like Jamil at the same time. "Don't worry about me. It's just a room next to the Headmage's office! How hard could it be?"

Much to Kalim's relief, Jamil had allowed him to leave after a well-placed smile and the earnest promise that he would not get distracted on the way there. Goodness, Kalim knew that Jamil was always busy and stoic at times, but surely he knew that Kalim did take things like this seriously! Well, there had been a few times where Kalim paused to take in his surroundings and say a few hellos to some passing professors and a few other students, but that didn’t mean he was distracted!

Along the way, he had come across one of the Leech twins who had been stalking the bushes around the courtyard, his sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight as he smiled. Happy to see a fellow classmate from a shared class year, Kalim ran up to him, happy greetings and dozens of questions ready to spill from his mouth. Unsurprisingly, Floyd had entertained his questions with a few queries of his own and a few anecdotes as to why he and his brother had come back so early this year.

If Floyd was to be believed, he had chased Riddle into the courtyard, but had decided to take a break when he had seen Kalim. By the time Kalim had suggested that they check if Riddle was still in the courtyard—“ Us Housewardens should stick together !”—there was no red haired Heartslabyul student to be found. It was unfortunate, but Kalim reasoned that Riddle must have left for the meeting room.

"It would make sense," Kalim said as he swiped upon his phone to check the time. "It's almost fifteen minutes til the meetup and Riddle has always been on time, even for class and lunch time! I should probably go..."

That's right, Jamil did tell him not to get too sidetracked... But this was Floyd and it had been months since he had seen him!

"But Goldfishie is no fun!" Floyd slouched against one of the apple trees, his eyes rolling as he continued to wilt. Suddenly, he jerked his head up and his gaze pierced Kalim's as he looked down at him in what most would consider to be a predatory manner. "But Sea Otter is definitely entertaining enough! We should dance!"

Dance?

Almost immediately, the heir to the Asim family was overwhelmed with the urge to arrange a dance party complete with so many snacks, mixes of his favorite songs, and any and all students who wished to join! If that wasn’t possible—and it probably wasn't because again, Jamil was busy and he had no idea how long the meeting was going to run—then maybe he and Floyd could spend some time—

"Sea Otter? Heyyyy! Losin' me here!"

Long story short, Kalim had decided to do a strange hybrid of half walking and half running towards the meeting place with Floyd in tow. You would think that Floyd's long legs would have made him faster, but it seemed that he was comfortable with the pace that Kalim was setting. It was almost considerate of Floyd if it were not for the fact that he had found a comfortable rhythm for himself that was more akin to speedwalking while Kalim was straddling the line between walking and running at all times. He finally settled on jogging, but at that point, he was wrestling for breath in between barely gasped sentences about how his summer went and if Azul had arrived with them as well.

Laughing as he comfortably leaped up the staircase two steps at a time, Floyd said, "You sound so funny! Are you getting tired already?"

Kalim matched Floyd's tone in both vibrancy and enthusiasm. Floyd was a sip of fresh water in the midst of dry desert, which was a far cry from Jamil's subdued nature: Kalim wished that he knew what was troubling his dear friend, but he could only focus on Floyd for now. "Not at all! Let's race!"

It was the final leg of their journey.

Sensing that the much taller second year was going to put in all of his energy into this impromptu race, Kalim began to pump his muscles faster, remembering all the lessons his personal trainers had taught him over the years.

Look ahead.

Keep your hands at waist level.

Relax your hands.

Your posture must remain straight and erect.

Relax your shoulders and keep your arms at your sides.

As Floyd merrily gave chase, Kalim laughed and continued to dash down the halls, the pounding of their feet echoing throughout. As Kalim’s legs lengthened in stride and Floyd’s more intimidating figure dwarfed his as they ran nearly in sync (with Floyd pulling ahead ever so often,) he began to relive memories from when he was younger. Much younger.

Once upon a time, when they were only half the length of his parent’s legs and their lives were so much simpler, Jamil and himself would run up and down the halls of the Asim estate. This was way before Kalim had met at least a dozen of his siblings and when Jamil seemed to… smile more. Wasn’t Jamil faster than him when it came to races? He would win over and over… And Kalim would strive to do better, but the length of his strides could never quite match Jamil’s.

Well, he did.

It took a long time and a lot of practice, but it brought Kalim joy to know that he had finally beat Jamil in a race. The feeling of victory was heady, but at the same time, Kalim was grateful that he had such a great friend to spend his time playing games with.

There was a party to celebrate afterwards and Kalim made sure that Jamil celebrated alongside him.

When was the last time Jamil and him had the time to be together? Perhaps he should spend more time with Jamil!

First, though, the meeting and the upcoming entrance ceremony, and—

Floyd let out a nasally high-pitched laugh when he careened around a corner and nearly bowled over into a fellow student.

Kalim stuttered neatly to a halt, his abrupt stop miles more graceful than Floyd’s awkward dance to greet the floor, arms akimbo and pinwheeling. In comparison, the student stood tall and proud, his violet eyes regal and commanding even when silent. It took a mere millisecond for Kalim to recognize who stood in front of them, posed like one of those snobby rich kid elitists from those dramas his younger sisters would watch when they thought their tutors weren’t looking.

Vil Schoenheit.

When Kalim had been moved into Night Raven College two months after the enrollment period, he hadn’t expected that he would be surrounded by so many other young heirs and celebrities! There were a few students he had been close with as a child—his father had many associates from many high places and their children were just as numerous as the opportunities they presented—but he had never met THE Vil Schoenheit before, until his first year at NRC.

Aside from the movies, tv shows, and the odd commercial and magazine, Kalim did not know that much about his upperclassman. However, it became quite clear that Vil was the sort of person who worked hard, expected the highest of results from himself, and from others. Kalim wasn’t sure how he felt about that—it was good to encourage and support others to become more than themselves, like polishing a diamond in the rough, but even polishing gems too hard may result in their shattering—but he knew that Vil was a capable student.

Honestly, the Pomefiore student reminded him of Jamil!

They were clearly hard workers and gave it their all when it came to pleasing others. Whether it be for the audience or for Kalim, they were determined to do their best and be the best.

These were the sorts of feats that Kalim wished to be capable of one day. Until then, however, he would have to make do with relying on the support of others and learning from those more experienced than himself. For instance—

“Vil! Hi!” Kalim raised a hand in greeting, his dark red eyes glittered with excitement when he saw that the upperclassman was appraising him. “Are you here to attend the Housewarden meeting?”

Floyd, who had long since righted himself and was busy slouching in boredom when he realized that it was the Betta, piped up, his voice drawling and upon his face, a frown. “Wait, that’s what this runnin’ was about? You’re so lame Sea Otter!”

Kalim bit back a laugh. “That’s not what you said earlier!”

“If I had known that you were goin’ for the Housewarden meetin’, I would’ve gone with Jade n’ Azul.”

No one in their right mind would say that Floyd was pouting at that moment, but he was clearly doing something with his mouth and cheeks that clearly illustrated just how put off he was by the realization. Even Kalim, who was rather blunt and callous with his observations at times, chose not to say anything, preferring to let Floyd let his emotions speak for himself. It was inevitable, however, that Vil finally addressed their concerns.

Or rather, Kalim's concerns.

"I take it that the both of you are going to the meeting room?" One of Vil's eyebrows rose gently, artfully even. It was such an adroit way of holding himself that Kalim somehow understood why some of his brothers and sisters looked up to him so much. Truly, if he was this confident and mesmerizing to look at even while conversing in a trivial situation such as this, then it was no wonder that Vil was one of the most popular celebrities in mainstream entertainment and one of the most well known influencers in social media.

"Nah, Betta." Floyd began to backtrack by literally skipping backwards, his balanced poise floundering every couple of seconds, but he always managed to right himself before completely falling down. Kalim would have thought him dancing, but the balancing was too precarious and Floyd looked just a little too purposefully bored to be anything but. "I'm headin' out. Have fun, Sea Otter!"

Kalim waved goodbye, only to find that Floyd had abruptly pivoted from nearly falling over for the umpteenth time and into a running start. A few seconds later, both the second and third year Housewardens could hear the telltale sounds of one surprisingly tall teen launching himself from the top of the staircase and onto one of the landings.

"Be sure to not follow in his footsteps, Kalim," Vil muttered crossly. "I fear he will end up breaking his legs one of these days if he's not careful with how he treats his body. There is a reason, of course, why certain rules like running in the halls are put into place."

Now, Kalim could be misunderstanding, but he had the inkling that maybe Vil was reprimanding his and Floyd's recent race throughout the school. Oh! That would make sense! Neither he nor Floyd had apologized for nearly bumping into Vil!

Well, like what one of his tutors had told him years ago, there was no time like the present!

Kalim scratched the back of his head, his hair silky soft and mostly undisturbed underneath the familiar weight and pressure of his headscarf. "Hehehe, sorry about earlier, Vil! I guess I was so excited to become Housewarden that I had forgotten that we shouldn't be running in the halls like that!" Kalim smiled up at Vil, hoping that his affable personality would get him out of this situation. Hopefully, this wouldn’t reach Jamil’s ears.

Call it a hunch, but the Scarabian Housewarden thought that maybe Jamil would probably get a little stressed if it turned out that his Housewarden had already gotten himself into trouble even though it was his first day! (Or was it before the first day? The first day of the new school year hadn’t yet officially commenced after all).

Thankfully, Vil must have seen that Kalim was sincere in his apology and the implied promise that he would do better in the future. Sighing, the tall, statuesque Queen of Pomefiore inclined his head towards the hallway that would lead them to their final destination. Again, his beauty and confidence was more than enough to quiet Kalim (both his mouth and his thoughts) and to lead him down the hall without Kalim looking too much into it.

"Bear in mind, as a Housewarden, you have to be more aware of the rules and that it's your job to uphold and enforce them." Vil's footsteps didn't falter or stop, but there was a noticeable difference to the cadence of both his tone of voice and the rhythm of his gait—the only indication that he was going to broach a topic that Kalim may not be familiar with. "I trust that the Headmage sent you a letter of your duties and of the newest version of the student handbook?"

Kalim hummed as he thought back to a letter that he had received only a few weeks ago when he had been busy shadowing his father as he had conducted their family business. Kalim wasn't expected to start handling any of the finances yet, but there was the expectation that since he was the firstborn male of the family that he had to be groomed and made ready in case anything were to happen to the patriarch.

When Kalim had received the letter, it wasn't him who had retrieved it from the deliveryman or who had scanned through the contents to make sure that it wasn't laced with any poison or other nasty traps that could ensnare the most prized of the Asim offspring. No, it was one of the many servants who were under the employ of the Asim family, but it was Jamil who had scrutinized through the contents and who had already begun paraphrasing and outlining the main points so that Kalim could better understand it.

So, yes.

In short, Kalim had seen the letter (after the envelope had been neatly torn open with a special knife to detect anomalies).

Kalim had read through the contents (heavily edited and having been perused by familiarly strange hands).

And Kalim had understood what his duties were (as his head was filled with reassurances that Jamil would help him, don't worry Jamil can help keep track, and so on and so on).

Kalim beamed up at his upperclassman, his perfectly straight white teeth gleaming just as brightly as the accolades that surely must have been polished to a gleam somewhere in Vil's trophy case. "Of course! But don't worry, I'm also getting help from Jamil since he's going to be my Vice so we won't be lagging behind when it comes to our responsibilities as dorm heads."

Vil appraised him again, a millisecond of knowing what it must have been like to be a potion or a lab experiment that had gone wrong, yet the Pomefiore Housewarden was going to get to the bottom of why it wasn’t turning out the way he wanted. It would have felt scary, and for a moment Kalim felt uncomfortable, but quickly he relaxed again.

For the moment, the blond meant no harm and Kalim had to take comfort in the fact that there were portraits lining the walls, mostly silent as they either watched or ignored the students, to bear witness.

“It is good to know that you have someone you can trust to be there for you,” Vil began. His lines did not sound rehearsed, but there was a lot of weight burdening his voice, as if he had personally decided to include his own experiences into what he was about to say next. That was the thing about acting—and lying—was that it was done best if there was an element of experience to draw from. “However, that doesn’t mean you can expect them to always be there for you. Sometimes, you have to draw from your own reserves.”

Well, that was certainly not what Kalim had expected to hear from Vil.

Was it meant to feel this disheartening?

Or was Kalim just imagining the pang of… He couldn’t quite name it, but it hurt and the only thing that could easily cure it would be one of Jamil’s special teas, but alas.

Kalim didn’t have the time or access to it at the moment.

Through an affable smile that Kalim wasn’t sure would fool one of the greatest actors of his generation, he said, “It’s a good thing that I’m trying now, right? I made it this far!”

And maybe it was because Vil had good timing and had foreseen this coming as if he were practicing improv for a school play.

Or perhaps Kalim needed to defend himself. (Against what? He didn’t know and didn’t want to know, but he had to say something).

Despite their quick strides that were hastened with the urgency of their first Housewarden meeting, neither student seemed to realize that they had stopped in front of the door to their destination. All they had to do was turn to the side and turn the knob, but in the midst of the seemingly endless hallway and with a certain something on the line that Kalim inherently knew the name of but did not want to confront, they were at a standstill.

Kalim was no actor; that smile on his face was not fooling anybody.

And then, when Kalim was going to—apologize? say something to convey everything and nothing that he had been feeling for so long? or make a joke about being late on purpose?—open his mouth, the door to the Headmage’s office opened and out stepped a bespectacled young woman.  

Kalim wouldn’t consider himself an expert on fashion—at least not on par with the likes of Vil in the vicinity—but even he knew that the clothes that hung and clung to her frame were ill-fitting and had clearly originally been worn by someone whose proportions fit better. Despite the discrepancies in sizing, he must admit, the colors were tasteful and seemed to fit her. She wore casual clothing in bland, inoffensive colors, but the cardigan that she wore above a collared white shirt was ridiculously adorable. There were little teddy bears lining the hem and around the cardigan itself, bringing a sense of whimsy that Kalim rather liked.

In Kalim’s peripheral vision, he saw that Vil was also observing the young woman, but with a more analytical eye. While the Scarabian may not have been close to the Pomefiore student, he knew that the blond had a propensity to be rather critical of others—and he even had the reputation to back it up. Thankfully, when Kalim focused on the upperclassman, he realized that Vil was maintaining a polite façade and had even begun hailing the young woman over.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” Vil called out. He was charming now, even more so now that he was in the presence of someone he had never met before. This was the face that people often saw if they were watching interviews about his upcoming roles in movies and tv shows, whenever Vil would upload videos of himself detailing what his life as a celebrity was like. “Did you have business with the Headmage by any chance?”

The woman, who up until that point was standing quietly, looking rather shy and small underneath the fluffy cardigan, startled at the sudden question. Out of anxiety—or maybe it was an echo of a mannerism that was normal for her—the young woman adjusted her glasses by pushing the frames higher up her nose. Unlike some people—Azul came to mind, now that Kalim was thinking about it—she pushed it up by grabbing the frame at the area where the hinges would collapse when folded instead of at the nose bridge.

“Ah, yes.” She observed them further for a moment, a dozen thoughts racing through her deep brown eyes. Kalim wasn’t always great at decoding what others thought, but he had gotten a glimpse of something resembling recognition before it was smothered with other emotions like curiosity and embarrassment before she told them, “The Housewarden meeting is in that room.” She pointed at the door that still remained closed. “It should be starting any time now. Haha.”

She laughed a little awkwardly, as if coming to the conclusion that this encounter was a little embarrassing, like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  

Well, Kalim had to disagree! She seemed like a person he would like to hang around with if she were to ever pop uo around campus! Was she a guest? Someone’s daughter? A sister to one of the other students who decided to come early? Someone else entirely?

“Thank you for the clarification, Miss,” Vil graciously said. It was almost as if he hadn’t known where the meeting was in the first place, but Kalim didn’t want to call him out on it. Upon his face, there was a smile—still very much manufactured and polished for any cameras, but noticeably kinder and soft—that seemed to calm the young woman down. “Did you know that we are Housewardens by any chance?”

Huh. Kalim hadn’t thought about asking the young woman that, but now he was somewhat curious. Could she be another security risk that he should be wary of? Even the most beautiful snakes had powerful venom…

An impish sort of grin lit up her face, the previous bashfulness somewhat falling back in place of a more mischievous persona. Even Kalim, who had become somewhat wary at Vil’s insinuation couldn’t help but return her positivity. This, right here, was what she should look like more often.

“I’ve heard that it was mainly Housewardens and their Vices who come this early in the school year. Besides that, no one outside of them would come to this area of the school without having any predetermined meeting with the Headmage.”

Vil nodded, accepting her answer without further question.

“Anyway, I have to go pick something up.” She inclined her head again towards the door, “You should find at least one Housewarden in there.”

Kalim couldn’t help but venture a guess. “Riddle?”

He received another bright smile before the bespectacled young woman began to head in the opposite direction, her destination already in mind.

“You’ll see!”

As she rounded the corner, she looked back to give them a shy wiggle of her fingers to which Kalim quickly reciprocated with an even more enthusiastic wave that utilized the entire length of his arm.

“An interesting person, wouldn’t you say Kalim?” Eyes calculating, Vil continued to stare after the young woman even though she had long since disappeared.

“Hmm… yes. I think I like her! Hopefully we’ll see her again, not a lot of girls visit NRC.” Such a shame. He liked the boys at this school just fine, but sometimes, he wished for a more feminine touch that reminded him of his mother and many sisters.

“Hmmm… she knew that we were Housewardens, but not who I am. How curious.”

Kalim thought once more about it and realized that his earlier suspicions were correct. She had neither asked for their names upon meeting them even though that would be expected upon acquaintanceship, nor had she seemed all too surprised to see Vil in the flesh. Even Kalim, who had been raised with wealth and riches beyond most people’s comprehension, had been utterly elated to know that he was in close proximity with someone so famous.

“Is that a bad thing? Maybe she’s secretly very excited to meet you and wants to grab an autograph from you later!” Obviously, that was probably not the case, but Kalim felt a little happy to see an amused lilt to Vil’s normally stoic expression. “Anyway, we can always ask the Headmage later. Maybe she’s a relative come to visit! Let’s go before we’re late!”

And with that, Kalim had to stay his hand before he was overcome with the urge to grab Vil’s wrist to drag him forward into the meeting room.

This was already turning out to be an interesting school year!

Chapter Text

Leona's ears flickered slightly as he heard a pair of shuffling footsteps behind him. It had been a while since he had stopped by the cafe in town for lunch, but already, he felt himself growing weary from his past travels. After he had to deal with his family's insistence of sending him away with a lavish feast and a time meant for family bonding, Leona was far from eager to interact with more people than necessary. He had to pull rank just so that he could traverse the continent without a minder.

Falena had cried and tried to hug Leona, but the younger brother had thankfully been able to push him off. The same could not be said when his dear, sweet nephew had decided to ambush him from behind. A cheap trick, but because it was well executed—Cheka had waited until Leona was distracted by Falena's emotional caterwauling before he attacked—Leona had begrudgingly allowed the young lion cub to hang off his back and nuzzle into his neck before Leona threw him into his father's arms. Falena's wife, as lovely and as ruthless as a military commander, did administer the full extent of her love and care to Leona, to which he had accepted with less resentment than his male relatives.

That is to say he willingly ducked into her embrace as she patted his hair down from its unruly tangles.

The most that he allowed of their intervention was the retinue of guards who accompanied him on the boat that would take him to the Isle of Sages. Honestly, he could have taken a gate to get to the island, but a part of him wanted to postpone the eventual start of the new academic year. Even if he resented traveling by sea, there was no doubt that if he were to go by gate, he would end up at Night Raven College much too soon and that meant he would be saddled with too much responsibility even before the first official school day.

Why the Headmage scheduled the first Housewarden meeting three days before the welcoming ceremony was beyond him. It was the same thing every year: the Housewardens would take their first years to their assigned dorms, introduce the rules and customs associated with each house, and then talk about their expectations for the year, yada yada yada yada.

Like most Housewarden meetings, Leona thought sourly, it could have been an email.

And judging by the mutters and the shuffling footsteps that seemed to stutter and hesitate with every passing instant, Idia Shroud thought the same way as well. Leona didn't know the flame haired young man all too well, having only seen him on rare occasions outside of the classroom. It was a bit jarring: why had the sole Shroud accepted the title of Housewarden anyways? From what Leona knew, he hadn't won the title by challenging the previous dorm head and he certainly wasn't the type to volunteer for the role either.

Leona thought about it a moment longer and then shook his head to dispel himself of those thoughts. Idia was competent in his own way, if a bit two faced whenever he was behind the screen. Whatever the case, it wasn't any of Leona's business.

"I can't believe I have to attend this f2f. Doesn't the Headmage know that I get a boost to all stats when I can  just send in my tablet? Ohhhh," Idia simpered to himself, simultaneously too far and too near the lion beastman. "And now I can't believe that I'm heading to the meeting with—"

Leona tried tuning him out, but the secondborn prince was already in a bad mood. Honestly, he couldn't quite blame Idia for being annoyed and borderline nervous—in fact, he was almost flattered that the Shroud heir wasn't trying to strike up conversation with him or trying to get close—but it grated on Leona's ears listening to that muttering. As a beastman, there was very little he could do to assuage how sensitive his ears were (aside from specially made ear plugs, but he was a predator and a prince, which meant that he couldn't allow his guard to lower). Most of the time, he would snap at his lower classmen and tell them off for being too loud, but the lion beastman had the feeling that if he were to engage in that same practice... he would end up with a very teary eyed and stuttery Housewarden.

What a pain.

It was bad enough that he had to come to school early just for the Sevens damned meeting, but it was going to get worse if he already got into trouble with another dorm. At the very least, Idia wasn't keen on butting too much into Leona's business... Unlike a few other Housewardens he knew that were going to be present. 

As they both approached the hallway that would eventually take them to the meeting room close to the Headmage's office, Leona's ears pricked forward and his tail whipped to and fro, engaged in what he was hearing. Unfortunately, just as Leona smoothly halted (as if he had planned it from the beginning), Idia did not share the same physical gifts as Leona. Within a second of stopping, Idia had rammed straight into Leona's back, nearly crushing Leona's tail against him.

Squeaking (a sound that grated at Leona's sensitive ears), the flame haired human tried to double back, but Leona was much faster.

With a sigh that could have doubled as foley for a dying exhaust engine, Leona pivoted on his heel and loomed over Idia.

“Eep!”

Immediately, Leona noticed that Idia was holding onto his tablet—the same device that he used whenever he was attending his classes remotely. Lucky bastard, Leona had thought when he first saw the tablet floating around. If Leona could attend classes like that, he would… but he supposed that it would be just as burdensome considering that Leona would probably spend the majority of his classes inside of his dorm room or lounging in the Botanical Gardens with his specially made earphones stuck into his ears…

Only to fall asleep seconds later.

In hindsight, he supposed that it would make sense to skip anyways.

No need to expend effort to try and accommodate himself when he would shirk his lessons anyway.

Leona stalked Idia, his footsteps nearly silent against the stone and his bright green eyes trained on Idia’s strangely colored irises. Uggghhh, and that was another thing that ticked Leona off. Those golden eyes may not have the propensity to glow, but Sevens damn did it remind him of a group of slimy underclassmen who prowled the halls as if they deserved to walk on land. How they managed to get student passports when they were… like that, Leona had no clue, but he supposed that a few rotten fish had to slip through the cracks at times.

After all, slimy creatures could pass through small crevices easier than most.

Fish were the same.

“You gotta problem, punk?” Leona continued to move forward, his slinking prowl almost entrancing, like a dance that had been trained into him back when he had held hope that he would have a chance at the throne. Because of his confidence in his gait and the fact that he continued to stare deep into Idia’s eyes—again, Leona’s irritation was rapidly flickering into an undying, raging fire of anger—the tall human ended up flush against a bricked wall…

And an unfortunate portrait, but a sharp reprimand from Leona made the portrait shut up lest they incite more of Leona’s anger.

“N-no! Not at all, Leona!” Idia pulled the tablet higher up his face, so that only the flames of his hair could be seen. “I’m just totally psyched to have a meeting that really should have been an email but wasn’t because the Headmage has a debuff in the thinking department! Or maybe it’s because we need to level up with unnecessary side quests, but I guess that really depends on what those side quests are—”

Leona tuned him out.

As per usual, the Shroud heir could be the talkative one whenever he was either fired up (on the rare occasion he felt confident in himself) or if he was backed into a situation like this. The Ignihyde Housewarden was obviously very intelligent, a prodigy that could easily overshadow every other student in this school if he actually stepped outside of his dorm for once and participated in social events. If Shroud actively tried, he could actually leave without any further comment, but with every thinly veiled deprecating comment (towards himself) and jab (each aimed at Leona), the lion beastman was rapidly losing his patience.

Not that he had any in the first place.

Just when Leona was ready to punch the wall next to Idia’s head just so that his fellow Housewarden would finally, mercifully shut up, his keen hearing again picked up the sounds that had caused him to halt in the first place. Without so much as a second glance at the bumbling child prodigy who had yet to realize that his attention was no longer focused on him, Leona turned away from him and faced the oncoming trespasser.

The first thing that his senses had picked up aside from the sound of approaching footsteps was the scent. There wasn’t anything remarkable about it. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but there was something slightly off putting about it that it had Leona shaking his head as if dispelling any further thoughts before he could find the source of its wrongness. It was light and airy, not cloyingly sweet like pastries, but it wasn’t musky or heavy like most male teenage adolescents. Rather, it was fleeting and nigh unnoticeable.

The scent tickled at the hairs of his nostrils.

For some odd reason, the more Leona breathed in the scent, the more he realized that this strange person smelled a lot like the air of a house that had not been lived in for many years. It smelled like dust lazily floating through the air, of rotting floorboards and sawdust.

It was a cocktail of decay—not at all like freshly killed corpses that his ancestors would have happily feasted on. No, this scent reminded him of when his Unique Magic would take over his fingers and seep the life out of what he would touch.

There had been a tale that he had been told by his brother when he was younger, just barely cognizant and begging for bedtime stories. He had been told of a mighty king who had been greedy and wished for more riches than he could ever possibly hope to store in his already opulent palace. A fae who had been passing by granted the king’s wish one night and when the king woke, everything he touched would turn to gold. So fascinated and delighted by this concept, the king decided to ask servants to bring him anything so that he could flex his power in front of his subjects.

From forks to dishes to clothes to plants, nothing was out of reach.

Everything that he touched could and would turn to gold.

Eventually, the king grew tired of turning all manner of baubles, significant and trivial, into gold and had decided to host a feast in his honor. However, every time he tried to shovel food into his mouth, all of it would turn to gold seconds before he could sink his teeth into the juiciest cuts of meat and the sweetest of fruits and pastries. Hungry now, and desperate, he called for more food and more drink. However, before he could sate his hunger and thirst, he would only be greeted by cool metal.

Despairing and now finally realizing that what he had wished for would be his undoing, he fell to the ground in dismay. Unfortunately, his daughter who had been witnessing his fall into hopelessness, ran up to him. She, pure of heart and hoping that her embrace would calm him, pulled her father close so that he could dry his tears. Yet, as he returned the embrace—unthinkingly, or perhaps foolishly thinking that the gift bestowed upon him by the fae would not work on human flesh—he could already feel her skin being leeched of its soft warmth, how her delicate features began to harden and mold itself into a facsimile of humanity.

Within seconds, the king had lost everything.

Leona had laughed at the king’s foolishness in the story.

Nowadays, Leona wondered if he was just as bad as the king.

Within the context of the story, the king would have perished soon due to his lack of nourishment. Really, if he wanted to end the story with happiness (bittersweet, but sweet nonetheless), he would have continued to turn many objects into gold and chosen a successor to take over. At the very least, the king’s country would prosper for many years to come in the aftermath of such tragedy.

However, Leona could control his Unique Magic. Despite his masterful control, nothing good can come from mounds of dust that could erupt from the slightest brush of his fingers. For his people, he could decimate enemies and topple rival countries, but to what end? He would only bring sadness and despair, stealing away the livelihoods of those who dare oppose him. Sadness and tragedy were to fall upon him regardless of whether he used his Unique Magic or not.

Dust to dust…

The scent of decay and stagnation wafted up Leona’s nose, but something else too.

Or rather, the lack of it.

Most of the time, whenever he caught the scent of the herbivores who ran around the school, he could classify the usual scents that came from their clothes, their skin, and whatever colognes or perfumes they would wear. Underneath those scents, he could often sniff out the sort of magic that ran and pulsed through their veins. There were some that were oppressive and clogged up his nose, as if he were breathing in smog. The reptile that headed Diasomnia was one such person. Others, however, were less obtrusive and were almost fragile, like the blossoming talents of the first years.

When Leona locked gazes with a young human female, he instantly knew that she had no magic.

A herbivore—and a weak one at that.

Satisfied with sating his curiosity, Leona was ready to dismiss the human, but he became all too aware of the other one who had clammed up at the sight of the approaching female.

“—uuuuhhhh. Not only do I have to face a boss this early in the afternoon, but an npc is also here to bear witness to my brutal beatdown!” The Ignihyde Housewarden quivered against the wall, his tablet doing very little to silence his mutterings.

Fortunately for both Night Raven College students, the female human didn’t seem too interested in staying too long for a chat. She sent both of them a questioning glance, especially at the still cowering Idia (he had lowered the tablet so that his golden eyes could catch a glimpse at the npc, but had hastily covered up his head again when he saw that she was staring at him), but when she realized that they didn’t acknowledge her other than the staring, she hurried on by.

That interaction, while it had lasted for at least three seconds, seemed to pass by slower for Leona.

For some odd reason, when she had hurried on by, her feet seemed to slightly stumble a bit. Not out of clumsiness Leona had concluded when he saw how smoothly she righted herself (there was some grace there, not the professional sort that came from years of practice in front of the camera like Schoenheit, but it was inherent… was she a dancer?), but out of something she had seen. Was she surprised to find Night Raven College students this early in the school year?

Surely, she had been informed that the Housewardens and a few other early birds would be on the grounds these days. In fact, Leona had to evade a slew of professors who were embarking to either their classrooms to set up shop or to wherever the teaching staff dormitories were located.  

No… Now that Leona was thinking about it, there was surprise, but there was another emotion that he had only briefly seen before she faced forward once more and headed down the hallway opposite to their destination. That emotion, it looked a lot like…

Recognition.

“Oi. Shroud,” Leona gruffly called out.

To no one’s surprise, the Ignihyde Housewarden’s knees seemed to buckle and collapse under the weight of his body that quivered and shook at the sudden address. Unimpressed by the show of fear, Leona crowded into Idia’s space and placed his right forefinger atop the tablet and pushed down.

Hard.

Instantly, he was met with the wide eyed gaze of NRC’s most infamous introvert who seemed pained to be put into this situation.

“It’s like one of my vn’s! Except I don’t have an HUD or a good ending! It’s all bad ends from here!”

Tch. Whatever that meant.

Leona decided to have mercy on Idia’s poor soul by stepping away from him, a foot of personal space should be more than enough, right? It wasn’t like he was hungry; he already had lunch earlier and wasn’t prowling for a snack in between meals at the moment.

It seemed like the second prince of Sunset Savanah made the right move because Idia seemed to recover from the psychological torment that Leona had inflicted upon him. Thankfully, the rambling had managed to trickle to a stop, but there was no guarantee that Leona would receive a straightforward reply without being blasted by gamer lingo that had no place being spoken in real life.

“You ever see that herbivore before? She looked a little too comfortable prowling around these halls like she belongs here.”

Aside from the unsettling scent and the disappointing lack of magic, she wasn’t anything remarkable… but… There was something off, something more to her. He was not about to investigate the matter further if nothing more was yielded from this conversation (and if he managed to remember this incident for later), but he could not deny that he was curious. She seemed a bit too young to be a teacher, but there had been a few student interns from other institutions who would work at NRC. 

Was that why she was here? To apply for an internship position?  

“N-No! She looks like an npc, I swear! I mean did you look at her clothes? It’s like when you’re trying to pick up some sick loot but the uglier armor gives you better buffs rather than the ones that actually look good! Not that I mind the uglier ones, but—”

That was right, Leona thought. He had been so caught up in analyzing her movements and her scent that he hadn’t quite actually taken in her appearance.

Glasses. Braided hair. Clothing that looked too loose or too tight around some parts of her body suggesting that the clothes were borrowed.

What was that Heartslabyul saying? Curiouser and curiouser?

Well, Leona would do them one better: the human was getting fuckin’ weirder and weirder the more Leona thought about her.

And if there was one thing that Leona did not feel like doing on this day that would end up sapping his energy one way or another, it was to involve himself in matters that ultimately didn’t affect him. Already, he could feel that the reserve of patience he had stockpiled for this specific meeting was steadily depleting.

At the very least, if the meeting was going to play out how he expected it would, the overgrown lizard would not be present. Thank the Seven Briar Valley didn’t have much access to technology or that most fae didn’t have a good grasp on time.

Speaking of time…

Leona began stalking towards the meeting room. While the altercation with Idia was mildly entertaining, he knew that it was best to get to his destination on time. If he remembered the roster for this year’s Housewardens… Ugh, Rosehearts was going to be there alongside Schoenheit and Ashengrotto. He could only hope that Rosehearts and Schoenheit would be too busy reading up on the agenda to pay him too much attention, but he had asked for less in the past and had not been granted his wish, so it was all up in the air.

“H-hey! You can’t just leave me all alone here!”

Leona rolled his eyes, but looked over his shoulder to find that the blue flamed human was trailing behind him with a half walk, half jog that looked painful to watch. Shroud’s form was horrendous and Leona had seen merfolk who barely had access to their human skin walk better than that.

“For someone with long legs, you’re slow,” Leona growled. “Keep up or I’ll be leaving you.”

Not that Leona would mind.

And when Leona managed to make his way to the meeting room, he was quick to shut the door, fully aware that Shroud was less than a couple feet behind him.

Ah, it was horrible to be back, but at least he could derive some entertainment from this cesspit of boredom and repetition.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that Key had quickly tired of within the first few weeks of coming to Night Raven College and becoming the Headmage’s ward, it was that Crowley could be quite the scatterbrain whenever he wanted to be. After the Heartslabyul Housewarden had been dismissed into the meeting room, she had stepped inside the Headmage’s office only to be bombarded by a sickly-sweet smile and a simpering tone of voice that tried to wheedle her into sympathy.

The reason?

Apparently, Crowley had forgotten that he had left behind the agenda and a few important documents in the staff lounge for the professors. However, he was busy attending to some manner of business in the office at the moment, so wouldn’t she be a dear and retrieve them? (What he was busy with, she had no clue, but it was clearly something either important enough to warrant such pleas… or he was feeling particularly slothful).  

Besides that, she had other questions.

Why was it in the dormitories instead of in his office? Couldn’t one of the teachers grab it for him?

She had tried asking, but Crowley had waved away her concerns and casually began tearing up because he was “ burdened by the excitement of the upcoming school year ” or something to that effect. His acting was so bad that Key was tempted to tell him that he should take up acting classes, but she relented after he was quick to tell her that the meeting was going to start in less than a quarter of an hour. He had assured Key when she expressed concern about being late that it was customary to wait an extra fifteen minutes in case there were any stragglers.

(He looked thoughtful when he said that before a chuckle escaped his lips, almost as if he were laughing at an inside joke).

So, here Key was.

In one of the hallways in the west wing of the castle there was a painting bearing the image of a door. The door itself was rather plain. The wood was dark and imposing while the doorknob was golden and shiny, the handle looking rather inviting. There was no known artist’s signature to denote who painted the door, but one could clearly see that the paint strokes looked almost too realistic, that the light emitting from the crack underneath the door seemed almost too lifelike. In fact, if you were to press your ear against the painting, careful as to not disrupt the integrity of the frame or the painting itself, you could almost hear people speaking or moving.

And that was the thing:

There were voices and movement.

Not many students knew this (which was a good thing considering how manipulative and ambitious some of them were), but every year, the painting bearing the door would change places. Sometimes, it was in the western wing at the end of a hallway of abandoned classrooms. Other times, the painting would situate itself near the Headmage’s office, in one of the laboratories, or across from the cafeteria. One time, the door appeared in a classroom that was scheduled to house a selection of second years, so the teacher in charge of that course had to book another classroom.

No one knew exactly what the door was up to or when it would move, only that it moved solely at the end of the summer and that whoever left the faculty’s dorm first was to inform the rest of the staff where the door had migrated. 

Every dorm, each of the staff’s dorms included, was supposed to be taken care of by the residents inside, but there were times when the maintenance team had to make sure that the utilities were up to code and whatnot.

Key had visited the faculty staff room a few times before, but usually while accompanying the Headmage. In fact, before the Headmage had assigned her to the maintenance crew—and thus she had been granted her own room—and after Dr. Park had taken a look at her, she had been whisked away to the faculty room. After arriving in Twisted Wonderland, she had been so focused on getting answers out of the Headmage (a fruitless endeavor which only left her more clueless and irritated), that she hadn’t quite noticed how stately and modern the faculty lounge looked.

Modeled after a gentleman’s lounge, the atmosphere was simultaneously professional, sophisticated. Yet, despite how oppressive the atmosphere may have been, it was also somewhat comfortable. The walls were painted a deep, dark grey with textured black accents to add depth to the walls. Paintings, usually of scholars of deep renown, were busy reading and writing down notes upon their desks or even stirring up debates with the professors who roomed in the dorm. To add light, there were a series of sconces that emitted low, warm lighting that accented the great fireplace that seemed to roar to life whenever there was someone in the lounge.

Once Key had been able to appreciate her surroundings, she noted that while the armchairs looked to be unyielding and uncomfortable to the touch, she found that they were actually quite plush. Often, when she had been trying so hard to keep calm in this strange new world, she would either curl up in her borrowed bed or in one of these armchairs. Despite how it may have looked, her naps in the faculty’s chairs were pretty comfortable and afforded her a restful sleep.

(That may have been due to the fact that she was too tired and stressed to notice if anything was amiss, but she would say later on that her favorite place to rest was in the maintenance team’s special chair of discarded items).

“Good afternoon, I hate to be rude, but guests are not allowed to trespass into any of the dorms of the school unless given special permission.”

Key looked up from her perusal of the area (nothing had changed except that there were a few professors lounging in the armchairs or playing a game of what appeared to be backgammon) to find herself looking up at one of the strictest professors she had ever seen in Night Raven College. Dressed in robes of deep burgundy and a brooch keeping his collar in place, this man was certainly what one would think of when imagining the stereotypical picture of what a professor at a boarding school should look like.

After having spent the past few days watching either students or new faculty members re-entering the school for the upcoming school year—she managed to make acquaintances with a few more custodians who helped fill out the roster, which actually included a few more women!—the young custodian was no stranger to introductions. That said, while she had expected to encounter a plethora of new faces, she didn’t think that she would be interrogated in such an austere fashion.

Most of the professors who worked the summer months were not nearly as severe as the man who stood in front of her.

Key pursed her lips, but managed to relax her features into a slight smile so as to not appear too impertinent. The sooner she could find the Headmage’s documents, the sooner she could get out of the shared professors’ living space and into that meeting she was supposed to help assist the Housewardens with.

“Good afternoon, sir! I’m not a guest, actually, I’m actually part of the maintenance team and a secretary for the Headmage.”

The gentleman’s eyes widened as he finally took her in. As he assessed her, Key got the feeling that he was getting… irritated was probably not the most suitable word to associate with his harsh demeanor, but she was also not hard pressed to say that he appeared to actually be perplexed before resigning himself to what he had to say next. He looked… chagrined if she was pushed to describe the expression he wore on his face.

“Pardon me,” he spoke carefully. His tone was apologetic and his regal stance was still straight as he bent at a forty-five-degree angle at the waist as he said, “I apologize. The stress that I have been burdened with these past few days has always been expected every time summer transitions into fall, but that was not an excuse to snap at you. I am Professor Mozus Trein, a teacher of history.”

Key’s smile grew a fraction larger and a tad bit more relaxed. Given how stern he appeared only moments before, she felt better knowing that while he was in the right to interrogate her due to security reasons, he was very much the epitome of a professional. Key could respect that.

After a brief realization that he must have been one of the professors who wrote remarks on a number of the Housewardens’ profiles—now that she could put a face and a personality to the perfunctory cursive upon paper it explained a lot of things—Key returned the bow (was it a tradition from where he was from? a personal idiosyncrasy?) and introduced herself.

“That’s all right! I should have knocked on the door, but I’m in a bit of a rush right now because of the upcoming Housewarden meeting. Call me Key!”

When she straightened from her bow, Professor Trein was looking at her with an unreadable expression. There was no anger in his gaze, but there was that resignation again, alongside an undercurrent of aggravation that Key hoped wasn’t directed at her.

Professor Trein, in the midst of a drawn-out sigh, asked, “That Housewarden meeting, it’s in a few more minutes, is it not? You’re running rather late.”

From what she could gather, Key knew that the older gentleman wasn’t trying to purposely provoke her, but the way his tone was clipped and how it seemed to admonish her even though he didn’t know why she was running late somewhat annoyed her. Perhaps it was the leftover stress of helping prepare for the students’ and staff’s arrivals, but Key was ready to snap at the bit for being put on the spot like this.

Then again, most if not all of her anger should be directed at the old crow. Punctuality had always been Key’s strong suit, but it’s not like she could live up to that virtue if the Headmage always undermined it…

Key nodded, hoping that her exacerbation at the situation hadn’t shown on her face. Best to remain polite, she didn’t know Professor Trein before today. It wouldn’t do to be a brat for no other reason than her own troubles (the scattered birdbrain of a Headmage) plaguing her.

“Yes, but there’s a fifteen-minute grace period… or so I’ve heard.” Key looked around Professor Trein’s shoulder, her gaze falling on a little side table beside one of the armchairs. The armchair was currently unoccupied, but past experience taught Key that Crowley favored that specific one because it was one of the closest to the fireplace and faced the dorm’s entrance. “The Headmage wanted me to get something for him… There,” she said, pointing at the side table that had a stack of papers enclosed in a folder laying on top.

At her admission, the history professor blinked before gesturing for her to continue on her way. “Of course, Miss Key,” he muttered more to himself than to her as she sidestepped another professor lugging behind him a rolling suitcase. “Ahhh…. When will Dire ever learn…?”

Key kept silent, but agreed with Professor Trein while noting that this must not have been the first time that the Headmage forgot something important or passed off tasks to someone else. God knows the young custodian was more than aware of the birdbrain’s faults. Despite the cold demeanor the gentleman held as his default disposition, Key was gratified to know that he was also well aware that Key was not at fault. Besides, she was on time until the Headmage decided to send her on a last second errand!

The folder was heavier and thicker than what Key had initially observed. In fact, as she grasped it in her right hand, some of the papers almost slipped loose. Did he forget that there were pockets inside of the folder to keep stray papers from falling out? Or had he overstuffed it and then decided to forgo the folder’s pockets altogether? Either of those options were unfortunately in character, and Key despaired over what the future would hold for her as a secretary.

(Please, don’t let this be a bad omen, Key pleaded).

Now that she had retrieved what she came for, she sent Professor Trein a nod in lieu of a verbal goodbye before turning towards the dorm’s entrance so that she could duck out of the painting and into the main campus building. However, before she could do so, another professor stepped into the dorm, his long legs making his strides quick and graceful as he suddenly stopped to greet Key.

“Good afternoon, Miss Key,” the potionology professor greeted. He raised an eyebrow at her, imperious and regal in all the way she wasn’t. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the first Housewarden meeting at this moment?”

Without saying a word, Key held up the folder and shook it for emphasis.

To his credit, Crewel didn’t seem put off or surprised. Rather, he held back a laugh (a valiant attempt because Key could still hear him sucking in a breath) before he grandly gestured at the door for her to leave, his grand coattails sweeping behind him as if he were a prince in a fairy tale.

“Thank you, Professor Crewel,” Key grinned. She waved goodbye to both of the teachers before she ducked out of the portrait and back into the hall.

Outside of the gentleman’s lounge, she was briefly hit by the cool air. Was it that much warmer in the faculty lounge? Maybe it was due to the enclosed space and the fireplace that, while not as bright or as large as it was during wintry seasons, still roared with life that leant the dorm to be much warmer than it was outside. Or maybe it was because Key had just realized that outside of the dorm, the hallways were utterly empty.

On the other side of the painting, there was the low murmur of voices and steps as someone moved in the space provided, but outside?

Utter silence.

Quickly, Key walked back to the Headmage’s office.

When she was at least a dozen or so paces away from the faculty’s dorm, she picked up on a pair of footsteps heading towards her from the opposite direction. There was also the telltale sound of a carrier on wheels. Was it another professor coming in for the school year term? As Key debated taking another route so she wouldn’t have to go through the process of interrogation for looking like a "guest" or having to introduce herself once more, she heard the telltale sound of Dr. Park's low timbre echoing throughout the halls.

Interesting. Why was he rolling a suitcase in this direction? Usually, he would be prepping and restocking the infirmary with various potions and medications for the upcoming school year.

The answer came in the form of a young woman. Unlike most of the women Key had met over the past few days, she was rather young and did not appear to be well versed in her surroundings. Despite how she walked, her face and chin upright while her eyes faced forward, Key could tell that she was looking from side to side, mild curiosity in her gaze. What was more, she was dressed in a manner of clothing that looked like she had stepped out from a Victorian era novel. She had a dress that embraced the tops of her shoes (dainty heels that clicked on the floor) and was as dark as midnight. Atop her head rested a light brown boater cap with a ribbon that was laced under her chin to secure it. The ribbon itself was black, which matched her dress, but was in direct contrast to the cherry red magestone that was pinned to the ribbon. It looked like a brooch that those Royal Sword students wore upon their uniforms.

Aside from her clothing, Key noted that her hair was dark brown, but depending on the lighting, there was an auburn hue to it that added depth to her locks. While her hair was done up in a low bun, a few artful strands framed her delicate features. Her skin was olive toned, almost tan, but her lips were painted a cherry red to match her magestone. And her cheekbones, high and flushed with red (from makeup or from the summer air, Key wasn't sure) seemed to flush even pinker when she noticed that Key was unabashedly observing her.

"Ah, Miss Key! I was hoping to run into you after the Housewarden meeting!" Dr. Park flagged Key over, the hand that had been guiding the rolling suitcase (presumably for the young woman) gently guiding it to a stop as all three of them stopped in the middle of the hallway. As per usual, Dr. Park was dressed in a standard lab coat for doctors and underneath, a collared button down shirt and a sweater vest over it. His trousers were plain navy slacks that were at odds with sneakers that had seen many years of abuse if the scuff marks were any indication.

"Hiya, Dr. Park! The Headmage decided to send me off on another errand before I could get started on supervising." The young custodian held up the folder for emphasis, mildly noting that the infirmary physician looked like he was only a millisecond away from losing composure and laughing at Key's expense. She couldn't blame him; it certainly wouldn't be the first or last time she was subjected to this sort of nonsense.

Key turned to the newcomer, all smiles and kind greetings. "Good afternoon, call me Key!"

"Ah, a pleasure, Miss Key." The newcomer paused for a moment, as if recalling something before she dipped into a low curtsy (Key felt a little bad that she had not done so, but that negativity was overshadowed by the sheer awe of the grace and fluidity the newcomer exuded—how did she do that in such a dress without stumbling???) and introduced herself as "I am Julie Andrews from Buena Vista University."

Key canted her head to the side. Was this one of those high standing magical universities? Or was it one of those institutions that catered to a majority of the magicless populations? She couldn't remember if she had heard that name before given her past research into the background of this world...

What was more... Why did that name sound so familiar? And the way she spoke too… The accent was posh and elegant—clearly someone who sounded well rounded and educated.

"Nice to meet you. Are you one of the interns that are coming to NRC for the semester?"

Julie's eyes widened and, for the first time, Key was struck by the clearness in her eyes. They were bright, almost sparkling.

"How did you...?"

Key shrugged. "I haven't seen you before and Dr. Park was talking about looking through intern applications.” She turned to the good doctor; her eyebrows rising in question. While she had expected him to be paying attention to their conversation, the young custodian wasn’t fully prepared for the mischief swirling in his eyes or how he looked like the cat that was going to stick his face into the cream.

Key glared at him, but was only rewarded with a toothy grin.

“Let me guess, I’m wrong?”

“Oh, no! Dear, you are right! I am an intern, but I will be working under…” Julie snapped her fingers (wine red gloves, Key noticed) to jog her memory before she nodded to herself in affirmation. “A Mr. Mozus Trein, if I recall correctly.”

By the confidence in her tone, Key supposed that she remembered correctly.

“A history TA, then?”

Julie nodded, a broad smile on her face.

Key thought back to the austere gentleman who had greeted her back in the gentleman’s lounge, but refrained from speaking of him at the moment. That would be unprofessional and rude to just say something out of the blue about someone she had just met and under circumstances that were not ideal for either of them. Besides that, Key wasn’t going to ruin someone’s expectations for their job before it was even their first day! And anyway, Julie was more than likely older than her; the new teaching assistant could probably handle it better than Key ever could.

“Congrats,” Key murmured. “I hope that you enjoy teaching here at NRC.”

Julie’s eyes softened at that admission. “Thank you, I’ll admit Night Raven was not my first choice for an internship, but it’s rich history and propensity to produce quality mages is more than adequate.”

If Night Raven College was considered “more than adequate”, then Key had to wonder which school surpassed the intern’s expectations.

“Excuse me, Miss Andrews,” Dr. Park gestured towards the end of the hall where the painting with the door was situated. “As much as I would like for you two girls to be acquainted, I need to talk to Miss Key about something important and what’s more… she’s already running late for her next appointment.”

Ah. That’s right.

After Dr. Park had instructed Julie to simply mimic turning the knob as if it were a real handle before stepping through, the good doctor inclined his head towards Key’s destination.

“Is this… about…?” Key felt that the chill from earlier seemed to grow even colder by the second. As much as she trusted the good doctor (he was, alongside Alastair and the Headmage, one of the few to know that there was something amiss with her sudden appearance at the school, but he knew almost as much as the Headmage in contrast to the head custodian), there were times when he… Well, she knew from the mutterings of Zahur and Emilio that he had dabbled in illegal practices in his youth and had been accepted as the infirmary’s physician due to Crowley and a few board members pulling some strings. She knew him well enough to know that he was always willing to help out his patients, but she wasn’t about to tell him the most important and crucial aspects of her home world.

It was to Dr. Park’s consternation that she had feigned ignorance or lost memory (“ I don’t believe anyone in Twisted Wonderland knows anything about alien biology, much less yours. The more I know about your home world, the more I know how to help you should the worst come to pass ”)—she couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. However, if she were to tell anyone that she came from a magicless world that hosted media that showcased the Great Seven and other famous figures as Disney property, she would have to choose the old crow.

Her entire existence rested in his clawed hands—he had to take responsibility for her and if Key wanted to rip the carpet from out beneath him to reveal that the majority of what he knew was merely children’s entertainment where she came from, she would happily do so.

But now was not the time.

She still held out hope that there was a way home.

There had to be.

How else had she come here?

Dr. Park continued to face forward, but his long legs that seemed to swallow several feet with his long strides gradually slowed to a stop.

“It is.” His eyes darted between the left and right, his brows furrowing with worry and stress (uncharacteristic to his usually lackadaisical and devil may care attitude) as he glanced at the paintings who either pretended to doze in their frames or were unabashed in their eavesdropping. “When you are done with the Housewarden meeting and whatever secretarial duties the Headmage will subject you to, please come down to the infirmary. I have a proposition for you.”

Key frowned, not at all understanding why Dr. Park was so secretive. Then again, she supposed that most matters concerning Dr. Park and herself were subjects that were best left unsaid in public. It was bad enough that she was an anomaly who had appeared out of nowhere and had been supposedly cursed to be deficient in what was supposed to be normal human bodily conditions like feeling the urge to eat and holding in food—among other things. Paintings were harmless, but that only extended to the rumors they spread amongst themselves. Not everyone in this school wanted to do good for the sake of good.

“Does the Headmage know?” She didn’t know why she asked, but she felt a responsibility to inquire anyways. Despite how she felt about this situation, no one could deny that it was the Headmage who was housing her and was the closest thing to a legal guardian she had in this world. She could argue all she wanted that it was really Alastair or Horace who took on that role, but it was the Headmage who provided everything for her and had promised to send her back home.

She was indifferent on the matter of whether or not he knew about this proposition that the good doctor was talking about, but the Headmage had a right to know.

Dr. Park assessed her then, dark brown eyes narrowing in appraisal.

While he was one of the other senior members of the staff who often joked about the Headmage, Key wasn’t sure what to make of Dr. Park's relationship with the old crow. The last time she remembered their being alone in a room together was when she had been sentenced to the infirmary after she could not keep down food for upwards to a week... All she could retain were fluids, but it wouldn't take long for her body to start consuming itself.

She had been weak, tired. Pitifully pathetic as she lay in one of the infirmary's cots and an IV drip attached to the back of her left hand. However, their voices, even behind the safety of a curtain, were unbearably loud.

She can't quite remember their conversation, but she did know that they were arguing, talking about the circumstances from where she had come from, the deficiencies that were unique only to her. Dr. Park suggested that she be taken to a mainland hospital, but Crowley had begged—begged!—that Dr. Park take care of the situation by himself. The good doctor refused at first, but eventually relented. Of course, he had to contact a few of his former associates—his words, not hers—to create a modified elixir for Key, but he had managed it.

However—

Just because she relied on the elixir did not mean that it was a solution. No, if anything, it was akin to gently patting down a ball of tissue upon a gunshot wound.

Key could not survive on an elixir alone.

Her vision.

Her sense of smell.

Her ability to take in nutrients.

All of it was either severely inhibited or completely gone.

After one long moment, Dr. Park shook his head. "In this world, you are already an adult. If you wish to disclose medical information to the Headmage, then by all means that is well within your rights. As of right now, the Headmage only knows that I am supplying your elixirs after you can no longer help brew them alongside me. What I am proposing and how I assume it will affect you, no."

Nodding contemplatively, Key asked one more question. "And you can't tell me what you're trying to do?"

Dr. Park raised a brow, almost as if he were silently reprimanding her for inquiring when they were currently still out in public before he turned on his heel and began insistently guiding her to the Headmage's office.

"Seriously?" Key grumbled as she readjusted her grip on the folder lest the papers slip out and hurried to match his long strides. "Not even a hint?"

"Miss Key, you haven't visited me in so long!" He wiped fake tears from his eyes with a spare hand, while the other squeezed her shoulder to prove that he was joking. "Does the idea of needles and experimentation startle you that much?"

N-needles?

Since when—!?

She thought about it for a moment longer before realizing that this must have pertained to his proposition. If she was correct in understanding his insinuation, then she would have to prepare for what was probably going to be a very painful conversation.

"Yes, actually. Especially when you're the one suggesting it."

"As a licensed doctor—" Here, anyone with a working pair of ears could see how he emphasized the word ‘licensed’ with unnecessary gusto. "—you should know by now that I always have my patients' best interests at heart! And that includes delving into territory that no one else has had the opportunity to explore!" It was a good thing the young custodian was used to the manic grin that grew to impossible lengths over his sallow face. "Heheheh, it's like discovering a new blood group or interviewing a real-life human chimera! Exciting!"

Key grimaced. "Should I be grateful that you aren't interested in fame or monetary gain?"

"Like I said, best interests at heart—and that includes me!"

A couple more footsteps.

"Aaaannnddd~! Here we are~!"

Without bowing down to common courtesy, a habit that Dr. Park tried to rectify in his youth, but had ultimately failed to do so, he opened the door to the Headmage's office. Thankfully, their shared employer appeared to be on his way out the door as well.

The Headmage blinked, golden eyes wide with confusion when his gaze flickered between Key (who shrugged at him helplessly) and Dr. Park, who gaily waved at him.

"Afternoon, Headmage! Try not to keep Miss Key from the infirmary too long, I need to do a routine checkup before the start of the semester."

The Headmage canted his head to the side, the action reminiscent of a curious bird. "Do humans require to have their health checked upon that often? I don't remember the last time I visited a healer for something as trivial as a routine checkup."

Dr. Park chuckled, releasing Key's shoulder in the process to give her a slight pat on the head before addressing the Headmage once more. "Most humans have a checkup annually, but in Key's case, it's best to have it more often. I won't take up more of your time, I just wanted to confirm with her that she had time after your meeting with the Housewardens."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Park. It's always interesting to learn more about humans, especially in regards to their well-being." The Headmage inclined his head towards the door to the meeting room. "Come, Miss Key, we're already ten minutes into the grace period. Best hurry before some of our more antsy Housewardens decide to leave."

Before Dr. Park could leave, the young custodian waved him goodbye, meaningful intent in her tone as she thanked him for reminding her about her next appointment.

Now that they were alone, both Headmage and custodian headed towards the meeting room.

When Key had been first approached with the idea of acting as a secretary and helping officiate the Housewarden meetings, she had been filled with a sense of dread. She didn’t have a lot of practice speaking in front of large groups of people, but if there was one thing that she had learned from living in Twisted Wonderland for so long, it was that life was short. There was no reason to be nervous in front of those she had yet to meet or those she had met before (Rosehearts and Ashengrotto among others). At the end of the day, they were simply teenage boys.

She had dealt with teenage boys before.

There was trepidation, yes, but above all else, there was a sense of determination and adherence to duty, of repaying what she owed the Headmage, that fueled her.

“Eager, aren’t we?” The Headmage murmured as Key seemed to bounce on her feet, eager to trail after him once he opened the door. He was stalling, but Key supposed he was gauging her reaction before they made their way inside.

“The first day for any job is always exciting,” Key defended. She crossed her arms, mindful of the folder that she still held, in defense. “Besides, it’s almost like you want to be late, Mr. Headmage! We should go already!”

He smirked. “As you wish, Miss Key. I just wanted to warn you that the Housewardens are… Well—”

CRASH!

Chapter Text

After having lived in Twisted Wonderland for upwards of around three or so months (and counting, the thought of which made Key’s heart ache with longing), she had come to realize that there were three things she could rely on.

1) She would always be ignorant or at the very least, slow to grasp the social nuances and unspoken rules that were native to Twisted Wonderland.

2) She was a magicless human, not very high on the totem pole and with very little chance of advancement. This meant that it was only natural to have others, especially mages and her superiors, constantly underestimate her.

3) Dire Crowley’s incompetence.

So, it didn’t surprise her when she saw the Headmage balk for a millisecond at the door before he decisively took hold of the doorknob and pushed his way into the meeting room. Not a word was spoken, but Key immediately stepped in time after her warden.

Inside, Key wasn't sure what she was expecting, but a group of teenage boys in various states of aggression  gathered around what appeared to be a fallen chair and its occupant wasn't what she had in mind. Several of the students, she noted, were ones she had spoken with before this debacle. Rosehearts, Ashengrotto, and Leech were clustered close together, but while the Heartslabyul and Octavinelle Housewardens were seated (or halfway leaning out of the chair like Rosehearts), Leech was standing behind his Housewarden.

Whereas Rosehearts looked irritated, both of the Octavinelle members were looking at the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and bemusement. Leech, because he was standing and had a better vantage point to see the door, happened to lock gazes with Key. There was a second where he looked confused before he placed a hand over his chest and inclined his head in greeting.

Key nodded before shifting her focus to a few other students.

This time, she saw that Schoenheit was leaning up against one of the walls closest to the windows, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in consternation. His shoulders were tense, but artfully so, as if he were posing for an unseen camera. How he seemed to be so graceful even in a situation such as this, Key had no idea. Unlike Leech who instantly acknowledged her, the blond actor paused for a moment before furrowing his brows at her presence.

However, the main attraction of the scene was as follows:

At one end of the table—the one closest to the door—one of the chairs had toppled over (presumably, the source of the sound that had alerted the Headmage and herself). On the floor, sprawled and looking rather guilty as they stared up at the doorway, Asim and another student lay. While the son of the Scalding Sands merchant looked rather abashed, but still fairly positive, the other student had curled up in a fetal position, a tablet held over his head. Given the flames that curled up and over his head in lazy blue plumes, Key immediately deduced that this was the Ignihyde Housewarden, Idia Shroud.

Upon her first perusal of the Housewardens' profiles, she merely noted their personalities via their professors' remarks and the grades provided. Sometimes, she could glean facets of a personality by looking at the pictures provided, but she preferred not to do so.

Don’t judge a book by its cover was an old adage, arguably overused, but one that many people followed and understood for good reason. It never boded well to hold preconceived notions of a person.

When Key had first gazed upon the face of Idia Shroud, she immediately knew that he was the reclusive sort—even before she glanced at some of the remarks on how he usually attended classes via tablet and submitted assignments online. Like the rest of his peers, he had taken his school photo before a white backdrop, but unlike most of them who had posed with regality (most notably that of Schoenheit), elation and excitement (Asim), or lazy confidence (Kingscholar), Shroud looked like he was hunched over and cowering in his photo. Some of the students had foregone smiles in their photos and the flame haired young man was no exception. If anything, he looked like he was on the verge of crying.

Shroud, who was still sprawled on the floor, tried to hide his face away when he happened to catch sight of both the Headmage and Key looking down at him. When his eyes alighted upon the Headmage’s advancing figure, the young man audibly gulped, but when his gaze landed on Key, she could have sworn that he was whimpering and muttering something under his breath.

Not willing to pin someone as shy and easy to startle as Idia with an unwelcoming stare, Key took in the last Housewarden present.

Unlike Idia who cowered, Kingscholar was rather bold, if a little sluggish in his movements. Boldly, almost as if he were mocking everyone present, especially the newcomers, the lion beastman stretched from his hunched position hovering above both sprawled boys and yawned behind one tanned hand.

His leonine gaze narrowed when he saw Key watching, but he dismissed her just as quickly.

“Given that the beginning of the new school year has not yet begun and most, if not all of us, had a tiresome journey coming to the Isle of Sages, I will not ask what happened or why.” The Headmage held up both of his hands, as if he were summoning the patience that he would oh so benevolently bestow upon everyone present. “Now, let’s not tarry any longer. Mr. Asim, Mr. Shroud, please pick yourselves off the floor and right your chairs. Everyone else, please choose your seats.”

There was a flurry of movement that was almost overshadowed by the sounds of wooden chairs squealing against the stone flooring and the idle chitchat between Housewardens as they sniped at each other for the best seats. Meanwhile, Key stood off to the side, merely observing and running her fingers against the crisp edges of paper found in the folder that she had yet to investigate.

“Good afternoon, Headmage—”

Key turned her head to find that Mr. Leech had sauntered over from the other side of the room to stand before the Headmage. While most of his attention was reserved for the old crow, Key knew that the tall young man must have been observing her just as intently as she had been for the rest of the occupants. Still, so as to not appear rude, she gave him a soft smile that he quickly returned with something akin to how a person in retail or customer service would grant a particularly gullible customer.

“—I take it that Vice Housewardens aren’t allowed to observe the proceedings?”

There was an air of laughter in his tone, of someone who was willingly falling for a joke even though they knew the punchline. It seemed that even though the way he phrased his question and held his stance seemed like he was asking in earnest, he just wanted to have a little bit of fun. (Key happened to glance to where Rosehearts and Ashengrotto sat and found that the bespectacled young man was watching the interaction with the air of someone who was watching his best friend willingly make himself look bad so that he could embarrass Ashengrotto by association. If that was Leech’s intent, it was working perfectly).

Crowley, as helpful as ever, shook his head in exaggerated moroseness. “Unfortunately, as much as I approve of your willingness to be as up to date as your Housewarden, I fear that the seating arrangements will suffer. Already, we’re one chair short and Mr. Draconia himself has not arrived!”

Oh, that’s right. There were Seven Housewardens, but only six were accounted for.

All of the profiles that held pictures were present except for the elusive Draconia who also failed in getting his picture taken. Was this a recurring instance? At first, Key had brushed off the lack of an image as a one-time event, but now, it seemed like Draconia’s lack of presence was something that was to be expected. Was this due to a lack of discipline on his part? It would seem so considering that even Kingscholar and Shroud, arguably the students who appeared to be the most aggravated at having to be present at this meeting, had the motivation to actually show up. Albeit (and this was Key going off of admittedly circumstantial evidence) they had entered minutes past the designated time, but at least before the grace period had ended.

If the Diasomina Housewarden did not show up, Key reasoned, she would have to reread his profile and possibly ask the Headmage for his opinion. She couldn’t do her job well if one of her charges wasn’t showing up to the meetings or participating in any other way.

Furthermore, she would have to ask if she could get a hold of him or his Vice Housewarden.

Come to think of it… there wasn’t an email address or a personal phone number listed in his profile either…

How strange.

“—wait with bated breath after the meeting has finished.”

Key blinked back into the present when she saw that Mr. Leech had finished saying something in reply to the Headmage. Any confusion she felt at that moment was alleviated when the tall boy inclined his head in a way that reeked of performative politeness before bidding both secretary and Headmage adieu.

It was at that point, after Mr. Leech had excused himself and had closed the door behind him, that the Headmage nodded at Key to follow. It was a small gesture, but it was one that Key immediately heeded. The Houserwardens were already seated and while there were still the muffled sounds of chitchat interspersed with either laughter or a barb, Key began to feel the heat of everyone’s gazes on her.

Growing up, Key didn’t have a lot of playmates. In her neighborhood, most children around her age were sent to school. Homeschooling, while not uncommon, certainly wasn’t practiced as often as in other counties. That said, she did have siblings who regularly went to school and bemoaned having to share presentations in front of their classmates. When she was younger, she wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but when she had gone to college for the very short amount of time that she had, she realized what the problem was.

Depending on the engagement of your audience, the relevance of your chosen topic, and the effort and preparation beforehand, there was always a chance that you would still land yourself with a low grade in your presentation depending on how you approached balancing all  of these variables.

The best way to get through to your audience was to establish rapport, or at least an understanding of why you were there. Most demographics were not keen on attending meetings, especially teenagers. So, the best way to rectify this is to garner sympathy or make yourself less annoying. Instead of trying to crack jokes at an audience who would rather be going about their day, express that you understand that you know that it’s early and tell them that the sooner they cooperate, the sooner you all can leave. Honesty, in this case, could be the best policy.

Sometimes, you need to make your topic relevant. Show your audience that it affects them and that knowing the information you plan to impart on them will be necessary or useful in the future.

Other times, you just had to hope and pray that your audience would be somewhat cooperative. As long as they didn’t fall asleep or ask too many probing questions, Key was prepared to deem it a success.

Here, obviously, this was a different situation. It may not appear like it, but since she was technically staff, the students were obligated to listen to her. If they actually listened to her was another matter entirely, but Key hoped that for at least this first meeting, she would establish that she can and will do her job regardless of how they viewed her. Hopefully, they wouldn’t undermine her authority too much. As much as she liked a challenge, that sentiment was mostly reserved for scrubbing tough stains or listening to Crowley wax poetic about his goodness to the world.

So lost in her thoughts, Key almost didn’t notice when the Headmage pulled out a chair for her. Before the pause could become awkward, she seated herself and hoped that no one else noticed how lost in her thoughts she was. It was a sweet gesture, one she thanked him for under her breath, to which he smiled and thankfully didn’t espouse how great he was at treating her as a gentleman should.

The instant she was comfortable in her seat, she placed the folder in front of her and waited for the Headmage to begin.

As always, when the moment called for it, he did not disappoint.

One time, when Key was with the other two female custodians mopping and disinfecting a sudden spill from a potionology accident, Zaria had asked her a question. At that point, it was well known among the custodial crew that the Headmage was directly responsible for Key's sudden appearance at Night Raven College, even though the specific details were never made clear. For all they knew, and often theorized (as a joke) was that Key was the Headmage's illegitimate child who had come to NRC to claim her inheritance or to spend time with her old man.

It was horrifyingly hilarious, but Key had mostly shut down the jokes when she reminded all of them that she thought the Headmage was less of a father figure and more of a scatterbrained mentor, if that.

The question that was on Zaria's mind that day was why Key had chosen to trust their employer. It was one thing to be grateful for providing her the basic necessities for everyday life, but it was quite another to be so blind in following him.

And, while Key had understood where Zaria was coming from, the snow leopard beastman did not know the full story.

She did not see that the Headmage was benevolent enough to offer her a place to stay and a job, complete with a wage and a few other benefits that were afforded to other NRC employees. Furthermore, Zaria was not there when the Headmage had carried her over to the infirmary when she had been in the midst of choking on her own vomit. Or when the Headmage had accompanied her to some of the specialists who had come to the Isle of Sages to assess Key. The Headmage, for all of his faults, did not want to cause undue harm to Key... It's just that there were times when he forgot that Key was not just an extension of himself and that she still required choice instead of blindly assuming that she would follow his orders without question.

It was a strange situation, to be sure, but there was a reason why Zaria and the others chose to stay employed at NRC, right?

Then it was the same for Key as well.

The Headmage held Key's life in his clawed hands, but her trust in him came from times when he chose to be competent.

(And all those other times when he chose to be as daft as a brush? Key held onto the hope that her dedication to her own goals was more than enough to carry her forward).

At that moment, faced with the inquisitive faces of six Housewardens, Key was cognizant of the fact that their gazes were split between the Headmage who stood tall and proud (in his element) while Key sat primly and silently (apprehensive and observant).

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I trust that you're all excited to start the new year, yes?" At the smattering of voices, either unenthused or perfunctory, the Headmage continued, a smile both on his face and his tone of voice. "Hmmm, yes... With the advent of a new academic school year, I have taken it upon myself to hire someone who will surely help you with all school events and all matters concerning your duties as Housewardens. I hate to admit this, but I have sadly been burdened by a slew of other duties that I must attend to. The board members have been hounding me for a while now, so... Play nice and listen to this young lady here. Bye now!"

Before anyone could say anything, the old crow dashed towards the door, his overcoat a flurry of movement so dynamic, Key could have sworn that he was mimicking anime sakuga. However, right before the door gave a definitive thud as it closed, Crowley faced Key once more.

If she didn't know any better, she thought that he was winking at her underneath the golden eyed crow mask.

Cheeky, cheeky.

For a moment, as the dust settled in the wake of Crowley’s sudden departure, Key contented herself with finally opening the folder and placing the contents atop the pale wooden table. Meanwhile, much to her amusement, she could hear the anxious rustling of the students in front of her and the creaking of chairs as they readjusted themselves in their seats.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Ah, Riddle Rosehearts. Given their previous interaction and the comments from his profile (all raving reviews, aside from the notes that he seemed too perfunctory and stringent in his interactions inside the classroom and within the restraints of his extracurriculars), it was expected that he would be among the first to address the issue at hand.

"I concur with Riddle—" This time, from Ashengrotto. Like before, his tone was seemingly warm, but there was an undercurrent of cold analysis. "—who are you and what do you have to do with this meeting?"

While both of the boys were asking questions, Key was busy splitting several documents into seven small piles. Aside from those documents, there was also one separate sheet of paper that read the agenda alongside the proposed date and time for the next meeting. In an act of pure kindness, it seemed that Crowley had thought ahead and given Key an outline for the meeting.

Namely: 

Introductions.

The preparation and discussion of the initiation ceremony for the first years.

And the proposed weekend for when the clubs could showcase and recruit new students into their organizations.

An allotment of one hour was given to cover the three topics (broad, but beneficial for the major events that would occur for the first two weeks of the new academic school year) .... The Headmage was really going easy on her for her first act as a secretary.

Now, was he going easy on her because he didn't want to burden her unnecessarily (a shocker, but not exactly out of the realm of possibility)?

Or because there was going to be something greater down the line and he wanted to ease her into her duties as gently as possible? (This seemed more likely).

"Hmmm... why not play a game while we wait for the last Housewarden to arrive—" Here, there was a snicker from one of the students (Kingscholar?). "—why not take a guess at who I am and what role I play?"

A yell of delight (Asim? was he the one who seemed so enthusiastic?) pierced the air at the exact moment Riddle interjected once more—

"We're not here to play games. Today was chosen as the date for our first Housewarden meeting. Unfortunately for Malleus, the fifteen minute grace period has already elapsed. We cannot wait anymore."

All of what he said was succinct, brief. Professional, even.

Gone was the socially inept and somewhat puppyish teenager that Key had met only a few hours prior.

Hmmm… it seems that she would have to put off establishing rapport at this moment. 

Key glanced up from the written agenda on the table only to meet the eyes of the grey eyed Housewarden Riddle Rosehearts. Stifling the urge to sigh in annoyance and disappointment, she began speaking with an authority that she did not usually showcase as a rookie custodian.

"Since it appears that Mr. Draconia won't show up, I guess I'll introduce myself now." Key fiddled with her fingers underneath the table, hoping that her nervousness wouldn't show. "You can call me Key and starting now, I'll be acting as the Headmage's secretary until the end of the school year. Any information, documentation, or questions will pass through me."

There was a sharp intake of breath and an incredulous gasp. "You're staff?"

Key canted her head to the side and nodded, a sheepish smile on her face. "Why yes, Mr. Ashengrotto, I am. Is that a problem?"

The polite smile that seemed effortlessly pasted onto Azul's face had frozen on his pale features. He stared at her, wide eyed and unblinking until he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately for him, as he tried to gather his wits about him, Key was already taking note of his surprised features and mentally penning down what she would say in tonight’s email addressed to one fox beastman, Cameron Norton. (Oh, she thought with barely repressed glee. He was definitely going to love that his underclassman looked like a fish out of water with the way his mouth was gaping up and down as if he wanted to say something of importance).

"Why, no! Of course not! I was merely...” The Octavinelle Housewarden cleared his throat before recovering, quite splendidly with the addition of, “… surprised."

It was quiet for all of three seconds before another voice cut into the fray.

"Wow. Never thought I'd see the day the octopunk gets outwitted without even trying."

As the Night Raven College students began bickering in earnest (again), Key settled back into her chair and wished she brought her children's treasury of fairy tales to read. If this was how all meetings were going to go right from the very beginning, she could only guess that having some interesting literature to go through while they argued amongst themselves would make for a better companion and distraction amidst the commotion.

In the end, though, it wouldn't matter if her charges liked her or not.

She was stuck with this job.

Damn that old crow.

Well, she wasn’t about to dilly dally or waste her voice yelling. Gathering up all the materials that were to be distributed, she rose from her seat and began placing the documents in front of all the Housewardens gathered there. While the chatter seemed to die down, there was still a smattering of grumbles and the ruffling of sheets as they perused through the contents. Satisfied now that she had wordlessly gathered their attention once more, Key reached into her pocket and withdrew her notebook and opened up to a fresh page.

“First thing on the agenda, gentlemen, you should all introduce yourselves.” She leaned her left cheek against the knuckles of her fist as she noted their reactions. “After all, it’s rude to keep a lady waiting when she has already stated her name and role.”

Ah, looks like she finally made it clear that she wouldn’t be bossed around. At the mention of her being a lady and the topic of rudeness, most of the Housewardens seemed abashed before they took turns going around the table. As a trend started by the ever punctual and perfunctory Rosehearts, they all stated their name, year, and classroom section. Some of them added a little bit of flair befitting that of their personalities (“ I am also the founder and manager of Mostro Lounge, a restaurant in Octavinelle you have no doubt heard of before ” and “ Are you new to Night Raven College? I should get Jamil to host a feast in your honor to celebrate! Do you prefer lamb, beef, or —“) while others simply stated what was needed and no more.

Almost all of the information she had received from the Housewardens’ profiles was true to their real-life personalities. If she were to ever come across the professors who directly contributed to the remarks gathered in their documentation, she would have to thank them. Their due diligence was what was saving Key from the trouble of memorizing their names and their quirks minutes after meeting them.

Because there was still at least forty minutes left in the meeting, she allowed a few questions about herself—build rapport, build rapport—but they were mostly relegated to how long she had known the Headmage (“ Too long ”), if she had applied for this unique position (“ I was handpicked for reasons unknown to me ”), and if she had a favorite color ( “Light blues and lavenders ”). That last question was admittedly a curveball that Key had not expected, but she found herself warming up to the Scarabia Housewarden quicker than the others.

If she were being honest, it seemed that she got on swimmingly well with the second years for the most part. Rosehearts was professional about the entire matter, but Key would not let go of the boy she met, all wide eyed and innocent hours ago. Ashengrotto had a reputation that Cameron had merely hinted at, but was written about in his profile (as professionally as possible, but there was a certain bias in one of the professor’s remarks), but he was outwardly friendly, charming even when he didn’t make Key feel like she was at the center of his sole attention. And Asim? A wonderful boy who defied all expectations in being an attentive, if a bit of a scatterbrained listener. He was engaging, asked lots of questions, and was easily one of the most excited Housewardens in the room.

The third years, if Key was being honest, somewhat scared her.

Obviously, they were different from their second year counterparts partly due to their age differences, but also because they collectively seemed to hang back and not directly engage with Key. Of course, when asked for their opinions, they all managed to respond, some more politely than others.

Of the three third year Housewardens, Schoenheit seemed the most approachable. His regality clearly outclassed Kingscholar's inherent nobility, he was polite and well mannered. Silent, yes, but when needed, he could easily interject whenever Rosehearts or Ashengrotto tried to dominate the conversation. As an added bonus, he needled his fellow third years when he noticed that Key wanted to hear more from both Kingscholar and Shroud.

Kingscholar was indolent, his tone and manner of speaking lazy. Drawling and grumbling seemed to be his main method of speaking, but so far, he hadn't outwardly antagonized Key. (Though he did sneak in a few jabs here and there against a few Housewardens, most notably Ashengrotto and Schoenheit). Key took note of how he seemed to dismiss most conversations, almost as if he was ignoring everything, but when approached, he spoke quite eloquently when needed and with the information necessary.

Key noted that she would have to recheck his profile again. He was older than most students, right? Was there a reason why he was held back a few times?

And then there was Shroud.

Key did not know how she felt about Shroud. A part of her wanted to summarize her feelings toward him as indifferent, neither warm nor cold, and leave it at that, but… but! She disliked how he grumbled and added nonsensical adlibs behind the safety of his tablet while simultaneously being rude and self-deprecating within the same breath. She knew that he was reclusive and clearly one of the more intelligent members of Night Raven College, but that did not mean he could be so callous and rude, especially upon first meeting!

At the very least, both Kingscholar and Shroud didn’t endeavor to make her life any harder than it had to be. For now. How their relationships would play out over the course of the year, Key had no idea, but she was willing to see it through to the end.

Or—

Until she could finally go home.

For now, she had to be satisfied writing down the minutes into her notebook (to be later transcribed and emailed to the Housewardens’ student emails and a printed copy to be given to the Headmage by the evening).

“Thank you so much for indulging me. Now, onto the next topic of discussion: the preparation for the first-year initiation ceremony.”

Chapter Text

“You’re here a lot earlier than expected.” Dr. Park turned his laptop away from himself, his gaze fixated on Key with curiosity brimming in his dark brown, nearly black, irises. His lab coat was draped neatly over the back of his office chair, but he maintained his nature as a doctor as he waved her into his office before offering her a page filled with children’s stickers. “With the way Dire gripes about them, you would think they talk his ear off about anything and everything, always willing to argue amongst themselves for the sake of arguing before coming to a decision that was obvious from the start.”

The look on his face was somewhat smug and Key withheld the urge to roll her eyes.

“It’s probably because they aren’t used to me yet. Give it time,” she mumbled more to herself, “once they realize how nice I actually am, they’ll probably be taking over the meetings and doing whatever teenage boys do.”

She glanced down at the page full of stickers, the glitter and gleam of golden stars that were bedazzled with iridescent sparkles was childish, but comforting all the same. They weren't as brilliant as the stickers she had seen in the children’s section at stationery stores back home, but they were nice. However—

Huffing a little at him, she waved the page full of stickers at him as if in accusation. “Aren’t you supposed to give the patient rewards after treatment?”

Dr. Park laughed a little to himself before he flipped through a series of papers that he had piled upon his desk. Although Key was not well versed in the art of reading documents upside down, she immediately noticed it was the patient information sheet she had helped fill out back when she was admitted to the infirmary when she had been so sick, back when she had first arrived in Twisted Wonderland. All of the information was written in Dr. Park's hand—she had been too weak to do anything other than answer questions verbally. 

"Considering that you are a very special patient, I have a feeling that you would rather have something sweet now rather than later." He cleared his throat before he withdrew a pair of wire rimmed glasses from one of his pockets. "I hope you like the stars and the 'good job' stickers. I bought an entire pack for a discount a few days ago."

"Hmm..." Key thought for a moment, decided that life was short, and peeled off one of the stickers—a golden star with a smiley face winking up at her—and placed it on her left cheek. "I can’t tell if being special is good or bad in this case.”

“It’s what you make of it, Miss Key. How have you been feeling lately? Have you adjusted to the elixir’s effects?”

“It’s mostly the same. For ten to fifteen minutes after every dose, I feel like my insides are burning… my eyes become really sensitive and I think I can smell things for once. I haven’t tried tasting anything during that window of time, but I don’t think that’s ever going to be at the top of my priorities.”

“And how are you faring outside of that window? You reported that your eyesight has remained stable the last time we met… a month ago if this sheet is any indication.”

Key nodded.

After Key had stopped working with Dr. Park daily, they had resorted to meeting up at least every two weeks or so. Before Professor Crewel’s interference, she had met with him almost every day to both assess her and to teach her the basics of brewing various potions. Nowadays, their interactions usually did not extend past the dinners Dr. Park would attend with the rest of the custodial crew every so often or the delivery of vials filled with her purple-green elixir. It was a natural progression, a positive one Key thought. It would feel ominous if she ever had to meet up with Dr. Park more often than usual—like a bad omen. As if the strangeness inherent to her biology as an alien would predispose her to chronic ailments.

“My eyesight hasn’t improved… I looked at the sun a few days ago—because I was curious!” She defended when she saw his eyebrows raise at such an admission. “And, well… It didn’t hurt? It’s supposed to hurt, right? When you look at the sun? It just doesn’t seem as bright, plus… More often than not, I usually feel cold. But that might just be a me thing, I guess.” Key thought some more, recalling all of the little idiosyncrasies that used to never plague her back in her home world. “I still don’t feel the urge to eat, I can’t smell anything…”

Her deep brown eyes furrowed as she cast her glance aside, her gaze resting upon the tall stacks of books that littered the floor. Dr. Park had said he always meant to buy more bookshelves to house his medical journals and texts, but he always seemed to forget. When criticized, he often cited that his organizational skills were up to par, even if his furniture was not.

“The good news is, I still have good hearing. I wouldn’t say it’s changed anymore since I came here, but it’s infinitely a better asset than most of my other senses.”

As Key recounted all that she could remember, Dr. Park wrote in her profile, his spidery handwriting smudging with blotting ink. For any casual observer, they would see that the words he has written were made up mostly of medical jargon, of words reminiscent of pidgin and shorthand. There was no need to use codes or ciphers—Dr. Park’s penmanship was more than enough of a deterrent to stop anyone who would even think about perusing his secret files.

(Legend has it that he had gotten off with a warning because no one could ever trace back anything of note to him).

“All right. So, my hypothesis was correct from the very beginning… The modified elixir I gave you is a mere bandage on a greater wound. However, while most of the blood flow has been stemmed, the root of the problem has still not been treated. Just because you seem all right at the moment—the lack of or deficient senses aside—that doesn’t mean that we can’t do more to help you.” Dr. Park flipped through the pages of another nearby dossier before withdrawing an official sort of paper, complete with the crest of Night Raven College. “Remember how I had withdrawn blood? And said that I would get back to you with results?”

 Key blinked. Since when—

Oh.

“Back when I was throwing up and everything?” Key blinked. Math was never her forte, but that would mean— “That was at least three months ago!?”

Dr. Park shrugged apologetically. “In between modifying the elixir and tweaking it every so often to better accommodate your needs and sustain your body AND asking some colleagues from the mainland to assist me in conducting blood tests (some of which can be quite extensive and time consuming), yes… It takes a while.”

“R-right.” Key deflated. She hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful, it was just that she didn’t have memories of having overly abnormal medical visits or times when she knew that she was different before. Dinnertimes were a constant reminder that she was “other” and the lack of vibrancy from her eyesight depressed her. She was hard pressed to say that she was stressed—maybe even overwhelmed—because she was already treated so well. What more could they do now that she was relatively stable? “Sorry about that… I’m just a little on edge.”

Dr. Park watched her over the rim of his glasses, concern in his gaze, but he chose to file that away for later. For now…

“Here are the results, please pay attention to the values that I have circled. Everything else that remains untouched is relatively normal when you take into account that you were severely dehydrated and malnourished due to your lack of nutrient intake back then.”

The paper felt like any other, but the seal at the top left-hand corner of the file was more than enough reason for her to handle the document with care. At the top of the file, her name was listed as Key C.—that “C” better not mean what she thought it meant—alongside her age, birthday, sex, etc. Below the personal information, there was the serial number for the blood specimen that she had donated three months prior, and below that…

An entire list of medical terms followed by their proper abbreviations and numerical values denoting the presence of it in her blood.

Hematocrit (HCT)…

Mean Corpuscular Volume (MCV)…

Iron…

Bilirubin…

And then, finally—

Encircled in thin red ink, Magical Blot (MGCB) jumped out at her. Beside that term, there was a disturbing quantity of it in her blood.

0 mg/dL.

Nothing.

There was no Magical Blot in her blood.

Hesitantly, Key looked up at the good doctor, afraid of what she was going to find. However, when she finally got the courage to face him, she found that he was giving her a contemplative look.

They were silent for a few seconds.

“You have not told me a lot about yourself or where you came from. And, to my knowledge, you have refused to share that information with the Headmage as well.” The good doctor leaned a little over his desk, still very much far away from Key’s personal space, but with the way he moved, it was almost as if he were looming over her. As he steepled his hands together, his black eyes gazing into her own, Key saw that there were so many questions brimming in his eyes.

Key was not surprised.

A part of her knew that someone was going to question her directly at some point; she had expected that it would come from the old crow or, perhaps, Alastair.

Still, though, unless they asked—really asked—Key was not going to say anything. For all of the good things she had experienced in Twisted Wonderland, there were just as many things that came between her and full trust in these strange inhabitants of their even stranger world.

As she stared at Dr. Park head on—the air between them charged with crackling tension—the paper in between her hands began to crinkle as she subconsciously squeezed.

“You know… you don’t have to come clean to me. I know what it’s like to want to keep things away from authority figures. Even now, you don’t see me painting a positive view of the police. However, I do recommend that you open up to someone. Anyone. But, if I’m being honest, you should talk to your guardian.” His pointer finger, calloused and scarred from past… exploits tapped upon Key’s name followed by that dreaded initial, “C”. “That said, it would help a lot to know more about your backstory to make sense of these numbers, but if the next idea I propose works out in your favor, then it won’t be necessary.”

Key breathed in deeply, unaware up until that point that she had been breathing shallowly in anxiety.

She was so sure that she was going to be put into a sticky situation.

“W-what’s the proposal?”

“I think we should start injecting small doses of magical blot into your body at least two to three times a week.”

Key just about leaped out of her seat.

“What? But why?” Key thought back to the textbooks that she had read during her free periods and the way Cameron would complain about how much blot had built up after overexerting his magical reserves after a particularly vexing day of preparing for a practical exam. “I thought that it was a good thing, that low levels of magical blot was acceptable? Good even?”

Dr. Park laughed, all previous strain from before dissipating as he addressed her concerns. “I see you’ve been doing some research. That’s good. I assume you know about Overblotting, like the lead up and the consequences?”

Key nodded once more. She had asked Cam why he couldn’t use magic for everything and he had explained that magic used up a lot of energy that often left an inky residue that was made up of blot. Over time, the blot would build up if there wasn’t enough of a cooldown period in between large bouts of magic; mages were susceptible to blot poisoning (which involved headaches, anxiety, low mood, bouts of sickness, etc.). However, if the blot poisoning was ignored or had not been fully dealt with, overexposure to the rising levels of blot and unresolved blot poisoning led to Overblot.

The consequences of which usually ended in death.

A rare occurrence, yes, but one that most mages tried to avoid at all costs. 

“Nowadays, Overblots don’t occur as often as they did before mages began using magestones as a way to channel their energy and store the blot instead of allowing it to build up in their bodies. However, while too much blot is always a cause for concern, the opposite is also true. Every person, be they fae, merfolk, beastman, or human have a fair amount of magical blot in their bodies. Our society has evolved to include magic in our everyday lives, even for those who are magicless. The ability to harness magic is hereditary, which means that the genes for magic is inherent in every person.”

“Like recessive and dominant genes?”

“Exactly. Magical genes are recessive, which is why in the human population, only ten percent have the ability to harness magic, but there are even fewer who have the strength for higher level spells.” Dr. Park paused as he fully looked at her. “Even magicless people have recessive genes for magic. You, on the other hand, don’t have any magic whatsoever… which is very interesting considering your background. Or lack thereof.”

Key kept her face impassive, her mouth tightly shut.

For a moment, the both of them merely lived in that silence, as if daring one another to admit to weakness.

Dr. Park nodded, just a little bit impressed at her unspoken rebellion. “I hypothesize that since you’re from another world, your body is not well suited to the environment here in Twisted Wonderland. While you are in many ways not too different from any other human from physical appearance down to the simplest cell in your body, one cannot deny that magical blot sets you apart from literally everyone else.”

Key hummed a little to herself as she minutely adjusted herself in her chair. Despite the tension that had been radiating within Dr. Park’s office, she had not realized that she had been holding herself tight in her seat. Muscles had been locked tight and hands had been clutched at her arms in a defensive posture.

“Hence why we should start introducing magical blot into your bloodstream. It will potentially make your body more suited to the environment, but I cannot deny that because it’s been three months and you’ve been subsisting off of a modified elixir instead of attacking the problem head on… Well, when certain wounds are left untreated, some consequences may be more permanent than others.”

As Key was about to speak once more, to express that she understood what he was saying, he held up a hand.

“I also hypothesize that since you’re from another world—a world without magic, I can only assume—and that our esteemed Headmage is supposedly looking into ways of getting you back, the magical blot that we may inject into your body… might have an adverse impact on you as well if you were to ever return.”

Key abruptly sat up straight in her seat, the previous tension from before returning with renewed strength. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it, you yourself are magicless and without magical blot, you lack one of the many vital chemicals that we have in our bodies. To protect you and to help you acclimate, I would recommend that you get weekly injections. However, if you ever do go back to your home world, I imagine that returning to your old environment will not bode well for a body with magical blot. Best case scenario: nothing happens and you can return to life as normal. Worst case scenario: you will have a repeat of what happened to you during your first week in Twisted Wonderland… except it will be in the comforts of your home world.”

“So this is all… it’s all…” Key took a deep breath, trying to steel her nerves. She wanted to get better, she wanted to eat food like a normal person! Experience life as she had done so before! The world was so cold and dull, getting the chance to feel like her old self was an opportunity she’d be foolish to miss out on.

And yet…

What if she left tomorrow?

Or next week?

Or in the next few months?

Or years?

Was the potential for something disastrous later lesser than her need to get better now? Did it count as instant gratification if Key did it in the name of good health?

She couldn’t live like this, Dr. Park had implied as such.

“Either my body is stuck between never getting worse, but never getting better or… Getting better, but possibly ruining my health if I ever go back… Is that it?” Key felt her eyes burn, the urge to retch rising up from the pits of her stomach and traveling up the narrow passageway of her esophagus. Yet, she was still cognizant enough to swallow it back down, wincing a little at the horrible acidic flavor that coated the back of her throat. “Is there no other way?”

His voice was kind, but his words were concise. Perfunctory. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of information about your world or how your body would adapt to your old world after being injected with regular doses of magical blot. I am only going off of hypotheticals and other treatments that bear resemblance to this situation.”

“This sort of thing has happened before?”

God, it hurt so much that she sounded so hopeful, so childlike when she asked that. Despite that feeling, she held onto the implications. If there were other travelers who lived like her and had survived to go back… Could she…?

The rising feeling of hope was quashed when she saw Dr. Park subtly shake his head. Again, he was gentle, but his words were precise. “No, not to my knowledge. I was referring to hormone replacement therapy. Depending on the dosage and how often you administer it, your body will adapt to the chemicals that have been injected into it because your body isn’t producing them on its own.”

As Dr. Park pointed out and explained more about his thoughts regarding the treatment, Key couldn’t help but clutch at her arms, her fingernails going through the fabric of her borrowed cardigan. Hormone replacement therapy? That was the only thing that he could go off of? Granted, she knew that HRT was effective. If HRT was anything like her old world’s version of the treatment, then it could be self-administered multiple times a week.

Despite the helpless, useless situation that Key found herself in, she couldn’t help but laugh to herself.

HRT sounded so normal, so mundane compared to the fantastical elements of Twisted Wonderland. Out of everything else, she chose to focus on that.

If she couldn’t do that…

Suddenly, Key heard Dr. Park calling her name. She looked up from the fabric of her borrowed cardigan, her gaze had been distractedly focused on the little teddy bears that had been stitched at the bottom of the hem.

“Key, there isn’t necessarily a deadline… But it would be in your best interest to undergo treatment as soon as possible if the possibility of you going home is not… viable.”

Key bit her lip, but only nodded her head to let him know that she heard him.

The sound of shuffling aroused Key’s attention once more: the good doctor withdrew another page full of stickers. This time, the theme of this page was little banners with written slogans and encouragements like “Good Job!” and “Keep on Smiling!”

At his insistence, Key took the page full of stickers. They weren’t as glittery as the first page, but they were filled with colors and designs that would have delighted young children.

“That’s also one of the main reasons why I asked if you had already talked to the Headmage. Seeing as he’s your guardian, he can offer some insight into your situation. If he’s close to the solution, then you can dismiss what I’ve said to you now. If he’s not…” His long fingers tapped her medical profile that still lay on his desk, the tapping a nonsensical rhythm that still somehow managed to add levity to the situation. The levity probably wasn’t needed, but Key appreciated it nonetheless.

Key asked a question that she had been thinking for quite some time now. It was a question that had come up time and time again, when she regarded the scheduling for her shifts as a custodian, of when she spent time in the library and read as much as she could, and especially when she had to confront the Headmage when she catered to his requests.

“How likely is it for the Headmage to send me home?”

For the first time since the conversation had started, Dr. Park broke away from their shared gaze.

“Research takes time. And sometimes, it could take more than just a single human lifetime.”

Chapter Text

The time it took for the computers at the library to boot up was comparable to that of waiting for Emilio to haul himself off the floor and back into his bedroom after he spent most of the evening drinking to his heart’s content. That is to say, a very long time. Despite the length of time it took for the computer to turn on, Key didn’t mind. Instead, she cracked open her book full of fairy tales, her eyes dully roving over the illustrations and paragraphs upon paragraphs of morals and gory ends for their beloved protagonists.

After making plans for Dr. Park to get her up to date on her vaccinations and making a promise to give his proposal for injecting magical blot into her veins some thought, Key had practically fled his office. Along the way, she had accidentally bumped into a lanky young man, probably a few years older than her, who wore a short white lab coat. Stumbling slightly, she managed to right herself and by extension, the young man, who was caught way off balance because of the force she had used to run out of the good doctor’s office. After a brief apology, she ran away, her eyes brimming with tears and her throat closing up with the sensation of cotton.

Thankfully, she didn’t run into anyone else out in the hallways. The afternoon sun was giving way to the dusk that brimmed with hues of golden orange and light lavender blues. Hurriedly, she dashed away into a bathroom and was quick to turn the sink on to full capacity so she could splash her face with cold water as hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks.

It was stupid.

This whole situation was stupid.

She was stupid.

All Dr. Park had done was inform her that she needed medicine so she could live life to the fullest in Twisted Wonderland (hopefully). If anything, Key should be looking into magical blot and its properties and how they affected the populace of Twisted Wonderland (especially regarding human biology). However, she was stuck in her thoughts that continued to loop in between her choices and the implications of both.

If she were to take the treatment, it would be akin to acknowledging that she was never going back.

But if she didn’t, she’d be stuck in this hellish limbo of merely surviving, not living—at least, until the Headmage finally offered her a way home.

(But what if he never did?)

Unfortunately, there were no valid answers to her questions. The most that she could do was wipe her face free of snot and tears and pat down the splotches of wet patches that had stained the cardigan that she wore. Thankfully, it was mostly the hems on the sleeves that were affected—the smiling teddy bears had been left relatively unscathed.

After wiping down the sink with another paper towel, Key left the bathroom and briskly walked down the pathway of the main building and down to the library.

Again, she didn’t bump into anyone during her short trek, but she heard the murmur of voices as the day drew to a close and the sound of footsteps from a few open classrooms and adjoining hallways. As a custodian, she knew the quickest shortcuts to get her from Point A to Point B, which meant she made quick work of the walk while also evading any other people she didn’t want to talk to (which was everybody).

Her final obstacle would have been Lady Fairchild, but it seemed that the older woman was content with recording inventory at her desk rather than paying the young custodian any mind. Still though, Key made sure to give her a nod and a half-hearted, but genuine “Good evening” lest she be accused of being rude. Lady Fairchild regarded Key, her lips pursing when she must have seen the past distress upon her visage, but she ultimately left Key alone.

That was alright with her.

She didn’t need any more attention after the emotional beating she had endured only moments ago.  

Evenings at the library were usually inhabited by a few students who wanted to finish their homework or catch up on their reading. Tonight, there were only a few students (from what she could see, at least three) who were seated at their own tables, all of them keeping to themselves instead of congregating in one space. Not wanting to disturb them, Key ducked into the bookshelves and meandered between the aisles, which meant that she would reach the computer stations in a roundabout manner that took longer than had she been straightforward in her approach.

Finally, after rounding a corner, she reached the back of the library, which happened to be the furthest point away from the study tables. There, a dozen computers were lined up on top of long tables. Most of them were dormant, but there were at least a few that had an active screensaver with random colors and swirls. Perhaps the students that she had observed from before had used the computers, or maybe there were more students who had left before Key had arrived.

After choosing a computer that had a screensaver of what appeared to be a pencil sketch of a shooting star falling in an arc above a castle, Key input her admin password and then leaned back in her seat to read. The sound of the computer powering up contributed to the relaxing ambience. However, while anyone would have been relaxed to the point of becoming bored to tears, Key merely tried to lose herself in her fairytales. Unfortunately, even the most magical of stories could not keep her attention for long. Eventually, the words began to blur together and Key simply gave up.

Carefully, she shut and placed her treasury of fairy tales into her backpack and checked if the computer was ready to go. Unfortunately, it seemed that she would have to wait for a few more minutes. While she was initially disappointed, Key decided that she would have a better time if she did something productive instead of just sitting in her seat waiting. With that in mind, she pushed back her chair (internally wincing when she heard the screech of the chair upon the old floorboards), and stood up to seek out some entertainment.

Fortunately, no one came to check up on the computer stations.

Walking up the stairs to the upper floors of the library was practically ingrained into Key’s bones at this point. She liked being at high vantage points; it reminded her of climbing up trees and if she peered over the railing, she could spy on anyone she wanted. However, spying was the last thing on her mind today. Instead, she strode over to her favorite little nook beside the tall window. While the evening hours were still in their infancy, the grounds were dark with only intermittent lampposts to light the way.  

Above, the sky was littered with stars.

For a brief moment, Key wondered if seeing stars was the result of the Isle of Sages being far from the mainland and therefore light pollution was not as apparent, or if stars were just naturally brighter here. Stars back in her home world… Had she ever seen them? It seemed that at the very least, even if Twisted Wonderland was screwing her over in more ways than one, this strange world had one leg up on her old one: she could at least look up and see that there was something hanging in the sky above her.

Hmm…

Would wishing upon a star work?

It couldn’t hurt…

Feeling rather foolish, Key cast her gaze back towards the ground and nearly fell out of the nook in shock. At the bottom of the window, staring right back at her, was the familiar sight of a cat beast glaring up at her. So many questions were running through her mind, but before she could voice any of the more important ones, she merely pointed at the latch at the bottom of the window as if to silently ask if the cat beast wanted to be let in.

The increase in the height of his blue flames that emitted from his ears was more than enough of an answer.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered to herself as she worked the latch open.

Thank goodness Horace liked to spend most of his working hours—and his free time—at the library because the latch itself was incredibly easy to open. Because he was a hard worker with a keen eye for detail, his shifts at the library were less likely, if ever, to garner the attention or the ire of Lady Fairchild. In fact, Emilio liked to pawn off his shifts at the library because he claimed that “ The scary librarian was breathing down my neck so much, it was almost like she was getting ready to bite it! ”. No one took Emilio too seriously, but Horace immediately pounced on that opportunity like a rabbit leaping after a carrot.  

And even if Horace was not assigned to the library, one could still find him there if he wasn’t strolling around the town at the bottom of the mountain. If anyone asked, the rabbit beastman would deflect and change the subject as soon as possible, but everyone knew the truth.

Lady Fairchild wasn’t the sort of person anyone would want to be sweet on, but it seemed that Horace Harper’s tastes were… eccentric to say the least.

After the window had opened wide enough for the cat beast to tumble inside, Key quickly shut it. Again, there was no resistance to moving the window into its original position, but Key couldn’t help but glance behind her. There was no telling when Lady Fairchild would pop up behind the library’s patrons. One time, she had witnessed the librarian scare one of the summer school students a few days before their final exams. It reminded Key of watching a lion stalk a gazelle before pouncing on its prey.

“Henchman!”

“Shhhh!”

Without thinking, she shoved a hand in front of the creature’s mouth to shut him up. The fur around his mouth was soft, but when she felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin of her finger pads, she immediately withdrew. A part of her trusted that the cat beast would not do her any harm, but she also knew that she should not push her luck when it came to the many magical inhabitants of Twisted Wonderland.

“Quiet, Boss,” Key muttered. She shot a glance around her again, hoping that Lady Fairchild hadn’t started her rounds to check on the remaining patrons of the library. After realizing that the coast was still clear, she nodded for her companion to continue speaking, albeit— “A little more quietly, please. We’ll get kicked out if we make too much noise.”

There was a rumbling sort of sound from the creature, but he eventually rolled his eyes and deflated from his initial defensive pose. At his implied acquiescence, Key settled back into her nook and patted the cushion beside her in case the cat beast wanted to rest on something soft and comfortable. For a moment, it seemed her companion was about to take her up on her unspoken offer, but before he could relent, he shook his head and stood up on his hindlegs with his front paws resting on his hips. He looked so much like a disgruntled toddler, Key had to cough to stifle a laugh.

In a scratchy voice that could barely pass as whisper-shouting instead of just shouting, he whispered, “It’s so cold outside! It shouldn’t take so long for you to open the window!” He paused, his mouth shifting to what looked like a pout. “What use are you, Henchman, if you take so long to let me in that I end up with my fur frozen over!?”

A pang of… something hit Key straight in the heart. It wasn’t the cliché arrow to the heart sort of deal, but rather, it felt like the cat beast had taken a knife that had already impaled Key in the guts and had ruthlessly twisted it. She ended up laughing though—bitter as it was—and pretended that she found the stars interesting as she blinked back the tidal wave of emotion back into the ether.  

She had already cried at least an hour ago, it would push her to the brink if she were to cry again.

“Pfft, ha. Yeah, what use am I?” Despite her hard work to remain casual, her voice did end up cracking at her rhetorical question. Much to her relief—and dismay—the creature that had been relentless in his pursuit to be admitted into Night Raven College seemed to either not notice (disappointing, but not horrible) or not care (a possibility that hurt more than the fact that he had inadvertently called her useless).

Crying took too much effort; she would have to push through what she assumed was going to be an unpleasant conversation and then go back down to her computer and actually get started on transcribing the meeting.

“What are you doing here, Boss?”

For a moment, the cat beast looked a little confused, perhaps even a little lost, before he addressed his henchman like a king dismissing his vassal. “I saw you talkin’ to some weird guys earlier! It looked kinda important… Henchman, didja ask if I could attend?”

Key blinked, forgetting to say something about the creature’s rising volume. “How did… Were you following me this entire time? Or…”

Were the security defenses at Night Raven College that bad?

Or had the cat beast managed to evade everyone?

Shrugging, the cat beast ignored her question. It was probably for the best; Key theorized that the cat beast had magical powers that he had yet to reveal to her.

“Does it matter? Anyways, I saw through one of the windows that you were sittin’ in one of those rooms with a buncha those students. They looked kinda important and you said that you didn’t have the power to start or stop the ceremony, so…?”

His voice trailed off, his expectancy more than apparent.

“Oh, those important students were the Housewardens.” At the cat beast’s questioning gaze that belied a curiosity that he wasn’t willing to divulge at that moment, Key explained, “Housewardens are supposedly exemplary students who represent the values based on The Great Seven’s most important attributes.”

“What’s the Great Seven?”

Key canted her head to the side.

“You’ve been spying on this school for months now and you haven’t heard about them?” Key had been in Twisted Wonderland for about three months and this little ball of fur—! Swallowing down the urge to admonish the cat beast, Key decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he had been sheltered most of his life or maybe another set of circumstances had prevented him from learning about The Great Seven. For all she knew, the creature probably had the mind of a child—heaven knows he acted like it—and children tended to not care about politics or history unless they were personally invested in it.

And that’s how, five minutes later, Key was knee deep in the discussion of how The Great Seven were so important to Night Raven College when all of a sudden—

“My, little flowers like yourself shouldn’t be hiding in the dark like this. Come morning, they won’t have the chance to bloom.”

Key jumped a little in her seat as she glanced up to find Lady Fairchild looming behind her, the ominous presence the only indication that she was there.

For a second, Key looked confused, her tongue seemingly tied in knots when she realized that she had been caught. Hastily, she glanced towards where the cat beast sat. To her astonishment, there was no sign of the furry interloper anywhere! Now completely flummoxed, the young custodian faced the librarian once more, not at all looking forward to fibbing to the Lady of the Library.

Key had no idea what she was, but it wouldn’t be surprising to find out that Lady Fairchild was a fae or closely related to them. Lying to fae never boded well.

“Lady Fairchild! Good evening!” The young custodian coughed a little to herself to clear out the stutter that littered her speech. Why her body always found an excuse to flounder in front of ladies of such high regard—at least in comparison to Key—she never quite understood. “I was actually planning on using one of the computers before I left!”

Lady Fairchild glowered with dark intent as she glided forward. Unlike Key’s encounter with Julie Andrews, Lady Fairchild’s dress did not sway or shift with every movement like a ballerina taking center stage. No, Lady Fairchild’s dress, midnight pitch with burgundy trimming and accents betrayed no such movement. Were it not for the lack of the spectral glow that Key associated with ghosts, she would have assumed that Lady Fairchild was one of those otherworldly apparitions.

The librarian chuckled, a terrible sound that reminded Key of church bells ringing in the distance. Sonorous, but sometimes, a harbinger of horrible news. What news would the librarian give her, Key had to wonder.

“Were you, child? Then why venture to the upper levels? Anyone could have taken your spot at one of the computer stations.”

Key nervously laughed. It was an oversight on her part, but in her defense, there was practically no one else left in the library! And for the odd student that was still present, they seemed eager to read at the study tables instead of using the dated computers. Although, it was still a security risk if one of the students realized that the only active computer was opened and logged into a staff account…

“Um…” Key stiffened when she saw Lady Fairchild curl her lip in slight disgust at the utterance of a filler word. She could only imagine that this is what an overly zealous English teacher would look like. “The computer takes a while to turn on! Everything else goes smoothly, like the internet, but the start up process? It’s a slog to wait.”

Ah, and there it was.

From the way Lady Fairchild’s eyes glimmered and how her ruby red lips curled in delight, Key could only surmise that she had stumbled into a carefully crafted trap. Aside from the times Lady Fairchild was content to leave Key be, there were times when she would take it upon herself to lecture the poor custodian when the circumstances called for it. Perhaps there was a good reason for it, but frankly, Key didn’t know why and she didn’t care to find out.

(Horace had told Key that Lady Fairchild was taking care of her in her own way, but Key thought that was a gross oversimplification. Plus, she couldn’t help but think that the rabbit beastman was a little biased in his assumptions).

“Patience is a virtue, is it not? You’ll find that exercising patience will result in a happier, healthier lifestyle. Why the younger generation seems to be enamored with the notion that life must be experienced rapidly remains a mystery to me. Unfortunately, I can only do so much as a librarian to these… young men masquerading as students.” She hissed her words with the aplomb of someone personally insulted by the NRC students. “However, a young blossom such as yourself must be cultivated, tended to. And that takes time. And patience.”

Key swallowed. It was a good thing that she wasn’t assigned to the library most of the time.

She didn’t know what was worse:

The discomfort she felt whenever Lady Fairchild engaged her in pointlessly needling conversations such as this?

Or if Key found it increasingly harder to stifle the righteous indignation she felt?

It was times like this that Key had to remember that she had to save all that anger for someone who actually deserved it.

Like Crowley.

Thankfully, Key knew that she had the perfect cue to leave. After all, she hadn’t come to the library for recreation. The notes from the Housewarden meeting had yet to be transcribed and then there was the matter of that strange creature who would never leave Key alone… Though, Key couldn’t remember the last time the flame haired creature had visited her twice in one day…

“Y-you’re right, Lady Fairchild, patience is a virtue that is important—integral even!—to everyday life. Which is why…” The young custodian edged herself out of her seat and slowly stood so as to not incur another lecture. “…I should check to see if the computer is finally ready!”

Punctuating the statement with false cheer made her internally wince, but the librarian appeared none the wiser. In fact, as Key stood expectantly in front of Lady Fairchild, the librarian was already making way for the young custodian to move past.

Carefully, Key gave her another unsure smile as a way to defuse the tension that lined her shoulders. Yet, while the conversation may have appeared to be over to some onlookers, the Lady of the Library had other ideas.

“Before I forget, child?” Lady Fairchild inquired in that honeyed voice of hers. Hackles rose at the sound of such a voice, but Key had no choice but to acquiesce. At the sight of the young custodian glancing up at her once again, Lady Fairchild subtly inclined her head as if she was about to tell a secret and murmured, “If that familiar of yours wishes to visit the library, then the doors will always be open to him—as well as to you.”

Choking on her spit, Key tried to explain herself with an incoherent garble of “ A familiar? I’m not familiar with that term !” and “ The library closes at ten !” The incoherent string of sentences abruptly stopped when Lady Fairchild tucked in a loose strand of dark brown hair behind Key’s right ear.

“And he’s more than welcome to keep you company as you write up your report to the Headmage.”

Never before had the term “walk of shame” held so much truth in it until now. After trudging down the stairs—she happened to glance down the banisters to check if there were still students running around and was relieved to find that there were none. Small mercies she supposed—she did not feel like skulking behind the bookshelves again.  

Upon arrival at her chosen computer, Key sat down and opened up this universe’s most popular word processor, ThaumaWord. Most of the layout and editing options were familiar to Key while other features that were unique to ThaumaWord proved to be strange but intuitive. Regardless, Key busied herself with typing word for word—or, in some cases, expounding on some points that Key had barely managed to capture in shorthand.

Fortunately, Key’s typing skills had not suffered between the transition of coming from her old world to Twisted Wonderland. She had been averaging at least ninety words per minute with an accuracy to match. Within ten minutes, Key had gone from a blank document with the cursor blinking mockingly at her to a neatly typed rendition of the minutes of the meeting. All Key had to do was save the file and email the Headmage and all of the Housewardens who attended…

… Which unfortunately left out the Diasomnia Housewarden. (She had checked his file again and again, but there was no mention of an email—personal or otherwise—or a cell phone number). Key had not been given the profiles to the Vice Housewardens, but she supposed she would have to resort to that… 

Tomorrow.

As Key began typing in the appropriate emails within the “cc” area, she felt rather than saw the cat beast return. The air had abruptly warmed with the presence of his blue flames—not at all oppressive, but rather comforting. (Briefly, she wondered if the Ignihyde Housewarden’s hair had the same properties as the creature’s fur).

Typing in the final two names to be cc’ed, Key interrupted Grim before he could bother her. “Hold on for a sec, Boss, my other boss wants me to get this done as soon as possible.”

The undignified, indignant squawk that left the creature’s mouth was nothing short of comedic. Sadly, Key was not granted the time to savor the rare moment of flustering the little creature.

“What do you mean your ‘other boss’?” Out of the corner of her eye, Key spotted the creature pulling himself up into the seat of the chair next to her, his forepaws once again resting on his hips while his three pronged tail flicked back and forth in agitation. “I’m your only boss!”

“Hmmmm… I’m not one to say anything nice about my first boss—”

“First boss? What about me?”

“—but he pays me at least.” Key pressed the ‘send’ button after double checking everything. Then, she turned to face the cat beast head on. “If you want me to promote you to ‘first boss’, you have to pay me. A lot.”

The cat beast’s eyes narrowed and the flames on his furry ears gave way to red fire before abruptly relaxing to his customary cool blue.

“I pay you with my awesomeness! How’s that for payment?”

A deadpan look. “Fair enough.”

“Does that mean—?”

“I’ll think about it.” At that moment, a thought occurred to the young custodian. She had been so caught up in the conversation she had with Lady Fairchild, she had forgotten that the little beast had somehow gotten away without her noticing. “How did you leave so suddenly? And why didn’t you tell me that Lady Fairchild was coming?”

The cat beast looked up at her with something resembling the air of someone who thought that their companion was being deliberately obtuse. Had Key not been so curious about the answer, she would have found herself offended at his reaction.

“Magic, duh.” The cat beast rolled his eyes and Key fought the urge to scold him for such disgraceful behavior. In fact, she was about to say that if he rolled his eyes too much, they would get stuck that way. “And I didn’t say nothin’ ‘cause I didn’t wanna get in trouble.”

Key glared, the heat of which was only half baked. “So, you decided to leave me on my own? Leave me to the wolves?”

The cat beast shrugged, clearly not put off or willfully ignoring Key’s lukewarm ire. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Sighing, Key leaned back in her chair, out of all the people she had met in Night Raven College, it appeared that the most childish and lackadaisical person happened to be not a student (yet) but a magical creature. Honestly, when she had first started working at NRC as a custodian, she thought she would have less than favorable interactions with, if not her coworkers, then the students. Yes, she had the odd argument and altercation with Cameron, but the both of them moved past that. But then, this little furball had to cross paths with her.

“Incorrigible,” Key muttered. A wave of sleepiness crashed over her, which caused her to stifle a yawn behind the palm of her hand. Despite the hard back of the wooden chair that the library provided, she found it relaxing. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to end up falling asleep in this very seat. “I’ll have to turn in soon, Boss. I usually work nights, but today has been…”

Had it only been just this morning that she had said goodbye to Cameron?

That she had met the Housewardens for the first time? (Well, except for the Diasomnia dorm head and Azul who she officially met yesterday).

And the conversation with Dr. Park about—

Actually, she didn’t want to think about that.

Voice cracking, Key choked out, “It was definitely something else.” As she powered down the computer, she forced a chuckle to fall from her lips, like she was trying to regurgitate half chewed half digested food. It almost hurt. “Something else entirely,” she repeated more to herself than to her furry companion.

Suddenly, Key snapped out of her spiral when the cat beast chose that moment to jump down onto the floor. Like any feline that was decidedly less magical, he landed on all four of his paws. It was somewhat adorable and it gave Key pause to her incoming breakdown.

“Tired already? What about all those things you were sayin’ about those ugly statues?”

Oh, that’s right.

Before they had been interrupted, she was telling him about the Great Seven. As if she was a Twisted Wonderland native.

(How odd. And ironic).

Glad for the excuse to ignore the buildup of whatever threatened to crawl out of her mouth—screaming and crying—Key gestured for the cat beast to follow after her. For now, she was content to sink into the role resembling that of a mentor.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the entrance ceremony bustled through like a bullet train rapidly speeding towards its destination. During that time, the rest of the staff returned to their respective posts and were set to work immediately. The gardeners from the Botanical Gardens pruned and trimmed the foliage and the trees throughout the campus, but with most of their efforts focused on the courtyard and the land closest to the main campus building. Other support staff, like the stablemen and the miller went about their daily business as if it was just another day for them. 

Meanwhile, teachers made their classrooms into their second homes, setting up their desks with all the materials needed to teach their classes. Because Key was often assigned to the evening shift, she wasn’t always available to see them on their rounds, but she did catch a glimpse of Professor Trein giving his new intern a rundown of what her tasks would be for the semester. 

Furthermore, there were a few other interns shadowing their respective mentors. Most of them she hadn’t had the privilege of formal introductions, but she could immediately pick them out from the crowd based on the way they acted—wide eyed and curious—and how young they were compared to the staff. There were at least three interns shadowing the educational staff and two more who were interning at the infirmary. There were probably more—Key wasn’t too sure and it was certainly not any of her business, but the curiosity still lingered.

Word on the street was that there was going to be orientation for the interns before the entrance ceremony for the first years. Apparently, the Headmage was going to go around campus leading them around like a mother hen with her chicks. Ha!

Aside from the goings on with the interns and the regular work delivered by the rest of the staff, Key found that her focus was mostly on the project that had taken up her and the rest of the maintenance team’s spare time. Finally, after a month of work that involved a lot of elbow grease and magic, the dilapidated dorm situated on the main campus grounds was fixed and ready for habitation! While the grass and gate still needed some work, both the inside and the outside of the dorm did not look so ramshackle and disgusting as it did before.

True, the furniture and the décor had remained largely unchanged, but all the dust and cobwebs had been done away with. All that had been rotting had been replaced with new wood, the holes had been patched, and the wiring and circuitry had been redone. Just that morning, Key and Emilio had checked on the dorm to see if all the lights were working and if there were any other tasks that had yet to be taken care of.

All in all, it seemed that the entire team had transformed the lowly property into a building that appeared worthy of Night Raven College’s fame and prestige. All the dorm needed now was a student to maintain the upkeep…

“Querida, I don’t see how anyone is going to live here.” Emilio turned off the last of the lights as he nodded at one of the ghosts who were seeing them out. On this morning right before the entrance ceremony, Emilio had taken Key aside so that they could sweep and dust down the entire building. Despite the both of them being magicless, they managed to get the job done in under an hour.

It seemed that the ghosts had kept their word to Key: they had taken some measures to make sure that the building hadn’t become too dusty or neglected in the custodians’ absence. While spending too much effort could severely impact their ghostly nature, all three of them admitted to dividing the housework. It was just the basics like sweeping and dusting, but it felt like the chores were more than halved with the help from the ghosts. All Emilio and Key did was test out if everything worked and retouch areas of the house that the ghosts didn’t have the energy to clean.

Key shrugged, but sent an appreciative smile at the abandoned dorm. “You never know, Mr. Emilio! With the way it’s been shaping up, I think the new school year will hold a lot of surprises and maybe one of them includes this little dorm!”

The older custodian shook his head, a rueful but fond smile fighting to emerge on his tanned features. “This is your first year here. Where’d you get the idea that there’ll be surprises? I think that getting permission to clean up this dump is a miracle already. What more do you think will happen?”

She thought for a moment, her gaze catching on the wrought iron gate as they prepared to leave the grounds. “Well, I’m here. Isn’t that a good omen?” There had to be a reason why she was here, but if she was being realistic, it was because the bird-brained mage made a mistake while reciting whatever incantation was in his head that fateful day. Wrong place, wrong time, and probably, wrong person.

Key had thought that she sounded casual—nothing out of the normal—but Emilio must have heard something. No sooner had she asked that question—inobtrusive and soft enough to be disregarded—did she feel one of his large hands settle on top of her hair. So surprised she was at the sudden gesture, she froze. The familiarity of it—that warmth and the slight tugging of his nails against the sensitive skin of her scalp—was shocking in the end of summer air.

It wasn’t the first time Emilio had expressed physical affection towards her. In fact, she had come to expect his closeness be it through physical contact or the silly nicknames he gave her. Maybe it was something about the situation itself that caused such a reaction in her? And, if that was the case, what was the catalyst?

The larger man, either oblivious to her inner conflicts or wise enough to allow her space to think, patted her head three more times as if to reassure her before slowly withdrawing. However, that same hand migrated down the smooth slope of her shoulder.

“Of course! How could I forget that little birds such as yourself are considered good luck!” He chuckled when he saw that Key’s troubled expression had scrunched up in favor of pure, unadulterated aggravation. “And speaking of little birds… Don’t go flying too far tonight, okay? In case Al doesn’t catch you, we need to be present at the Mirror Chamber to clean and lock up after the first years’ initiation… So meet us at the dorm approximately an hour or so before we end up going to the Mirror Chamber.”

“…ah. Is this what you guys have been whispering about these past days? Why keep it a secret?” Truly, sometimes Key couldn’t understand her fellow custodians. “I know you guys are going to be hosting a little get together as a last day of ‘freedom’ before the work starts piling up.”

Honestly, Key had a great sense of hearing, all things considering. She may not have the strong sense of hearing that could rival Horace or Zaria, but among humans? She had a big advantage.

So, it didn’t come so much as a surprise when she heard a few of the custodians gathered together one day, huddled as if they were penguins seeking warmth. Apparently, it was a yearly thing: the last night celebration before the first day of school. In fact, Key was also aware that other departments did almost the same thing. The educational staff, for one, were performing group exercises to get the team back into the thick of things while simultaneously welcoming the interns.

What came as a dull shock to Key was that Emilio seemed surprised one second and full of mischief the next.

“Ay!” He laughed a little to himself. “Exactamente! Pretend that you’re surprised when you come, okay? We worked really hard to prepare since you’re the only new face this time around.”

“Hmm…” Something felt off about Emilio at that moment, but the young custodian chose not to comment on it. The bluster seemed performative, but… “Okay then! But you shouldn’t take credit for Miss Dolly’s and Mr. Alastor’s contributions, Mr. Emilio!”

“Birdie!” He clutched his chest. “The slander!”

After parting ways with her senior, Key meandered towards the town below the mountain. Unlike some of her precious excursions, she opted to take the long way down instead of using one of the mirrors available. It would take a long time, averaging around thirty minutes to at least an hour depending on how fast she went, but Key needed to expel the nervous energy that had been building up for the past few days.

A part of her dreaded the start of the new school year while another part rejoiced at the new changes. The dread came from the fact that she would be expected to accommodate a lot of responsibilities under her belt: making sure that all of the Housewardens were up to date on school events (Mr. Draconia had yet to be contacted so Key had to make do with the Vice Housewarden’s email); organize the old crow’s files whenever he called for her (alongside whatever other tasks he wanted her to complete at his whim); and since there was the influx of new students, it was to be expected that quite a few of them were scholarship students who had to work to earn their keep, so training and supervision was a high possibility.

Thankfully, Key kept her graveyard shift and she didn’t expect the Headmage to keep her too busy during the day (in fact, she was under the impression that he wouldn’t request her assistance all too often).

However, most of the negativity stemmed from the fact that she had yet to receive any news about her eventual return home.

Even when Key broached the topic, the Headmage merely espoused that magic of this nature was intricate and could take extended periods of time in which research was paramount. (If that was the case, Key had to wonder then why did he have to mess with such magic in the first place?) And then, the Headmage had congratulated her on a job well done, citing that a few of the Housewardens thought that a new face like hers would be a welcome addition that would keep them all on track. (How much of his claim was true, Key couldn’t discern). The only evidence that confirmed Key had done her job well was that she had received an email from Asim—a welcoming affair that was littered with a plethora of exclamation marks and emojis—and a few more formal thank you’s from Rosehearts, Ashengrotto, and Schoenheit. At the very least, Key thought, she hadn’t got the sense that she had done anything wrong. Yet.

(She would have to work on projecting her voice and being more assertive, as per Schoenheit’s advice, but those were minor details. Key was thankful for the tips at any rate, it would help in the future).

But what really worried Key was that the Headmage had yet to confirm if the cat beast would be allowed to attend the entrance ceremony. Despite her attempts to talk about the matter, the old crow had either deflected or steered her away from the conversation entirely. How he managed to continue evading, the young custodian was not sure, but she assessed it was because he refused to speak in plain, simple terms. His overly verbose manner of speech obfuscated his true intent at best and completely flummoxed her at worst.

Was that a characteristic of the fae? Or had Key managed to end up with one who was this difficult on principle?

Whatever the case, Key knew that she had to break the news to the furball soon. Although, she had the feeling that even if she did so, he would find some way to sneak inside. After all, he still managed to find himself on Night Raven College grounds despite the fact that he had been kicked out. Repeatedly.

(There was also the matter concerning the proposal from Dr. Park, but she didn’t want to think about that too hard). 

That’s why Key had decided to visit the town. Not only did she want to get away from the hustle and bustle of the preparations, but also because she knew that the cat beast had a high chance of seeking her out. For some odd reason, he liked to tail her…

The town did not seem to share the same frantic energy that Key had observed at the college. Back on the campus grounds, Key had to quickly learn that she had to escape or risk being ran underfoot. The kitchen ghosts were preparing for the first full week of meals and everyone else was gearing up for the upcoming school year. Yes, the town was probably aware that the students were arriving, but it was relatively calm in comparison. Hmmm… Key wondered if Royal Sword Academy was also celebrating the end of summer…

Without any furry presences in sight, Key decided to avoid the main town altogether and head for the children’s playground. It took an extra five minutes, but to Key, it was well worth it. The playground was mostly bereft of both parents and children, but there were a few patrons milling about the main part of the playground.

Familiarity overtook Key as she took a seat upon one of the swings. While the bright red and yellow of the playground set was dissimilar to the color scheme of green and brown from her childhood, the jungle gym, swing set, and sandbox reminded her of simpler times. While climbing trees would always hold a special place in her heart, she couldn’t deny that she had just as many delightful memories connected to playgrounds like this.

Hadn’t someone pushed her on the swings?

Raced her to the slides?

Yelled at her from the ground whenever she hung from the monkey bars?

It didn’t take long for Key to start swinging. As the wind ran through her hair, the ground fell away as she rose higher and higher, closer to the clouds. Higher and higher she rose, reaching the apex of her arc. At that point, there were only two options: either she continued swinging at this height until she tired or… she could just…

Oh, why not?

Without preamble, Key pumped her legs one last time. Within moments, she reached the apex of her arc and then, she leaped off the swing. For a few delightful nanoseconds, she soared through the air. However, as much as she would like to lose herself in the sensation of falling through the air, she had to quickly calculate just how hard she was going to hit the ground and how to best absorb the shock from impact. Thankfully, the ground was covered in softened earth to help ease her fall, which meant that there wasn’t too much pain racing up and down the balls of her feet and legs.

There was pain, yes, but Key immediately started walking it off.

And that’s when she noticed that she had an audience.

There was a circle of trees surrounding the playground, likely planted to provide shade to the adults or children. Beneath the trees, there were picnic tables to seat the aforementioned adults and children, but that’s not what caught Key’s eye. Rather, it was the stranger who sat beneath the inviting shade.

Lounging on top of the table, his legs daintily crossed at his ankles, was a young man who looked just about the same age as one of the typical Night Raven College students. His hair was naturally raven black, but there were streaks of hot pink that glowed brightly in all their unholy neon glory. He wore what appeared to be a rock band t-shirt and artfully ripped jeans. If Key studied his nails, she could see that the colors alternated between hot pink and black.

And, most importantly, his ears were pointed rather than rounded like a normal human’s ears.

Noticing that Key was giving him her full, undivided attention, the young man waved at her, his freshly polished nails wiggling with unrestrained delight. “A good show! Back in my day, I would have dared to go higher, but alas, my joints would no longer be able to withstand the force of impact.”

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Key decided to entertain him. It was still broad daylight, with both parents and small children playing nearby, so she should be fine. Still, she made sure not to step too close after trotting away from the swings.

“Thank you, I don’t normally come by often to the town, but when I do, I like to do unusual things to pass the time.” Key awkwardly chuckled to herself as she scratched the back of her neck. Although the bruise on her forehead had long since faded, the memories of the boardwalk were still crystal clear in her memory. (Or whatever bits she remembered most in between blacking out remained clear). “And you? You don’t like to jump off the swings?”

Her awkward nature gave way for the curiosity that had been brimming towards the surface ever since she took note of the stranger’s presence. At her question, the young man grinned—a rather peculiar one at that—which revealed two cute little fangs that jutted out of his mouth.

“A rebellious adventurer,” he crowed in delight. “It appears that we have that in common, at least. I am getting a little too old for that, unfortunately, but it’s good to know that the youth of today never changes from when I used to be quite the spitfire. Jumping off swings is outside of my wheelhouse. I much prefer flying.”

Ah, Key could feel herself deflate at that. It was more than obvious that since he was one of the fair folk that he would have magic, but still. How could jumping off a swing set ever hope to measure up against the act of flying? She hadn’t entered the conversation with the intention of… well, she wouldn’t call it bragging or showing off, but jumping was clearly a paltry affair compared to the hijinks that he must get up to as a mage.

If he were a child, maybe she would have gotten away with her mediocrity, but he was older than an easily impressed toddler. Much older.

And speaking of the young man being much older, why did he speak as if he were a middle-aged man lamenting his glory days? Was he playing a bit? Then again, Key had to consider that from what little information she could gather from the library about the fae, it seemed that many of their kind aged at different rates, but most would agree that their lifespans superseded that of the other races in Twisted Wonderland. For all she knew, the man was old enough to be her great-great-great-great-great grandfather!

“Is everything all right, my dear?”

Just as Key was about to reassure the stranger that her head was up in the clouds, she realized that he was no longer seated atop the picnic table. No! Instead, Key found herself eye to eye with the stranger while he floated upside down in front of her.

What was most interesting about the stranger—other than the sudden close proximity—was that his eyes were a deep red. Ruby? No, that was a bit too deep now that Key was looking at the intensity of the hue. Perhaps magenta? It was a nice color to compliment the hot pink streaks in his hair… Had he willingly chosen to dye his hair to compliment his eyes?

“My dear?” His tone of voice may have been defined as concerned, though the impish lilt to his lips and the mischief in his eyes was more than enough evidence that he found the situation amusing. Had he done this to startle her out of her contemplation? Well, he had done a good job at it!

A fae! And he was flying!

“Floating is a better way to describe it, but I have flown in the past.”

Shoot, had she said that out loud? Quick, divert the topic!

“That’s so cool! Can all fae do that?” Key practically bounded on the balls of her feet, looking more and more like a child opening up presents on Christmas Day. (Did Christmas even exist in this universe?)

Seemingly taken aback by the interest, the young man blinked owlishly down at her before he chuckled, the tone of which was low and soothing. It was very… warm. Comfortable. Maybe even fatherly? It was such a stark contrast to how Key had initially perceived him that she was almost shocked out of her curiosity.

The fae lazily righted himself, but still remained a foot off the ground. Even when Key was surrounded by the wonders of the magical world, the young custodian couldn’t help but be in awe of such mundane magnificence. Sometimes, it shocked her that there were people in this world—some of whom she knew personally—who could take all of this for granted or not even bat an eye at all that Twisted Wonderland had to offer.

There was an interested glint in the fae’s magenta eyes as he said, “You’re very inquisitive, maybe a little sheltered?” Key only smiled brightly, not willing to open up that can of worms for a stranger. “Unfortunately, not a lot of fae can float like this—there are many subtypes with their own specialties—but flying can be taught. In fact, I am a student of Night Raven College.”

And that was the information Key had been waiting for. She had an inkling that he must have been a student of either school on the island because she would have recognized him had he been one of the townsfolk—he stood out from a population that mostly boasted humans and a handful of beastfolk.

“You are?” Key studied the young man closer, as if trying to commit all of his visible characteristics to memory. “Which year? Dorm?” An afterthought. “Oh, and name as well?”

This time, when the young man laughed, Key didn’t feel awkward hearing that joyous sound. It was almost as if he found her funny. Endearing, even.

“You are also quite lively!” He slowly floated down until the soles of his boots kissed the ground. Much to Key’s dismay, the young man still had at least two or so inches on her. At the very least, he wasn’t towering over her like the majority of students she happened to meet.

He bowed low at the waist, his right hand pressed against his heart as he continued to peer up at Key. Throughout it all there was an air of mischief, but when he spoke, there was a certain gravitas that Key found herself humbled by.

“Lilia Vanrouge. At your service.”

Eyes wide, Key’s mouth gasped open. This was the student whom she had contacted after her failure to reach the Diasomnia Housewarden? This was the Vice Housewarden? Now she knew how the dorm leaders must have felt when she revealed that she was a member of the staff.

One could only hope that she hadn’t made a hilarious face like the expression Ashengrotto had made after that announcement. Cam had gotten a kick out of it when she had emailed him just a day or so ago. He had lamented that Key couldn’t obtain photographic evidence. He still thanked her for the update, though, and had given her a few anecdotes regarding his hometown and his family and friends.

“M-Mr. Vanrouge!” Key did an awkward half bow-half curtsy before blurting out, “You can call me Key! Erm… from the emails if you remember…?”

Gah, she hoped that he would recognize her from that information alone. At this point, she was still reeling from the sudden reveal that if she were to attempt to explain herself further, she would no doubt trip over her words and make an even bigger fool of herself.

“Key,” he breathed out in wonder. His eyes widened before he granted her a warm smile, all traces of mischief now gone. His expressions had been very telling up until that point, but it was this one that felt the most genuine. “Oh my, you’re the adamant one who’s been wanting to meet Malleus!”

Key nodded in affirmation, her heart at ease now that she didn’t have to explain in detail how she knew him. From his emails—a short paragraph that thanked her for her consideration—he seemed rather courteous and polite. She hadn’t expected him to be somewhat of a lackadaisical jokester, but Key could appreciate that appearances weren’t everything, especially with first impressions.

“That’s me! Do you know when I can meet him? Technically, I don’t need to since you already disseminated the meeting information, but it would be nice to meet with all the Housewardens face to face at least once before the next meeting.”

If Vanrouge hadn’t already landed, he would have surely fallen to the ground. At least, that’s what Key inferred if the way his eyes widened and a low exhalation of breath—a gasp?—meant anything.

“You’re… you’re excited to meet Malleus?” His eyes seemed dark, a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and hope swirling in his strangely colored irises. The emotions that Key had deciphered were strange, but they all disappeared only to be replaced with an elation that nearly kicked Key off her feet.

When was the last time someone looked at Key like that?

But, back to the point: shouldn’t Key be excited to meet the Diasomnia Housewarden? Despite the fact that Key was pretty formal with all of the Housewardens during the meeting, she did truly enjoy getting to know each of them. They were all people with their own hopes and dreams, aspirations and ideals…

Sometimes, their biases and stances were opposed to one another’s. The results ranged from the passive aggressive to the most explosive tempers flaring and raring for a fight. Key was no scientist, but it was like mixing the most volatile chemicals together… Some of the chemicals nullified each other, while some chemical reactions endeavored to create the most toxic and explosive results.

Just how would two royals react to being in the same room?

Was there an undercurrent of respect amongst all of them because they were all Housewardens?

How did the differences in social status dictate how they treated each other? Or did it not matter when it was clear that they all had proficiency in magic and in managing their students?

Key didn’t know all the social dynamics yet, but she hoped that as the year continued, she’d get to know them better.

What she did know, however, was that when she finally brought up the topic of contacting Malleus Draconia, they had all deflected blame. Oh, he was not as approachable as other Housewardens. Oh, he would get the information eventually, no need to worry! Oh, they did this every year so it’s not like he was missing out on any important information!

And on and on like that.

Just how was she supposed to tell the Diasomnia Housewarden about future meetings and events if she couldn’t even contact him? Why did it seem as if everyone was avoiding him? Based on the remarks given on his student profile, it seemed like he was an exemplary student. Out of everyone else in that room, he alone excelled in all subjects, and was cited as a prime role model for Night Raven College students.

There was only the matter of attendance, but that was only a small slight that did little to mar the image of the Crown Prince of Briar Valley.

Key found herself nodding, still somewhat taken aback by Vanrouge’s sudden question. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

The fae merely looked at her with that same impish grin of his that revealed the points of his canines.

“Wait, should I be excited?” Key frowned as she tried to decipher why he was looking at her as if she had unknowingly stepped into a trap. Although, she detected no malice in his mischievous gaze, so it was less of a trap and more like she had jumped head first into a prank intended for her. “Am I missing something?”

Just who was the Diasomnia Housewarden to elicit such evasive reactions from the rest of the Housewardens?

Vanrouge chuckled before falling backwards into a seamless transition that had him floating on his back. It was such a whimsical move that it startled Key out of her concern and entertained her.

“I wouldn’t say that you’re missing anything, only that I think that you will be surprised by your first meeting.” The fae floated closer until he was within distance to tap her on the nose. “Be nice, he can be a bit sensitive.”

Was that a warning?

“Riiight.”

“Please, be gentle with him. It’s not often that dear Malleus has the opportunity to make friends.”

“E-excuse me?”

“You’ll see. Come now, tell me about yourself.”

For the rest of the day, Key found herself hanging onto every word that the fae had to say. Despite his young physique, the low timbre of his voice and the apparel he donned, Key found that he had the wisdom and experience of someone who would look decades older. From the words he spoke to his personal views on life, Key got the distinct feeling that he had lived several lifetimes before Key had breathed her first breath.

Vanrouge spoke with authority, like a teacher, as he recounted tales of adventuring across many different lands. At length, he spoke of how the different cultures spoke to him, of how people differed in their cultural beliefs.

At the mention of new lands, Key had reached into her backpack and pulled out her treasury of fairy tales. Although she had read most of the stories at that point and had started annotating on scraps of sticky notes, the book still looked rather new. At her prodding, the fae had taken it upon himself to look through the book. From his perusal, he revealed that most of the book’s contents were actually well researched and the translations, while not perfect, still conveyed the intent that was present in the original.

There were times when he would talk at length about certain lands that he visited, but then he would pause for a moment, before saying something else. It was like he was telling her as much as he could, but holding back on certain details. Key wasn’t a stranger to censorship—she was an active player in that regarding her own background—so she instantly knew that he was hiding things from her or omitting vital details. She didn’t say anything though: it wasn’t her place anyway.

“Like this one,” Vanrouge pointed out with a well-manicured finger. “The story of the girl who disguised herself to save her father from the horrors of war.” A laugh. “I always found this story to be almost too sentimental, but I know someone who looks up to this heroine. He finds the love she has for her father and the lengths that she would go for him to be noble.”

“And you don’t?”

The fae startled at that question, his eyes flashing with something unknown. When Key realized that he had yet to speak, she began to apologize, mistaking his silence for anger. Fortunately, it seemed like the fae simply needed a moment to collect his thoughts because he raised a placating hand to halt her apology before it could escape the confines of her throat.

“Don’t fret, Miss Key!” The laughter in his voice was emphasized with the way he rested his chin on the fleshy portion of his palm, a cherubic smile upon his features. “I believe that the young woman as mentioned in the story is noble, yes. Yet, I also believe that the father—old and ailing—may have felt…” He canted his head to the side, his gaze looking past Key and up into the air, his mind a million miles away. “Maybe embarrassed? But perhaps that may not be the right word… How should I say this… The father… The father would not want to burden his child with his shortcomings…”

Throughout Vanrouge’s speech, Key listened. Perhaps it was because it was getting a little later in the day and Key was beginning to tire—she hoped that she could get in a short nap before the custodian’s party—but with the way he spoke, it was almost as if he experienced things she could not even fathom. Or it was as if he had a personal stake in the matter. It would make no sense if Vanrouge was any other person, but…

He was a fae.

How many years lay behind the mask of youth?

But Key had only met the mysterious fae that day. As much as she would like to think she could speak at length on this situation, she couldn’t. She didn’t know him outside of the context that he was a fae of unknown age and maturity attending Night Raven College. He was learned and well spoken, with a sort of wisdom that must have come from the many adventures he had described.

But the young custodian had one thing to say… at least just so she could be at ease.

“I think that given the context of the story, I bet that’s why the young woman disguised herself. Not solely as a sacrifice or just to be seen as a pillar of nobility, but because she truly loved her father. Children, one day, will have to take care of their parents when they get older. It’s not an ideal situation—” The burden of responsibility, the loss of autonomy… “—but it’s all out of love. There is no shame in the father no longer being able enough to take care of his daughter.”

A beat of silence wherein both human and fae only shared a glance that seemed almost too long.

And then startled laughter. Loud and boisterous, at odds with how… soft he had seemed over the course of the conversation, his laughter ringing throughout the playground. From the jungle gym to the sandbox, a few children swiveled their heads in the direction of the fae’s laughter.

“My, the youth can be so surprising! Yes,” he nodded to himself, lost in thought, “you are quite fascinating. Malleus will enjoy your insight.”

As much as Key would like to question him more on what he meant by that, Key realized that the sun was no longer as high up in the sky as it had been earlier, and that most of the children had gone. A quick glance at her pocket watch revealed that it was half past four. If she hurried now, she could squeeze in an hour’s worth of a nap before the festivities.

To Vanrouge’s amusement, Key fumbled while shoving her pocket watch back into her pocket. She thought about playing off the bout of clumsiness, but decided to forgo that thought.

“I hate to say this, but it’s getting late… Would you like to come back to NRC with me?”

He smiled at her invitation, but declined in the end. “The start of a new year is always a busy affair, so I find it best that I get as much rest as possible before the excitement catches up to me. These old bones of mine are no longer as spry as they once were!”

“Well, you’re looking pretty good for a geriatric.”

Chapter Text

Key awoke to the sound of knocking upon her bedroom door. Groggily, she shifted on her rumpled bedsheets, the feeling of Sandman’s dust coating the corners of her eyes as she tried to grasp her bearings. Fortunately for Key, her fatigue was instantly replaced with recognition and a sense of urgency. And then, excitement. As the knocking continued, the young custodian smoothed her clothing and ran a comb through her hair.

As she tamed her locks, she noticed something that should have been obvious awhile ago: it had been some time since her last haircut. 

Months had passed since her impromptu arrival into Twisted Wonderland and thus, the long strands of her hair had begun to brush past the sides of her ribs and become just as unruly as their master. A mess that could easily be taken care of with some extra care and more time. Unfortunately, the most that she could currently do was grab one of Zaria’s spare elastics to try and tame the little nest that had begun to sprout uninvited on top of the crown of her head.

The knocking persisted.

“Coming! I’m coming!” Satisfied that her appearance was passable, Key slipped on her work boots and ran towards the door, fully intent on showing the person on the other side that she hadn’t died. 

Yet.

To her bemusement, the man who stood on the other side of the door, fist raised mid-knock, was none other than Alastair. The middle-aged man was dressed in the customary custodial uniform, which was not surprising, but it looked fresh. There were creases from where he had folded it, his hair was freshly combed, and even the scruff on his neck had been shaved. To say that Key was taken aback by how well kempt he appeared was an understatement.

She had never seen him so well put together.

Was the entrance ceremony really that important to everyone? Or had she caught Alastair on a good day?

Alastair’s mustache rose with a smile that lit up his entire visage. “Ah, did the princess get her beauty sleep? Looks like you’re hiding eggs in that nest of yours!”

Mortified, Key’s hands patted her head, checking if her hair had bunched up weirdly or if there were any loose strands standing up despite having been smoothed down into her high ponytail. Finding nothing amiss, Key turned to find that her senior coworker was looking down at her with the same sort of mischief that she would expect to find from the likes of Emilio. Or Cam.

“Seriously?” She blew out a ton of air from her mouth, the gust of wind she was generating creating a sound not unlike that of a raspberry. If the wince on Alastair’s face was any indication, then it was just as annoying. “A nest? Eggs?”

Alastair shrugged as he led her down to the dining room table, his hand warm upon the apex of her shoulder. “Emilio can be a terrible influence. Like a contagious disease.”

Key sighed again, less out of annoyance and more because she felt the need to express what she thought of Alastair being weak to Emilio’s jocular nature. “As long as you don’t call me Little Bird, Birdie, or any other variation, then I guess I’ll let you live.”

“Ha! Joke’s on you: my time is nearly up! Killing me would be a mercy!”

“Who’s killing who?” Zahur glanced up from his phone, his eyes furrowed in faux concern as he glanced up at the arrivals. “If it’s about the potions incident this morning, Ria took care of it.”

“Mm-hmm… which means you’re paying for the next date, right?” The snow leopard beastman emerged from the kitchen, her muscled arms filled with an assortment of plates and silverware. “Don’t worry, solnyshko—” Zaria nodded at Key. “—you’re still tired, right? And besides, it’s your first time here, you should be relaxing.” Her verdant green gaze pierced Zahur who was trying to hide his face behind his phone. As expected, he failed. “The boys, on the other hand…”

Alastair, knowing what it was like to get on Zaria’s bad side, edged towards the kitchen. “Say no more, Smirnova, I’ll help Ol’ Harper with the rest.”

“Good to know that someone knows how to get work done around here…”

Zaria’s piercing gaze met Zahur’s eyes, which resulted in the most intense staring contest that Key had ever seen in her life. In fact, the tense silence had gone on a lot longer than what the young custodian was comfortable with, to the point that she had thought about leaving to either hide in the lounge or head into the kitchen. Fortunately for everyone, Zahur finally ceded defeat.

With a sort of grace that Key usually saw from Dolly or Lady Fairchild, the Scalding Sands native rose from his seat and began placing all of the plates and silverware in their appropriate places. As Zahur pushed past Zaria, he quickly planted an obnoxiously loud kiss on one of Zaria’s tanned cheeks.

“There’s a child present,” Key grumbled as she fiddled with the rim of her empty glass.

“It’s a wonder then that the old crow hasn’t been brought to court for child labor.” Zahur waggled a finger at her. “If at any point you feel like you’re being taken advantage of—”

Key shoved the finger away from her face. “That’s me every day.”

“Then you can tell Mama Ria all about it.”

The snow leopard beastman snorted as she fell into one of the chairs, her head lolling backwards to rest on the backrest. Yawning, she grumbled, “Mama Ria is tired, plus ptichka already has a guardian, no?”

To solidify her point, Zaria shot Key a pointed glance. Although one of the more serious custodians compared to Zahur and Emilio, she could be quite the menace when she wanted to be. In response to the reference of the classic “Crowley-is-Key’s-father” joke, the young custodian rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh at Zaria’s gasp of mock scandalized outrage.

The rest of the night pretty much passed in the usual fashion as most dinners in the janitorial dormitories. During this time, as everyone dug into their first official dinner back at NRC (except for Key for obvious reasons), Key was finally formally introduced to the returning members of the custodial crew. It was here that Key met a merman who hailed from the ocean near the Land of the Red Dragon, a few more humans, and a handful of beastmen. With the advent of the new school year, the maintenance crew evolved from a barebones skeleton crew to a team of at least two dozen or so members strong.

Most of them welcomed Key cordially. While not as warm as the custodians that Key had already formed a bond with, she was still glad to have met them. Now that the entire campus was open and all dormitories were expected to be close to capacity, it was a relief to know that the maintenance team could easily handle all of the tasks necessary to keep the school clean and maintained.

The new arrivals were also informed about Key’s history and the limitations that she was facing. They were curious and had peppered Key with questions throughout the meal. Most of the questions were inobtrusive, surface level. The sort of questions that one would expect from acquaintances trying to get to know each other a little bit more. Though sometimes, there was an air of awkwardness as Key tried to scramble for the bits and pieces that would sound plausible and remain true to her while also sticking to the script that she had made for herself.

If any of the returning custodians found her answers vague in nature or outright deflective, they didn’t express it outwardly. Instead, they took what had been offered and gradually, the topic of conversation meandered to the new school year and what they had done over the summer. As Key finally relaxed into her chair, she realized that her posture had been rigid and unyielding throughout the superficial friendliness. Glancing around the room, she couldn’t help but note that everyone seemed to move on without her.

Everyone had their assigned places, they knew their roles well.

Emilio and a few other boisterous custodians took charge of the main conversation. Their laughter was infectious, their cheer easily enabling the rest of those gathered to drink heavily from their cups, the amber liquid of low quality beer glistening underneath the warm lighting.

There were others, of course. 

Many of those who were not quite as outgoing as Emilio and those like him had decided to splinter off into their own little groups. As Key fiddled with the edges of her placemat—the only thing present at her seat other than a glass filled with ice cubes and water—she could hear the low murmur of Zaria discussing politics pertaining to some of the new policies that were instated in some of the rural regions of Pyroxene. Across from Key, Zahur was busy mumbling jokes to a kind older gentleman, the topics of which ranged from the obscene to the laziest of puns. And on and on it went.

Most everyone Key had managed to forge connections with were busy recounting stories with their old coworkers. How long did it take for them to know that they would be on good terms? That they could trust each other to do the work that they had been tasked with? All the time that Key spent with Alastair, Horace, Zaria, Zahur, Emilio, and Dolly…

How long did she have until she was replaced and thrown to the wayside?

She had seen children throw away toys after the novelty had worn off. Now that the reinforcements had arrived—those who had histories with the rest of the staff, who were able to hold onto and nourish relationships, who had years of experience underneath their belts—she felt inadequate. Here, seated at the table, with a doily that had been crocheted and embroidered by skilled hands from Harveston to serve as her placemat and some water, she stood out from everyone. She was an anomaly, a mistake. A spare cog in the machine that would sooner gum up the works than offer useful assistance.

Forks and knives scraped against salvaged porcelain plates while the dull, rounded edges of spoons clanged against the rims of bowls. Questions of “ Can you pass the salt? ” or “ Did you like the fish? I’m not a seafood person, but… ” rang through Key’s ears, the cacophony of easy camaraderie resounding, ricocheting, and buffeting against the many fears that had been building up in Key’s head for the past few days. The dull roar of her blood rushing through her ears was backed by the steady drumbeat of her heart. Her fingers continued to wring at the placemat, stray threads hanging loosely from the worn fabric.

It was all too much.

Too much.

All of a sudden, Key felt a warm hand settle on her wrist. Blinking, Key followed the hand that held her tight to find that it was Dolly. The kind woman canted her head to the side, her features concerned. With slow, unhurried movements, she signed “ Are you okay? ”

Key mumbled, “’m fine.”

Her fingers no longer sought to tug at the doily, but now… Now Key didn’t know what to do with herself. All she could do now was breathe calmly. Deeply.

From across the table, she saw that Zaria’s ears were pricked and that every once in a while, the snow leopard beastman’s eyes would furtively flicker towards her. Her conversation partner did not seem to notice, but near the head of the table, Key could hear the telltale whisper of Horace chatting to Alastair and—

How many of them noticed?

A deep sense of shame filled Key’s entire being, which only grew even more all consuming when she realized something else. 

A few other beastmen had joined the staff, all of them with features that would aid in their auditory senses, which meant that they could hear Key barely gasping for air, her attempts at pretending to be okay falling short of expectation. God, she knew that she wasn’t the most put together person, but did she have to play the fool? Now… of all days…

And they would still have to clean up the Mirror Chamber once their festivities were over…

A tap on Key’s shoulder.

Key glanced up to find that Dolly was motioning towards the kitchen. There was understanding in her eyes—a promise that Key did not have to explain herself. In the kitchen, far from prying eyes and sensitive ears, Key could gather herself together.

“Eyo~! Where ya guys goin’!?” Emilio, for all of his promises to not party too hard before the first full day of school, was slurring his words like he was swilling his liquor.

Rapid fire, Dolly signed that she and Key were going to check on the cheesecakes and cookies. From the way everyone cheered and began to clear out their plates, it seemed that everyone was eager for dessert. How Emilio managed to understand Dolly’s fluent signing, Key didn’t know. He did, however, sign back with a careless “ Thank you ”, which could have easily been mistaken for derogatory language.

Together, Key and Dolly trailed towards the kitchen area. Once out of everyone’s vision, Dolly did… something. The change was subtle if you weren’t on the look out for it, but Key was ready. The magic that Dolly expelled gave off a slight heat, as if Key was walking by a working stove, before dissipating into normal room temperature. Once the magic settled, Key found that her ears did not detect any of the carousing or clanking of silverware.

For the first time that night, Key did not feel like she was suffocating.

Nearby, Dolly hopped over to the refrigerator, a spring in her step as she withdrew a pitcher of water. A quick snap of her dainty little fingers and an old, absurd novelty mug from the Queendom of Roses danced over from the overhanging cabinets and into Dolly’s awaiting hand. A generous stream of water flowed without interruption into the mug.

The comfortable silence that Key welcomed was broken when Dolly pressed the mug into Key’s hands. It was cold, as was expected from water that had been kept chilled, but the feeling of something solid and with a temperature that was startlingly different from her immediate surroundings shocked Key back into the present. The grounding technique was effective, but the calming effect that Dolly intended backfired.

“Oh, I still have water on the table,” Key exclaimed. She tried to refuse the mug, but Dolly skipped out of the way. The look on Dolly’s face was teasing but firm as she gestured for her junior to take a sip or at the very least, hold onto the offering. “Oh, okay…”

Not wanting to waste perfectly good water, Key began to drink. As expected, the chilled water slid down her throat with little difficulty. Surprisingly, she found that she needed this drink. Over the course of the meal, Key had not touched her glass. Why, she hadn’t had nary a sip since her excursion down the mountain early that morning! What started out as small polite sips to placate Dolly became a deluge of water to quench her realized thirst.

The moment the last drop had been emptied into Key’s once dry mouth, she placed the mug into the sink. Her face had heated with embarrassment with the realization that she, indeed, needed the beverage and that she must have looked like quite the sight. Like a fish gasping for water.

“Thanks, Miss Dolly.” Key leaned against the kitchen counter, refreshed but exhausted all the same. “I guess I’ve just been stressed. A little.” A pause to reaffirm her confession. “A little bit stressed.”

Dolly signed a query, her youthful features belying concern that would have been more at home on Alastair or Horace’s face. Although her hands looked delicate and tiny, her movements were deft, each twitch of her fingers and flick of the wrist indicative of her graceful personality.

Key averted her gaze at the last possible moment. “I… I just have a lot on my mind.” The young custodian let the hard edge of the counter dig into her back, the discomfort a soothing balm as she thought back to the events of the last three days. From the meeting, to the preparations that superseded all other duties. The summer term had been mostly bereft of the full population, but now that everyone was back… 

Key was overloaded with all of the new faces and names. It was to be expected, but… It was getting to be too much…

And, she had yet to broach certain topics with the Headmage, she had preparations for another Housewarden meeting in a few weeks’ time looming in the distance, and… How could she forget that she had yet to talk to that little furball? Hopefully he wouldn’t do something drastic when he found out that he would be turned away. Past experiences taught Key that while the cat beast was obnoxiously selfish and arrogant—common traits of the average magician if the Headmage was to be believed—he was not intentionally malicious.

In short, she was going to be fine when the ceremony finally ended. Perhaps it was the dinner that got her all out of sorts… It had been a while since she felt the acute gazes of her coworkers during a meal. Some nights, she often rested on the grounds or took a walk into the town below to excuse herself during dinner. To make up for it, Key often helped out with washing the dishes.

A gentle hand waved underneath Key’s nose.

Dolly smiled when she realized that Key was finally focusing on her.

“Ah,” Key coughed into her fist. Part of it was about the mortification that she was so close to revealing what exactly was on her mind. Another part was dreading looking for ways to get her out of this situation. Now that Key had time to herself and the murmur of the party no longer cluttered her headspace... “We came back here for the… the…” A quick check on the counter revealed there was a cooling rack filled with the confections that Dolly and Horace had made earlier. “Yeah, that!”

The young custodian pushed away from the counter and bounced towards the goodies.

Behind Key, the older custodian looked after her, something akin to disappointment clouding her eyes. Carefully, Dolly stepped after Key, her soft slippered feet barely making a sound against the hardwood flooring. A moment of consideration. Her fingers twitched at her sides, the rarely felt urge to speak trying in vain to claw up the sides of her throat. In the end, she silently transferred the freshly baked cookies onto a plate for everyone—minus Key—to enjoy.

The companionate silence had to end when Dolly removed the enchantment she had placed over the kitchen area. All at once, without fanfare, the sound of a motley crew clamoring for more booze and raucous peals of laughter permeated the atmosphere once more. While Key would have loved to spend the rest of the dinner hanging out in the kitchen or her dorm room, she chose to brave the brief walk to the dining room.

Throughout it all, Key was more than aware that Dolly kept sending her sidelong glances, but had ultimately decided to give her space.

Eventually, Key had to put her polite and quietly enthused face back on. Back in the dining room, most of the maintenance team had finally cleaned their plates and were busy trying to see how well they could stack all of the mismatched plates without making them fall. (When Key counted, they were stuck on whether or not plate number twenty-three was at risk for causing the tower to plummet). Everyone’s attention switched towards Key and Dolly when all of the beastmen either heard or smelled the desserts that Dolly and Key ferried over.  

A chorus of thank you’s came from most everyone. Clean plates were placed on the table while many hands made light of the work when it came to serving each other. As Key seated herself once more, her mind counted down the minutes until the dinner would end and everyone else could disperse. God, all she wanted was to feel warm, soapy water and the rough texture of the sponge running over the plates. The repetitive action was mundane, but Key wouldn’t have to stress out so much.

Eventually, the dinner had to end at some point. One of the women, someone who was around Emilio’s age, but slightly taller than the teddy bear of a man, had tried to offer Key a slice of cheesecake. Had Key the capability to eat, she would have gladly taken the opportunity. No hesitation. 

Cheesecake—she could feel the phantom sensations of hollow memories of what the dessert should taste like.

Key had no choice but to decline. It hurt to smile, to pretend that all was right with her, and to cite that she had dietary restrictions. The explanation came easily with practice, but the longing to partake in trivial practices like eating and conversing at the dining table still hurt.

The end to the beginning of the school year could not come fast enough.

Soon, at least half an hour passed and all of the newly arrived custodians began to tire and started returning to their dorm rooms. A small number of them proposed heading down to the town to get even more liquored up. There was only one really good establishment—one that had steep prices, but everyone agreed that the price gouging was worth it for one night. Emilio and Zaria agreed to join the group hellbent on partying until dawn but had told them to go on ahead.

“Gotta get some things taken care of first,” Emilio explained. He had been stacking a number of the dirty dishes upon his thick muscular arms, but with the smile on his face, it was as if he was holding something far lighter. “Don’t let me and Z the First keep ya waitin’.”

As the shuffling of the new arrivals began to soften into the distance, Key headed to the kitchen sink like she normally would. However, just as she was about to step past the threshold, a certain rabbit beastman hopped out and took her by the arm.

“Er—“

“Not to worry, Little Miss! For tonight is ripe for bliss! Your work has never gone without notice, but tonight, someone else will clean every dish!” His gloved hand patted Key on the wrist when he felt her squirm at the prospect of the unknown. 

Key blinked. 

What was happening?

Apprehension gnawed at the lining of her gut, but she obediently followed after the senior custodian. They just had dinner and all of the new arrivals had long since left, but… Were they already cleaning up after the Night Raven College students? Strange, she had thought that the initiation wouldn’t be until a little later.

Surprisingly enough, when they arrived at the lounge area, Key found herself face to face with the summer term skeleton crew. Alastair, gruff as always, stood with his arms at his back, Zaria was seated at the armchair, Zahur was busy grabbing something from a nearby cabinet, Emilio could be heard chuckling from behind Key, and Horace… Horace was ushering her to stand closer to the center of the room. The tension within Key’s gut began to ramp up again, but she forced herself to relax. 

There had to be a good reason why they brought her here, she couldn’t figure out why.

And then—

Before Key could gain the courage to ask, Alastair exclaimed, in a voice that was clearly not in a tone he normally used in everyday life (in fact, the sudden boisterous nature reminded Key of the way Emilio sounded whenever he got hammered). Perhaps Emilio had given pointers to Alastair? Or worse… Maybe this was Alastair’s natural way of being excited? If that was the case, then Key felt fear for whatever was going to happen next. Where was straightlaced Alastair? 

This was uncomfortable.

“Welcome to the maintenance crew, Key! I know it’s a bit late, but well… It’s the start of the new school year and since it doesn’t look like you’ll be leaving any time soon—” Here, Zaria shot up out of her seat to elbow the middle aged man. Alastair, to his credit, wasn’t too phased by the sudden attack, but he still shot her an unamused glare. “What I mean to say is that since the first years are being welcomed, why not do the same for you? Which means…”

At that moment, Zahur approached with a small cardboard box. He must have retrieved the parcel from the cabinet because it was left ajar. The box itself was plain, nondescript. An off-white color. However, there was a black ribbon lined with gold—reminiscent of the students’ uniform and of the main attire for the custodians. Attached to that ribbon was a small, folded paper.

“For you, Little Bird,” Zahur grinned at her as he placed the small box onto her hand. “From us to you.”

Furrowing her brows, Key couldn’t help but jest. There was a knot in her throat and a swell of emotion that threatened to drown out all other emotions. This situation, it felt too real. What were they giving her that it felt so important? Why take her aside just now?

“Oh… ummm…” Key fiddled with the ribbon. It would be easy to untie, she found. Cutting into the fabric would have felt like a waste. “I don’t know what I did to… well, deserve this… This isn’t going to explode in my face, is it?” It took Herculaneum effort to sound nonchalant, amused, but it worked. Or, at least, it seemed like it did. Titters filled the room and Key wasn’t sure if what she felt was success or the realization that she was admitting to accepting this gift.

“Go on,” Horace urged at her side. “No time like the present. Open it.”

Carefully, Key pulled at the ribbon, the elaborate bow falling apart at her ministrations. Silently, she handed the ribbon to the rabbit beastman before opening the lid. Once she had removed the contents from beneath the veritable mountain of paper, she saw that it was a—

“A uniform.” She choked it out with awe, but also with a sinking sense of dread.

Nearby, Emilio lounged as he nursed a bottle of beer. Although his words began to slur just the tiniest bit and his language was just a hair too coarse and carefree, Key chose to believe that he was being genuine. “Sevens, I thought you had us all figured out earlier! Gave me quite the scare, Birdie!” He waggled a finger as if he were telling her off. “And doncha worry about it all fitting, Dolly’s quite literally magic.”

At the mention of her name, Dolly rolled her eyes, but gave Key a thumb’s up. At the urging, Key delved into the box.

The first item that Key took out was a white polo shirt. Although seemingly plain, the fabric was durable and thick, possibly resistant to most stains of the magical variety. The crest for Night Raven College was embroidered into the left side of the breast pocket. Next, a pair of plain black pants with crisp creases to indicate that it had been pressed beforehand. Further inspection of the items revealed that, yes, if she were to ever wear them, the clothes would actually fit.

The clothes would actually fit.

The clothing that she currently wore—a baggy shirt that proudly advertised itself as NRC merch and an abandoned pair of shorts that were a size or so bigger than her—ironically choked her. This was… This was the first time in a long time she would actually wear attire that was not only picked out for her, but would fit her. Perfectly. No need for secondhand belts or folding down hems to avoid tripping over herself. 

Of course, it was just a uniform, but still.

Her voice cracked, but she pushed herself to speak, “This is for me? My very own uniform?”

“’Course, Key!” The head custodian clapped a paternal hand on her shoulder, which nearly knocked her to the ground. In a rather pleasant turn of events, Alastair made sure that she hadn’t toppled over. “You’re officially part of the crew and that means you need to have the clothes to represent that. And, don’t worry, Dolly left five extra spares in your dorm room! It’s not just one uniform, you’ve got several!”

A feeling of something settling—burrowing—deep into her gut caused a tingle of dread to travel up and down her spine. Before she could push that sensation down so that she could study it under a microscope later, Zaria piped up in that firm, but heartening way of hers.

“There are also two other things in there.”

Were there? Curiosity piqued, but with that feeling of choking still wrapping tightly around her throat, Key dug around the flimsy wrapping paper. It took a few seconds—long and drawn out—but, when Key thought that Zaria might have pulled a fast one on her (a rare occurrence, but it did happen), she finally saw it.

There, at the very bottom of the cardboard box, hidden by a stray piece of paper, were two rectangular objects that lay flat and shone in the light. The first object that Key pulled out was a golden name tag that bore the name she had chosen for herself and the first initial of the Headmage’s last name. The name tag, when worn, was supposed to be pinned to the breast pocket. The other rectangular object was an ID card, complete with a photo she had taken at some point and the basic information that she had supplied for her first ID. This one was permanent, though, not temporary.

Key trembled. This was too much—all of it crashing down upon her like waves beating the shore. All at once, she felt like she was choking, she was drowning, she was not given room to breathe. But. She had to carry on. She had to thank them.

And she did. 

Or, at least, she tried to. But that choking feeling intensified and with it, there was the undeniable sensation of fiery burning welling behind her eyes. It was like a red hot poker had been jammed right into her skull, but the focal point of all her pain was right behind her eyes. That same red hot poker brought forth a searing heat into her cheeks, into the rounded curves of her ears, and upon the back of her neck. But, worst of all, that poker stabbed her in the lungs; it felt like she was struggling to breathe.

She almost couldn’t speak.

But, she had to.

It would be rude.

She cleared her throat. Affixed the golden pin to her shirt, her fingers trembling and catching on the sharp point before she finally succeeded in weaving it between the fabric. And, then with a smile that would have put all major movie stars in Twisted Wonderland to shame, she said, “Oh my gosh! Thanks, guys! This was a really great welcome and I can’t wait to continue working with you for the rest of the school year!” 

There were cheers of agreement and maybe a few hesitant murmurs asking if she was all right. But Key was already planning on leaving. She didn’t want to listen to this anymore. She just had to—

“Anyway. I gotta…” She gestured with the box, the jostling of the contents making faint rustling noises as it collided with the wrapping paper. “Put this away? Yeah, let me put this away and then it’s go time for the clean up, right?”

Before anyone could stop her, the young custodian ran away from the lounge. It didn’t take long for her to reach her assigned room, but she still fumbled as she accidentally twisted the doorknob the wrong way. Had she the energy, Key would have felt the faint tingle of embarrassment, but every other emotion she could have felt was overshadowed by dread and the inseparable reality that she found herself in.

Insecure, Key flung the box onto her bed. A second of hesitation. Then, she carefully approached to straighten the box, making sure to place it square in the middle of her bed. And, now that Key was out of the lounge, away from prying eyes… She almost believed that she was all right.

But believing that she was all right wasn’t the same as being all right.

If she stayed here with the box, the uniforms, the.. the… the everything, she would—

She didn’t know what she was going to do.

Which meant she needed to leave now.

Key ran down the halls, her head bowed forward as her eyes continued to mist over with unshed tears. While she should have known that something was amiss, she hadn’t quite imagined that they would go to such lengths as this! A new and complete uniform! Multiple uniforms so she wouldn’t have to wear the same uniform every day even if it wasn’t soiled with everyday grime! It was…

It felt nice.

And Key didn’t how to feel about that.

How long had it been since she had landed in this strange world? How long had it been since she had been counting the days she had been stuck here? Nowadays, if she were to take a glance at the calendar, it was to take note of who was on schedule for the evening shift or when certain school events were going to need more maintenance and grunt work.

Losing hope wasn’t part of her nature, but pragmatism was.

She couldn’t count on Crowley—not by a long shot—and had long since accepted that it would take a while before she could get home, but this… This!

The uniform felt too real. The crisp white polo shirt and the accompanying trousers that commanded professionalism while still appearing plain and bland to the average onlooker. Background characters who were only hired to serve as support staff to both the students and the educators of the school. The only thing that granted the custodial uniforms the same sort of respectability as the students’ attire was the Night Raven College seal embroidered above the left breast and the material of said clothing.

One brief touch upon the material and Key found herself hooked. It was far nicer than the overalls she had fished out of the lost and found box and far more helpful. Once upon a time, when Key had first started out, Zahur had told her that the material was meant to protect against most low-level magic, curses, and potions. It wasn’t full body armor, per se, but it was adequate protection for day-to-day work. For laboratory accidents or deep cleaning certain areas of the school where magic was at its most potent, custodians were supposed to wear more protective gear that were akin to hazmat suits.

That didn’t stop the sinking feeling in her stomach, though.

All of it.

It was nice.

It was so, so, so nice.

And that’s what hurt Key the most.

Without even thinking about it, Key unpinned her golden nametag away from her shirt and let it fall onto her bedspread. 

Tomorrow, she inwardly promised herself. Tomorrow, she would wear it with as much pride as she could muster, but for tonight, she was just the lonely stranger from another world who

needed

to

go.

Now that she was out wandering the halls (in her haste, she hadn’t considered a destination, only that she had to get away), she had thought that it would clear her head. Instead, it seemed that her doubts and uncertainties concerning the future were coming to a head. 

If she allowed this world to become home, if she became attached to the people who lived here… Then would she eventually lose sight of going back? The Headmage had never said so, but it was quite apparent that even if there was a way to go back, it wouldn’t be guaranteed that she could return to Twisted Wonderland at her own leisure.

Key had become friends with Cameron… but she knew from the start that he was leaving anyway. It would be easy to lose him and to silently sever connections with him… Hell, even he said that he didn’t check or reply to emails all that often. She wouldn’t blame him for leaving and never talking to her again—she was just the weird custodian girl who had no future prospects.

And as for her fellow custodians? They were kind and they treated her like she was one of their own. However, they were still coworkers. Just coworkers… And yet, she couldn’t help but feel like the warmth that they had for her—and what she had for them in return—warranted something more than the tone of professionalism she had thought that she would live through when she had first been introduced to the maintenance team.

It was strange. She didn’t want to be alone, but at the end of it, she knew that this was the best course of action. She was going to leave.

One day.

But that feeling of grief—something that threatened to squeeze her throat shut and burn her retinas—would have persisted either way. If she left, she would hurt those she would leave behind. If she stayed, then her family—what muddled memories she had of them—would eventually fade until she was left with nothing but the vague sense of never belonging.

Eventually, Key tired.

After having run for so long—and while under much mental duress—Key knew that she was in no state to return to the staff dormitories or to start heading to the Mirror Chamber. At least, not yet.

Without hesitation, Key opened a door at random, her hands rubbing furiously at her eyes to try and stem the tears that were brimming underneath her eyelids. Once safely inside, she shut the door quickly—yet quietly—behind her and sank to the floor.

What was that one breathing exercise one of her older siblings had told her? Breathe in for five, hold for six, and breathe out for eight? Or was it the other way around?

Fuck it.

As Key tugged her knees up to her chest, she withdrew her lighter from her pocket and began flicking it on and off. The warmth and light emitting from the lighter, as always, was comforting. The threat of the lighter fluid eventually running out lingered at the edges of her consciousness, but she paid it no mind. How long had it been since she had played with it?

Not long enough; she missed the feeling of the sparkwheel turning under her thumb and the sound of sparks flying into the air.

At least five minutes had passed before Key finally calmed down, her mind still in shambles, but her body was no longer pushing her into fight or flight mode. With a sigh, Key straightened from her hunched over position and faced forward.

And then she froze.

She hadn’t noticed at first, but she had entered a room that must have been an office for one of the department heads. (History? The magical sciences? She didn’t know). Aside from the bookshelves and the imposing desk in one corner, there was a large window where the moonlight streamed down into the room, offering the only source of light.

That is, aside from  Key’s lighter which barely remained lit as her hand began to cramp and tremble.

And—

The pair of bright green eyes that looked down at her with detached interest.

Chapter Text

Otherworldly, Key thought as she gazed up at him. Although the holder of the strange green gaze was seated, she got the feeling that were he to stand, he would tower over her. Even just the way he sat made Key feel like she was nothing more than an insignificant peasant. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t just a feeling that she felt lesser, not worthy to be in his presence. 

She knew.

It was a plain and simple fact. 

A law of nature that was both immovable and immutable. 

Like a prince—no, a king—he sat regally and regarded her with dismissive curiosity. How does someone of such low standing come to my court? is what his face and presence said. Had Key not been already cowering against the door, limp and slack jawed, she would have been compelled to bow. As it were, her fingers almost loosened their grip on her lighter, the flame of which flickered like a crazed dancer while the stranger’s aloof stare continued to pierce Key’s very soul. 

However, she quickly scrambled to her feet (she struggled into position by leaning against the door, which did little to help soothe her racing heart) only to stop at a keeling kneel once she noticed something peculiar. 

The stranger’s horns.

Horns that stood proudly from his head like they were part of a crown. Or maybe a medieval headdress.

But aside from that interesting physical characteristic, Key saw another interesting detail: his ears were sharp and pointed.

A fae.

Behind the fae, there was a large window with moonlight casting its gentle glow on him. The result of such natural phenomena casted enough light to illuminate part of the room—not everything was seen in great detail, but enough to get by—that Key, with great reluctance, allowed her fingers to relax. With a faint whoosh of air that her sensitive ears could barely pick up, the lighter went out. 

The warm orange glow disappeared and only cool moonlight blanketed the both of them.

When the lighter finally shut off, the fae seemed to straighten in his chair and his green eyed gaze sharpened in its intensity. Key wouldn’t call it predatory, but she did see that same look on predator beastmen. The same focused look, the way their attention didn’t waver if they found an object they were particularly interested in. At the moment, she wouldn’t say she felt endangered, but she certainly didn’t feel safe huddled against the door.

And she certainly wouldn’t do herself any favors by not saying or doing anything.

Her right hand rose in a half-wave, half-attempt to show that she was unarmed. Not that the gesture was done out of anything but politeness, but because she thought it would make the stranger… a little less intense. Though, it wasn’t like Key could do anything about the situation if he chose to do something about her. 

Wasn’t everyone else in the Mirror Chamber? No one would be able to hear her scream…

And on that note, why was he here?

Did he skip the ceremony on purpose? Or—

Was he like her, overwhelmed by the newness of the school year?

“Hi. Um…” Hesitantly, she brought her hand down to her lap, his eyes following the movement with rapt attention. “I didn’t know someone was already here, sorry about that.”

In the short distance between them, you would think that it would have been easy for Key to speak up, apologize, and then leave. Probably. Despite it all, there seemed to be an insurmountable sea, a gaping chasm if you will, that Key was reluctant to cross. On any other day, she would have liked to get to know this person better—embarrassment about this current situation aside—but the episode that she had just experienced and was possibly still experiencing prevented her from being open.

Still, she had to salvage the first impression she gave this young man. If not to change the view he had on her—apathetically curious or indifferent if the passive look on his face meant anything—then she would do it for her own peace of mind. Vanity was not something Key usually succumbed to, but the young custodian needed one small win. One small victory that she alone could control.

When Key realized that the young fae had yet to say anything, she decided that it would be best to just leave. There was very little to salvage in the first place. If luck was on her side—debatable if it was ever on her side—she would not have to interact with this strange, horned fae ever again.

“Cool. Good talk.” Key braced herself for the feeling of shame to enrapture her—like always, it never did disappoint. “I’ll be leaving now. Have a good—”

“You are emotionally distraught.”

All at once, Key found herself buckling from the sound of his voice. She had been in the middle of rising, almost as if she were genuflecting in church, but now the suddenness of the interjection had her wondering if she should sit down again. The young man’s voice neither boomed nor emphasized, but there was a gravitas that pulled at Key. His voice was low, but rich and deep. Magnetic. His voice rumbled like thunder in the distance, an omen of things to come. 

It was the voice of someone who was used to having others listen to him.  

The voice of someone who had never had anyone refuse him. 

It was this charisma that had Key look—really look—at the young fae.

The horns that stood proudly like the points of a crown.

The pale skin that shone—no glistened—in the moonlight.

The bright green gaze that held slitted pupils—a reptilian fae, perhaps?

How interesting… Key had yet to meet a beastman whose bloodline could be traced back to reptilian ancestors… But what sort of reptile had horns that could easily be at home on a goat?

Actually, now that she was thinking about it and really paying attention… Why did his horns look so familiar? It oddly reminded her of how the Night Raven College dormitories were based on Disney films with emphasis on the villains—as was evident by the statues on Main Street.

For months now, Key had tried to draw connections between all of the Disney references, though nothing had ever come to light, but now… Seeing this young fae with his horns reminded her of that one villain from Sleeping Beauty… And coupled with the fact that the Housewardens had a barely passing resemblance to the dorms they represented…

All of the Housewardens were present except for Diasomnia’s head…

Key had never met the Diasomnia Housewarden—but not for a lack of trying.

Could it be?

The mystery that Key had been contemplating couldn’t have been this easy to solve, could it? And in such a coincidental way, too?

The stunned silence that came from Key must have lasted a beat too long because the supposed fae prince spoke once again. He didn’t sound irritated that she had yet to respond, but he seemed to know or accept the fact that she couldn’t speak. Arrogant, Key couldn’t help but think. Not that she could blame him. The confident and self assuring way he spoke and acted, most would act arrogant as well.

“You were also crying,” the fae mused, his candor exuding curiosity rather than judgment. “Yet, when you realized that I was in the same room as you, you did not flee.” A meaningful pause. “You are unique, Child of Man.”

“Child of Man?” Key cocked her head to the side, mulling over the epithet. She supposed that it made sense. It reminded her of the naming conventions used in the Chronicles of Narnia. She had to wonder, though, was Child of Man a term of endearment? Or rather an insult to emphasize her title? “You don’t have to call me that. Call me Key. And you?”

This time, it was the horned stranger who looked surprised. Subtle and hard to notice, his eyes widened a fraction and he inclined his head as he regarded her. For the first time since noting that she was in the same room as him, Key thought that when he saw her, he was truly seeing her. Not as a stranger with problems he could care less about or like an interesting fly that had somehow flown inside the room, but it seemed as if he was intrigued and realizing that she, too, was a person with thoughts, wants, and desires like himself.

He rose from his seat. Every movement was graceful. Flawless. Like a flower blooming from the clutches of winter. The way he stood was as if he was the very act of nature itself instead of a product born from it. Behind him, it seemed as if the moon’s glow seemed to shrine that much brighter. With his back against it, he looked positively angelic.

A horned fae adorned in dark clothing with a halo brightening his features? It was as if the universe wanted to give her a laugh after the trials she had faced that day. The juxtaposition would have been more than enough reason to write off this day and go on her merry way, but she refrained from laughing.

(She wanted to, but there was something new and appreciative as he beheld her in his unyielding gaze).

“Child of Man—” Oh, he really was going all out with that nickname, wasn’t he? Then again, he could have chosen a weirder one. “—you do not know who I am?”

The theory about him being Crown Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley and Housewarden of Diasomnia crossed her mind, but she quashed it down. This was the first meeting she had with this stranger, she didn’t want to go around accusing people all willy nilly. Furthermore, while she was staff, that didn’t mean she was exempt from the consequences of being rude. What if she caused an international incident with the fae if she mistook someone who was just a regular fae with an actual, honest to God prince? She had no problem with the Savanaclaw Housewarden because he at least had a picture on his profile.

No, whoever this Malleus Draconia person was, he would have to personally introduce himself to her. If her theory proved correct—that this strange young man was actually the one whom she sought—then she would celebrate. (And she would give him a dressing down of a lifetime for not providing adequate contact information. How was she supposed to do her job?)

“No, we met just now.” Her fingers played with the sparkwheel upon her purple disposable lighter. The ridges served as comfort upon her calloused skin, but she did not flick it to cast a flame. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

This was it, Key thought. This was the litmus test to check if this was the Diasomnia Housewarden. If he was, he would either take offense or immediately confide in her that he was the fae prince. If he wasn’t, she assumed that he would end up revealing what his true identity was either way.

So, it was a surprise when instead of reacting with affronted anger or telling her outright who he was, the horned stranger began to laugh.

The laugh wasn’t mocking like she had expected. It also certainly wasn’t done in a way to alienate her—the butt of an inside joke that only he knew. No, the laugh came out in a half chortle, half breathy gasp like her inquiry had punched the surprise mirth from within the depths of his chest and out of his mouth.

It almost made Key want to laugh as well.

“Truly? Such an oblivious, innocent nature…”

Was he being blunt or was he insulting her?

Key had enough of this.

Steady now that she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her or cause a ruckus like she had feared, the young custodian finally rose to her full height. As she had suspected from earlier, he was tall. Without the horns, he still looked to be at least over six feet. This confirmation did not sway Key from her current trajectory.

With the same blunt honesty he had blessed her with, she said, “At this point in the conversation, it’s expected that you return the favor. I gave you a name, now give me yours.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, adjusted the rim of her glasses that began to slip down the low bridge of her nose. “Please.”

The short distance between them, the likes of which she thought seemed insurmountable and endless in the beginning, now felt like there wasn’t enough space. They were not on equal footing—far from it actually—but with the way the very air between them was swallowed by the mounting tension, she felt that if either of them were to bend or to take a leap, perhaps they would finally see each other for who they really were. His eyes, which had fluctuated from bemused detachment to intrigued wonderment abruptly flashed and began glowing with anger that reminded Key of red hot coals burning gently before roaring to life with a conflagration of flames. Contrary to his regal nature thus far, his anger wasn’t cold or calculating like Key expected.

No, it was burning hot. Reactive.

And just as suddenly as the conflagration threatened to spread into a blaze of untamed wildfire, it smoldered. The anger that had quickened Key’s heartbeat and brought sweat to the palms of her hands, that called out to the primal part of her brain and urged her to run from this strange horned fae, abruptly softened. There was still fire, yes, but the flames had receded. A single flame.

Like a candle.

Or a lighter.

“You are right, Child of Man, you have given me a name, but I must refrain from giving mine.” The displeasure on her face must have been amusing because the slight grin on his lips widened with a full blown smirk. Even with the shadows falling down upon his face, Key could catch a glimpse of a fang jutting out from between his lips. “I fear that if you knew who I was, you would leave. An expected occurrence.” He shrugged, but there was an undercurrent of sadness, loneliness. “But one I would like to postpone for the time being.”

“You still need to have a name,” Key pointed out. If not to assuage the mystery of the Diasomnia Housewarden, then to honor propriety and societal conversation. At this point, they had long since crossed the threshold from stranger to acquaintances. “A fake one if you like, for future conversations.”

The stranger smirked. “A fake name for a fake name. A fair trade, I suppose.” Before Key could think more on that—how did he know?—he tilted his head and offered, “Unfortunately, I am not well versed in the art of naming. Child of Man, why don’t you give me a name?’

The retort that had been ready to fly off Key’s tongue dissipated into dust when she saw the stranger give her a wicked smile. It felt like she was looking at a cocktail of mischief, playfulness, and an interest that didn’t look like it was going to be soothed any time soon. Was this the look often described as the ‘cat having gotten into the cream?’ No longer was she just a random nuisance who happened upon him while he was minding his business, but rather, now he seemed to see Key as someone who was important enough that he could… Shock of all shocks—tease!

“A name?” Key couldn’t think of a name that could encapsulate who this stranger was. Weren’t names power in and of themselves? It felt like the stranger had given her too big a gift that she didn’t know how to use. How did you name someone who already had a name? And what if she offended him? She hadn’t been on the receiving end of a student’s wrath as of yet, but if she did, she supposed that now would be an opportune time.

(For him, not her. No one was in the vicinity to help her out if something were to happen).

Key spoke, her thoughts now gathered and ordered. It was way too early in the year just to start a fight—albeit, unintentionally—so she had to take that into heart as well. She would just have to be polite. As always.

“How about this, the next time we meet, I’ll give you one.” Maybe Key would find out his identity or at least what his personality was like. As of the moment, the night was getting long and while the dread from earlier and the emotional drain had left her bereft of everything else, she knew that she had overstayed her welcome. The opening ceremony should have been finished either now or soon.

And, what was worse, she had just realized that she had left without a word.

If the rest of the maintenance team realized that she had gone, would they be worried? Or would they leave her be, knowing that she liked to be on her own?

A rueful laugh. “I need time to figure out what name would best suit you.”

The horned stranger scrutinized her as if he was searching for something. What was it? Key hadn’t the faintest idea. Yet, his gaze fell away as he turned away from her and out towards the window. Above, the full moon had become overshadowed by a passing cloud. The brief darkness was immediate.

Not wanting to spend any more time in this odd limbo where neither could progress or advance, Key backed up towards the door. It must have been unconscious—she had no idea that she had stepped close to the stranger. When her back hit the door—a slight sound that appeared to not alert the stranger—she fumbled for the doorknob and felt a surge of relief when she felt the cool metal turn in her hand.

“I’ll be going now. Have a nice rest of your evening.”

“Ah, yes. And you as well.” 

Before Key could turn the doorknob full in her hand, she felt his presence almost flush against her back. Startled, she turned slightly to ask what he was doing only to find that he had taken her dominant hand—the one that had been twisting the cool metal—and had lifted it up to his bloodless lips. 

What happened next was strange. 

The fae’s lips stopped a mere millimeter from her skin, his hot breath climbing up the expanse of her arm and chilling her down to the marrow of her bones. For a brief second, he paused, eyes furrowed before he glanced up at her and down at her skin. He took in a deep breath, inhaling as much as his lung capacity could allow—which Key assumed was a lot if his nature as a fae and his stature meant anything—before he abruptly stopped and regarded her once more. 

“Ummm… You good?” Key waved her other hand in front of the horned stranger’s face, somewhat alarmed and flustered as she felt his grip on her hand tighten to an almost painful degree. “Hello?”

And just like that, the stranger removed himself from her presence and had backed away with quick, but elegant movements. How strange, to see someone who could easily command the room by merely breathing seemingly retreat as if she had struck him. 

What happened?

“M-mister…?” She stepped forward in haste—what was she going to do? confront him? comfort him? she was at war with what she was to do with him—but just as quickly refrained from moving farther from a foot from the door when his eyes began to glow with unholy fire. 

He uttered one single word that she could hear with her human ears, “Unnatural.”

“I—Pardon?”

There was no indication that the stranger heard. Confused, rather than horrified, the young custodian backed up against the door and successfully twisted the doorknob to finally grant her access outside. All the while, both fae and human continued to hold each other’s gaze: one, wary and eager to flee; the other, unfathomably agitated and this time, curious. Very curious. 

Once Key had shut the door behind her—she had cringed at how loudly the door had banged against the doorframe—she faced the massive expanse of the school with the air of someone who had narrowly escaped the clutches of death. Even the seemingly labyrinthine layout of the school did not serve to sway her from her relief.  

Shoving the incident away from her mind, she set to work heading towards the Mirror Chamber, confident in her past experience as a custodian since working the entire summer. 

That self assured feeling stuttered to an abrupt halt when she heard the sound of yells and screams in the distance. Compounded with the feeling that the school seemed to shift and jolt like there was an earthquake and Key knew that the opening ceremony had gone awry. Shocked by the distress, she almost didn’t move from her frozen position until she heard—

Yowling.

And cackling.

“That furball,” Key seethed.

Chapter Text

Dashing through the hallways and stepping through the passageways that lay in wait behind portraits (“ Thank you, Lord Benson! I’ll adjust your frame later! ”) took a fair amount of time, but it was doable—and most importantly, realistic. To think that she ran for less than five minutes—it felt like she had run a marathon. 

Honestly, if it were not for that reckless cat beast’s propensity for shaking the earth with his eardrum shattering yowls, Key would have been content to take her time moseying on over to the Mirror Chamber. 

Unfortunately, life was not merciful to Key: she had to run and hope that the cat beast wasn’t hurt or wasn’t in the process of hurting others. 

As Key popped out of another portrait (“ Sorry, Mr. Hamilton! I’ll tell Mr. Emilio to dust you off later! ”), she realized that a number of cloaked figures were either running away or huddling close by the door to the Mirror Chamber.

What a fire hazard, Key couldn’t help but think in irritation as she surveyed the room for any possible routes to the Mirror Chamber door. You would think that mages of such high caliber would know enough about the world to foresee that clogging the exits would only spell trouble for everyone involved. 

Sucking in a breath, Key resigned herself to her fate and began pushing her way through, careful to exploit any openings she saw. “Excuse me! Coming through!” 

Some of the students took one look at the very short, very determined custodian and they did her will. There was some grumbling and whispering (“ Is that a girl? ”), but that was to be expected. She was not wearing her uniform or any type of formal wear; it made sense that no one was willing to listen to her out of the blue.

As she reached the doors that had been shut in the middle of the chaos, someone clapped a hand on her shoulder. The force itself was enough to knock Key off her feet, but the owner of that hand was quick to right her before she toppled over.

“It’s dangerous; you shouldn’t go in there.” 

When Key looked up, she had to utilize different muscles in her neck that she hadn’t even known existed. Geeze, the guy was so tall and his wolf ears were not helping at all! Was he a third year? 

When Key failed to speak, the stranger cleared his throat and his already deep voice seemed to grow even deeper and far more austere than his previous statement. “Miss.”

After finally processing that this was a student, Key smiled at his consideration for her safety. Yet, when she spoke there was a bite, an edge, to her reply. “I appreciate the concern, but I think I can handle a furball throwing a tantrum.”

Wait… Key couldn’t help but chew the inside of her cheek a little… Was furball a microaggression? Key hoped not, it was never wise to be on anyone’s bad side, even if that person would probably never interact with her ever again after the entrance ceremony. Perhaps she should ask Cameron… Knowing him, though, he would make up some sob story or convince her that it was a compliment just so he could make fun of her later. 

He raised a brow at the word ‘tantrum’. “How did—”

As much as Key would have loved to reassure the wolf beastman that she personally knew the troublemaker on the other side of the door, there was a bang and erratic laughter bordering on hysteria. A series of yells followed suit alongside the exclamation of incantations. 

Blood became ice in Key’s veins, which was swiftly followed by fiery irritation. Not only had the furball been causing havoc, but he probably roped in the Housewardens into trying to contain his nonsense! 

In fact, now that she was closer to the ruckus… Was there a duel occurring in the Mirror Chamber? Despite working at the school for a few months now, she hadn’t yet been privy to a mage’s duel. Yes, there had been a fight or two on campus, but she had either not been present or the altercation hadn’t extended beyond a few wayward spells or fisticuffs. Playground boys playing at adulthood. 

Whoever was casting on the other side, their voices were all business.

They were commanding.

Meanwhile, that little furball continued to laugh and heckle at his pursuers.

There was no time to waste. Key flung open the door and was halfway through the threshold before she took in the scene. Most of the chamber had been emptied of students, but there were a few huddled behind mirrors or sprawled on the floor. A wave of heat welcomed Key, which alerted her to the fact that the room was ensconced in flames. 

As was expected from the presumed spellcaster, the flames were blue.

As her eyes passed over the flames, she finally caught her quarry. There, running away from two very familiar mages, the cat beast was on all fours partly terrified and partly gloating. Although he was talking as if he could easily take on the Housewardens tailing him, Key knew that he was losing. It didn’t take a high ranking magician to know that the combined effort of running and casting high levels of magic was quickly draining the cat beast of his physical and magical reserves. Every so often, he would turn around, gauge the distance between him and the two Housewardens tailing him and cast a burst of blues flames that would immediately dissipate once he wasn’t as focused on casting. 

If Key didn’t know any better, she would have thought that the Heartslabyul and Octavinelle Housewardens were merely baiting the cat beast and showing off their prowess as mages.  

It almost made her leave so that she could deal with the cat beast later. However, she resolved herself to stay and find a way to stop him. 

For as much as Key knew that the little furball deserved this, she also knew that if she didn’t step in, there would be more to clean. Already, the Mirror Chamber was looking rather disastrous. Some parts of the fire were being put out by spouts of water that had been summoned by a few students’ magic pens, their quick thinking a boon. Despite their efforts, however, the combination of copious amounts of water and fire may have inadvertently added to the chaos.

Once water met fire, great towers of steam filled the air. The heat was already unbearable, but now everyone’s vision was hindered.

Key squared her shoulders and strode forward with purpose.

At her approach, a few students called out to her. There was concern, but mostly, it was exclamations of surprise. Key paid them no mind as she sidestepped a few smaller fires before standing off in a corner, eager for when the cat beast would eventually careen towards the doors.

It didn’t take long.

As more and more incantations were cast, the little furball tried to reach for the one apparent exit. Yet, all of his hopes were dashed when Key—who had been weighing her chances and studying the scene with a keen eye—plucked him off the floor by the scruff of his neck. And, in a move that ensured that she would not be harmed, held him aloft so as to not get burned by his wayward flames. In the end, though, the moment the cat beast knew that it was the young custodian holding him captive, he switched from spewing fire to belting out commands.

“Henchman! Lemme go!” He wriggled in her grasp, his strange blue eyes narrowed in indignation and anger while his three pronged tail swished from side to side. Despite his small stature, his tail actually packed quite the wallop when it collided with Key’s arm. “How dare you hold me like this when I’m gonna be the—”

Someone clicked their tongue behind Key. “I apologize. Azul and I were not able to apprehend the familiar, Miss Key. Hand him over and I will collar him and the student who dared bring him without permission. Or training.”

Key regarded the Heartslabyul Housewarden with a wan smile. Although the furball continued to struggle, his attempts to flee were not as strong. It seemed that the chaos had deprived him of his energy. Still, Key continued to hold onto the cat beast with a tight grip, but adjusted him so that he was held within the circle of her arms against her chest.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Rosehearts.” Key patted the fiery little menace on his head much to the mortification of the creature. “I’ll have a quick word with the Headmage. Have you seen him?”

It was the Octavinelle Housewarden who supplied the answer this time. While his reply was slow and measured, one could detect that his breathing was slightly labored and his face underneath the robe’s hood was flushed a faint blue. At first, Key wondered why that was the case (did he need medical assistance?) before considering that it must have been a facet of his biology. It seemed that the chase had taken a lot more out of him.

“Unfortunately, the Headmage left us a few moments ago before this—” Here, he pointed at the cat beast in calculated dismissal. “—familiar decided to interrupt. Fortunately, all of the first years had been sorted so we can dismiss them. The only question remains: what are we to do with that?”

“Not all of the first years! I’m gonna be a first year too!” With renewed strength, the furball bucked against the hold that she had on him. It was all in vain. The more he struggled, the more she constricted and cut off his movements—gently, of course. In all honesty, Key’s niece had put up more of a fight when she was three. “Henchman, tell’em I'm gonna be the best mage in the world! The Great and All Powerful Grim!”

He hissed and spat just like a cat would, but Key held fast. Despite her calm countenance, the young custodian couldn’t help but reel at the name that he had given. Having been desensitized to the cat beast’s proclivity to be called the greatest and the most powerful, the sudden name drop emptied her of all other thoughts.

Grim? Like the Brothers Grimm? Or Grim as in dire?

Those thoughts would have to resurface later. Much later. For now, Key headed towards the only exit available, uncaring of Rosehearts’ reprimand that she was being rude.

“You know, I really thought that you were going to talk to me earlier.” The disappointment in Key’s voice wasn’t hard to fake. In fact, it wasn’t hard at all for her to chide him—it almost felt natural to reprimand someone for doing wrong. “Why didn’t you ask to make sure that you got in, Boss? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me about these things first.”

Gah, Key wanted to bury her face into her hands. Or Grim’s fur. Since when did she have to sound like one of her older brothers? Which one was it? Oh, of course, it was—

“As if I need your help!” Grim’s furry little face leaned back against her chest so that he could glare up at her from what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position. Had there been less fire in his eyes that threatened to explode out the fire from his ears, Key would have nuzzled into him and cooed. “I could have gotten in by myself!”

They were now walking out of the Mirror Chamber and into the castle proper. The large mass of students that had crowded outside of the double doors in one large, amorphous mass had dispersed into clusters. At her appearance, most of the young men made room for her and openly gaped. Embarrassment flooded Key and she wished that she could run to the Headmage’s office to avoid all the attention.

Not that running would do her any favors: she had already been seen.

“Miss Key!” 

Ah, and what was worse, it appeared that the man she was looking for had finally swooped into the fray. Where did he come from? Nothing, not even the cadence of his speech or the unrushed nature of his movements betrayed his previous excursions. Like a ghost, he had appeared out of thin air and decided to give Key a mild fright. Considering she had really good hearing, she should have heard him coming from a mile away, but nothing gave him away. What a strange man. 

“Had I known that you would have been interested in tonight’s festivities, I would have invited you! Truly, such a gracious Headmage I am, yes?”

Ignoring his careless platitudes, Key held the cat beast, Grim, out to her employer.

Now, of all times, the fiery creature had decided to fall silent. Key couldn’t see his eyes, but she imagined that Grim was sizing the Headmage up. In the midst of all the students’ murmurs, she could barely make out the rumors that were just starting to spread, which drew more attention to them than was necessary.

“Go on,” Key muttered. “Introduce yourself.”

The Headmage’s golden eyes narrowed as he took in the creature that looked fearlessly up at him. Key detected no anger or irritation, but there was a loose sort of curiosity that was only underscored by apathy. Surprisingly, Crowley didn’t push for the introduction, choosing to wait until the furball spoke up.

With his ears tucked back against his head and his words uttered in a raging growl, he said, “I am the Great Grim and I will be going to this school! Or else I’ll make ya!”

At the end of the tirade, Key fought against the urge to chew the inside of her cheeks and to bury her face into Grim’s fur. Hopefully, the flames from his ears wouldn’t burn too badly. To slake her mortification, Key sent a pleading look at the Headmage, that strange, unblinking gaze of his seemingly flitting between Key and the trespasser she held in her arms. Despite the murmurs from the students gathered, between the three of them, it was as if the world had fallen away. Leaving them in this tense silence.

And then—

Crowley inclined his head, looked past Key, and beckoned one of the remaining gathered students to step forward. Heavy footsteps could be heard from behind Key, but she kept her gaze focused solely on the Headmage. To her dull surprise, it was the very same wolf beastman from before.

“Please inform one of the Housewardens—any of them—that everyone is free to head to their respective dormitories. I have…” Again, Key felt the telltale gaze of the Headmage peer down at her. Her back remained straight, her gaze forward. “… to discuss enrollment.”

The wolf beastman, as serious as ever—that was the vibe that Key was getting from him—nodded once. “Yes, Headmage.”

Without another word, the stoic student strode back into the Mirror Chamber. There was a brief moment when Key’s eyes followed after the tall, muscular beastman. There were many obvious differences between wolves and foxes, but for a moment, she could imagine that it was colored a vibrant sunset orange with a tuft of midnight black.

The walk to the Headmage’s office was mostly uneventful. Grim had protested being held like an infant, which led to Key placing him onto the ground. Preceding that, though, Key made him promise not to run off or cause more of a fuss. Key had gotten lucky to have rescued Grim the first time. She did not want a repeat.

Inside the office, the portraits of the Great Seven were more lively than usual. Even when Key was close to the door, she could hear low mumbling. There were hints of laughter and the stirring of an argument between two mages. Not all of it was fully comprehensible and the conversation stopped completely when all three of them (the Headmage, Key, and Grim) were fully in the room.

As always, Key seated herself in one of the hard backed chairs provided while the Headmage sat at his desk. Grim, for all of his bluster, needed a little help to climb into his chair.

“All right.” The Headmage’s voice grew serious. “Miss Key, when were you going to tell me that you had a familiar?”

Key didn’t know who was more shocked: Grim or herself. The instant that question left the Headmage’s mouth, the young custodian had a retort locked and loaded. However, it was the little cat beast who voiced all of the complaints that Key had. If it were not for the way his fiery ears had threatened to overflow with even more of that heat, she would have backed him up wholeheartedly. As it were, Key was keenly aware that she was in the splash zone.

Grim’s eyes were practically blazing with fury. With one bound from his chair, he landed on all fours on top of the desk. “How many times I gotta tell ya? I will be the greatest mage! Ain’t no way I need some human to own me!”

Key inwardly groaned. As much as she would like to berate him for his rudeness—did he not know that this was the man they had to convince to get him enrolled?—she also knew that Grim wouldn’t listen to reason.

The Headmage rested his chin atop his steepled fingers. Golden eyes, so very round and so very alien, staring at everything and nothing at the same time. 

“So, you are not a familiar, Grim? It is not often that an institution such as Night Raven College is willing to extend a benevolent hand, such as mine, to familiars without magicians. Although some claim differently, it is still unorthodox to allow a creature such as yourself to attend without a magician. Supervision is paramount.”

“No, I—”

Key was quick to intervene before Grim could dig an even deeper hole for himself. “I agree, Mr. Headmage. I believe that maybe we should allow the Mirror to dictate where he should go. And, if that doesn’t pan out… the abandoned dormitory on the grounds is fully functional and available…”

A small curve to pure bloodless lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were gifted with future sight. Quite like Sam if I may be forthright.” A pause. “Which is why the old dorm is the only option, but only if—If! I may repeat myself!—I allow the familiar to enroll.”

Grim could keep quiet no longer. “I. Am. Not. A. Familiar.”

At the last second, Grim’s ears began to burst forth with more fire. Fearing the worst, Key shielded herself from the incoming heat, but when she realized that nothing was happening, she glanced up again. Eyes wide, she noticed that the Headmage had raised a hand, his fingers curled up into a fist. It was as if his will alone had extinguished the flames without any thought. Pure reflex.

In that span of a few seconds, once again—not for the first time and definitely not the last—Key was struck dumb by magic. It was divine. It was inhuman. It was breathtaking. It was horrifying. In one blink of any eye, Grim had threatened to set the office ablaze. In the next flutter of her eyelids, it was like Grim never had that intention in the first place.

Not a word, not a sigh, not even the slight intake of breath.

The world in the Headmage’s grand office had expanded for a brilliant moment before contracting just as quickly with the force of a star collapsing into a black hole.

With a voice that was still dead serious and devoid of the gregariousness that he often exuded on a normal basis, the Headmage said, “Then I suppose with an attitude like that, you will not be considered a student.” A pause wherein Grim geared himself up for a fight while Key wracked her brain for a plausible reason that the cat beast could attend. There was potential there, yes—especially that of Grim’s amazing reserve of magic—but Key sadly did not have a silver tongue. “However, even I cannot deny that you have a mastery of fire magic. That said, you also have a propensity for destruction and flouting the rules. It would be negligent on my part to release you back to where you came without further training. Which means…”

Ever one for dramatics, the Headmage paused and tapped a clawed forefinger against his chin. All was silent—as it should be. When the old crow managed to act like the esteemed scholar he claimed to be, he was quite the speaker. Low tone and eloquence to match his elegance. Grim, who must have sensed that the next few words could either bring to life the cat beast’s greatest wish or cast him out from NRC forever, remained silent.

As for Key, the young custodian had seen this song and dance a few times before, so she knew what to expect. However, that did not stop her from sitting on the edge of her seat, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth.

Damn that old crow. When he wanted to captivate his audience, there were no holds barred.

“Grim, as the Headmage of Night Raven College, I will allow you to attend.” He raised a gloved hand to quell any premature celebration. “Despite this allowance, there are a few conditions that you must heed. Failure to meet these conditions will result in immediate expulsion. Am I understood?”

“Yes! Yes!” Grim jumped up and down on the table, excitement and exhilaration in his every movement. 

Meanwhile, Key struggled to keep a straight face. 

The scene was adorable—like it was something that you would find at the end of an underdog movie. But this was Night Raven College. And what’s more, this was still the Headmage speaking. For someone who was suspicious enough of Key so as to not give his name, he sure did leap at the opportunity without further question. 

“So long as I become the greatest mage, I’ll do anything!”

“Excellent. First of all, your grades must not fall below sixty percent. Every other student had to prove their merit or prove that they have something to offer to NRC. Your wealth of magic is great, yes, but that is simply not enough. Second of all, you are not to incur too many punishments doled out by your professors. I’ve heard of your mischief and it would be remiss of me to think that you’ll cease such behavior. I’ll leave disciplinary action to your professors and your Housewarden… which reminds me…” For a brief second, Key felt the unsettling sensation of the old crow’s eyes on her. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to make her straighten in her seat. “You are still not considered an NRC student because the Mirror did not pick you. However, the magnanimity of Miss Key and myself—” Key grimaced while shaking her head at the old crow. Don’t bring her into this! Said old crow ignored her and continued. “—means that you will stay in Ramshackle with Miss Key as your Housewarden.”

First of all, was that really the abandoned dorm’s name? Seriously? Key assumed that when someone said the “ramshackle dorm”, it was just a descriptor that everyone used. What a horrible name. Someone new to the school would hear that name and pray that they never ended up in that particular dormitory.

Second of all, what.

While Key was undergoing a crisis of belief, the Headmage plowed forward with his expectations, “You are to report to her and help her maintain the upkeep of your dorm. As I’ve said, your Housewarden will be in charge of your discipline, but she can report to me if you do something utterly egregious.”

Impatient as ever, the cat beast couldn’t help but pipe up. “Is that it? ‘Cause ain’t nothin’s gonna stand in my way!”

“I suppose that is the end of it! Now, any questions?”

Key raised a hand. “Don’t I have a choice here? I’m supposed to be a custodian and your secretary.” Did he forget that conversation—scolding—with Professor Crewel? The task set before her didn’t seem all too bad, but she would have done it gladly if he had asked first instead of assuming. “You don’t just assign me new roles without talking to me about it first.”

Like a bird, the Headmage cocked his head to the side, considering her complaint. Was that surprise on his face? Did he really think that she would accept this?

“I apologize, Miss Key. Yet, as my liaison to the Housewardens, I do believe that your main task is to gather and disseminate information during the meetings to the rest of the student population through the dorm heads. Unfortunately, since I don’t think Grim will be up to the task and all other students have been sorted, no one else is eligible. Furthermore, you have the added benefit of already having a close relationship with him. You have the right to refuse, of course, but you’ll find that not many would jump at the opportunity to be the leader of a dorm with one student.”

The Headmage brought up many good points.

And yet—

“And you’re sure that Grim can’t be a Housewarden?” She was grasping at straws—everyone knew it—but Key had to make sure.

“Miss Key, even Housewardens who took power in their first year first had to prove their capability. The Heartslabyul Housewarden, Riddle Rosehearts, gained his status in the first week, but he challenged the Housewarden incumbent. Given time, if Grim is to prove himself to be a model student like the rest of the dorm heads, he may challenge you for the title.”

The cat beast leaped up to his feet, the fire bursting from his ears paled in comparison to the fire roaring in his eyes. “You hear that, Henchman? You better get ready for when I can finally take your place ‘cause I’m gonna wipe the floor with ya!”

Key rolled her eyes at such a proclamation. 

“After you sweep the floor of Ramshackle…” she mumbled. And then she stopped in realization, eyes wide. “Wait! Challenge me? With magic? What’s stopping him from trying to take power once we leave this office?”

Beside Key, Grim seemed to deflate at her line of questioning. Was he planning on doing that all along? That little furball… And here she thought she had something special with him…

“A keen observation. Let’s see…” After mulling it over, the Headmage snapped his fingers. “Grim, you are prohibited from challenging Miss Key during your first month of enrollment. Following that, you can only challenge her once a month. To even the playing field, it will be up to her to choose what sort of duel will occur.”

It seemed to be a fair compromise for the both of them, but Grim grumbled all the while. It would have to do, Key thought. At the very least, if Grim actually became the Housewarden, she wouldn’t have to worry as much. The image of the cat beast attending one of the meetings did offset her worries. It would be something to look forward to even if she was confident that he would get torn to shreds by the rest of the Housewardens.

Sensing their acquiescence, the Headmage rummaged through his desk. When he finally withdrew the objects he was looking for, both Key and Grim gasped in awe. In his clawed hands, there was a violet jewel that caught the light and glittered. A magestone. And by the looks of it, the color did not match any of the other colors representing the main dormitories. It was unique and meant for the sole student of Ramshackle.

“Miss Key, I will give you the paperwork for Grim tomorrow, but as of right now, he is officially a student of Night Raven College. Congratulations,” he turned to Grim, “you will be expected to attend classes with the rest of the first years.”

For reasons that the Headmage wished not to disclose, he also had a spare tie hidden in that desk of his. Unlike all other ties that Key saw on any of the NRC students, it was clearly abused by time and usage. The fabric was frayed and the threads were trying to escape the main body of the tie. Any student of this prestigious academy would have sooner broken their magic pen rather than wear this rag. And yet, despite the state of the ribbon, the cat beast was hellbent on wearing it if his whoops of delight meant anything. Somehow, he managed to stay still as the Headmage tied and pinned the magestone on Grim’s neck.

Aside from the ribbon, there was one other gift that the Headmage was ready to bestow. A ghost camera, he called it. It was boxy and old fashioned, but there was something about the design that seemed nostalgic to Key. Upon explanation, it was revealed that it was supposed to be used as a device to preserve living memories. The closer the bond the photographer had with the muse that they were photographing, the more lifelike the resulting photo would appear. Hence the term, ghost camera.

Supposedly, Key could—and should, as was advised by the Headmage—document Grim’s progress and the goings on in the school considering that she will be directly in touch with one of NRC’s students. 

“And you couldn’t have given me an actual cell phone?” Out of spite and curiosity, she had fiddled with the camera before snapping a candid photo of Grim and the Headmage. The resulting photo was still growing into its vibrant colors, but she didn’t see the figures within the film move. “Are you sure you weren’t ripped off, Mr. Headmage?”

The birdbrained Headmage practically fell to his knees at the inquiry. “The youth! How ungrateful are the youth of today that when given a priceless artifact, they still beg for more! How unfortunate!”

The urge to roll her eyes was strong, but Key held firm against that instinct. It would only add fuel to a fire that she didn’t want burning any longer than necessary. The argument would have to be revisited in the future.

“A many wonderful thank you’s for the camera,” Key conceded with deadpan gratefulness. “I’ll do my best to make sure that nothing bad will happen to it. After all, it is a magical artifact.”

Just because something was considered magical didn’t explain everything. It explained some things, but it should not have been a catch all to whenever Key needed an explanation.

“Now that we have the basics covered… Let’s get the newest Ramshackle Dorm resident settled into their humble abode!”

Chapter Text

The trip to Ramshackle Dorm was mostly uneventful. However, as they made their way past hallways and staircases, Key caught sight of Zahur who was emerging from behind the frame of a painting. He looked like he was about to beckon her into following him, but abruptly stopped when he realized that Key was not alone. Before either of her companions could take notice, the Scalding Sands native melted back into the shadows, though not before waving Key a goodbye.

Along the way, there was a straggler or two who tried to sneak past the trio, but were ultimately discovered and given a warning before the Headmage sent them on their way. (But not before the aforementioned stragglers gave Grim and Key curious glances before scurrying into their respective dorms). 

Before long, the dilapidated dorm came into view. Despite the laborious trek, Grim was grinning, the smirk reaching his ears. It should not have surprised Key as much as it did, but she supposed that she had always seen the cat beast when he was in want of something. Visually, he never looked so satisfied.

After telling Grim that he was welcome to stay in any of the rooms inside (except the attic, there were way too many splinters and the maintenance crew had decided they would work on restoring that at a later date), he practically ran inside. There were shouts and yells from both Ramshackle ghosts and the newest resident, but after Key had yelled from the threshold that they all had to get along or she was going to sic the Headmage on all of them (the old crow was not amused by that), the sounds of chaos gradually simmered into sassy bickering and teasing.

Back outside, the Headmage turned to leave for the main campus. “I must admit that the Ramshackle Dorm is not a place I normally frequent, but you have done a marvelous job!”

The old crow always managed to sound showy and pretentious, but this time, the young custodian detected an air of genuine awe in his tone. It filled Key with pride, but she was just as quick to tamp that down.

“It wasn’t just me,” Key muttered under her breath. “There’s the rest of the maintenance team to account for.”

The Headmage nodded slightly, acknowledging her comment. “And I am, by no means, discounting their efforts. However, there is something to be said about acknowledging a problem and taking charge.” One of his gloved clawed hands rested atop her head. “Leadership is just as important as following orders and throughout the summer, I’ve noticed that you’ve done your fair share of both.”

“Supervising Cam doesn’t count since he was already working with the crew before I came along.”

Under the cover of night that was illuminated by the full moon, the old crow’s eyes seemed to glow brighter than all the other times Key talked to him. There was always the undercurrent of the otherworldly and the impossible, but as Key took in the weight of Crowley’s hand on her head and the unfathomable void of the pits underneath his mask, she almost understood what it must have been like to be held under the thrall of magic.

Key bit the inside of her cheek before glancing away. A million and one questions rose to the surface, but her mouth refused to work. She had been waiting for a moment like this for what seemed like years, but now that the Headmage seemed to be in the mood to listen, Key didn’t know how to broach the subject.

Dr. Park recommended that she speak with Crowley because he was the closest thing to a guardian that she would ever have in this world, but… What if Crowley did make progress on a spell to get her back? What if he didn’t? If he did, would she leave right away with her job unfulfilled? That hardly seemed fair. Yet, it would be ten times as unbearable if he didn’t… and Key would have to seriously think about—

“The hour is late and the Mirror Chamber will not clean itself.” The Headmage canted his head to the side, reassessing her, before the gold pools where his eyes were supposed to be contracted a little—as if he was frowning. “Or has the journey here tired you? Fear not, I will inform Mr. Caine—”

“No.”

Crowley blinked. “No?”

“It’s… It’s not that…” Key shifted uncomfortably. “Can we walk and talk?”

As Crowley’s gaze continued to bore down relentlessly onto Key’s very being, the hand that rested on her head seemed heavier than usual. It was overwhelming, but at the same time, grounding. It was so disconcerting that Key nearly missed his nod of acquiescence.  

In all honesty, Key didn’t think that the Headmage would take her up on the offer to “walk and talk”. Like his namesake, the esteemed mage was flighty, often flying towards things that interested him most. Zahur had once joked during dinner that one could probably bribe the Headmage into anything so long as they had with them the shiniest rocks imaginable. Apparently, that’s how Zahur got his job and a raise after a few weeks of work.

Whatever the case, the trek back to the school would be long and tedious, but that didn’t mean the time for conversation was finite. Dawdling would do her no good, so…

“You didn’t make any progress… Did you?” The young custodian continued to face forward as she walked, careful to keep both her visage and voice neutral. Magic could be fickle and research took time. She knew from the start to temper expectations, but the hope that she tried to rein in refused to be diminished.

“Best not to speak in circles, Miss Key, speak plainly.”

Key bristled. The arrogance! The audacity! As if the Headmage wasn’t the master of spinning riddles and dancing with doublespeak when it suited him. Was he toying with her? Or was he that obtuse? Surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten?

“Mr. Headmage, do you have any information concerning interdimensional travel?” She didn’t mean to sound rude, but there was nothing she could do about that when she was gritting her teeth. “It’s been…” How long had it been? “Three months?”

The Headmage heaved a breath, the world weary sigh passing through his lungs and escaping his lips like a tidal wave crashing upon the shore.  Though his steps didn’t falter, Key got the sense that he was slowing down, decreasing his stride.

“I fear that I have yet to come to a breakthrough. The spell that I used that day was experimental and try as I might… The conditions cannot be replicated. I’m still investigating if the positioning of the moon or some other factor affected the summoning.” Unlike his showy demeanor that Key often associated with him, he sounded soft. Remorseful. How much of it was a ploy, Key had no idea. “Of course, it could be that you are the factor.”

At this point, they were walking past the library, their footsteps slow and steady upon the pathway leading to the school. Inside, it looked like it was bereft of all occupants, but even in the relatively safe proximity of the old crow, Key could feel the stern gaze of Lady Fairchild boring into them both. Key wasn’t sure if she felt relieved that there was someone bearing witness to the otherwise innocent spectacle.

“So, there’s no point to all this, then?” Her steps faltered, but she continued to stride forward. Calm. Be calm. Breathe in for four and breathe out for six. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I never said that, little one.” She tried not to flinch at the sudden frigidity in both the air and in his voice, but it was hard. “Hope should not be swayed so easily.”

But she held onto that hope for three months with nothing to show for it.

“I…” The apology died on her lips the instant she thought about it. “Dr. Park has a proposition.”

And just like a bird molting its feathers, the old crow became the eccentric professor once more.

“And what did our esteemed doctor have to say? I imagine that it has something to do with your body’s inability to acclimate to Twisted Wonderland’s environment. How hard it must be to be barred from life’s simple pleasures.”

Voice thick with anger and sadness, she said, “It is. Very hard.”

As if such a powerful mage like himself could ever fathom the trials and tribulations she had to go through to live in Twisted Wonderland. It would have been so much worse had Crowley not taken her under his wing and given her purpose, but it could have been much better. It should have been better. The only thing keeping her afloat was that one day, it will be better.

With every step that took her closer to the main campus building, Key finally revealed what Dr. Park had told her. She spoke in brief, concise sentences. All of it was pure information, no room for sentimentality. Key spoke with the cadence of a jaded, seasoned doctor speaking to a patient about their cancer.

Cold. Clinical. Detached.

Had Key not been so focused on holding herself together, she might have laughed. How could she be the doctor—positive and collected—when she was clearly the terminal patient? The irony made her want to laugh. Maybe she should fall into hysterics for the second time that night.

And wasn’t that a startling discovery all on its own?

It felt like an eternity had passed since the overwhelming dinner party.

They were approaching the grand staircase that would lead them to the inside of the school when Key finally finished. For a moment, she was only cognizant of the stone underneath her feet, how her thighs and calves burned at the incline. Three months of walking these very same steps and while she wasn’t fully out of breath, she was still somewhat winded at the physical exertion. It was when they were on the landing—rather, Crowley was at the landing and Key was at least four steps above the old crow—that he addressed her without fanfare.

“So your decision rests on whether or not you can go home?”

Turning around, Key almost stumbled in surprise at the height difference. Yes, she had always been short and the Headmage was clearly taller than her, but she had never seen it so pronounced. Or in reverse.

Now that Key was above the Headmage, she was struck by how almost human he looked. He wasn’t some hulking being with magic that could erase her from existence or a divine presence that hailed from an ethereal plane. And her sudden increase in height wasn’t some insurmountable obstacle either. Here, she was able to see the very top of his brimmed hat and the way his regal features were tilted back so that he could address her.

Crowley looked up while Key looked down.

Nodding, Key’s gaze shifted to her shoes. Out of nowhere, she felt embarrassed. It was as if the admission that her decision was based off of the information that someone else had given her made her seem cowardly. Couldn’t she make decisions on her own? Why did she have to rely so much on the goodwill of others?

Why couldn’t she—

“Then I thank you for entrusting me with your health.”

‘But I don’t’, Key wanted to scream. The only reason she couldn’t entrust anyone else with the information about her past was because she didn’t know how they would respond to a transdimensional traveler! Or worse, an alien! Yes, Key supposed that magic may have desensitized most people to the extraordinary, but the extraterrestrial may be pushing it. Crowley only knew what bits and pieces he did about her because she was fearful when they were first met, and Dr. Park knew some details because it was part of his job in discerning her underlying maladies.

Too few people to trust and even fewer who she could share everything with. 

“It is an honor and a duty that I do not wish to shirk,” Crowley continued. “Yet… you must be prepared for the inevitable.”

Key did not like the sound of that.

Alarm bells were ringing in her head, as if she were missing something vital. As if she had been tasked with doing something important, but had put it off for so long that she had forgotten what it was. Something was missing—out of reach and difficult to grasp.

But the worst part in knowing that Key had forgotten something was that it almost seemed like he knew exactly what she didn’t. It was unnerving. Almost unsettling. For Key, it was like he was in on some sort of joke that he had told her so long ago, but she did not pay it any mind.

“Are you saying that there’s a possibility I may never go home?” The words were biting, but it bit back at both the Headmage and Key. A million and one thoughts raced through her head, all of them jumping to conclusions and wondering what her next course of action would be. This would mean…

This meant that she would be pouring all of her efforts not into returning home, but into making a life here in Twisted Wonderland.

And that was a frightening thought.

The Headmage merely looked at Key, his face impassive.

Finally, he admitted in a low tone, “That may very well be the case, Miss Key.”

Okay.

She was going to be okay. It seemed there was a heavy indication that she would have to start thinking long term. However, indication did not mean that she had a definite answer. There was a choice to be made, yes, but maybe she should wait until she had some sort of confirmation. 

And so, blinking past the sudden burning that clouded her gaze, Key nodded timidly. She had finally broached the topic that she had been putting off for so long. Even if she didn’t like the answer—and she hated the idea that she could never go back home—she at least had an answer. Not a definitive answer, but an answer nonetheless.

Satisfied, Key turned away from her employer and headed up the stairs in silence. The thoughts in her head were going a mile a minute, but the trek back to the Mirror Chamber was now her main focus. The sooner she could get the job done, the sooner she would be able to fall asleep. Come morning, she would have to check up on Grim… And, of course, she would have to gather up all her belongings because…

And wouldn’t that be a good thing? Key wouldn’t have to impose on her fellow custodians anymore and she wouldn’t have to subject herself to dinners that felt more like a death sentence than an imitation of a social gathering. The only downside was that the young custodian wouldn’t be able to spend time with her favorite members of the team.

Speaking of which—

“Ah, there she is!” Emilio looked up from the broom and dustpan that he was busy handling. He had been a step away from leaving the grand room, but had stopped in shocked delight when he spotted Key. “Everyone’s been lookin’ for ya! Ol’ Harper was just about to blow a gasket—”

Emilio suddenly ground to a halt, his voice petering out, but his face was not lacking enthusiasm at seeing Key. Throughout the exchange, he had eyes only for her, but now, he seemed to want to backtrack. At first, Key had thought she had done something wrong—or maybe the evidence of tonight’s revelation was still on her face?—but then she remembered that the Headmage was still following in her wake. Strange, he had been quiet ever since their conversation on the stairs.

“Sir?” The hesitance in Emilio’s voice was not something that Key heard every day. It was quite rare to hear Emilio with any tone of voice that wasn’t rumbly with warmth. In fact, Key would go as far as to say he was subdued when addressing the Headmage. “Is there something the matter? We’re mostly finished with the Mirror Chamber, but we also have a few other members assigned to other posts.”

How uncanny. Emilio never spoke formally—not even to Alastair or Horace!

The Headmage inclined his head in greeting, a grand smile on his face. It wasn’t often that members of the support staff saw Crowley, much less spoke to him. Striding forward, he matched Key’s positioning and gestured towards the entrance to the Mirror Chamber.

“Mr. Alvarez, yes?” The Headmage nodded once to himself, already deciding that his memory was not faulty. He continued without losing his smile, “I trust that you and your esteemed colleagues have done the utmost to keep our beloved institution as clean and prestigious as always! However—” Despite the fact that the Headmage’s eyes held no pupils, Key felt that his gaze strayed towards her for a second. “—you wouldn’t happen to know if Mr. Caine is around? I have a matter of most importance to discuss.”

Emilio blinked, the grip that he had on the broom and dustpan almost slipping out of his grasp. “Um, yeah! Yes! Al is—I’ll just show you.”

Despite his lumbering gait, Emilio managed to look somewhat graceful and put together as he stumbled to the door. As he opened it wide to allow Key and the Headmage to come inside, they could hear the unbridled laughter coming from Alastor alongside a minor scolding from Horace. Upon closer inspection, Key saw that the room looked untouched. It was as if the last few hours had never happened—as if the room was being prepared once more for the first years and returning students.

As expected, all of the custodians were present. It was no surprise; the chamber was simply too big for two people to clean up, especially if a certain cat beast decided to set fire to the room. At the very center of the chamber, Horace casted his Unique Magic to treat some areas of the room that bore scorch marks while the magestone on his pocket watch emanated a soothing light. It took a second, but the bright golden glow that surrounded the scorch marks signified that the rabbit beastman was casting Late for An Important Date.

As Key watched, the scorch marks gradually disappeared until there was nothing left but undisturbed stone and the scent of flowers during a golden afternoon. It was a handy Unique Magic, but it was one that generated too much blot at a fast rate. As a seasoned mage and Night Raven College alumni, Horace had long since trained himself to cast for longer periods of time without harm unto himself. Still, it wasn’t often that he used his Unique Magic. At most, he could cast a couple times a week without too much strain, provided that the stains were not older than two hours. Anything that remained longer had to be cleaned manually.  

“Ah, geeze.” Key glanced away from Horace’s display of his magical prowess to find that Alastair was trotting over to them. His brow was furrowed in annoyance, but he softened when he saw Key wave at him bashfully. “Bit early in the school year to do a performance review, ain’t it?”

“Not at all, Mr. Caine. A quick perusal of your efforts has more than convinced me that your hard work will not go unnoticed.”

Alastair perked up at that. “Or unpaid?”

“You… You do get paid?”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind getting myself and the rest of my crew a raise. What do you think? If it ain’t too early for a review, then it wouldn't be too early for a renegotiation of wages, yeah?” The Headmage’s deadpan demeanor coupled with the crossing of his arms was answer enough. “Sevens, I was jokin’! You’re just like my old man minus the, uh—" Alastor gestured vaguely at the everything that made up the Headmage. “The everything you got going on here.”

Dead silence.

“I’ll take the imperfect compliment as is and leave it at that.” The Headmage relaxed his pose, which brought back the needed levity that Alastair had been trying to implement. “I do, however, have to discuss something with you.”

“About?”

The Headmage cocked his head to the side, which meant that he was looking at Key.

Taking that as a cue, Key addressed Alastair, hoping that he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. And with the way she had abruptly left after receiving her custodial uniform… She would have to explain herself later. “I, um… I have a first year now!”

A blank stare that had the barest hint of mounting concern.

“I mean, I’m kind of like a Housewarden now, but not really?” Key fiddled with the frame of her glasses that threatened to slip down her nose. “Remember that weird flaming cat thing that used to loiter around the school? He’s a student now and he needs a supervisor.”

“You?”

“Me.”

Alastair, who was already looking a little frazzled that the Headmage had decided to come back into the Mirror Chamber, seemed to jump through several emotions before settling on disbelief. While not prone to raucous or violent outbursts, he still sent a nasty glare towards the old crow. 

With his hands on his hips and his impressive mustache trembling violently with every word he spoke, “Dire! Another job! And so soon already? Did the potionologist not ream you hard enough?”

Key blinked in surprise. She was sure that she didn’t go into that much detail over what had happened with Professor Crewel… Unless Crowley or Crewel had spoken with Alastair privately. That was a thought she hadn’t considered until now. It was unsettling to know that the different spheres of her life could intersect and overlap over each other… Granted, she should have seen it coming since they all worked at the same institution, but still.

Unlike the frazzled Alastair, the Headmage looked as calm as ever. Nodding at Key, he spoke evenly and with the aplomb of someone who knew their position as the head. Unlike the comical floundering Key had witnessed during past occasions, the Headmage she saw before her now was assured and firm.

“I already have Kew as a liaison between myself and the Housewardens. Her being a supervisor is merely an extension of her previous duties. She has already agreed and before you ask, there won’t be many changes with respect to her scheduling. However…”

Alastair sent a steely eyed look at the Headmage. Tread carefully, his eyes seemed to say.

If the old crow caught the unspoken threat, he didn’t draw any attention to it. Rather, he took the disgruntled nod as a cue to move forward. “Seeing that Miss Key is now a student supervisor to a new first year, I find it prudent that she move into Ramshackle Dorm. There, she would keep the new enrollee in line while simultaneously maintaining the upkeep of the dorm at her leisure.”

The head custodian pursed his lips, considering. At that moment, Key grew keenly aware that the custodians in the room were paying attention. There was a shift in the air—what once felt celebratory, now felt like they were all on the precipice of some great cliff. Although both men had not spoken too loudly, there were technically two beastmen in the room…

Key did not glance around the chamber to check on Zaria’s and Horace’s reactions.

And then—

“When I said you should find friends about your age, Missy, I meant some of the young’uns in town. Preferably other ladies.” Alastair ran a hand down his world-weary features, but Key clearly saw that he was hiding—very badly—an amused, but fond smile. “You can’t say no to responsibility, can you?”

All of the muscles that had tensed up in the midst of the conversation abruptly relaxed. He wasn’t mad? Or annoyed? That had to be a good sign that she hadn’t stepped on a few toes when she had abruptly left earlier… hopefully.

But, to be sure—

“You aren’t mad?” Timid and a little fragile, Key sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. Cringing at the sound, Key cleared her throat and hoped that no one would notice. Gah! How embarrassing! “I haven’t quit as a custodian.”

“Key… Why would I be mad? In fact—” He ruffled her hair before letting his hand rest upon her shoulder. He squeezed, but the grip he used was filled with fatherly affection. “—I think you should probably quit—”

“I’m not!”

“—but it’s your choice. Unless you were pressured by the dear old crow here. Then that’s a different story with a vastly different ending.”

“Why!?” The Headmage squawked and the feathers that adorned his outfit looked like they were ruffled. It was a comical, unexpected sight that Key almost laughed at the scene. She was rewarded with an overly hurt look that did little to stifle her mirth. “Mr. Caine! I can’t have you slandering my good name—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alastair rolled his eyes, the nonchalance of which was effective in shutting down his employer. “After we finish up here, we can help settle the Little Miss into the dorm. Unless—” The head custodian turned to look at his charge, “—you wanted to stay for one more night?”

Warmth blossomed in her chest when she heard the hope that was in his voice. Yet, it saddened her to know that she would have to decline.

“Grim… is…  Well, I don’t think he can last a full night without getting into trouble. And… I can always visit?”

Alastair nodded at her, his great bushy mustache ruffling as he smiled at her inquisition. “Of course! But—and be honest here—it’s because you wanted to get away from the oldies, right?”

“Mr. Alastair!”

A little while after, the Headmage left so that he could supply a late dinner and a few other necessities that Grim and Key would need. Thankfully, Key and the rest of the maintenance team had already fixed up the dorm, but the necessities for living would have to be supplied in the coming day. In the wake of the Headmage’s absence, the rest of the custodians peppered both Alastair and Key with questions (“ Oh, thank goodness! Such a shame, what a shame, if our dear Little Miss was fired! ” and “ You really thought I was going to be fired? ”) and why Zaria and Emilio were cleaning the Mirror Chamber when they should have been busy with happy hour (“ No offense, but the damage from that cat monster thing was so bad, they had to call up the big guns! ” “ I am the big guns. Emilio is decoration. ”) before they finally told Key that they had one final task for the night.

“You gotta do it, Birdie!” Emilio steered her in front of the Dark Mirror. “It’ll only take a few seconds!”

Key was about to ask what Emilio meant by that, but then she saw the Dark Mirror’s reflection begin to mist over. Beneath the floating mirror, the dark green liquid flowed and boiled without an apparent source of heat aside from magic. For just about everyone there, the Dark Mirror was a familiar sight because they cleaned the Mirror Chamber for special events. For Key, it was a familiar sight because just a few months ago, Key had fallen out of it and straight into the Headmage’s chest.

It had been a while, but Key felt apprehensive when she stood in front of the magical artifact once more. When she had first arrived, she had been confused and almost certainly blind before she had to visit the local optometrist for a better pair of glasses with higher prescription. The cold she felt had chilled her to her bones, but at the time she could not determine if  the shivers that ran up and down her spine were due to the Dark Mirror or the Headmage speaking.

Her memories of that fateful event were foggy at best—she could never remember what exactly was said. And given how evasive the Headmage was… she probably never would.

“Okay then.” Key stood in front of the mirror as Emilio stepped away to give her space. Under her breath, she mouthed, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

It was meant to be a joke to offset the embarrassment that Key felt at doing something silly that she suspected was probably some silly prank or hazing ritual, but then—

—as if she had summoned something far from her understanding, a mask that was adorned with intricate detailing appeared before her. The mask had no face underneath the pure white ivory; there were only pitch black holes like gaping wounds where the eyes should have been. Those sightless holes stared at Key. 

Through Key. 

At the very essence of Key. 

Behind the mask, the flames that Key often associated with the sconces through the halls of the school burned the same shade of green. Although the flames were unruly and untamed and licked at the mask, the mask itself did not burn.

In a low tone of voice, the mask boomed, “State thy name.”

The young custodian, very much aware of the audience behind her, stepped closer to the Dark Mirror. As soon as the tip of her work boots grazed at the fountain that stood beneath the floating artifact, she spoke her name. 

Her true name.

The syllables felt odd on her tongue, much in the same way a person would feel upon hearing their voice from a recording. It had been months since she had last spoken it; she felt that her name from her previous life would feel as though it no longer belonged to her. Yet, as she said it, the melody that poured from her lips was natural, if a bit stuttered since she endeavored to keep her voice quiet.

As the mask regarded her, she thought that the corner of its lips seemed to lift up. Even the look in its eyes (or rather, the empty sockets where its eyes would be) seemed to glimmer with mischief.

Had the Dark Mirror thought she was going to lie?

And then—

The Dark Mirror spoke and once it had, the mask fell back into the depths of the darkness, never to be seen again for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

You’re standing in front of a mirror. 

The glass itself is foggy, as if someone had taken a hot shower and had not yet cleaned the condensation gathering on the glass. For a moment, you contemplate wiping it away—maybe even doodling out random shapes within the fog. Such childish whimsy was unfortunately overshadowed by another feeling. 

Confusion. 

Why were you here, specifically, in front of a foggy mirror? To check your reflection? 

The mundanity of the supposed answer should have satisfied you, but it still felt off. This whole situation was still off. Something was tickling the back of your mind that you should think twice about touching or even looking at the mirror. It was something that pulled at you, forced you to want to turn away. 

And yet—

It was just a mirror. 

A mirror.

You breathed out a little before you inhaled again. So many thoughts ran through your mind, but you could not supply yourself with a satisfactory answer. In an instant, you gave up and came to a decision made out of sheer impulse. You reached out, your hand steady but slow in its trajectory. Before your fingers could come into contact with the glass, the fog lifted. 

It began to swirl. 

Distort. 

Transform.

Shocked now, your hand jerked back and you tried to pivot on your heel to flee. Unfortunately, slight as you were, you were still not quick enough to evade what felt like invisible chains or ghostly frigid hands grasping your arms and legs. The cold was unbearable and the sudden abduction did nothing but to add to the shock.

You screamed—or, you tried to.

Your mouth opened, your lungs burned, but not a sound could be heard.

Within seconds, your immobilized, silent body fell face first into the mirror. Instinctively, you closed your eyes and ducked, fully expecting that the mirror would break. Yet, instead of finding countless sharp shards piercing your skin, you felt something heavy and warm resting on your chest.

It took you a couple seconds, but you forced your eyes to open.

The first thing you checked was what lay on your chest. Although warm and soft, you had no idea what horrors could await you. After all, you were stuck in a strange world where magic was real, paintings talked, and a friend of yours even had fox ears and a tail. All natural! Yet, while apprehension was apparent in every harried breath you took, you didn’t feel too unsafe.

 No, there wasn’t any physical danger present.

And then you took in the small body that rested on top of you.

The first thing you worked out was the wispy locks of dark brown hair. At the base of two carefully plaited pigtails, two pink bedazzled bows sat loosely. Carefully, you shifted in your seat—you were on a couch… situated in front of a television… was this a living room?—so as to not jostle the little girl in your lap. As you did so, you tried to gain more clues from this strange situation. Given how normal everything looked, you quickly surmised that you were no longer in…

No longer in…

Weren’t you in a school just moments before? In fact, the last thing you remember before you stepped up to the mirror and were spat out into this strange place was looking outside your window. You thought you saw fireflies. Maybe even the appearance of a horned figure.

Where were you again?

As you scanned your surroundings, you saw that you were in a small but open space that looked a little cluttered. Aside from the couch that you lay on with the little girl resting in your arms, you saw that there was an accompanying armchair, a matching loveseat, and a mahogany coffee table. Atop the coffee table, you saw there was a laptop that glowed faintly with the evidence of a muted video playing on the screen. Beside the laptop, there was a stack of haphazardly layered notebooks, all spinal bound and dog eared and bulging with a variety of differently colored sticky notes.

Curious, you tried to crane your neck to see what the notebooks were filled with and the single opened textbook that lay on the table. Slowly, you tried to maneuver your body so that you could physically open the notebooks, but your attempts were in vain. The moment you actually made progress, the little girl whimpered and fidgeted in your arms. You barely bit back the tired sigh trying to leave your mouth, but you comforted yourself by focusing once more on the child.

There was familiarity here and it became all the more apparent when you tilted the small girl’s head back with minute, sure movements. She had a heart shaped face with cheeks that were naturally rosy underneath the light of a nearby lamp. Every so often, the little girl’s eyelids fluttered and quivered, her breathing deep and steady—all evidence pointed to dreaming. Although ensconced in a downy blanket, the little girl was dressed in a pair of mismatched pajamas, but they both bore images of overly happy cartoon characters.

In the low lightning, you asked, “Who are you?”

You didn’t expect her to answer, but you definitely did not expect the sound of a door opening, the sound of a key being slotted into the lock, and then, footsteps. Instincts, ones that you didn’t know existed before this moment roared to life. You curled into yourself, shielding the child as your breath stilled in your throat. Every faint footstep made your heart beat faster. It was a snare drum that had been pulled too tight and with every drumbeat, you hoped that it wouldn’t collapse upon itself.

Blood roared in your head.

The footsteps came closer and closer, until—

“Nightmares again?” The voice was soft, not clearly enunciated. Despite the jocular tone the voice held, there was an element of fatigue. If you thought a little more on that voice, you would think there was a hint of concern mixed with regret.

But what you found yourself fixated on most of all was that this felt familiar.

It had been scratching at you, much like a cat testing their claws on their favorite fabrics and materials, but the furniture, the laptop, and the child that you held at long last made some semblance of sense.

They were all familiar.

Sensing no danger, you opened your eyes and breathed.

The man who leaned over you had busied himself with patting down the child’s pigtails and rubbing her back. He was a man of average height with wavy hair that hung loosely over his ears. As your eyes roved his face, you saw that his tanned features were kind, but there were already aged lines furrowing on his forehead and around his eyes. Strange, but somehow saddening. He was not old—he was young, you knew this. 

When you accidentally locked gazes with this man, you averted your eyes and saw that he was wearing light grey scrubs and ratty flip flops upon his feet. Attached to the breast pocket of his scrubs, you spotted a name tag that had been worn to hell and back. Under the dim lighting of the lone lamp that illuminated this room, you could not make out his name. 

Not that you needed to find out; the answer was already in your head. 

You knew this man.

You knew him.

Opening your mouth, you were going to ask what he was doing here, why were you here, and so many other questions. Actually, no. You wanted to leap into this man’s arms, child and all, and sob. The surge of emotion had taken you on a roller coaster, but you didn’t want to leave just yet. Despite all of your internal turmoil, you said—

“Yeah—” You yawned into your shoulder. “—she started crying like an hour or so after I put her to bed. I thought that listening to Crash Course would get her to sleep and she did, but…” You yawned again and your eyes caught sight of the notebooks on the table. Weren’t those meant for an upcoming exam? “We both fell asleep.”

The man above you grimaced, one of his hands palmed his face before he huffed out a sigh. Remorseful, he knelt down and gestured for the little girl. As he gathered her up in his arms, he pressed a kiss onto her wispy hair before he ruffled yours.

“You’re not going to sleep?” The child whined in his arms, but the subtle rocking and the cooing under his breath gradually calmed her down. “Cramming doesn’t always work.”

You shrugged as you slowly sat up straight on the couch. The strangeness of the sudden situation was so jarring, you had not noticed that your body was sore and that there was a slight crick to your neck.

“If Hank Green can simplify the most complicated concepts into simple ten minute videos, so can I.” Stretching helped to loosen your muscles while your spine cracked. “You hungry? I’ll make sandwiches.”

The man—you knew his name; it was on the tip of your tongue—thought for a moment as he rested his lips atop the child’s head. After a moment, he shook his head and acknowledged the clock on the far right wall. “I ate a lot at the hospital with Tara. You can eat a snack if you like.”

Rolling your eyes felt like a love language. “Psssht! As if you need to give me permission.”

As you heard the man’s footsteps plod up the stairs with the accompaniment of a symphony of creaking and groaning only a settling house could make, you rose from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. Here, there was a refrigerator with a messy array of magnets that hailed from different states and countries. A few of them superimposed the drawings of a little girl trying to capture her family’s likeness. The countertops were kept clean, but there were jars neatly labeled with their contents proudly displayed behind the glass. The stove was occupied with a series of empty, but clean pans while the dashboard of the stove was covered by aluminum foil.

A memory:

“I don’t feel like deep cleaning, so always make sure to cover this up, especially when you’re working with oil.”

“But don’t we always use oil?”

“Every day.”

To cover up splashback.

Out of curiosity, you removed the foil to check on the time. The neon green digital clock revealed that it was a quarter to ten. Not exactly a midnight snack and not medically advisable, but you felt the pang of hunger all the same.

The set up for your sandwich was simple: a glob of peanut butter hastily spread over white bread drizzled with honey on top. While such a grand meal would have been fine on its own, you weren’t quite ready to feast. Rummaging through one of the cabinets, you found a packet of Swiss Miss and quickly poured it into a mug of water. It wasn’t until you popped your beverage into the microwave that you realized something crucial.

You never questioned or felt confused when trying to find all the things you wanted.

You were here before.

Or rather, you lived here.

For a moment, your brain hurt and your palms became clammy. A shiver traveled from your head and down your spine.

What was real? 

The strange world that housed magic or the one that you were currently in? The situation was equal parts terrifying and strange. Could only one be real? Both? Another theory? 

You bowed your head forward and—

Your name. The man from before said your name.

“Huh?”

“I know this is a religious household, but your prayers to Chef Mike have been answered.”

Chef… Mike? Oh, he must have meant the microwave.

Your cheeks burned, but you pulled out your hot chocolate from the confines of radioactivity. The mug’s handle was a tad uncomfortable to the touch, but you powered through so that you could enjoy it at the kitchen table.

Before you dug into your snack, you cut your sandwich into triangles. Some of the honey and the peanut butter clung to the blade of the knife, but you rubbed the flat of it on the bread to get rid of the excess.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?”

“Nah, I’m good.” The man shot you a bashful look that was made all the more endearing by the crooked smile on his face. In a split second, under the bright kitchen lights, you realized that he had the same eyes and nose as you. “Tara’d kill me if she found out that her beef stroganoff wasn’t enough.”

“Do I hear wedding bells?” You pantomimed cupping a hand around the shell of your ear. “It’s about time!”

The man rolled his eyes before grabbing one of the pieces of your sandwich and savagely taking a bite out of it. In a fit of rage that only siblings could possess when wronged—siblings?—you yelped out loud and tried to grab it back, but the man—your brother?—leaned back in his chair to evade your attack. As your face burned with fury, you saw that he purposefully smiled with his mouth spread wide.

“You’re disgusting,” you huffed into your hot chocolate.

“Your sandwich is disgusting.”

Dipping your sandwich into the hot chocolate, the both of you fell silent once more. In comparison to the way you felt at the beginning of this strange… Dream? Encounter? You felt at home talking to this overly familiar young man. The both of you talked about your upcoming exam—you had forgotten what it was about—but the answers came to your tongue easily. A script that you had read once before.

As the last of your beverage slipped past your eager lips, he asked, “By the way, you’re all right with donating the tapes, right?”

“The what?”

Some of the bread that you had been chewing accidentally fell down the wrong pipe. As a consequence, the burning sensation of something lodging itself in your throat tickled you until you had no choice but to cough uproariously. The man shoved a glass of water into your hand to which you immediately gulped only to have some of it dribble down your shirt because you were still afflicted with the dangers of barely chewed food.

“Guh.” You dropped your head onto the table, the cool surface of the plastic tablecloth meeting your forehead.

“Hmmm… I don’t feel like taking you to the hospital,” he paused. “So if you feel like dying, you’re on your own.”

“At least I don’t have to worry about studying.” You peeked up at him. “But aren’t you an RN? Aren’t you bound by the Hippocratic Oath to save people? And to answer your question, the VHS tapes that we used to watch? Like Cinderella and stuff?”

“I’m only an RN when I’m paid. Also, the Hippocratic Oath is for doctors.” The man furrowed stroked his chin, the skin of which was littered with a few stray hairs that he must have forgotten to shave in a haphazard rush. “Yeah. The collector guy I told you about offered me a couple hundred, but I turned his offer down. His daughter was obsessed with the Disney classics and he wanted to like… dedicate a shrine to her since this upcoming Friday will be her death anniversary.”

You blinked, intrigued. “A shrine.”

“I know it sounds creepy, but he’s a nice guy and he showed me the other Disney merch he collected over the years. He already has a couple tapes, but he doesn’t mind a few repeats.”

“Hmmm.” You tapped your finger against the table, your eyes idly tracking over the floral patterns of the tablecloth. Before you could think more on the subject, you continued, “I think I put them all in that cardboard box outside my room.”

That’s right. 

A cardboard box. 

You were here, you lived here before. 

And those VHS tapes? During your childhood, you helped rewind them with a pencil and put them in the little cabinet that housed old DVDs and CDs after you were finished watching the films. There were two dozen tapes in that cardboard box, you were sure of it. All of them Disney from the lauded Golden Age of Disney Animation to the little known films of the Bronze Age, and of course, the Renaissance Era.

“Cool. I’ll put them in the car when I—”

You pushed yourself away from the table; your movements had been scripted, but this time, you were eager to see where this body would take you. “It’s okay, Kuya Ro, I’ll do it now. All of them, right?”

The stairs were hardwood, but creaked and groaned on certain steps. You knew this, so you leaped up the steps on ballerina quiet feet. The banisters were cool and rounded under your touch; the years of having been held by many hands evident. Once you reached the top of the stairs, you saw that there were four doors.

Master bedroom.

Two bedrooms.

And a guest bathroom.

At the end of the hallway, right before the guest bathroom, you saw a door that had a cardboard box innocently placed right outside of it. Slowly, you approached the box and before you thought better of it, you pulled back one of the flaps and pulled out one of the tapes enclosed in its case.

Sleeping Beauty.

But before you could open it and delve deeper into the box’s contents, the same grasping sensation of many intangible, invisible hands pulled you out of your body. You tried to scream, but you were being sucked into an unfathomable void. Your hands, incorporeal like wisps of candle flame smoke, tried to grab at the VHS tapes, but it was too late. In horror, you realized that the body you had been imprisoned in no longer housed you.

As those hands pulled you farther and farther away, you were left with the haunting image of a young woman—possibly in her late teens—rearranging the tapes before hefting the box in her arms and making her way down the stairs.  

Chapter Text

“The year has barely started and already, I can tell that I’m going to regret every moment of it.” Key wiped down one of the student’s tables with furious abandon while her companion looked on in amusement. “You would think Mr. I’m-Going-to-Be-the-Greatest-Mage would actually attend his lessons without causing too much trouble, but no! He had to go out and antagonize one of the first years!”

Alastair, who had been leaning his hip against the classroom door, merely chuckled before pointing in a vague direction. “Missed a spot.”

Key screamed and threw the rag smack dab in the middle of the wooden desk. The desk, seemingly inanimate at first, gave an indignant shudder. The legs clattered to and fro, but still remained upright under the assault.

Blowing the wisps of hair—she really needed to get a haircut and soon—out of her eyes, Key abruptly patted the desk in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

The desk gave another small shudder. This time, a little more subdued, but there was still an air of irritation. For something that could not express or emote in a way that was natural to humans, it could still perfectly convey just how much it didn’t believe her.

This time, when Key patted the table again, she made sure the pads of her fingertips brushed against the sensitive surface. The effect was immediate: wood was not meant to bend or break, but it seemed to sag in compliance. Like a puppy who decided to rest against their human after receiving affection.

“Can’t waste your time coddling them, Little Miss!” Alastair rapped his knuckles against the doorframe, a smooth rhythm that was cut short when he chose to continue. “The charm always lasts until sun up, but you also gotta leave soon, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Key sighed in resignation for what was to come before she leaned down to whisper to the desk that it was free to go. It bumped against the flat of her hand before it trundled off to rest against the wall. Another desk immediately took up the space in front of Key, standing a lot more patiently than its predecessor, but just as eager. “I just forgot how… irritating it could be to try and wrangle in someone who clearly doesn’t want any help from me.”

Key could hear the frown in Alastair’s voice when he inquired, “Did the fox boy give you a hard time? I know the both of you managed to get along in the end, but…”

The young custodian paused in her ministrations, but hastily resumed when the desk bumped against the soft plush of her stomach. “In the beginning, but we sorted out our differences. Honestly, I think I took for granted how easygoing Cameron was. My furry boss is being a troublemaker even when the old crow explicitly said that his position as a student was on thin ice.” She sighed, her body deflating. After patting the desk away so that one of the remaining few could step up, she continued. “I wish we could have had the Mirror sort him, but that would be asking too much, wouldn’t it?”

Alastair hummed in agreement. “It’s not your fault, you know. The cat beast’s actions are his own. Plenty of other Housewardens have their hands full with their own first years on the first day. Trust me when I say that it will not reflect on your position as a Housewarden.”

Key gagged at the title. “More like a babysitter…” Her disposition, once more, became wan and tired as she remembered what was to come. “And that reminds me, I have to talk to the Heartslabyul Housewarden soon because Grim had a fight with one of his students.” 

Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any hard feelings—Riddle Rosehearts didn’t seem like the type to hold grudges in a professional context.

The older custodian chuckled to himself when he saw how beleaguered Key looked. However, there was an undercurrent of worry even in that moment of schadenfreude. In fact, he couldn’t help but feel that the worry from the events of last night seemed to grow exponentially, Key had never addressed certain things and while he kept to a strict policy of not needling too much into other’s affairs…

“Before I go,” Alastair began, the compliment faltering slightly under his clumsy tongue, “I just wanted to let you know that you looked good in the uniform. The colors and the overall fit suits you.” Gah! Unbeknownst to Key, he was abruptly reminded of when his estranged daughter used to fish for compliments. Seems like things never changed.

At the mention of her uniform, the young custodian’s hands reflexively grasped at the hem of her white polo shirt. Due to her frazzled disposition, her collar was askew, but the golden placard with her name—fake or not, he bet that it was a placeholder—was pinned with precision over her left breast pocket. For the most part she looked put together unless one looked for her tells.

Alastair wondered if the uniform itself bothered her or if it was another issue entirely.

She kept her face down so that it seemed that most of her focus was on the next desk to be cleaned, but he saw that she was fighting a bashful smile. The tension in her muscles loosened somewhat—good, she wasn’t too mad.

“Mr. Alastair the Softie! Who knew?”

Ah, he spoke too soon. She was just as bad as that fox boy, if not worse. 

“Oy! Careful there, Little Miss! I’ll cut your pay in half!”

They laughed a bit and when the mirth settled down once more, Alastair decided to say his final piece before his paternal courage left once more.

“I know that you relocated to Ramshackle and all that, but the rest of us wouldn’t mind if you came back once in a while. You and that troublemaker of yours.”

Shock colored Key’s deep brown eyes—the effect of which was magnified by the thick lenses of her spectacles.

Turning away, she pushed the bridge of her glasses up her nose to give her a plausible excuse as to not look her mentor in the eye. That did nothing to stop the waver in her voice “Oh, uh… I don’t want to intrude or bother you guys or anything! It’s—”

For the first time since the start of their encounter, Alastair finally made his way to his youngest junior. The shock from before had developed into bashfulness that bordered on self-deprecation. She continued to look away—and Alastair did not push her on that—but he placed a hand upon her shoulders. She didn’t have to react to let him know that her full attention was on him. Even if she didn’t want to, she was the sort to give her full undivided attention to those who spoke to her.

As always, his voice was gruff, but he softened it in the hopes that she would believe him. “You’re a custodian, always have been since the Headmage put you in my care. I know we made a big deal yesterday about your finally becoming one of us, but that was all just pomp and circumstances. Stuffy party things that Ol’ Harper knows more about. You’re one of us, which means that you’re always welcome here, whether you’re a resident of Ramshackle, here in the school, or—Heck! Even if you decided to move to the Sunshine Lands!”

“So…. You’re not mad? Or the others?”

Key dared not look Alastair in the eye, but the quiver in her voice was more than enough indication as to what her current disposition was.

“Mad? Why would—” Alastair stopped himself. No need to berate or question her. What she needed now was assurance. “We care about you, Key. Not because you’re the youngest or we think that you’re inexperienced. You’re part of a... a team and we need to take care of each other at the most basic level. For decency’s sake, of course, but also because we want to. Besides—” He thought of Key from a few months ago, how lost she was. How jumpy. A mystery that Alastair wished that he could solve, but was respectful enough to let be. “Your secrets are yours. To keep or to disclose.”

Key sucked in a breath, but did not say anything.

In the corner of the classroom, the chairs and desks that Key had already tended to had a subtle lean to them, as if they were eavesdropping. Knowing how skilled the mage was when animating objects—so much so that his magic had yet to fade even after fifty years—the desks and chairs definitely could. Sentience didn’t always go hand in hand when animating objects, but it did happen frequently enough that there was modern day research done on the subject.

Alastair shot them a stern glare. It was human nature to pack bond or anthropomorphize the behavior of animals, but furniture? Alastair’s mustache twitched in a mixture of amusement and disbelief as the desks’ and chairs’ subtle lean towards Key and himself abruptly leaned towards the other direction. There were a few who decided to be rebellious, but the head custodian paid them no mind.

“If you do disclose it to someone—any of your secrets—you don’t have to tell any of us. You’re free to tell anyone else and I encourage it.” He paused. “But I’ll be honest, the boys here aren’t too trustworthy.”

He was joking, of course, he knew about the friendship between Key and the fox beastman, but one couldn’t generalize as such to the other NRC students.

The roll in Key’s eyes was more than evident in the tone of her voice, but she gave him a grateful smile all the same. “Okay, Mr. Alastair. I got it!”

“You better have.” The older custodian held on for a moment longer before withdrawing his hands. “I’ll leave you to it then. Be sure to finish the rest of this floor and then punch out when you’re done.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

As much as Key hated to admit it, she was fairly amused by the entire situation. Yes, her student ward had nearly burned a peer after provocation, but Key had to be honest with herself: she saw it coming. While relatively well behaved in the summer, the cat beast was a literal hot head with a trigger finger. (Or rather, a trigger ear. Trigger ears?) Key had hoped—naively—that it would be a week before trouble started to brew, but Grim was not known for his patience.

At the very least, this lesson happened sooner as opposed to later.

Maybe, Grim would learn.

On the other hand, she would get to meet with the Heartslabyul Housewarden again. He was the polite sort, a little too high strung over the rules, but Key found it funny to tease him. Hopefully, their dynamic wouldn’t change much since it hadn’t been too long since she had revealed that she was staff, and since then had only communicated once over email. It would be a shame if she didn’t establish some positive rapport with at least one of the Housewardens.

Whatever the case, Key still had at least an hour to go before she finished her duties for the day. Surprisingly, even though it was the first day, there were tiny messes that littered the floors and the desks of the classroom. Most of the time, it was small things like pencil shavings, eraser bits, or the stray speck of dirt from traipsing around the Botanical Gardens. In other instances, there were scraps of paper due to discarded syllabi or the occasional handwritten note. Still, the job was relatively easy due to the animation charm—unless the furniture was feeling mischievous.

The final classroom that Key had yet to clean up was still lit. Half an hour ago, Key had peeked inside out of curiosity and nearly had a heart attack when she saw that it was still inhabited. There, seated at the teacher’s desk was the lovely, statuesque woman with an elegant, if subdued demeanor.

Julie Andrews.

Key had yet to figure out why the name sounded so familiar (was she Disney related and if so, how?), but did not pay her too much mind since their brief encounter a few days ago. Now, though, it seemed that the intern was more comfortable and at ease within the halls of NRC. The lovely intern was hard at work grading papers, her cherry red pen matching the magestone that was nestled within her ribboned boater hat that she had placed upon the desk.

Key thought about leaving quietly, but deemed it necessary that she inform the young woman that she had a job to do. Hesitantly, Key knocked on the doorframe, which resulted in Julie’s half-moon spectacles slipping down her nose and for the grip on her red pen to falter. Goodness! The young custodian hadn’t meant to startle her—was she that quiet?

“Oh my!” The auburn-haired intern folded her spectacles with a snap before placing them onto the desk with a faint clack. One of her hands placed atop her heart while the other seemed to reach out reflexively for her hat. (For her magestone, Key couldn’t help but think). Even when clearly agitated, the young woman still appeared dainty and while her voice had risen in alarm, it was still at an optimal volume. A lady through and through. “You startled me!”

“Miss Julie, right?” At the affirming nod, Key continued to explain that she was helping close up the school for the day since classes were over. At her companion’s blanched expression, the young custodian had amended her implicit offer that Julie leave immediately and said that she could take care of the rest of the floor before returning. The sigh that fell from the intern’s mouth was hilarious, but Key decided not to react outwardly to it.

Key did emphasize that she had an appointment to keep so when she returned, there was no room for argument. She had a job to do.

Now that the rest of the floor had been taken care of, the young custodian felt the telltale sticky, all encompassing feeling of dread claw up her throat. Had the intern left the light on for Key? Or was she still in the classroom? Gosh, Key didn’t want to face the intern again—and so soon! She was already mentally overtaxing herself with the upcoming meeting and—

“Do you mind, Miss Key, if I continue working?” The intern was busy marking down things in what appeared to be a record book, but she did glance up at her to gauge Key’s reaction. “It appears… that I may have bitten off more than I could chew.” A rueful chuckle that the intern delicately hid behind a gloved hand. “I’ll finish up the last of the pop quizzes while you work on the rest of the class.”

A fair compromise.

Key turned to face the desks before calling out the trigger phrase, “Come on, desk, chair, and shelving! This custodian needs a little helping!”

Immediately, the desk and chairs wobbled and groaned—the furniture’s version of stretching sore limbs to limber up according to Horace. At her beckoning, one of the desks closest to her ambled towards her outstretched hand like an affectionate puppy. Luckily for Key, the desk seemed to remember that she wasn’t made of wood and had ended up abruptly stopping a mere inch away from making contact with Key.

While she was grateful that the desk had spared her another bruise, the assault on her ears at the screech of wooden legs upon stone was beyond painful. The heat in Key’s ears that she had valiantly tried not to acknowledge seemed to burn hotter—she just knew that Julie was annoyed at the disruption.

“Bad,” Key mouthed at the desk. It seemed to wilt, but still leaned towards her for petting. While the desk had no mammalian characteristics to endear itself to the young custodian, it was still rather evident that if it could, it would be giving her the wide eyed gaze that puppies and kittens were well known for. It took an uncomfortable few seconds before Key relented. As her hand softly caressed the smoothed, aged wood, she tried to give a halfhearted attempt to berate it. “You know better than that.”

Nonetheless, Key petted it a few more moments before carefully spraying cleaning solution all over the surface, the underside, and the legs. Once everything was suitably damp, she took a rag and began polishing the desk to a beautiful, lustrous shine. (Or, as shiny as old desks were wont to be). Thankfully, there wasn’t any gum or weird stains that Key needed to be wary of so she was able to send it off on its merry way (to the opposite end of the room) before a peer took its place.

Minutes passed and while Key was at least eighty percent done, she still had to sweep the floor, wipe down the teacher’s desk and podium (both of which remained stationary for the intern’s benefit), and lock up. She didn’t want to check her pocket watch, but she felt dread fill her stomach when she saw that she had at least twenty minutes left.

Ah, but if she didn’t do a quick job… Grim’s enrollment could be in jeopardy and that could send the wrong message to the Headmage. Not to mention, she had no way of knowing how the Heartslabyul Housewarden would react. Punctuality was one of the core tenants that the Queen of Hearts espoused in several of her whimsical rules. At least, that’s what Harper had told her during an offhand conversation a few months ago. Key would not be surprised if the red-haired teen followed those same teachings. 

His perfunctory nature did little to suggest anything otherwise.

A pair of footsteps from behind alerted Key to the intern’s presence. The pocket watch that Horace had given her snapped shut with an audible click, the grooves and ridges that outlined the bird upon its lid dug a little into the pad of Key’s thumbs.

A soft chuckle, “Do excuse me, Miss Key.” The auburn-haired young woman ducked her head demurely in apology, but there was a lift to her cheeks. “It appears we’re now even when it comes to startling the other.

It took a second for the joke to set in, but the instant it did, Key huffed a disbelieving laugh. It was tense and came out like a lilting hitch in breath, but the humor was there nonetheless.

“We just met and you’re already keeping score?” A spark of mischief seemed to grow for a second in Key’s chest. “I’ll try harder then.”

Julie demurred again. “By all means, try your hardest. However, I actually came to offer my services.”

“Hmm?”

A fetching red blush darkened the intern’s cheeks, glancing to the side in what appeared to be embarrassment before facing Key once more. “It was my fault that I was behind today and because of that, you’re backed up as well.”

“A little bit.” Key frowned a little, but spoke no further. What was Julie—

It was then that Key noticed that the intern was twirling her hat in between both of her hands. A nervous tick? Habit? The repetition of such movement was a little bit out of the ordinary—at least, it felt that way to Key.

Julie didn’t seem the type to fidget or move around so needlessly.

She must be genuine in her remorse.

“To make up for my shortcomings, I’d like to help you finish your tasks for tonight. It only seems fair since you were waiting on me.”

“O-oh! You don’t have to! I can—” The young custodian’s words died in her throat when Julie abruptly stopped flipping her hat so that she could raise her chin up high to deliver a commanding stare. Well. If Professor Crewel hadn’t intimidated her all those days ago, she would have backed off from the stare alone. “I guess so… Do you want a broom?”

Given how ladylike the intern looked and acted, Key was skeptical. Had she ever even touched a broom with the intention of sweeping?

“Noted: sweeping.” Julie gazed at the last few remaining chairs and the trails of dusty chalk that remained on the board. “Anything else?”

Key flipped open her pocket watch. A little less than fifteen minutes left.

“Wiping down the last of the chairs, the podium, and the teacher’s desk; cleaning the chalkboard; and locking up.”

After each item that the young custodian listed, Julie muttered it under her breath. Despite the low volume, Key was able to hear her, loud and clear. “Spit Spot! Practically Perfect in Every Way!”

Spending a lot of time with magicians—both amateur and well honed—it didn’t take long for Key to put the pieces together. Once the intern had spoken her special incantation, her cherry magestone glowed in shades of dusty pink and sparkly periwinkle. At once, the cleaning supplies that stood stationary within Key’s cleaning cart sprung to life and immediately went straight to work. 

As Key watched in awe, she couldn’t help but think about all the Unique Magics she had seen thus far. Horace’s spell was time based, which reverted objects or even large areas to the condition they were in before tragedy struck. Another spell she had encountered was Cameron’s “It’s Called a Hustle, Sweetheart!” which was a weak spell that he wove into his words before he uttered his special incantation to disarm those he was ‘hustling’. 

It had been a… unique experience watching him cast it upon an unsuspecting Ignihyde student. 

Julie’s Unique Magic was far more dynamic, but just as entertaining to watch as Cameron’s special spell. While Cameron had to work his magic so that his targets thought that he was willfully antagonizing them or acting the fool, Julie’s UM brought inanimate objects to life. However, it was not done in the same way as the previous spell that took over the classroom. Rather, the broom that was attached to the cleaning cart, flew out of it and began to sweep the floor in neat, efficient strokes. The rags were lifted, the spray bottles were sprayed, and the blackboards were dusted and sponged down.

Within three minutes, the classroom was the closest it would ever be to perfection.

Meanwhile, Julie looked like she was conducting an orchestra with quick, precise movements. It appeared as if every instrument under her command had its specific placement and sound. Cameron was a solo act who reached out for crowd participation. He was erratic, always talking and adapting. You would think that he was acting from a script, but no. It flowed as naturally to him as the blood running through his veins. On the other hand, Julie was part of an entire ensemble, the underlying voice among many that worked together in harmony. 

And the best part about Julie’s UM? Once all the cleaning instruments were finished with their respective jobs they all neatly made their ways back to the cart. Really, it was the neatest Key had ever seen the cart after a job.

“That. Was. Amazing.” Key couldn’t help it. Unique Magics were a fantastical topic that she knew little about, but always sought out information for whenever she happened upon a magical textbook that no one was using. She had much to learn, but the correlation between genetics, personality, and other factors that contributed to the formation of UM’s never failed to fascinate. To have something all your own, shaped by your experiences, thoughts, and who you are a person.

“I prefer practically perfect.” Julie demurred with a proud grin. During the cleaning session that was caused by her own hand, she had neatly placed all of her graded papers (pop quizzes) into her leather satchel, which she slung over her shoulder. “But I suppose amazing will suffice.”

Together, both young women exited the classroom. Before Key crossed the door, she clapped her hands and said, “Thank you all for your hard work! Please rest for a new school day!”

All at once, the desks and the chairs, chalk and erasers, and the podium shuffled to their assigned positions before tapping their legs in thunderous applause. With one final clap, Key stepped out completely and watched as the door shut.

A second later, the lock clicked into place, waiting for a member of staff to unlock it for the next day.

“Have a good night, Miss Key. I trust that you will be retiring for the evening.”

“Ah… not really.” At the questioning gaze that the intern gave her, Key had no good reason not to speak the truth. At this point, the entire school probably knew about the cat beast’s involvement with the broken chandelier. While Julie may not look like the type to gossip, Key wanted to make sure to at least keep the record straight. “I have to attend my first year’s hearing with the Headmage. It won’t be too bad, but it’ll be the first time I’ll be seen as a Housewarden.”

Julie nodded her head in understanding, but there was concern in her gaze. “You’re a Housewarden as well? So much responsibility…” The intern continued to speak, not allowing Key to brush her comment under the rug. “It’s a stressful thing, to be in charge of your students, to strengthen your magic, and all the while, shouldering a burden that others would gladly push you off the pedestal for.” She shook her head. “Be careful, Miss Key. Stress and magic never bode well.’

Key, not knowing why Julie was saying this, tried to alleviate the tension by letting out a half-hearted chuckle. “It’s a good thing that I don’t have magic, then.”

Julie eyed her shrewdly before she began heading off to the faculty dormitories. “Immensely.”

Chapter Text

The portraits that hung on the wall behind the Headmage’s desk were lively today. All of them appeared to be in a tizzy, even the mages that were usually stoic compared to their bumbling contemporaries were somewhat frazzled. The Thorn Fairy, the Royal Vizier, and even the King of Beasts actually paid a lot of interest to all who gathered in the office. Normally, they wouldn’t have spared any of the office’s visitors a second glance, so what had changed? 

Briefly, Key wondered about Rosalia’s words: how the Headmage had given her a lot of responsibility and that he had a lot to say about Key when she wasn’t present. 

What had the portraits heard? What had they seen?

Today was not the day to ponder over those questions in depth, but she did think about them in deep scrutiny. 

Was it just her, or did the Sea Witch give her a thorough once over? Had the Greek God of the Underworld laughed a little at her presence?

“Ah, good to see you, Miss Key.” The Headmage commanded the room behind his desk, but it was the students seated in chairs before him who caught Key’s attention. “If all goes well, this will be quick.”

As expected, the Heartslabyul Housewarden was present, this time outfitted in his NRC uniform. Like most students, he had slightly personalized it—his uniform had featured a bow that was neatly fitted around his throat and red wing tipped shoes that gave him a fair few inches of height that emphasized his domineering nature.

To his immediate right, there was another student, a fellow red headed Heartslabyul, but his locks were not as deep a red as his Housewarden’s hair. However, this student was just as eye-catching. At the corner of his left eye, he had been marked with a red heart. It was no longer a shock to see random students with one of the card suits branded on their faces, but Key wondered how the Housewarden managed to choose which suit matched the student.

(She had tried asking Horace about the process after first hearing about the markings from Cameron, but he had given her an undecipherable couplet before he booped her nose and ran for his next shift at the library). 

There didn’t seem to be any commonalities, but Key supposed that since the dorm reminded her of Wonderland, it could simply be arbitrary, whimsical reasoning.

In one of the four chairs that were lined up before the Heamage’s desk, Grim was trying to burrow into the wooden frame. It was a shame, the little cat beast would have surely hidden himself away if it were not for his blue flamed ears and the furtive glances behind him before he would proceed to duck once he accidentally locked onto Key’s carefully blank gaze.

“I hope I didn't keep you all waiting.” The young custodian was all too aware of the new uniform she wore, of the dirt that had accumulated from her shift. It was nothing too egregious, but she still felt leagues apart from the rest of the room’s occupants. She was human. She was magicless. She worked a job that most people would never pursue. “The classrooms were being a little too fussy today.”

It made Key feel a little better about her role in the school when she saw the old crow’s lips quirk up into an odd huff of a smile while the gathered students were either confused or dismissive of the statement. The admission felt as if Key had told a secret—an inside joke—that only the Headmage knew.

Gold claws gestured at the seat at Rosehearts’ immediate left. Once seated, Key happened to catch the Housewarden’s eyes…. And he happened to glance in her direction with an affirming nod. Annoyance darkened his storm grey eyes, but that irritation was definitely not aimed at the young custodian. Rather, as she idly observed, she knew that the source of Rosehearts’ ire was surely the redhead with the branded heart.

There was nothing off about him other than the massive scowl on his face—and the collar that was clasped tightly around his neck. Although Key’s gaze lasted a few seconds, she couldn’t help but brush her fingers against the hollow of her own neck. There probably was a time or two when Key had to wear tight collars or other constricting neck-wear, but she couldn’t quite remember—yet the memory of the feeling was ghastly all the same. Having things worn on the neck wasn’t particularly high on Key’s tolerable sensations so seeing such a display was a little… nauseating.

A sense of empathy filled her during those few seconds she scrutinized the collar around the teen’s neck.

She also had to wonder how the collar came to be.

“Not at all, Miss Key. I know that your dedication to the job would hinder your punctuality, but you surprise me. Your timing, as always, is impeccable.”

Even though there was an air of a backhanded compliment nestled in between the lines, Key couldn’t help but preen with childish satisfaction. Yes, she had done something right! She was being acknowledged for her work! If she could pump her fist in the air without worrying about the way she presented herself, she would have. A job done well was in and of itself enough for her, but the added praise was enough to make her think that even if the night turned for the worse, she at least wasn’t in any trouble. 

Grim, on the other hand…

Now that Key was finally assessing the situation, she saw that the cat beast also had a collar affixed around his throat. That was strange…. Where were all these collars coming from? The Headmage was powerful, but there was no way he would produce something so gaudy!

Maybe something a little bit understated, but just as grand. Perhaps something that held his signature colors of midnight blue and gold.

And maybe something with feathers.

But, now that she was looking closely… The color scheme, where had she seen that before? For some odd reason, Key’s eyes drifted back to the Headmage and then higher…

Much higher…

Behind a Spanish style folded fan, the famed Queen of Hearts was coyly peering down from behind the exquisite cloth. Although not as traditionally beautiful like the Fairest Queen or ethereal like the Thorn Fairy, Key had to admit that the Queen of Hearts was stunning in her own unique way. The monarch held Key’s gaze with a seemingly telling smile—as if finally letting Key in on a joke—and then her gaze drifted over to the student who sat directly in her line of sight.

Heartslabyul Housewarden Riddle Rosehearts.

It took a few long agonizing seconds before Key made the connection between the Great Seven, the seven dorms, and the seven Housewardens.

It was something.

And when Key found a something , she knew that she would have to make note of it. As the Headmage prompted the Housewarden to speak about the incident involving the first years, Key resolved to write down her thoughts later.

“It appears that during third period, Ace decided to goad Grim—” Here, Rosehearts sent a scathing look at the aforementioned cat beast, as if he was still angry about the events that occurred during the entrance ceremony. Had it only been yesterday evening? Time seemed to pass too quickly in Twisted Wonderland at times…. It scared Key, if she was being honest. “—which resulted in an altercation that consisted of a subpar magical duel followed by the shattering of a priceless chandelier.”

Ah. That explained the ruckus earlier that day. Key had been busy making sure that Ramshackle Dorm was fit to be inhabited. Yes, the building was clean, but there was a need for toiletries, groceries, and maybe just a few more homey touches to make the dorm… something akin to a home. Key already had that, but she feared that with the rest of the staff having already returned…

Anyways, Key was able to make the acquaintanceship of the Mystery Shop’s Mr. Sam. Although he had the same sort of ostentatious flair that she often associated with students from Octavinelle, he was still kinder and somewhat more charismatic than those she had observed. Furthermore, she thought that he actually wanted a good deal on both ends, which probably kept him in business, if she were being honest.

In the end, Key ended up with a tablecloth and a thin plastic covering for it, a few bars of soap, dishwashing liquid, several sponges, frozen vegetables, and a few pounds of ground pork. Key thought about buying rice, but found none.

(Key thought about stocking up on tuna cans, but remembered that the Headmage brought in quite a few the night prior, she could think about restocking within a week or two).

Besides, Key hoped that Grim would at least try to diversify his food. Growing mages required a healthy lifestyle; physical and digestive health included. From what she had gathered, he had a liking towards most human foods with special preferences for all things meat. Probably not the most cost-effective thing to buy, but considering she herself did not eat and was rather low maintenance, she could afford to see what sorts of other things caught his fancy.  

And if he dared complain about her cooking—ohhh… she was going to have to reteach herself how to cook, wasn’t she? She supposed that it was like riding a bike or following along with potions recipes when she was under the tutelage of Dr. Park, but she would have to find out what she forgot when she eventually put her skills back to the test—well, Grim could always go to the cafeteria. The selection there was far grander and Key didn’t know a better way than food to teach Grim about budgeting and limiting impulse buys.

(He really did think that money could be made and not circulated).

However, given today’s circumstances, Grim wasn’t going to get any tuna for a good while.

Key glanced at Rosehearts, who returned her gaze with an unamused glare. Key knew that it wasn’t meant for her, but the intensity of it only had the young custodian balking in response. Didn’t someone say something about a Housewarden with a horrible temper? Key didn’t pay too much attention to gossip and Cameron had only given her sparing details regarding that topic. And….

Ah, this would be bad.

Could it be Rosehearts who had the ferocious temper?

“Because of such poor conduct—” Rosehearts added when he saw the considering look on Key’s face, “—I had no choice but to instill my form of punishment on both of these rulebreakers. Given the circumstances, I believe that the Headmage has considered other forms of punishment that better fit the situation.”

Key blinked and before the Headmage could continue where the Heartslabyul Housewarden had left off, she couldn’t help but add, “The collars around their necks… That’s you?”

And, for the first time since Key had stepped into the room, she saw the barest hint of a smile blossom onto the Housewarden’s features. Actually, now that she was looking closer—and she had just adjusted her glasses to doubly make sure—the smile was more of a self-satisfied smirk and it looked dastardly on his delicate visage. Were it not for the memory of him being genuine and earnest throughout their first meeting, Key would have thought him to be a sadistic taskmaster. Who took pride in subjecting their peers to this baseless punishment?

What was worse, Key couldn’t help but think, was that while Rosehearts may have been only a second year, the students at his side were only first years! And it was the first day! The punishment seemed to be a bit too severe for a crime that could have easily been chalked up to a misunderstanding or a mistake. Even if a thousand chandeliers had been destroyed, she couldn’t imagine collaring someone with such a gaudy and no doubt heavy metal around their neck as a twisted form of punishment. 

But, she held her tongue. 

Maybe Rosehearts or the Headmage himself had a suitable explanation. After all, she had been flabbergasted by the culture at NRC, and by extension, the rest of Twisted Wonderland. It would make sense that she may have missed something crucial.

“But of course!” The redheaded second year placed a hand on his chest, pride in his power, both magical and inherent to his position as Houswarden, apparent from his display. There was arrogance in his very posture, exuding confidence that easily reminded Key of Azul when he spoke of the Mostro Lounge. An arrogance that came with knowing that he was better than others because he was better than others. “I used my Unique Magic, Off With Your Head, in order to take away both of these rulebreakers’ magic.”

Key’s eyes widened. Although she wasn’t too well versed in the types of magic that were prevalent in Twisted Wonderland, she did understand to a vague extent what that meant. 

Since magic was so inherent in the soul, lifeblood, and imagination of every living being in Twisted Wonderland, to have it taken away was nothing short of debilitating. Maybe not painful, but the loss of magic to mages who were proficient in the craft was rumored to be mentally and emotionally damaging. Given how arrogant the mages she met at NRC were thus far, Key could believe it.

What kind of person would look so proud of a Unique Magic like that?

Wouldn’t the subjugation of peers be considered a last resort?

To have a part of yourself taken away against your own will? It was like if someone had decided to chop off her right hand. Or maybe even break her legs. In this case, chopping off one’s head seemed a more apt description.

In fact, Key wanted to say that even losing her decent vision or her ability to eat was almost equitable.

What had pushed the Heartslabyul Housewarden to create a magic meant for himself to seal other’s magic? A need for control? Or a need to protect himself?

Once again, Key felt herself empathizing with the first years who had been collared by the Heartslabyul Housewarden. Yes, this meeting was tedious and could have been easily avoided if they weren’t such petty children, but children did not deserve such brutal treatment. Children were meant to be taught, not punished by such torturous means. If Riddle Rosehearts used his magic in such trivial circumstances such as this, then what would he do in the future when he would be faced with problems that were much more difficult to navigate and far more nuanced? 

Key caught the eyes of the Headmage who looked neither distressed nor perturbed by what he heard. Instead, he sat in his seat, his hands propped up under his chin as he watched the proceedings with a keen eye. But detached. An impartial judge with no incentive to pass a verdict as of yet, but…. When his golden gaze met Key’s deep brown eyes, he seemed to nod at her. It was as if he was inviting her to take charge, to try to understand the situation and take part in the conversation as more than just a passive onlooker.

Automatically, the young custodian felt herself bristling. Geeze, was the Headmage trying to get her to do more of his job? Or was this some sort of test? Some educator he was, pushing her headfirst into something he clearly had not prepared her for. Ahhh, but that was sort of the point wasn’t it? How magnanimous of him that he did his best to groom her into a capable professional.

“And…” How could she word this without sounding too accusatory? “Is this your only means of punishment? Or is this just used for extreme cases?” If he answered the latter, Key could feel better about Rosehearts’ solution. A priceless chandelier was still a priceless chandelier. Thank goodness that there were no injuries, but because there was no one stationed near that area, it had taken a while for someone to literally pick up the pieces. Thankfully, the chandelier had been put back together by the combined help of the returning custodians, but nothing could be done about the shattered magestone.

Unlike normal, non-magical objects like wood or metal, the inherent magic within the magestone was finite and ornery. Once shattered, they refused to cooperate. Sure, the stone itself could be used, but since its main role in the chandelier was to power the lights instead of serve as a decorative fixture, it was rendered mostly useless.

The Heartslabyul Housewarden cocked his head to the side, likely showing that he hadn’t thought of such a question or had expected her to ask. Still, seeing that she was still very polite and she inquired in what appeared to be genuine curiosity, he answered with little delay.

“As Housewardens, we are allowed to dole out punishments as we see fit. Therefore, collaring both of them was well within my purview. Unless a teacher or member of staff says otherwise?” At that, Rosehearts glanced over at the Headmage, who, up until that point, was watching in detached curiosity.

The Headmage, at last, spoke. “Yes, while Housewardens have full control over the discipline of their dorm residents, staff members or another Housewarden may step in, particularly if the punished student is not under the purview of the other Housewarden.”

Interesting.

Key cast a side glance at Grim who was busy trying to paw at his collar with virtually no success. When the young custodian cleared her throat, he sent an irritated look in her direction, but slumped in his seat and forced his gaze heavenward.

Such a troublesome little cat brat!

(But cute too).

“In that case, I can’t speak for your student, Mr. Rosehearts, but I will have to ask that you release Grim.”

The Heartslabyul Housewarden’s clear grey eyes, usually rounded and soft, had become narrow and strong as he regarded her. His skin, pale and unblemished, began to pinken with heat, but his voice remained level. Call it a hunch, but if the Headmage were not there… And if she were not a member of staff, but a student instead…

“That is their punishment.”

His words were clear. Definitive. Brooked no room for argument.

But—

Grim was not his.

“And yet, I was under the impression that we were still figuring out the terms for what they’ve done. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have used collars—” Was there really no other way? “—but now that they’re both under control, there’s no need for it. I understand if you don’t trust your first year, but I am choosing to put faith in Grim.”

Key stared impassively at Riddle, who was looking at her with the air of someone who realized that something they thought was true had now revealed itself as a complete and utter lie. The complete opposite of what he had initially thought of her. While it had only been less than a week since they had first met each other, the young custodian knew this was the start of a downward spiral between the two of them. Up until this point, they were both on the same page, but it appeared that they were going down two very distinct paths.

She hadn’t mean to sound like she was doubting Rosehearts’ authority or effectiveness, but she realized too late that he had been given cause for offense. A social blunder. A faux pas. An apology would have to be given in the future, but her authority and a precedent of who can punish Grim had to be set. Just because she was magicless and Ramshackle Dorm was basically a leftover dredge of a bygone era didn’t mean that the Housewardens could step over her—or Grim—like this.

Was this the test that the Headmage must have been silently alluding to?

With a decisive movement from his fingers—a causal flick that belied years of experience—Rosehearts uttered something under his breath that caused the collars to disappear. Once he was finished, both the offending students either sighed a breath of relief or rubbed at their throats. While Key could not discern if Grim suffered injuries, the redhead definitely made it look like he had suffered so much more than what he let on.

“All right, how do you wish to proceed?”

Always the polite young man, the edge to Rosehearts’ voice could have gone unnoticed had it not been for the fact that Key’s sensitive ears had picked it up. Swallowing down the need to apologize, she gestured towards the red haired first year who had affixed her with a look of suspicion and sardonic relief. It was not that she was deliberately trying to undermine the authority of the Housewarden, but the Headmage was still looking at them—no, at her—and well, why not?

“I want to hear his side of the story first.”

The sound of Grim immediately getting riled up was quickly overpowered by the Heartslabyul first year’s heckling laughter. As much as Key wanted to break up the fight as soon as possible, she found herself rooted in her seat. There was a coolness in Rosehearts’ eyes and the way he beheld her was stony—a far cry to how he had acted upon their first meeting.

A quick glance at the Headmage told her nothing and she felt guilty all the same.

At the end of what appeared to be the most convoluted, non-convoluted recount of what was supposed to be something short and simple, Key was proud to admit that she learned three things from this encounter. 

One, Ace Trappola was the first year who had antagonized Grim. Two, it was through the combination of Ace’s bratty, childish attitude and Grim’s impulsivity that the chandelier broke. And three, the both of them were adamant on claiming to be the innocent party, citing that it was “an accident”.

Unfortunately, a broken chandelier was one thing, but a broken magestone was another. The Headmage had opted for expulsion, but Rosehearts surprised everyone. He had said that the punishment was too light. Rather, instead of teaching the miscreants that the use of magic was a privilege, it would instead instill the idea that it would be fine to run away from responsibility.

No, here in Night Raven College, students had to own up to their mistakes.

“The magnanimity that I have witnessed today!” The Headmage, had he been standing, would have fainted into a dead heap. To make up for it, a few beads of moisture gathered at the corners of his golden eyes. Dramatic as always, but it served as a point of normalcy that Key stubbornly clung to. “Mr. Trappola, Grim… You have been served leniency from both your Housewardens. Yet… the exact punishment has yet to be decided.”

And the ball was back in their court.

“What do you suggest would best suit their punishment?” The red haired Housewarden asked. 

He sent an unappreciative glance to Trappola, who was trying to mouth suggestions at Key. Not that the suggestions would have done anything. She already had something in mind. 

His voice remained stoic, but there was something… something underlining his words. “I suggest that we exact the same thing because they took equal blame in the incident.”

“That sounds fair.” It did, but why did Key think that he was going to say something else that would add more to his words?

“I should hope so; as the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, I find it my duty to uphold the legacy of the Queen of Hearts’ propensity for just compensation.” His storm grey eyes looked onto the portrait of the Queen of Hearts. Following his gaze, Key saw that the Queen was watching the Housewarden with a flirtatious, but proud grin before coyly disappearing behind her fan. “However, considering both of these students are from different dorms, it would also make sense if the end result ends up with different consequences for the both of them.”

While he sounded logical—pragmatic now that Key was thinking harder on it—there was a superiority to his tone. It was as if he was implying that if he disapproved of her methods, he would go out of his way to punish his dorm resident in a way more befitting his standards. And that was fine by Key. She didn’t become Grim’s supervisor because she wanted to gain or demonstrate the power she technically held over the Housewardens. At the end of the day, they were supposed to be on the same page.

So why the veiled hostility?

She thought a moment, deep in thought, before saying, “They broke the chandelier and while it had been repaired, that doesn’t mean that they can’t work to make up for it. The maintenance team has already been tasked with training the scholarship students and those who want to volunteer. They're more than capable of adding two more to the roster.”

Surprisingly, Rosehearts listened to her suggestion, his grey eyes contemplative. When she finished, he nodded and looked at her with an appreciative look that had been lacking throughout the meeting.

“How would that work? When will they help the maintenance team? And for how long?”

Good question.

Key thought back to her memories of when Alastair had explained how sometimes students either chose or were volunteered to work with the custodial staff. He had mentioned that it was sometimes beneficial to have students work for at least one to two hours a day—usually in the evenings. In the event that the work was meant to bolster better control over their skills in Practical Magic and other related skills, the students were permitted to use magic. However, if it was due to punishment, the students were stripped of their magical pens and were made to labor without magic as their crutch.

Those who were made to work often did so from a minimum of a week to the longest duration of the entire school year. It depended on the severity of the infraction and if there were other infractions preceding it.

Key said as much, to which the Headmage added, “Considering that it is the first day and we have yet to prepare for club meetings, I suggest at least two hours of service without magic for two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Grim yowled as if he had been struck with lightning, but Key was quick to shush him by gently pinching the scruff of his neck. “Henchman, how can I become a great mage if I’m busy mopping floors or picking up trash?”

“As if you ever had a chance,” Trappola sneered.

Without missing a beat, Rosehearts stepped in, easily diffusing the squabble while simultaneously restating his power over them. “I know I have no authority over the Ramshackle residents, but I will say that if you don’t stop, I will have no choice but to add more time to your sentence…” A meaningful pause. “And seal off your magic once more.”

Trappola nearly toppled over his chair in his haste and anger to stand up to face his still seated Housewarden. “But I’m already going to be cleaning without magic!” His fists shook at his sides and his eyes blazed with indignation. “What’s the point of taking it all away? You said it yourself that you wanted all of your students to pass. How can I do that if I can’t access my magic?”

A brilliant red flush blossomed upon Roseheart’s skin, the hue spreading up his neck to cover his cheeks and kiss the tips of his ears. Furthermore, Key noticed that his fists twitched and trembled, as if wanting to summon his magical pen once more to enact righteous judgment against his insubordinate first year. Even though Key was not in his line of sight, she just knew that his storm grey would have been roiling with blazing indignation, the ferocity of which she hoped she would never be privy to. 

Still, despite warning signs that the Housewarden had yet to blow his top, he continued to remain seated, squarely facing his first year without fear of backlash. (And what would have Trappola done anyway? He was outnumbered by mages much more powerful than him and they would not let an outburst, magical or otherwise, slide).

“You won’t have to think about the very concept of passing if you’re expelled.”

Trappola blanched, but it lacked the fire that would have matched Rosehearts’ roast.

“We’re all in agreement, then?” Key hated how intrusive she felt witnessing how discipline was meted out in NRC. Were the teachers just as bad? She hoped not; the thought of getting punished by Professor Trein or Crewel sounded painful. And yet, to see a brazen display for the first year’s disrespect? They were annoying—Key wasn’t going to deny that—but she also knew that Rosehearts shouldn’t be so free to wield such an unyielding, unchecked power like this without some sort of higher power that could consistently keep him reined in.  

Key happened to glance at the Headmage and then wished she hadn’t.

His golden gaze—inhuman, eerie, and waiting—caused her stomach to churn.

Carefully, she broke away from his gaze and looked to the Housewarden in expectation.

“I suppose so… Provided that there aren’t any more infractions from either of them.”

Chapter Text

Before Rosehearts went back to his dorm, he gestured for Key to wait a moment. Their other companions, Grim and Trappola, looked back at both of them in confusion and hesitation, but the Heartslabyul Housewarden urged them to continue forward. It wasn’t like he needed to threaten them—the very idea that he hadn’t kept his collars affixed around their necks soley due to Key asking nicely was threat enough. One step out of line and he would barely breathe out the incantation for his Unique Magic and they would be instantly collared. 

As the first years moved on, angry little snips exchanged between them, Rosehearts skipped straight to the point.

“You seem to know an awful lot about the goings on of Night Raven College. How long have you been a secretary?” Something akin to an accusation bled through his tone of his voice, but Key remained unperturbed. It was inevitable that someone would start asking questions, but she hadn’t expected it from one of the Housewardens so soon.

“Not long,” Key admitted. “Just a few weeks before the start of the semester, but officially? During the first Housewarden meeting.”

The Heartslabyul Housewarden’s storm grey eyes bore into her gaze.

“I was already working as part of the maintenance crew before I was a secretary… and now I’m somehow working for both positions.” That ‘somehow’ was a lie, but Roseharts didn’t need to know that. “If you’re worried about the punishment for those two—” She gestured at their first years. “—I’ll ask my supervisor the details and if there isn’t anyone available to take them, I’ll do it myself.”

As Key talked, Rosehearts’ eyes grew wider and wider. There was a displeased uptick to the tip of his pursed lips, one that trembled with what appeared to be self-righteous anger. “A custodian? You obviously do good work, why would you degrade yourself like that?” His imperious gaze pierced her own, making her feel small and incompetent. As if she had personally offended him. “Miss Key, you could go far in life if you applied yourself and continued to pursue opportunities if you used your connections to the Heademage to the fullest.”

Key didn't understand what she was hearing.

In the past, she had compared some of the NRC students to elite preppies, but this act was quickly getting on her last nerves. Like, really quick. She may not have remembered much about her past life or her old world, but she did get the impression that she didn’t like people who thought of themselves as above others; the sort of people who looked down on those who worked jobs that were considered unsightly for polite society.

Hearing such a brutally unforgiving, but flawed statement cut Key deep. 

It stung.

Although, now that Key was thinking about that…. Should she really be surprised? Even in a world that was as magical as Twisted Wonderland, the issue of prejudice and society never seemed to lag too far behind. It wasn’t just the stares that she got back when she did not have the custodial uniform. It was her status as someone who was human. Who was magicless. Who worked a blue-collar job.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, but to see the mundane in such a wondrous, ethereal plane of existence?

Key kept her voice level. 

Maybe the Housewarden was tired and not paying too much attention to what he was saying. That had to be it, right? Unfortunately, that theory was quickly discarded when she continued to observe him. As much as she would have liked to delude herself into thinking that Rosehearts was not in his right mind, the begrudging concern and mild disgust in his eyes said otherwise.

To save face and to distract from the growing heat that was burning with an unexpected, but underlying combination of anger and embarrassment, Key answered with an awkward chuckle and a pointed look at both of their charges.

“Let’s worry about them, okay? I’ll let you know by tomorrow morning at the latest what the final schedule will be.”

Rosehearts continued to level a measured stare at her before inclining his head in affirmation. “Very well. But to reiterate, you have other options than your current position.”

Another awkward laugh. “For sure. Yeah.”

“Can’t you bail me out, Henchman? I was defendin’ myself!” The cat beast flopped forward onto the kitchen table. Despite Key’s threats that she wouldn’t cook for Grim after the stunt he pulled, she was swindled into making a quick little meal out of pre-packaged noodles that were mixed in with hastily thawed vegetables. Grim was quick to devour at least half of the dish, all the while groaning that his minder should have sprinkled in some more flavor—pretending not to listen to Key’s advice that one as tiny as Grim shouldn’t be given something so heavily seasoned and sent to bed with an equally heavy stomach.

The slight rattle of the dish was brought to Key’s attention as she snapped her notebook shut, the little note about her earlier epiphany having been rewritten with a few other theories attached.

“Come on, you’re so close to that bird guy—”

“That bird guy happens to pay me minimum wage and oh so generously allowed you to stay in the Ramshackle Dorm. If you want to risk getting kicked out on the first day, be my guest.”

“Ugh.” The little cat beast allowed the flames that burst from his ears to rise a little higher than usual before he returned to sulking. However, if the way he hastily shoveled the rest of his meager meal into his mouth meant anything, he was somewhat mollified.

“Bad day at school, old sport?” One of the rotund ghosts, the one named Philbert, casually popped up from the middle of the table. Although the seemingly gentlemanly ghost was squarely facing Grim, Key could barely make out the mischievous grin that nearly split his face in two. Despite the rounded appearance and his past history as an NRC student, all three of the ghosts could easily do unspeakable things to Key and Grim if they so wished.

Ghosts were set in their ways, yes, but they were still fickle creatures.

“The Boss got bullied by another first year.”

“That’s not what happened!” Springing into action, the furry little cat beast launched himself over the table, which nearly toppled over his bowl. Thankfully, Philbert righted it, but not before he flicked Grim off the table and onto the floor. Yowling, Grim curled up in a fetal position, bits of his fur covered in a thin coat of frost. “Aaaahhhh! How dare you freeze The Great Grim!”

Key rolled her eyes, but she took off an old NRC hoodie—once again, courtesy of the lost and found box—to lay it on top of her ‘boss’. The instant the fabric pooled over his head, Grim’s obnoxious complaining ceased.

“Phil, that was mean.” The young custodian rested her right cheek against the flat of her palm. The ghost, for his part, shrugged before floating closer to her, his head floating at eye level while the rest of his body trailed upwards to the ceiling. “Seriously, you can’t go around freezing or attacking students. Especially one who’s rooming here.”

Philbert grinned at her, rows of razor sharp teeth glistening with unholy blue light. With very little distance between the two of them, Key felt goosebumps grow along the skin of her arms. Having already been acquainted with Philbert and the rest of his cohort, it wasn’t out of fear. Rather, it was because of the iciness that hung suspended in the air, the temperature falling. Was it a slightly lasting side effect of the burst of ice magic? Or was it something connected to his supernatural essence?

“Nothing wrong with a little pranking, eh? A touch of tomfoolery to end a great day?”

“I… never said you couldn’t… But I think it would reflect poorly on me if something bad happened to Grim within the first week. Or on the first day, no less!”

Philbert glanced at the wriggling mound of clothing (how long had Grim been struggling?) before sending a pointed glance at Key.  

Philbert’s face bobbled a little before it began turning counterclockwise, the rest of his body following suit. “Kind of too late for that, Little Lady. Bad day at school and if the rumor mill means anything, he landed himself in detention.”

Key blew out a long-suffering sigh. “Who told you that?”

“One of the old timers from the kitchens. Something to do with a fallen chandelier? Talk of the town by tomorrow if not already.”

Yeah. That was definitely going to stain the start of her career as a pseudo-Housewarden.

Absently, she nodded before bending down to retrieve her hoodie. Lying on the floor, still sporting an irritated look, Grim faced her. Despite his earlier exploit with the frost spell, he looked completely dry. Perhaps such dryness came from the heat emanating from his ears.

“All right, you two, I’m heading out for a walk. It’s—” Her pocket watch revealed that it was a little bit past eleven. “—almost midnight so I expect you to finish your noodles and get to bed, Grim. Philbert, make sure that Grim washes his dishes.”

Saluting Key, Philbert waved her off before hovering over Grim like an insistent shadow. “Roger that, Little Lady!”

“Him? You’re putting a ghost in charge over The Great Grim?”

With that, Key no longer paid her dormmates any mind. The sounds of their chatter and bickering filled her ears before ceasing to a silence that she happily welcomed once she closed the back door. 

The air outside was cool and still. Above, the full moon was gently waning as faint wisps of clouds floated in front of it. As she rested her back against the door’s wooden grain, she thought she could spot something far off in the distance. There, where the edge of the Ramshackle backyard began to meet the tree line, a figure stood.  

Tall and proud, it loomed in the distance. Even when she was still quite aways from the unknown, Key already knew that the figure was taller than her by a fair amount.

Stronger too.

Potentially dangerous.

That didn’t stop the young custodian, though, from raising her right arm into a slow wave.

For all of the courtesy that she had shown the figure, she did not see him wave back. Deterred now, she felt her spirits deflate until she saw his head bob once, as if nodding at her in salutation. A response! She’d take what she could get.

It didn’t take long for her to travel down the hill Ramshackle Dorm stood upon. Then, she was greeted with the magical, but peaceful sight of a flurry of fireflies flitting around Key and the unnamed individual.

“Hey. I haven’t seen you around lately. Do you come around here often?” The words tumbled out of her mouth too quickly for her to realize what she was saying. As her eyes widened in shock at how brazen that sounded—Grim’s little bout of mischief must have affected her more than she had thought—the stranger’s laughter shocker her out of her mortification.

His eyes were a bright green, brighter than other shades she had ever seen in her short life. Most eyes with shades of green were akin to healthy stalks of grass or the brilliant shades of emerald gleaming under sunlight.  In comparison, this pair of eyes held an eerie light to them that reminded Key of the fireflies that continued to buzz and fly throughout the air. A sort of bioluminescence that was permeated with something both otherworldly and yet seemingly so natural underneath the pale moonlight. 

“Pardon me, Child of Man—” Again with the Narnia talk… “—it is quite the occasion to have someone approach me without fear.”

“For sure. Yeah.” The young custodian bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, now acutely aware that she was far away from safety and all alone with a stranger, a stranger who last time they met had left the conversation holding some strange wariness about her. If something awry were to happen again, who would hear her scream? How long would help take to arrive? But those were just insane thoughts that bounced around in her head and they were overshadowed with a query she had yet to answer. “You still haven’t given me your name. Any hints?”

He peered down at her, his earlier mirth had receded, but there was the shadow of a smile that rested on his pale lips. “And you haven’t given yours either. I think not knowing one other’s name is a fair trade.”

His adamant need to remain obtuse thus far would have been irritating, yet… There was almost a coy, jokester-like quality to the way he spoke and regarded her. There was an inside joke there that Key was not privy to and she desperately wanted to know the punchline.

“But I did give you a name! Key!” A bit of a whine slipped into her voice. Not to sound too petulant, but there was still frustration brewing under the surface. “It’s not fair that I gave you something and you didn’t.”

The stranger shrugged; the movement so effortless yet somewhat alluring. It was also somewhat surreal. For someone who looked like he had stepped out of a fairytale, pedestrian gestures stood out.

“I’m not one for naming things. Apparently, I lack originality.”

Despite her earlier frustration, Key found herself smiling. He didn’t sound too sad about his reveal—he looked like he was having fun with her. Given what she knew about Night Raven College and magic in general, creativity was one of the main ways magic was brought to life by the caster. There were other variables that could affect the casting of magic, but imagination was the first component to be trained and enhanced.

Key leaned against a nearby tree and crossed her arms. The cool night air felt especially crisp. “I was thinking, maybe… Benjamin. Or Timothy. Still deciding, though.”

The horned stranger tapped a finger against his chin, a low hum indicating curiosity layered with confusion filled the air. “Both worthy names…” He sounded approving, but he continued to eye the young custodian with a look that she could not place. “Might I ask why, Child of Man?’

“I’ll be honest, I did not think of any new names until now. I decided to go with something old fashioned—” Here, the horned stranger’s lips quirked up in that strange, coy manner of his. Again, there was a joke that had yet to be told. “—because you don’t look like a… Like a Chad. Or a Travis.”

In fact, if there were other universes or dimensions with magic (like this one), she couldn’t imagine anyone calling their son Zach or any other basic names like that. The guy in front of her looked too out of this world to be regarded with anything less than… Gandalf. Obi-wan Kenobi. Aximilli Animorphs.

Actually—

“You know what, why not? Until I get a better idea, I’m calling you Chad for the rest of this conversation. Next time, I’ll come up with something better.”

Something strange happened. 

Ever since the second she had laid eyes on him, she had quickly realized that he wasn’t prone to outwardly showing too many emotions. Yes, there was an air of mischief, but she was certain that there was more going on underneath the surface. He was a serious individual and both his demeanor and intimidating figure would be reason enough to put anyone off. And yet, despite her preconceived notion, Key saw that he was shocked.

Intrigued, Key began to ask if she said something wrong (did he not like the name?), but kept silent when she heard him ask, in barely concealed awe, “You plan on meeting again?”

“Huh?” What did he mean by—Oh. “Next time? I mean, the school can’t be that big and I do work here. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to that I’m not personally obligated to.”

The horned stranger nodded along as she spoke. “Yes, I have been informed why you’re here. It was a surprise knowing that this abandoned dorm has life brimming within its hallowed walls.” He pursed his lips, his gaze falling towards the dorm that resided upon the hill. “It’s a shame, I liked the silence.”

Key’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. The way he spoke was nonchalant—the type of tone someone would use when talking about the weather—but she got the sense that he was disappointed, maybe even a little bit frustrated that Key and Grim were inhabiting Ramshackle. Well, sorry to rain on his parade, but it wasn’t like anyone stopped her. The general feeling that Key got was that she was an uninvited guest—a pest—that was inconveniencing this stranger who, if this was any other circumstance, was trespassing.

“So you hung out around Ramshackle before? Or did you get hazed?” What were the specifics again? She could have sworn that Cameron told her way back when. “I’m kind of surprised that I haven’t seen any first years running around, but I guess they already know that I’m here. And Grim. And the three ghosts.”

Blinking owlishly at her, the horned stranger gave her an unreadable look before finally settling on, “Hazing?”

This time, it was Key’s turn to sound confused. “You know… Like bullying? Bullying with a side of initiation?”

The stranger cocked his head to the side, gaze considering. “What an interesting ritual. I suppose I’ll have to ask Li—Later. I’m afraid that I have not experienced such a thing. If you were in a position such as myself, you’d find that I don’t get treatment like that often. If ever.”

His voice trailed off into the stillness of the night air. There was a sense of finality to it, as if this information he had given held the weight of the unfathomable pull of gravity. Like he thought that this single tidbit was enough for Key to figure out who he was. To further prove this point, the horned stranger looked at her in expectation. Nonchalance exuded from his very being, but there was an element of vulnerability there that had Key leaning away from the tree.

Did he suspect that she would come to a decision and…What? Judge him for it?

What a far cry to the near oppressive atmosphere that she had encountered only just yesterday night.

“Okay, then. Let’s get going.” Key skipped away from the tree and began plodding up the hill. It took a few seconds for her to realize that she hadn’t heard a peep out of her companion. Turning around, hands on her hips, she addressed the stranger once more.

“Are you coming or not? It’s the first day, technically, so if we get caught we won’t get into too much trouble…” To her childlike satisfaction, Key found that he was looking at her, wide eyed with his mouth slightly agape. 

A thought occurred to her and she canted her head to the side in thought. “Actually, you won’t get into too much trouble. Depending on the circumstances, this could influence my performance review, but that won’t be for a few more months anyways.”

Another thirty seconds wherein the only visible movement was the wind rustling through the leaves.

“Or nah? Because if not, I’ll just—”

“To be clear, you are inviting me to this… hazing ritual?”

“If you want to call it that, sure. I’ll call it an adventure, though.”

The next thing he said was murmured under his breath, but Key could hear him as clear as day. With an awed sort of reverence one would associate with faithful prayer, he said, “An invitation? An invitation by a Child of Man, no less!”

As the young man walked up the hill, Key smiled and swiftly led them through the Ramshackle premises until they began walking onto Main Street.

Chad was a surprisingly good conversationalist.

Yes, there were times when he spoke in outdated terminology, there were times when it felt like he was speaking in riddles just to confuse her, and maybe he didn’t notice due to his overly large stature, but he walked way too fast. Like the Leech twins who had accosted her a few days ago, he was over six feet, though he would dwarf them if they were to stand side by side. In fact, paired with the horns that rose proudly from his skull, she wouldn’t be surprised that his total height was closer to seven feet.

Needless to say, by the time they reached their destination, Key was nearly out of breath from the exertion it took to jog and hold a halfway decent conversation for a good twenty minutes. As she bent forward, hands on her knees and her low bun almost completely turning into a stringy, bulky ponytail, she saw a piece of cloth dangling in front of her eyes.

“Huh?”

“I believe the proper response would be a simple thank you.” Was he teasing her? “I have forgotten that not all humans have as great a stamina as other races. Although…” His voice became thoughtful, his eyes upturned. “There are some noteworthy exceptions.”

Key accepted the handkerchief while wheezing out a barely audible ‘thank you’. “That’s good to know. Ah, geeze.”

The fabric felt silken against her skin, somehow providing an instant, soothing relief. What was it made of? Given his disposition and regal features, she would not have been surprised if he was in the upper echelons of society. A movie star? He had the looks, but Key wasn’t sure how he would hold up in an acting role. When he had been talking about his interests, he never ran out of breath to espouse information about his beloved gargoyles.

For someone who toyed with the omission and admission of information—quite like Key, actually—he was very honest when talking about the things he held dear.

Gargoyles, who knew?

Tucking the handkerchief into a pocket after meticulously folding it into a square proved to be a nerve-racking fear. The fabric was silken, but it slipped through her fingers like water. One could only think of what an entire ensemble crafted out of this material would look like…

“When do you want this back, by the way?” Key opened the door to the abandoned tower, her muscles straining the tiniest bit due to the elements practically sealing the door to the stone. With a heavy creak, the door swung open, which revealed a spiraling staircase and sconces with unlit torches lining the walls. “I don’t have work during the day—” As of yet. “—but I don’t mind making a detour or getting interrupted in the evening.”

The lack of response in the context of going up a tower in the dark was probably not an environment conducive to a positive atmosphere. Prickles grew along the back of her neck, but Key turned around anyways. Seeing his tall, looming figure coupled with the horns made him more intimidating.

Well, more intimidating than usual.

“Uh, you okay?”

Surreptitiously, she wiped her sweaty palms to the thighs of her pants.

A beat. “The handkerchief, is it not to your liking?”

“My…? Oh, it was more than fine!” An awkward laugh. “It’s no problem for me to wash it. It’s way too nice—” And expensive. “—for me to own.”

Underneath the pale moonlight, the young man’s green eyes seemed to soften while still glittering with mischief. “No need for that, Child of Man. Consider that a gift for inviting me to accompany you on this journey.”

Key’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, but she nodded slightly before making her way to the foot of the staircase. Before she could fish out the lighter from her breast pocket, there was a rush of strong wind before, one by one, each of the sconces lit up with the familiar bright green flames seen within the main campus building. It was the same shade of green that permeated the young man’s eyes…

After thanking him—was he laughing at her?—they made their way up to the top of the tower. Months ago, Key had journeyed up here with Alastair, who grumbled the entire time. His joints had been killing him, but he needed to show Key the entire campus, at least the parts the custodians had to maintain. Usually, it was Zaria who took care of the tower and sometimes Dolly as well, but there were times when they had to rotate the tasks.

Now that the maintenance team had grown in numbers, the tower was now split between six members unless they needed to outsource to the others.

At the top of the spiraling staircase, there was a circular room that was made up of a number of windows. No matter where you stood, you could have a keen bird’s eye view of the campus, like the stables and the sports field. The layout reminded Key of those old timey lighthouses. Except, the room was mainly bare except for one abandoned telescope, a desk, and a chair. Many years ago, the tower used to be an elective course for students who wanted to study astronomy. Eventually the population of the school had grown too big, and the study of the stars had to be relocated to the traditional classroom setting.

Key leaned against the frame of the window, her earlier misgivings giving way to a sense of peace. In the distance, she saw the twinkling lights from Main Street and the lights from the buildings that had yet to rest. Among them, it seemed like the first floor of the library had yet to go dark. Knowing Lady Fairchild, she was hard at work cleaning after the first messes of the new year and reorganizing her precious texts.

“Well, Chad, you ever been this high up before?” Key was aware of the young man accompanying her at the window, a stray gloved hand tracing a pattern to where the stars were. “Probably not as exciting as a proper hazing, but at least you don’t get hurt in the end.”

“It’s been years and yet the affairs of humans still perplex me.” A frown. “What’s your motivation in bringing me here? Were it not for your apparent ignorance concerning who I am, I would say that you were very bold. Stupidly so.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so ignorant if you told me who you were, would I?” The snap in her loose tongue came out too quick for her to halt it in its tracks. Though, tired and frustrated from previous events as she was, maybe she would have run her mouth anyways. “And you can call me stupidly bold if you like. Child of Man is weird.”

“How so? That’s what you are, is it not?”

“Sounds kind of demeaning, if I’m being honest, I’m more than just a Child of Man. What’s more, I already gave you a name—”

“A name that is false and a scent that raises more questions than answers.” The shadows all around them seemed to flicker and wither. From the flames, the crackling sound of sparks dancing into the air. The tower began to fill with an energy that one would associate with the moment before a thunderstorm. “But you are right, you are more than just a Child of Man. What you are is unnatural. You reek of something… Other.”

Key’s throat tightened and she felt herself take a step back. In this cramped space made tinier by the sheer height that the young man had on her, there was no escape.

The flames in the young man’s eyes eerily reflected the flames that burned in their sconces.

Chapter Text

“If… If you won’t tell me who you are, then I don’t think you deserve to know who I am either.” Her voice wavered like a candle in the wind, but she refused to back down. Only one person knew the whole extent of her situation and she would be damned if she allowed someone as proud and arrogant as this fae to take that away from her. “If you’re not

Outside, the wind picked up so much that Key could hear the gales scream past the window. A little frightened now, but mostly perturbed, Key continued to hold the fae's gaze. For a few more harrowing moments, the wind bellowed, the pale moon was overshadowed by a dark cloud, and then, when Key began to muster the courage to flee down the stairs, he invaded her personal space, their noses nearly touching as he leaned forward.

“He was right... You are amusing. Insightful as well.” His pale, thin lips curled into a disappointed pout. “He failed to mention your impertinence and the scent.”

Key perked up at that, her ears not actually understanding what she had heard. Did she smell bad? Or had his species of fae (something she still didn't know) picked up on something that no one else had? She could have sworn that she smelled fine… Had her hard work earlier that evening compromised her scent?

(A startling thought: Was this the reason why Rosehearts treated her so passive aggressively?)

Before the young custodian could say something, the fae inclined his head and looked back, effectively giving Key the personal space that she had been deprived of. Curiously, the atmosphere had become warmer, the room in the tower once more surreal while the flames had somehow become inviting. The change was so abrupt that Key wondered whether she had simply imagined the hostility in the first place.

Even the outside, which held the howling and the smattering of wind, had abated until the air was still.

Too still. 

In this tower, alone with this strange Night Raven College student, it was as if the world had become nonexistent except for this small, enclosed space. A different reality. A world known only to them..

For the first time that night, Key wondered if there was more to the tower with no purpose or if there was something about this student… The strangeness of the weather patterns and how the fire responded, that couldn’t have been all in her head, could it? Something or a certain someone was influencing the events that had just occurred and for some odd reason, Key was leaning towards the latter. 

But that was ridiculous, right? 

Why would someone seemingly powerful at magic—if that was truly the case—attend this school? For all of its prestige, what could one learn if they were already trained in the arcane?

“Who are you talking about?” Out of all the inquiries threatening to bubble out of her mouth, she had decided to settle on that question. It was more than apparent that he would never tell her who he was, so it wasn't in her best interest to ask. However, if he were to tell her more about this vague informant, maybe she could pinpoint who he was in the process. “Do I know that person?”

It had to be a student. Maybe a fae? Like the Diasomnia Vice Housewarden? If that was the case, this fae had to be either the actual Diasomnia Housewarden or he was another student Key could ask if he had the contact information she needed.

“I believe Lilia spoke to you before the festivities yesterday.” Despite the way the fae glanced out the window in boredom, he hissed out the word festivities like he was personally offended. Did he not like celebrations? So many questions, and not enough answers… Key’s contemplation took a backseat when she heard the stranger speak once more, his voice low and somewhat bitter and resentful, but there was also an undercurrent of awe. "I was surprised to find you barging in on my solitude. Not many people are willing to interrupt me... or leave happy occasions."

Shifting on her feet awkwardly, Key found that the darkness outside was more inviting than the near accusatory stare he was giving her. There was no way he knew that Key had her own little initiation. The way he was acting made it seem as if she was ungrateful—and she wasn't, she wasn't running away—and now… 

She felt guilty.

Despite there being distance between her present and the events that occurred only a day prior, the emotion weighed her down and thickened her throat like sour molasses. Yes, she had been able to speak to Alastair without much of a hitch, but he was one person out of a group of people. And a group of people’s viewpoints could radically differ from a single person… but maybe she was overreacting. Running away wasn’t a betrayal of anything, she was overwhelmed and if the bonds she had formed with them meant anything… They would still care about her regardless. 

Hopefully. 

Still, though, guilt was definitely not what she wanted. After the altercation between herself and Rosehearts, the troublemaker first years, and the way that old crow had left her to her own decisions, it all began to feel too much. These past few hours—no, two days—were an unfortunate maelstrom of emotions that never seemed to abate.

Why couldn't she ever seem to catch a break?

All she wanted when embarking on this adventure was to have fun and maybe tease this strange fae a bit. Never before would Key have ever expected him to turn the tables on her like this. It was startling and grounding, the sudden bout of humility made her realize that once again, she was not a native of Twisted Wonderland. And due to that fact alone, she was and always will be at a disadvantage. Not only that, but he was physically imposing and had the ominous, dominating presence of something older and other that made Key feel insignificant. Small.

She often felt that in this place where everything and everyone was blanketed in magic, but it hurt more in this moment. Here, it was one singular person she thought was...

Well… What was she thinking?

“You can't… Can't be happy all the time.” Nonchalance never suited Key and it was blatant as she tried to study how the library's first floor abruptly went dark. Looks like it had finally closed and Lady Fairchild had fallen to slumber. “And what about you? Did you get lost while on the way?”

Thunder rolled in the distance, the abrupt boom almost knocking Key to the ground. Thankfully, she righted herself, but not before suppressing the trembles that came from mistakenly locking eyes with the young fae.

Anger was too gentle a word to describe him at the moment.

“I, Child of Man—” His voice boomed and radiated with a power that was comparable to the thunder that continued to precede the rain and wind outside. “—was not invited.”

Key blinked and bit her lip as she processed. 

What. The. Ever. Living. Fu—

“You—You—” This time, Key didn't fight the pull of gravity. Out of pure instinct, she managed to stabilize herself against the coarse surface of the brick walls, but that did little to stop her from collapsing onto her knees. Although pain lanced up her limbs, laughter—uproarious and loud—spilled forth without prompting. “You chose to not attend b-because—”

The force of her laughter was so great that she had no choice but to close her eyes. Bellyaching mirth wasn't her specialty, but it did feel like the laughter that left her was effortless.

Nearby, she heard footsteps come to meet her until they stopped a scant few inches from her. Danger was the last thing on her mind, but she did look at the young fae in curiosity. His eyes were a toxic, poisonous green and Key could almost see that there was this sort of energy emanating from his gaze. Despite the fact that he could easily do anything to her and possibly get away with it, Key did not stop laughing.

She did manage to tone it down to harried, hiccupped giggles.

“It is impolite to invite oneself.”

Oh, really? What a child, Key couldn't help but think. Petty and trying to hold onto his reasoning like he had nothing else to his name. 

Key withheld the urge to roll her eyes before she replied, “The entrance ceremony is for all the students. The invitation is implied. If you actually wanted to attend, you would have found a way. Instead, I saw you in a random room. Sulking.”

Satisfied now, she leaned back so that her hands were propped up behind her. She hadn’t meant to, but her change in posture gave off the impression that she was staring him down. It didn’t feel like a mistake on her part, though. Despite his looming figure, Key was at ease and felt in control.

It was because of that sense of knowing where she stood that she prodded him further. “Be honest, you have no one to blame but yourself, Chad.”

Dark like a shadow and wrathful like the tempest that roared with fury outside, the stranger loomed above her with his overly generous height. Silence befit him, but his voice weighed heavily with a gravitas that was inherent to his very being. A trueborn leader, a fine example of the divine right of kings.

When he spoke, it was as if he was casting judgment and was disgusted by the verdict that he himself had chosen. “Insightful, impertinent, and insolent. I will have to talk to Lilia again. It seems old age has impaired mental state.”

Her reply was instantaneous and lacking in any self preservation or sanity. “And yours hasn't?”

The look that the young fae gave her could have easily boiled the ocean ten times over.

Key breathed deeply and decided that, no, she really didn't want to spend the rest of her night arguing. 

One, it felt like they were going in circles. Two, she was already drained from the altercation she had with Rosehearts earlier. 

Now that she was thinking about her track record these past few days… she was not having a good time with the NRC students. It seems like her close friendship with Cameron and the overall positive results from the Housewarden meeting must have been flukes.

Ah, if only Cameron was still here...

“Sorry.” She forced herself not to sound like she was grinding her teeth together, but the effort was a monumental force on her part. Averting her gaze would have been a copout so Key forced herself not to look away. Her apology, while born out of the need to concede or else nothing would happen, she did want to say it out of a place of honesty. A small grain of honesty, true, but at least it was there. To make her contrition even more sincere, she rose to her feet slowly so that she could speak to him on equal footing. “I don't want to lie to you or antagonize you, but I can't exactly tell you why I am the way I am.”

Throughout her admission, Key stood tall, her shoulders back and her gaze settled solely on the young fae. Unlike her earlier confrontations with the Headmage and Professor Crewel, she wasn't as afraid to speak her mind. Of course, there was the strangeness from before with the phenomenon outside and that dominating presence from the student that threatened to make her back away in unease, but… She was willing to overlook it all.

Incompetent he may seem, but the Headmage wouldn't allow students who were dangerous into the school. Would he?

(Who was she kidding? It was all about the money. Corvids and their penchant for shiny things).

Slowly, the young fae nodded. “Yes… You speak the truth. I will not pry further since I sense no threat from you. Yet.”

Two thoughts filled Key's head:

One: Was he not going to apologize? A part of the reason why she got so angry and willing to mouth off at him was because he was also adding fuel to the fire! Having spent the better part of the summer boarding at NRC, she wasn't expecting a grandiose admission of repentance, but still. There was supposed to be reciprocity, goddammit.

Two: A threat? She barely reached the inner crease of his elbows, how was she a threat? If anything, given his height and his everything else, he was the threat here. Not her! (Not that she thought that the cover of a book was everything, but still).

“That's…” Gosh, how could she put this? “…great to hear. Again, I'm sorry for everything. I've been having a bad night so far. My first year broke a chandelier, the Heartslabyul Housewarden kind of insulted my job—I think? I'm not sure, but it did sound like that—and…” Key rubbed at her temples to relieve the sudden slew of everything that was going on in her life. “I’m stressed and I thought that coming up here would clear my head and calm me down.”

Silence.

Not even a laugh or any other indication that showed that the NRC student was still listening.

She really should lower her expectations. Teenage boys were not the paragon of empathetic creatures.

And then—

“Whenever I get angry, I tend to let my emotions get the best of me.” Ears pricking up at that, Key stopped her attempts to self-soothe and listened. Gone was the power from before and now… Now it seemed like she was in the presence of a boy no older than herself. When she looked upon him, she found that he was staring outside the window of the tower, his gaze locked onto the moon that shone despite the clouds that continued to swirl and float weightlessly through the night sky. “Mages like myself… or should I say fae tend to… Shape the elements to their whims.”

Like the Avatar? Was Chad the fucking—

Heedless and unknowing of the laughable thoughts that ran through Key’s head, the horned fae mused, "It appears you can be quite childish. Fitting considering the title that I bestowed upon you." He made it sound like he had given her the second gift of the night—as if she herself hadn't told him that her name was Key and she preferred to be called that. “But why the tower, may I ask? To go this far and out of your way?”

“It's nice being away from it all, you know? I wasn't planning on going to the tower when I left Ramshackle. The original plan was for me to walk around a bit, maybe climb a tree, but my main goal was to not be in the same room as my greatest annoyance at the moment.”

And then you showed up and became even more of an annoyance.

Key, of course, didn't say that last part, but it was tempting.

“Yes, having time to oneself can be enlightening, but..." His tone of voice became hollow. Lost. "Being alone can get lonely.”

And that's where it was: the sole motivation for the journey to the tower.

“It doesn't have to be,” Key countered. “I like being alone at times.” The incredulity that was magnified by the irradiating glow in his green eyes was laughable, but she dared not utter a single giggle. “But anyways, that's why I invited you along. It looked like you needed to be somewhere else.” She gestured at the topmost room in the tower, inwardly wincing at how derelict and foreboding it looked. “It's not much, but I love the view.”

A huffed laugh. Another inside joke to add to the list. “Do not fret, even the most unappealing structure still holds beauty through other means. Like their purpose.”

That sounded familiar… Oh!

“Like the gargoyles?”

The young fae blinked slowly at her, perplexed wonder in his features. Then, he smiled at her. Whatever tension and hard edges that he had adopted within their harrowing conversation had become soft with awe and giddy with excitement. “Precisely! Just like the gargoyles.”

After another session Key would best describe as info dumping, Key finally checked her pocket watch. As she expected, it was nearly one in the morning. While not nearly as late as she feared, she did want to get to sleep soon. The fact that this young fae was still a student never left her mind; she did not want him to attend classes while sleepy. As a member of staff, she did not want to impart terrible lessons to the NRC students.

“It's about time we get some rest.” Folding her pocket watch’s lid back onto its appropriate place to shield the timepiece, Key turned to go down the stairwell…  Only to stop when the fae appeared in front of her, seemingly out of nowhere. Their bonding over the past few hours allowed Key to get used to the strange student's eccentricities, but that did not stop Key from nearly falling over herself.

“Aaaggh!” Thank goodness Cameron wasn't there. Absolutely nothing would have stopped him from roasting her.

One of the student's gloved hands reached out to stop Key from falling over, but she managed to catch herself in time. For a split second, the hand continued to stay still in the air before turning once more to his side.

“Sorry about that!” She rested a hand against the railing, laughing a little to dispel her almost tumble. Had the student startled her from behind… 

It would take a lot more than Zaria's cleaning skills to get rid of human remains splattered across the floor.

“A little jumpy, hmm?” The fae hummed a simple melody to himself, green eyes assessing. He didn't look too put out by what had transpired, but it seemed like Key's inadvertent refusal was turning the cogs in his brain. Like he was hoping for something else, but was resigned to the end result.

Another apology was on the tip of Key's tongue—all these apologies and not a single shred of reciprocity from him—but before she could address the issue, there was a strange sound. There was a sense of familiarity, of nostalgia, when Key heard it. The sound itself was benign—trivial even—but in a place that was as isolated as the tower and coming from the direction of the young fae, it was downright alien and out of place.

“Do you have an alarm set—Oh!” Key's eyes widened when she saw a small little gadget fitted perfectly in his palm. There was a lot of overlap from Key's world and if she was remembering correctly… “Is this a Tamagotchi? I never played with one when I was younger, but I have heard about them!”

The horned stranger frowned a little to himself, but still regarded his little egg shaped toy with fondness the likes of which only rivaled the look he wore when he was speaking at length about his gargoyle fascination. Although his tone was still relatively light and far more pleasant to listen to than when he was making Key ill at ease, there was a somber, grounded quality to it. His daydream once again shattered by reality. 

"When you were younger? But you are already so young as it is... Time, such a precious resource, but not all are able to appreciate the wellspring made available to us all."

The cryptic nature of his words befuddled Key, but she chalked it up to the long lasting nature of the fae.

“So... is it a Tamagotchi?” Key rocked back on her heels. “Or am I wrong?”

The horned fae smiled down at the egg that lay in his hand, gloved fingers curled protectively over it. "You are correct, Child of Man. A blessed little thing: a dragon that lives, dies, and is reborn again. If only the world can be as simple and as cyclical as this egg. Never changing, never knowing fear or anger, and always loved and cared for.”

Memories, flickering and vague in Key’s head, tried their hardest to push their way to the forefront of her mind. Try as she might, there was nothing that could do. Still moving pictures, disembodied voices that were far too garbled and almost nonexistent—there was not much she could make out. Only a sense of familiarity, the feeling of something plastic in her hand before she set it down somewhere, only to never hold it again. 

Finality. 

A change. 

As the remnants of a memory of a memory gradually disappeared, Key abruptly remembered that she was still at the topmost part of the tower and that the stranger was still awaiting an answer to his rhetoric. 

“It gets boring after a while,” she began slowly, her mind still a jumble and scrambling to catch up to reality, “I think. Life is all about change. You can’t expect things to stay the same no matter how long you try to make it so.” Stifling a yawn, she once again turned back towards the stairs and gestured for her companion to follow her. “Anyway, we should leave.”

The toe of her boot barely grazed the first step of their descent before the young fae interrupted. It was startling, and Key feared that he was intentionally scaring her half to death (this was the second time!), but she looked up at him to hear him out. 

“Actually,” his words were soft, but he did not have to raise his voice for Key to know that there was a puckish quality to it, “if you’d permit me, I can happily send you back to your dorm.” As he spoke, the student held up a hand, two of his fingers held aloft. His thin lips curled up into a devil may care grin, the light in his eyes dancing to the tune of the firelight’s dancing. 

“It’s more than fine for me to walk. Besides, your dorm is close—HEYYYY!!!"

In an instant, a strange sensation enveloped her body, like she had been ensconced in a thin, silky blanket. In a flurry of soft lights that reminded Key of the fireflies that she had seen earlier in Ramshackle's backyard, the surroundings shifted and blurred, the details of which rapidly became too incomprehensible to the point that she had to close her eyes lest she throw up. As she shut her eyes, Key felt like her stomach was being flipped upside down and inside out. Meanwhile, her bones melted and congealed into a jellylike mass while her ears rang with the change in atmosphere and her relative surroundings. 

Too soon, Key felt her knees buckle as she fell to the ground. It took a moment, but she realized that she collapsed on the Ramshackle porch at the feet of one curious and bemused fae looking down at her.

"You jerk!” Key leaped up from her kneeling position, narrowly avoiding tripping over her feet. “I was fine walking back by myself and—Nooo!"

The young fae disappeared, leaving behind a trail of fireflies that disappeared into the night.

Chapter Text

Training two wayward first years wasn't too hard. In fact, Key could almost say that it came naturally. Give them a brief overview of what their tasks would be like for the next two weeks, demonstrate what had to be done, and then set them loose. The hardest part was taking away their magestones and listening to them bicker and complain, but Key supposed it could be worse.

The most that she could do was separate them and keep them on task with frequent check-ins. The first three or four sessions were fairly transitional, fraught with both hotheads butting heads against each other in what appeared to be a purposeful attempt to piss her off, but Key saw through it. She already had enough of one birdbrain's weaponized incompetence: she didn’t want to go catering to two more children.

Today happened to be one of those days. The sort of day where no matter how much patience and restraint that Key could muster, it never seemed to be enough. Both first years didn’t seem to take pleasure in torturing her with childish behavior, yet they still indulged as if they were starved for attention whether it be positive or negative. Eventually, both Grim and Trappola would realize that there dear, sweet minder was not to be trifled with. 

After realizing that they had somehow missed several greasy stains upon the cafeteria windows and botched up the cleaning process for the patches they did manage to somewhat clean, Key was only two seconds away from losing it. Making them redo their “hard work” as they called it was not enough. 

She would have to make sure that they got it into their big, thick heads that they couldn’t repeatedly, mercilessly, and pigheadedly annoy her while under her care. 

However, Key had to give credit where credit was due. At least Grim tried to restrain himself to low moans and growls whenever he was alone with her. Only with Trappola, like sodium dropping into water, would Grim act out and contribute to their interactions going from only somewhat unstable to downright volatile and explosive in nature.

Really, Key had to wonder if that was one of Trappola’s many talents or if Grim was just that easily offended and what that would mean for the future. (She tried not to think too hard about the future and if she would still be around to witness Grim’s growth as a mage).

Goodness, was she this bad when she was sixteen? Did she know anybody at sixteen who was that hellbent on getting a rise out of her? Or was this particular student a new breed?

Key could almost give Grim a pass considering she still didn't know how old he was, but all that sympathy fled her the moment she caught him trying to burn Trappola. Unlike the massive inferno he had managed to invoke but failed to control during the entrance ceremony, this particular flame was a small spell. While that in itself may not be considered harmful (but still against the rules and went against everything Key learned from the employee handbook), Grim wasn’t hounded by two strong and advanced mages and he already had experience casting fire magic before entering NRC. The prowess he had and lack of outside forces interfering with his casting meant that he had greater control over his flames, which meant that he could deal out a lot more damage if he so wished. 

Luckily, such a small flame was easier to extinguish and didn’t make Key balk with fear. 

“Grim!” If the flames that had burst out of Grim's paws were hot, then Key's anger was scorching. 

For a few blissful minutes, she had decided that she would turn her back on both of the first years and trust them to do their fair share of the work. (Big mistake, but forgivable. Understandably, she still had hopes and dreams that had yet to be dashed away until much later). No sooner did she make headway with her own assigned area that she heard Trappola shriek in alarm while the cat beast cackled in delight. 

Without so much as a second thought, Key ran towards the fiery miscreant while twisting her rag into the rough equivalent of a rope. Once Key was within range of the cat beast, she snapped it back to gain momentum before abruptly thwacking it forward.

Onto Grim's fluffy behind.

The yowling that erupted could have easily deafened anyone who was passing by. Needless to say, Key was none too pleased that she was in close range to the pained screeches of dismay, but she held fast to the irritation that had been steadily growing for the past few days. If these two weren't going to settle down when they should have been working, then she would have to make them.

Her next victim? Trappola.

While Grim had been smacked into another plane of existence, Trappola had nearly doubled over laughing. How fortunate, the flames that had been so perilously close to burning him had disappeared due to Grim's lack of concentration. Though Key had to give the cat beast some credit, he did concentrate enough that the flames did not touch the floor; thus, eliminating the need to check for damage to the cafeteria. Thank goodness for that, Key didn't want to radio in for backup.

(Tonight, most of the summer skeleton crew were delegated to either other areas of the campus or had been placed on day shift. While Key was amiable with returning term members, she did not want to ask them for big favors even though roughly half of them had magic and she didn't).

Without preamble, Key gestured for Trappola to follow her, not even paying him another glance nor word as she approached a window. The first few feet were somewhat clean—a bit streaky in some places—but the rest of it was noticeably untouched. Thirty minutes had passed; how had Trappola not finished one window? Granted, he could not use magic, but still.

As long as you used the right technique, he could have easily completed three times that amount in that same timeframe.

“Wow, Prefect, you sure are looking pissed.” Key didn’t have to look behind her to know that his telltale smirk was already on his boyish features. To check now would only fuel his satisfaction and feed the monster of teenage rebellion to the point of gluttony. “Tired already?” 

And that was something Key could not quite understand. After the meeting with his Housewarden, Trappola had taken to calling the young custodian 'Prefect'. She understood that it related to her job as Grim's supervisor until he could stand on his own, but she also knew that the Heartslabyul first year was not referring to her as such with polite deference.

It sounded a lot like an insult.

Actually, given his general personality and how he treated Grim and some of his peers, a lot of what came out of his mouth sounded a lot like insults. Most of the time he called Grim a stupid cat (to which Grim trained him out of doing by leaping on him with the intent to bite) or a furball (Grim was trying to train him out of this one as well, but Trappola was valiantly holding the line).

Whatever the case, Key was not having any of it.

“Do you want to stay in trouble?”

“Huh?”

Key grit her teeth, but forced herself to remember that there was a reason for all of this. That she had a plan behind her every action, but for now, she had to ask him this question so she could be sure of the course she had to take. 

“This. All of this.” Key continued on, not really caring that Trappola was gaping at her, red tinged amber eyes that looked like they were about to explode. For a teenager who had no problem acting out while under the supervision of an authority figure, he sure acted like Key was going to bite his head off. Maybe, if she was feeling up to it, she would. “The sooner you finish your job, the sooner you can leave. I get that you're angry, but you can't be like this all the time. If you want to complain, go ahead and do it while you're actually working instead of provoking Grim!”

The entire reason why he was in this mess was because of his hardheaded nature and inability to choose his battles wisely. Key could appreciate his blunt honesty at times, but really, he was only using the truth to get a rise out of those he wanted to  provoke.

Trappola leaned against one of the windows, one of his arms crossed over his chest.

The tough guy act spoke volumes, but Key wasn’t eager to read into his bullshit. She was beyond tired, but she did know a person who was perfectly capable of catering to this sort of nonsense. Maybe she should have wiped her hands clean of this sooner. 

“Nah, I don't think so.”

That. Was. It.

No one could say that she wasn't nice the first few days she had the first years under her watch.

Without a word, Key turned on her heel and began walking out of the cafeteria and straight towards the nearest janitor's closet. Luckily for Key, there was one right down the hall and to the right. Not only was the cafeteria a place that was rife with messes and stray magical spells, but there were times when unauthorized magical duels would occur or normal, non-magical brawls that were often just as or more destructive as their magical counterparts.

For a moment, blissful silence that was punctuated by her boots steadily clomping upon the floor. 

And then—

Hot on her heels, both first years ran after her.

“Ah, geeze, did I hurt your feelings? Come on, let's talk this out!”

“Oi, Henchman!”

Despite the overconfidence in Trappola's voice, Key could hear that he was unsure about following her. The vicious part of her, one that hadn't reared its head in so long, felt gratified at his floundering. If he wasn’t going to give her the barest hint of respect, then he was going to find himself with someone far worse than her.

As per usual, the inside of the janitor’s closet was plain and nondescript. There were a few cleaning solutions stored in their respective containers and brooms and mops waiting to be used. As always, there was a corner in the farthest wall that was bereft of everything, but housed the single greatest asset to the maintenance crew: the doorway to the custodial dorms and other janitorial closets located all over campus. With the steady turn of her right pointer finger, the door immediately opened up and Key began to step through.

“Where do you think—?”

Key gave Trappola and Grim one final withering glare, but gave the Heartslabyul first year the brunt of her ire. “To see your Housewarden, Mr. Trappola.”

The ensuing short five seconds it took for Key to close the door behind her to find herself in front of the dorm’s mirrors were somewhat brightened by the way Trappola's face dropped and became ashy in color. Key would not have called herself a sadist, but she did allow herself a moment to simply smile before she squared her shoulders. Despite her bravado from before, she was not at all looking forward to talking to the Heartslabyul Housewarden.

If Key had retained more of her eyesight—specifically the previously vibrant spectrum of colors—she would have been irritated by the gaudy whimsy that made up the Heartslabyul color scheme. She was no expert by any means, but she did have the feeling that most people wouldn't have considered making all of the furniture topsy-turvy or arranged in a way that would have made any sane person throw up. The feeling of vertigo and the habitual crossing of eyes was mitigated by the fact that she couldn't fully see the full spectrum of light.

That said, Key often wondered if the Heartslabyul students actually liked living in this weird dorm or if they were sworn to dorm loyalty. Given how nearly all the students Key met in passing seemed wholeheartedly fixated on staying true to their dorm, she deemed that it must have been the case. Key would have called it weird—possibly unhealthy—if it were not for the fact that they were all teenagers—male ones at that—and she was somewhat desensitized at this point.

(And, she supposed that the vast majority of the population hadn’t ventured outside of their homelands before coming to NRC, so it might be the calling of wanting to belong).

Whatever the case, the moment Key trespassed onto the grounds, she was almost accosted by the sight of a redhead lounging against the entryway to the dorm. Unlike the Housewarden's dark locks that somehow matched the decor of his dorm, this young man had his bright red hair pulled back in a stylish updo and his eyes radiated with the slightest hint of mischief. As Key hurried towards the heart of the dormitory—incidentally bringing herself into the personal space of that certain redhead—he looked up and quickly assessed her. 

Although the mischief in his eyes reminded her of a specific fox beastman, his stance was deceivingly open. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, which was at odds with the way he leaned against the wall. It was as if he was purposely looking like there was nothing wrong and that his presence was a natural fixture.

Which, if you asked Key, defeated the entire purpose of trying to look natural. 

“Hi there! What's a cute little thing like you doing at Heartslabyul?”

Instinct told Key that the student probably didn't mean what he said—that he was only making small talk—but she could not deny how she almost blanched at the adjective he used. Cute? It had been… Hmm… Actually, she could not recall anyone calling her cute recently.

Shaking her head in an unconscious attempt to stave off embarrassment, the young custodian answered, “I'm here to see your Housewarden. Is he inside? Or in the rose maze?” 

It had been a while, but she distinctly remembered that there was a sizable area within the rose maze meant for hosting the famed Unbirthday Parties. Upon asking Harper a few months ago, he had reminisced upon the days he would help set up tables and serve the treats despite it being against the rules. He couldn’t help himself, he explained, he liked being part of all the pre and post party preparations even as Housewarden. 

The change in the student's demeanor was small. 

Slight. 

If Key wasn't so close to him and on the constant look out for a specific shade of red hair, she would not have noticed. However, there was no disguising the shock or the curiosity that the young custodian managed to spot upon his features before the display of emotion—unscripted and the most genuine emotion she had seen from him—was abruptly wiped from his visage. Perhaps Key would have pondered over such a strong reaction, but as of right now, this young man was of no real consequence to her.

“You're looking for Riddle?” His lips turned up into a mischievous, teasing grin. “Oh, I had no idea that my dear Housewarden would be into someone like—”

Key, not wanting to listen to the rest of his sentence, and still needing to find her quarry, brushed past him and into the main building of the Heartslabyul Dorm.

Hearing the distraught huff of breath before the expected tapping of hurried footsteps made Key felt just a little bit guilty. It seemed that getting annoyed by redheads was going to be a recurring theme for the rest of the evening. Hopefully, Rosehearts would prove to be different from the rest of his dorm members, but she wasn't willing to bet money on it. She could only hope that the Heartslabyul Housewarden would be cordial enough to help deal with the Trappola situation without resorting to the humiliation and the implied pain of losing one's connections to their magic.

Behind Key, the redhead from before was still trying to reason with her. Given how short her legs were, it was no surprise that he eventually caught up to her before just as quickly overtaking her stride.

“Hey! Not cute at all!”

The student with the strange orange hair stepped backwards, his arms flung out towards his sides, palms facing Key. Forced cheer was apparent in not only his tone of voice, but also in the tightly coiled muscles pulling at his lips and the way his very stance screamed that Key was stepping—very rapidly—into territory that she should have pondered more thoroughly before venturing into.

Not that she was going to turn back now. 

Unfortunately for her first years, she wasn’t one to go back on her threats. 

“It's not meant to be cute.” 

Once Key sufficiently silenced him into a dumbfounded gawp, she easily stepped around him and once more continued on her journey. 

Goodness, the decor was going to give her a migraine. Whimsy was all well and good, but there had to be safety protocols, right? Some of the furniture didn't look too safe and while OSHA probably wasn't a thing in Twisted Wonderland, there had to be a native variant.

Something must have woken the student from his stupor because as the student began to flag her down, they finally entered a room that immediately made the young custodian stop in her tracks.

The room probably could not count itself as a room. Rather, the instant Key walked in, she was immediately bombarded with a sense of unease and apprehension; this was a place that was more than the whimsy indicative of Heartslabyul. A place that reeked of deceptive ostentatiousness and cold, unfeeling seriousness. The room had high vaulted ceilings, the space itself excessive. The walls, ceiling, and furniture were filled with touches of dark red and warm toned wood. Meanwhile, the black and white marbling upon the floor were patterned in a way that made it seem like Key had stepped onto a chessboard. 

Like the rest of the dorm, the idiosyncrasies and the seemingly random choices of warm tones to cool colors was jarring… yet still fitting and true to the theme of the dorm. 

The only reason that stopped Key in her tracks was that the chamber appeared as if she had exchanged the strangeness of a veritable wonderland for a courtroom drama. Of course, being that they were still in Heartslabyul—at least, she assumed that she hadn't stepped into another portal without her knowing—the features of the courtroom were exaggerated to a near comical degree.  

Where the judge would preside, it seemed that a throne had been erected in its place. So high was the judge, the defendant would have to break their neck craning to see them.

The whole setup made it look like the judge was always going to be higher than the rest of the court.

Just as suddenly as she stopped in her tracks, Key turned around and asked, “Is this all for show?”

“Huh?” The redhead was so startled by the sudden heel turn that he barely stopped himself from bumping into her. Although they were much closer than what they both preferred, they both managed not to barrel into each other. Barely. “Oh, no! Our cute little Housewarden uses this room from time to time.”

A new voice, one that was mostly unassuming, but with the telltale lilt of mischief, piped up. “Try nearly every day.”

Key cocked her head to the side.

It probably made sense that this place would see use. Rosehearts didn't seem like the type to ignore vast swathes of area or rooms. Although their meetings were sparse, she knew that he was pragmatic and efficient. (Well, efficient as he could be when bound by the incessant perception of the rules).

“Trey!” The redheaded student turned to what appeared to be his savior, the tension in his shoulders melting with startling quickness. “What are you doing here so early?”

The newcomer, Trey, looked away while brushing at the back of his dark green hair, looking abashed. There was a moment when he locked eyes with a curious Key before he answered, “I had to talk Rook down from exploding the alchemy labs in the name of beauté, which took a lot less time than I thought. Somehow.” 

As if being overcome with a horrible flashback, the green haired student took a deep breath before exhaling with a long rush of hair. All too soon, however, he straightened into a casual stance and finally addressed Key, an easygoing smile on his face. “And who might you be? It’s not often that we see janitors out in the open like this.”

A startled gasp from the redhead. “Oh!!! I totes forgot we have those guys!”

Well. 

Key couldn’t quite blame the redheaded student for not remembering that there was indeed a maintenance team tasked with the upkeep and general cleanliness of the school. Most of the custodians tended to keep a low profile and all of them were expected to keep out of the way. Out of sight and out of mind. They were paid to mind the school, not the students if they could help it. Rarely would they ever directly interact with students or teachers unless the students wished to volunteer their services or had been tasked with disciplinary measures. 

Grimacing a little to herself—Key knew that there had been a chance she would be seen by some students, but she hadn’t expected this much attention and so soon!—explained that she was trying to find their dorm head. At that, both students shared a glance before they revealed that the green haired student was the Vice Housewarden. Trey Clover, it seemed, had been invited to an impromptu Science Club meeting and had only arrived a few minutes ago. According to Clover, he had come across Rosehearts when he had entered the Hall of Mirrors, but he had been speaking to a few members of the Equestrian Club. 

(It was also at this point that the redhead introduced himself as Cater Diamond… and that he had a big Magicam account and that he would greatly appreciate it if someone as cute as Key would be able to follow him!

Key declined). 

If all goes well, Clover continued, Rosehearts would be back in time for an early dinner. “But it might be a while yet since I think he was talking to Silver and a new first year about upcoming club activities.”

Key nodded even though club activities were far from her train of thought. “That’s more than fine. I’m in no rush.”

Clover’s brilliant golden eyes furrowed in confusion as he assessed Key. “Really? Then are you here for the white roses situation in the Rose Maze? We have been trying our best to remedy it by painting the roses red, but the white petals always peek through and we’re left with a sticky situation .”

With the way Clover grimaced and emphasized those last few words, Key realized that her presumption that Rosehearts was the so-called Housewarden with a temper was gaining traction. It was that, or Clover didn’t like painting roses or roses in general. Either option could be equally plausible. 

“Oh, I haven’t heard about that, but—” Key took out her notebook, now looking very battered and worse for wear with love, and began to scribble down Clover’s inquiry in shorthand. “—I can talk to my supervisor about it. Chances are it’s some of the dorm’s magic needing to get replenished. If not, we can get one of the gardeners to take a look at it if it’s more of a vegetation thing.”

It was a funny thing, but Key supposed that with a campus as big as Night Raven College, things like magical maintenance could get overlooked. Even with all the hard work that everyone endeavored to finish over the summer holidays, maybe someone forgot to make sure that Heartslabyul was up to code. Whatever the case, Key hoped that the issue was only related to the flowers and not something more serious. 

“Thank you so much, miss! Ya know, you shouldn’t—”

Clover gently clamped a hand over Diamond’s mouth so that he would stop talking about how such a cute girl shouldn’t have to be working so hard and at such a dirty job too! As annoyed as Key was at those remarks (harmless they might seem), she was still somewhat amused at the way Clover seemed to realize that his friend was speaking too candidly and trying everything in his power not to look like an accomplice to a complete and utter blabbermouth. 

(A part of the young custodian wondered if Diamond’s previous inauthenticity was at play again. Honestly, the more Key listened, the more it seemed as if he was trying to get Clover to break character). 

“Not to count our chicks too early, but I think it would be great for everyone in the dorm if all our roses came out naturally red.”

What an odd thing to say, Key couldn’t help but think, but it wasn’t as weird as the solemnity that emanated from both students. If she didn’t know any better… she would have thought them near terrified at the thought of having to deal with white roses. Really, what was the point of having flowers if you couldn’t appreciate the beauty they had? 

It was also very on brand for an Alice in Wonderland themed dorm so she chocked up the strangeness to that. 

Out of the blue, Key heard rather than saw the approach of two very familiar figures running at light speed to enter the courtroom. While she knew that there was no way she could evade Trappola and Grim forever, a part of her had hoped that their journey across campus would take just a few minutes longer. She, at least, wanted to have a talk with Rosehearts first before either of them could meddle with the upcoming conversation. 

“Pre-prefect!” Out of breath, Trappola nearly bent over in half as he clutched at his knees and looked up at Key pleadingly. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and down his cheeks, the buttons closest to his collar were undone. For the first time since forever, the first year actually looked like he was a young child. Vulnerable and at Key’s mercy. “Hey! Hey— ahhhh, gimme a sec wheeze —come back to the cafeteria! Grim ‘n I we— cough, wheeze —we’ll do what you want. No need to involve the head honcho, kay?”

“Yeah!” Grim piped up unhelpfully. His small, furry body sagged onto the floor, but he gallantly rose up to plead his and Trappola’s case. “What he said. The red guy’s collars are scratchy!”

The pair of them made for a miserable pair of fools. Had Key’s bleeding heart and patience had not been tested so mercilessly the past few days, she would have certainly folded on the spot. Unfortunately for everyone involved, she had one thing to say. 

“You should have been more willing before the both of you took advantage of my kindness.” 

Because, at the end of the day, her insistence that their punishment be cleaning windows and sweeping floors was a kindness. Anything less than sealing away their magic should have been a blessing to them. Yet, they chose to squander it and for what? 

And—

All at once, there was a cacophony of voices, a discordant symphony that played together but were not on time or in tune. 

“Yes, but—”

“Henchman, you can’t just—”

“Ace? Is this the harpy that you’ve been talking about?”

“Well, this is totes awks! Can’t believe—”

As the symphony began to hit its crescendo, one singular voice stood out from the rest. It was confident and strong, but there was an underlying confusion underscored with irritation. A voice that bid them to stop and enforce order once more. 

Riddle Rosehearts. 

Although he was dressed in riding clothes and was not as well put together as he had been when wearing his school uniform, Rosehearts still appeared regal and commanding. His every movement, the looks he gave his Vice Housewarden and his other students, and his slight nod to Key… Not a moment had passed and already, he had control over the floor. 

The court judge had come and all will stand to attention in his court. 

“If I remember correctly,” Rosehearts began, his stance straight and his gaze piercing, “Ace, you attended your punishment for the chandelier, yes? If you have finished, then you should head to your dorm room so that you may finish your homework and get some rest.”

The Heartslabyul first year, contrary to his earlier bout of vulnerability, had on a face of pure youthfulness that did little to bely his upcoming chicanery. “‘Course I did, Riddle! Miss Prefect over here was just sayin’ goodbye!”

Key had to hand it to Trappola. The boy was a good actor. Not good enough that Key couldn’t see right through his lies, but serviceable that anyone who didn’t know him well enough would have fallen for it. Rosehearts, too, must have come to the same realization because he sighed, the sound drawn out in resigned disappointment. 

“If you are still brazen even after fulfilling your punishment, then you should go back to wearing your collar.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Key spoke up before Trappola could complain. Swallowing whatever apprehensions she may have had, the young custodian squarely faced the Housewarden and steeled her resolve. This was it. “I have been having trouble with Trappola. While he technically finishes his work, he’s still aggravating and provoking Grim in the process. That kind of defeats the purpose of having them work together so they don’t cause fights in the future.”

A nasty little smirk bloomed to life upon Rosehearts’ face. “Ah, so your strategy has not worked?” The Heartslabyul Housewarden shrugged his shoulders, as if to say what can you do ? “Well, that’s not surprising since you clearly don’t have what it takes to discipline any students of Night Raven College.” 

The split second of silence within the courtroom was near suffocating. 

“Excuse me?” Key felt her heart drop down to her stomach while anger began to blur her vision and inflame her body. It was one thing to insult her in private, but this! This was in front of not only the first years, but also the strangers she had only met the acquaintance of moments ago! “We’re here to talk about your dorm resident, not about my qualifications.”

Rosehearts looked down at her, something like pity and disappointment heavy and accusing in his face. “And yet, that’s the first thing you note.” 

At that, Key wisely kept her mouth shut, not wanting to cause more strife, but still very much seething with something like shame settling like fire over her cheeks, ears, and upon the back of her neck.  

At the corner of her eyes, Key could barely make out Diamond leaning over so he could discreetly talk to Clover. 

“However,” Rosehearts continued, as if not realizing just how much Key wanted to retaliate, “if you wish to keep this conversation strictly about my first year, then so be it. Leave the rest of his punishment to me. I can guarantee that he will be disciplined well and you will no longer bear the burden of having to deal with him.”

That. That didn’t sound too good. Not to Key and certainly not Trappola, who looked like he was about to faint from all the blood that began to fade from his face. 

Luckily for Trappola, Key was not going to willingly give him up immediately. At the very least, she was going to fight for him even though he did not deserve it. 

“Your students are your responsibility, yes, but they are not burdens. They are people ,” Key emphasized. 

Her dark brown eyes were narrowed in anger, but there was desperation there. Something like experience or perhaps something closer to a memory was rising to the forefront of her consciousness, but she was not too cognizant of the particulars of said memory. However, there was something familiar to this. This anger was all hers, but it belonged to a her from somewhere in the past. A her who was angry at Rosehearts and wanting justice for Trappola. 

But why?

“I get that you have your own vision of what your dorm should be and how you handle your dorm’s affairs, but what you’re doing is cruel for the sake of being cruel. There are other ways to teach a lesson before you resort to sealing away magic and even then… It shouldn’t be a resort in the first place.” 

Children, they were all children. It didn’t matter if they were mages and had abilities that put them on par with the divine. They were still people who deserved to be treated with respect and with leniency. 

“Please.” She didn’t want to sound like she was pleading, but that’s what she was doing. “If you take away Mr. Trappola’s magic, then how will he learn to use his better judgment on when and where to use it? Mistakes are necessary.”

Rosehearts pursed his lips, his storm grey eyes focused solely on Key. In the moment when he seemed to be contemplating her petition for clemency, Key held her breath. And, if she was paying attention to their audience, she could guarantee that they were also holding their breaths. 

Only to have her heart drop once and for all at Rosehearts’ words. 

“Mistakes are for those who are slow to learn. Really, all Ace needs to do is follow the rules. What better way to follow rules than strict guidelines and consequences? If he has truly suffered, then he would have no qualms ceasing his poor conduct.” The redheaded Housewarden gestured at the cat beast who, up until that point, had ducked behind Key’s legs. Whether it was because he feared Rosehearts or because he just so happened to be behind her, she did not know. “You are lucky that I am reserving this punishment only for Ace instead of extending that same courtesy to your resident even though he would gratefully benefit from it. It’s a disservice to him, but I suppose you’ll be the judge of that.”

That anger, that desperation rose once more, but Key found herself stumbling over her words when she spotted Rosehearts pin her down with a steely eyed gaze. Her head hurt; the memory of something so similar trying to rise through the murky surface of her selective amnesia, but failing. Even so, while her head may have hurt from memories trying to rise through the surface, she felt that she couldn’t breathe under his cold, ruthless gaze. 

Something constricted her airways and Key fought not to look down to check if she had on a collar. 

"I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner. I am the Housewarden of Heartslabyul and the top student of my year. I have long since mastered various areas of the arcane, but what have you accomplished? I see you snivelling and grasping at straws, stagnating several stations below your true potential." His eyes raked over her custodial uniform, studying the creases and the faint splotches of cleaning fluid that stained some areas of the fabric. "I will not listen to the likes of someone who clearly has not tried hard enough to improve themselves in their day to day life. You deserve to be treated as expendable as the role you occupy. You're nothing more than a glorified secretary who doesn't know what she's doing. So, no, I will not be taking your suggestions under consideration. If all you came to do was to question me, then I will ask you to leave."

Out of all the comments and the looks that she received thus far, it was Rosehearts’ admission that made her want to throw up or run away. Over the past few months, ever since she had arrived in this brutally magical world, she had been made to feel low. However, that was usually the consequence of appearing the odd one out in the midst of uniformed staff members and students. Now, she had been made to feel low because Rosehearts wanted to make her feel low. He could justify his actions all he wanted and perhaps he wasn’t as harsh as Key thought, but all the things he said…

They hurt.

And while he may have thought himself to mean well, all Key could do was feel how empty, how hollow, she was. 

Every breath she took was shallow and in want of more oxygen while her eyes screamed with fire. 

She had to leave. 

Ducking her head slightly as if to wordlessly say goodbye, Key began to walk through the crowd of Heartslabyul students. For the most part, she paid no mind to the Vice or the other irritating redhead, but then she caught sight of Trappola’s expression. 

While he may have been the subject of her ire, she bore no ill will to him now. Perhaps it was for the best that they part ways. There was no point in making an even bigger mess over his punishment since they were going to wrap up soon anyway. 

And yet—

For a brief moment, they locked gazes and in that moment, Key saw a combination of awe and grudging respect in his eyes.

Chapter Text

“G’morning, Doll! Hope you’re hungry for a surprise because we got ourselves a meal prepared just for you!” 

The grotesque sight of the ghost’s ghastly pallid features would have made any sane person wish that they had never woken from their sleep. As it were, Key merely squinted at the floating blob that dared intrude upon her waking routine. It took a couple seconds, but Key eventually realized that the ghost tormenting her was Ezekial. Although the ghosts had proven themselves worthy roommates, that didn’t mean that they weren’t without fault.

The young custodian pulled up the covers to her chin. “If you’re here to tell me that Grim snuck inside to sleep with me, I know. For someone who knows how to sneak out of punishments, he sure doesn’t know how to open doors quietly.”

Ezekial’s thin, spindly fingers hooked themselves into the thin, threadbare material of the blanket before pulling it back to reveal Key looking up at him with a withering expression.

“Rough night, Little Miss?” As Key’s deep brown eyes continued to narrow in confirmation, the ghost relented and floated back to an appropriate distance so he wasn’t right in Key’s face.

Although dimly lit, Key was quick to see that there was a small lump curled in her sheets. The light blur was more than enough of a confirmation that her wayward student had indeed crawled into her space and that it wasn’t an element of a dream. She regarded him for a moment before idly patting down the fur that rested between his ears. Overnight, his fur had become unbearably fluffy and Key was loathe to let such a tantalizing opportunity go.

Lord, her little cat beast hated being shown physical affection.

After tucking in the blankets around her finicky roommate, Key gestured for Ezekial to follow her out of the master suite.

“So… the surprise?”

“In the lounge area.”

Ezekial’s eerie cackles echoed within the dorm rather ominously. Trailing behind the ghost, Key trembled and flinched every time she had to take a step. Despite having chosen to wear an old NRC sweater, the young custodian couldn’t help but feel cold. Underneath the soles of her bare feet, the wooden flooring felt like ice had been used as the main component of the house’s structure. 

To keep her mind occupied and to encourage her body to slowly acclimate itself to the overwhelmingly cool sensations underfoot, she played a little game. Having lived in the dorm for a few days now, she knew where the flooring would creak the most. Dodging the floorboards that would have made the noisiest creaks was entertaining, yet subtle enough that the other inhabitants of Ramshackle wouldn’t notice. That, and she felt like she was dancing to a tune that no one could hear or acting like she was in one of those heist films that Cam liked to criticize whenever he procrastinated on his studies.

Eventually, the young custodian made her way down to the lounge—with only a few missteps regarding her impromptu heist adventures. There, she spotted a young man with fiery red hair curled on the black and white couch, his figure covered by his school blazer and a haphazard selection of clothing. 

The heart that was emblazoned on his left eye and the collar that was tightly fastened around his neck was enough of an indicator to reveal to her who he was.

Further examination of the first year revealed that he had brought a duffel bag—whose contents had been messily tampered with and from Key could tell, the contents of which were draped over his body—and an accompanying backpack that bulged with textbooks and stray papers that she recognized as syllabi and pop quizzes.

It then dawned on Key that the Heartslabyul first year was trying to move into Ramshackle. 

Which led to the question of: 

Did his Housewarden know?

“Ezekial,” Key muttered lowly. The air behind her dropped at least ten degrees and she silently cursed herself for not wearing socks. Were it not for the fact that the ghosts didn’t usually cast magic, she would have thought that he had cast an ice spell to make her life a little bit harder. “Why’d you let him in?”

The skeletal ghost cackled, which somehow did not wake the slumbering Trappola, mischief heavily lidding his bright blue eyes. Yet, when he spoke, it seemed as if had faltered, like he was rethinking his decision. “Yer a bleedin’ heart if I ever saw one, Doll. You would have let him in no matter what, right?”

The hopefulness in his voice softened the young custodian. “You’re not wrong.” A pause. “But a little warning would have been nice; I would have been more than happy to…”

What would have Key done differently? Even if she did take issue with the Heartslabyul first year taking an impromptu nap at Ramshackle, she still would have let him in. As far as she was concerned, most Night Raven College students did not know how to instantaneously travel unless they were fourth years specializing in the craft or had a few years’ experience and the magical reserves to commit such a feat. Therefore, it would have weighed heavily on her conscience if she had sent the teenage boy out in the dead of night. Yes, the school grounds were secure and there were several staff members who were still active during that time, but it wouldn’t be right.

Despite the lampposts that lined the streets around the school, they were still areas that were dim or not easily navigable. Trappola was smart—smarter than most would assume—but his actions were reckless.

And, above all else, Key was not going to take out her budding frustration on the teenage boy. He was a pain, but he did complete most of his punishment for the chandelier incident. All other transgressions that she had witnessed so far seemed to have one root cause: Riddle Rosehearts, the Housewarden of Heartslabyul.

Key sighed. She supposed that she would have to deal with this current dilemma sooner rather than later.

Locking eyes with Ezekial—who had watched her process through several emotions before landing on one specific expression that made the skeletal ghost float just that much higher—Key asked, “Have you considered waking someone by giving them a wet willy?”

Ezekial’s ghoulish smile narrowed like a knife slicing through supple flesh. “Why, yes! But when I was alive!”

Key’s smile would have been just as ghoulish had she been just as ghostly. “But now that you’re dead…?”

Ezekial’s bright blue eyes, unblinking and untamed with undead fire, grew brighter. “Now I’m thinking I shouldn’t let such a ripe opportunity go to waste.”

And, without further ado, Ezekial allowed one large tongue to slither over one of his fingers before he stuck it into Trappola’s ear.

With a great big wail that shook the dorm from the ceiling down to its foundations, the redheaded teen erupted from his slumber as if he were one of the undead. Upstairs, if Key was not mistaken, there was a yowl from a very familiar cat beast before it spluttered off into a whiny grumble.

“What the fuck—”

Key flicked the first year’s nose. “Language, you’re still technically in school.”

The first year clambered to his feet, the nastiest expression she had ever seen (that could almost rival Emilio in the aftermath of a great night out) on his face.

“And you’re not supposed to assault students.”

Cool and level headed compared to the first year, Key merely gave him a stolid expression before replying, “I’m not clocked in yet. You, on the other hand, will always be a student no matter where you are.” Before Trappola could fight back with another reckless rebuttal, Key yawned behind her hand and gestured towards the dining area. “I’m a little bit rusty, but I feel like it would take more effort to mess up scrambled eggs and pancakes than to make passable ones.”

At first, Key thought that Trappola was light-footed, but she soon realized—especially after she saw that Ezekial was pointing at something behind her shoulder gleefully—that the Heartslabyul student refused to budge from the lounge. With the way he crossed his arms, anyone would have thought that the young custodian had threatened to throw Trappola out. 

Or maybe poison him.

Deadpan now, and still not willing to put up with his antics, Key decided to return them tenfold.

“If you want to eat at Heartsl—”

“Fine.”

The scent of oil frying the scrambled eggs was accompanied by the faint saccharine aroma of pancakes cooking in their respective pans. As Key flipped the pancakes and mentally tallied the projected budget for the rest of the month—something told her that this wouldn’t be an isolated occurrence—the first year surprisingly made himself useful. Despite his reluctance to fulfill the terms of his punishment after the chandelier incident, he proved to be adept at cracking eggs and then frying them. Furthermore, in a stroke of genius, he added a dash of milk to the eggs. 

Apparently, he explained with the nonchalance of someone who knew he was clever, it was because as the liquid mixed with the eggs and evaporated from the heat, the preparation would then result in fluffier scrambled eggs.

“’Course,” Trappola continued, “my brother prefers water, but I think this takes them to another level.”

However, that wasn’t the only information that Trappola volunteered after he finally opened up once Key had said that milk seemed like a better idea. (He tried to hide the satisfied smirk that rose on his face, but he was not that quick). The events of last night were revealed to the young custodian with the aplomb of someone who had been denied of what he was rightfully owed. That which, he stated with no remorse, was the fact that he had blindly grabbed something from the kitchens to stave off hunger.

“One measly tart.” Trappola hissed the words out, the very idea of the confection seemingly offensive in its own way as he began to season the eggs. 

Frustrated and annoyed by just recounting his experience, the first year took out the pepper shaker and shook some of the spice onto the scrambled eggs with reckless abandon. Unfortunately, his wild, erratic movements, caused the top of the pepper shaker to fall off with a loud clang upon the countertop. 

Unfortunately, the lid wasn’t the only thing that fell. Almost instantly, a thick cloud of pepper rose to the sky and filled the air. Like thick, cloying volcanic ash erupting into the atmosphere.  

In a frantic rush, Trappola had no choice but to step back and recoil from the pepper explosion.

Thankfully, Key had not been as close to ground zero. Though her eyes watered and her nose twitched, she managed to brave the pepper catastrophe to turn the flames down and stow the pan onto a hot plate.

After Key excused herself to sneeze politely into the sleeve of her sweater a few times, she glanced back at the pan. It was unfortunate, but she supposed that some of the scrambled eggs were salvageable. From what she saw, countless granules of pepper dotted only some parts of the eggs but not necessarily everything. In the middle of the unexpected mess, there was a tiny little mountain that collapsed once one of Key’s impulses took over. (She prodded it and it felt exactly as she thought it would). 

To Trappola’s credit, however, the eggs were properly cooked and were just as fluffy as the first year had claimed it would.

“Toldja so.” Trappola leaned against the counter, proudly smirking at Key’s awed expression. (From a polite distance away, of course, because he still did not want to contaminate his nostrils). “Betcha weren’t thinking I could do it, huh?”

Not wanting to answer his question and to make his ego even bigger, Key looked away. And at the peppery egg monstrosity laid out upon the plate. Out of morbid curiosity, the young custodian plucked some of the pepper in between her thumb and forefinger and licked it.

That was one way to wipe the self assured smirk of the Heartslabyul first year’s face. “Ew! Gross! And here I thought girls were supposed to—”

“I don’t taste anything.”

“Wai—” The redhead blanched, his mind stuttering for a second as he struggled to process what Key had said. When he couldn’t reconcile her calm expression with her equally tranquil delivery of her line, he couldn’t help but accuse her of lying. “There is no way—”

“No, I’m not.” Key gestured towards the mini former pepper tower and gestured for Trappola to try it. “Maybe the pepper’s expired?”

Hesitantly, the first year plucked a pinch of the spice—much like Key had done—and brought it to the tip of his tongue to taste. Meanwhile, the young custodian forced herself to keep her expression neutral. She wasn’t lying when she said that couldn’t taste anything, but he didn’t know that the sentiment only applied to her.

She considered it a light form of payback for what he had put her through these past few days.

As Trappola made a disgusted face at her, the third living being in the dorm finally showed up. Grim, mustering all of the speed that he could afford to exert right before his first practical lesson of the day, staggered into the kitchen.

“Fooooo—What’s he doin’ here?”

Grim stopped dead in his tracks, his lightning blue eyes narrowing in suspicion when he saw his bully and fellow first year leaning against the kitchen counter as if he belonged in Ramshackle. Although Key didn’t know if Grim held the same amount of dorm loyalty like other students did towards their regular houses, she did get the feeling that he could get territorial. After all, he was a cat and he had told her countless times on several occasions that he was her boss and she was his henchman.

Nonplussed by the sight of the cat beast, the first year yawned out, “Rebelling against my Housewarden.”

Well, that was partly true. But partly not.

So, it was up to Key to clarify the situation as she saw fit. “He stole some food and he’s in exile.”

Trappola rolled his eyes, but didn’t try to argue. Instead, he picked up the plate filled with the over peppered egg and gestured for the cat beast to come over. Perhaps it was common sense or Grim’s heightened senses of smell (due to his being an animal) that had him refusing to step further into the kitchen. No matter the cause of such caution, it was quite clear that it would take a lot more than a mere gesture for him to come closer to his fellow first year.

Trappola tried again, but this time, he goaded Grim on with a sneer. “What are you, chicken?”

Grim squawked, the flames erupting from his ears several feet taller than usual. Thankfully, the ceiling wasn’t too short, but Key feared that if the both of them kept this up, the kitchen would surely catch on fire or at the very least get singed. “I am the Great Grim! And don’t you forget it!”

“I’m sorry?” Trappola abandoned the eggs on the counter to cup his right ear as if he was hard of hearing. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your chickeness.”

And that’s what did it.

Without so much as a head start, the cat beast instantly bolted right for the red head. It was at this point that Trappola took out his magic pen, as if trying to summon something, but then realized all too late that he was still bearing the heavy burden from his Housewarden.

With rage bellowing from his small body and a surge of anger that could have surely put his flames to shame, Grim ran straight into his fellow first year.

Well.

At least, Grim was trying to ram straight into the redhead until Key lightly pushed the Heartslabyul first year out of the way and grabbed the cat beast by the scruff of his neck.

Honestly, it seemed like such an action was going to be practiced and continued far into the future if Grim kept butting heads with the students of Night Raven College.  

“Grim.” The cat beast, who had been flailing in her grasp, stilled at the very mention of his name. Carefully, he looked up at Key, a frown making a downturn curve upon his muzzle before he scowled and faced forward again. “You’re not supposed to attack anyone, especially those without magic.”

“But he has—!”

Trappola posed against the counter, his collar on full display.

“Not only does your magic sucks, but your eyesight too?” The redheaded first year whistled low, fake sympathy in his eyes. “Damn, and here I thought that I was the one mostly suffering.”

Before Grim could leap out of Key's grasp, the young custodian let out a long, deep suffering sigh that made Trappola abruptly straighten up from his overly casual posture and into something that resembled a statue. Something like irritation, or maybe even guilt, pooled in his eyes before he rolled them and faced a nondescript direction away from Key.

For a moment, Key gathered her thoughts, the tight hold that she had on Grim minutely tightening until she heard a yelp from him. At the realization that she was hurting him, she immediately loosened her grip and placed him on the floor.

“No fighting. If you want to fight, there's a grassy field out back." To herself, she muttered, "I don't get paid enough for this, geeze.”

Unfortunately, Trappola was quick to pick up on her muttering. In a voice that Key could almost describe as being earnest and genuinely curious, “It's not easy being Housewarden, huh? I don't get it, why be in charge of this scraggly furball anyway?”

“Hey!”

Carefully sidestepping the cat beast who once again tried to attack the first year (albeit, without magic), Key answered, “If you ever find out why, tell me. Because I don't know why either.”

A beat.

“Also, I'm kind of a Housewarden? But also not really?”

To be honest, Key didn't think of herself as a Housewarden. Housewardens, first and foremost, were supposed to be mages in charge of a dorm. Key was just a person who happened to advocate for the upkeep of an abandoned dorm. Second of all, Housewardens tended to be guys—at least at Night Raven Collage. Even though Key hadn't had the pleasure of talking to all her fellow staff members who had gone to magical universities, most could attest that some did follow the conventions that NRC implemented. Cam said that his school did not have dormitories, Miss Julie the intern claimed that there was something similar in place during her secondary education, but the term Housewarden was given another moniker, and so on. Really, there wasn't much of a gender divide except in NRC because, of course, it was an all boy's school. Thirdly, Key wasn't a student and her enrollment wasn't tied to her performance in class. She could sympathize with Grim over the course load and the demands that teachers gave, but she couldn't say that she actually understood.

She didn't know the theory behind magic.

The history of magic.

How the wonders of magic could be broken down into smaller concepts that anyone could learn.

She was merely someone who had been dropped into this world and was forced to be a part of something she didn't quite understand.

So, no.

Not exactly a Housewarden.

Rather, she felt more like a babysitter?

But she supposed that it didn't feel professional to say it in front of an impressionable and rebellious first year student. (Plus, she also had Grim to account for and he wasn't going to go down without a fight when his pride was on the line).

“Fair enough.” Trappola shrugged.
Doubt you could stand up to Riddle as you are. 'Sides, if it makes you feel any better, if I could—and if it didn’t feel so weird—I would definitely call you Housewarden.” The redhead gave her a cursory, but appreciative glance. Although it didn’t last long and he turned his face away so Key couldn’t get a grasp on what he was feeling, Key sensed that there was a small element of respect and contemplation brewing in his eyes. “I don’t know, I think you’re better at the managing people kind of thing.”

“It’s because I can’t collar people, right?”

“Oh, definitely! That’s part of it, but another part is that you’re not as bad as those third years who back up Riddle. They just keep… doing things for him, babying him. It’s like they don’t have minds or spines of their own, but I know they do.” His amber gaze hardened into polished, well cut rubies. “I know that they can think for themselves.”

Key frowned. “One of them is the Vice, right?” She thought back to the encounter that she had with them, how the redhead was someone who was clearly mischievous, but there was something underneath that shallow veneer. Meanwhile, the young man with the dark green hair was someone who must have had a motive for allowing Riddle’s tyranny to run rampant and unchecked, but what? He seemed hesitant, but there had to be a reason why.

“Pssht, yeah. I bet that’s the reason why Riddle trusts them so much. They aren’t exactly friends, but it’s not like he can talk to anyone else. You so much as breathe too loudly and he’ll pull that etiquette bullshit—”

“Language.”

“—that we don’t really need to learn in a school like this.” The collared first year glared at Key. Heat simmered within his eyes, but there was no true animosity to be found. Rather, the frustration emanating from the situation must have been getting to him. “You know, you’re just as bad as him, Prefect.”

Key studied him, the question that had been hanging back in the corner of her mind finally breaching her inhibitions. “If that’s the case, why here? Why not go to any other dorm?”

The Heartslabyul first year glanced away from Key and back down to the ruined eggs. A moment passed and while Key wanted to know what he was thinking, she allowed him respite and space. Eventually, her deliberate choice bore fruit. 

“Because… What you did yesterday… What you said…” Trappola sucked in a deep breath while his hand clenched the countertop, his knuckles going white. It must have hurt his pride looking vulnerable like this, but Key remained patient and understanding. “Dunno, you’re kind of a doormat, but at the end of the day, they have to be strong and sturdy to get stepped on all the time, so.”

A crude allegory, but Key understood what he was getting at. Compliments coming from him were hard to come by, so she would take it. “So.”

Trappola rolled his eyes, but it wasn’t directed at Key. Rather, it seemed like he was attempting to get out of his situation as fast as possible without revealing too much of his hand. 

“Listen, I rag on you because you look like you can take it. You fight back, but you’re not horrible about it like my tyrant of a Housewarden. With you, I get what I deserve, but with Riddle… He’s ruthless and he’s not willing to listen. You do. You probably shouldn’t, but…” Trappola gave her a pained grimace, almost as if to say I’ve spent at least three minutes being open and unguarded. Can I take a break? “…yeah.”

“Is that an apology?”

He reared back, pure revulsion strewn about his features. “Fuck no!”

“Language.”

“And here she is, in all of her Housewarden glory: Perfect Prefect Key.”

She shrugged, trying to be blithe about the entire thing, but ended up smiling softly anyway. “Call it a reflex.” She snuck a side glance at Grim who was wiggling his rump in the air as he prepared to launch himself at the peppery eggs that were still on the counter, forgotten. “Grim—!”

“Can’t stop me now, Henchman!”

The strength of a magical creature shouldn’t have been so surprising, but Key still felt her heart leap into the small confines of her throat when she saw the cat beast make his way onto the counter, his muzzle a scant few centimeters away from the eggs. Breathing in proved to be a mistake because no sooner did Grim inhale the scent, he began sneezing up a storm.

Literally.

Lightning blue flames flew up in a straight, undulating pillar. Thankfully, the scorch marks on the ceiling were minimal, but she still made a mental note to ask about that. Hopefully Harper could come and take a look at that? Or maybe have someone make a spell for the ceiling to protect from future kitchen disasters?

“Spicy…” Grim nibbled at the eggs. “Tasty!!!”

And he dug in like a cat beast starved.

“Ughhhh.” The Heartslabyul first year dragged a hand down his face, his expression one of someone who was pained and trying not to remember something traumatic. “You’re just as bad as that nerd who dorms with me. He’s all about eggs and being thankful for the chickens who gave birth to them. It’s like he doesn’t know that they’re unfertilized and that the chickens would gladly eat them if they cracked in the henhouse.”

Grim’s big blue eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “They can eat their children?”

“…I can’t tell if you’re just as bad or worse than that lame nerd.”

Thus, another fight between the two started.

Fortunately, the hunger these students held was more than enough of a reason for the two to finally cease their aimless argument. The moment the plates and glasses were placed upon the table, both of them dug in. In the background, Key meandered in the kitchen, tidying up here and there, content to listen to the rhythmic sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain. 

Much to Key’s surprise, however, Trappola paused in the middle of his breakfast, his mouth mostly free of food to ask, “Aren’t you gonna eat, Prefect? You made more than plenty.”

“We,” Key corrected as she stepped back into the dining room. “You helped a lot, Mr. Trappola.”

The first year student turned his head away at that, his hand waving her off as if she was complimenting him rather than stating fact. Given the volume of what was laid out on the table, to get the same result Key would have had to spend noticeably more time on preparing breakfast had it not been for his help.

“Yeah, whatever. Go eat.”

She shook her head. “I’m more than fine. I already got my nutrients when I woke up.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. While it was true, Key knew that it was more than likely that not many people suffered from the same condition as hers. In fact, she hoped that she was the only one suffering from it. There was nothing as isolating or as dehumanizing to not be able to partake in something that everyone could. Eating. Savoring life’s joys. To be able to sit at the table and actually belong.

In an effort to save face and ignore the question that lurked behind Trappola’s eyes, Key fished out her pocket watch from within the confines of her sweatshirt. After pressing down on the fob, she feigned a look of surprise. 

(If Trappola were anyone else, she would have fooled him). 

“Whoops! Better run, you two!” Key began gathering the plates and cups, a forced placid smile on her face as she shooed both Trappola and Grim out of the dining area. It took some convincing, but eventually, she persuaded them to tidy their uniforms (or in Grim’s case, his bow) and to gather their learning materials for a new day of learning. “I’ll take care of the dishes today, but the next time you eat here, the both of you better wash them!”

“Guess I’m not eating here ever again,” Trappola grumbled.

“I totally believe you,” Key deadpanned before she locked the door behind her first years. 

What added more credence to Key’s statement was her perusal of the dorm lounge. At first, nothing was out of the ordinary, but Key caught sight of Trappola’s duffle bag hastily placed at the foot of one of the couches. If one weren’t looking closely or if they were in a rush, they wouldn’t have seen it. 

She stifled a smile. 

Perhaps he was still deciding whether he wanted to commit to staying or trying to make amends with his Housewarden. 

(She already knew the answer, but she entertained the possibilities all the same). 

Kneeling upon the cold, hardwood flooring, Key studied the duffle bag. For a moment, she reached out to touch it. The tough fabric was unyielding, but gradually molding to her touch underneath her fingers. 

Thoughts of Ramshackle, how lonely it was, how cold, filled her mind. She thought of the Heartslabyul Housewarden and his illogical rigidity concerning the rules. And then, she thought of Trappola and how his neck and back must have ached after wearing the collar for so long. How he had worn the collar while sleeping and still managed to be in a good enough mood to help her make breakfast. 

She thought of anger.

And of resentment.

And then she decided that she would make sure that the guest bedroom on the second floor would be cleaned in case Trappola wished to stay long term.

However, before she could do so, someone rang the doorbell. Confused, but not apprehensive at the thought of answering, Key opened it. 

Only to find herself looking up at a young man with eyes the color of pale amethyst and silver hair that became gold under sunlight.

Chapter Text

In the book of fairytales that Cameron had given her, there were countless stories of both royalty and peasants, vagabonds and tradesmen, maidens and crones, who were all equally fantastical and wonderful in their own ways. Doubtless, there were many who served as caricatures and archetypes common to the cultures that created such stories, but they all rang with an element of truth in the end. And where there is truth, you can always look for it somewhere in the real world.

Or—