Mayor Paxton's eyes flickered open at the first hint of dawn, a well-rehearsed routine that required no alarm clock. Padding across the room in worn slippers, his short and portly frame seemed incongruous with the aura of authority he managed to exude - poorly. The bare wooden floors creaked in response to his weight, echoing years of health neglect and poor choices.

With a hat perched precariously on his head and a waistcoat straining against his belly, he emerged onto the cobblestone streets of Ravendrift. Morning mist hovered low, wrapping the facades of the houses in a vivid coat of glow. He strolled down the main street, his eyes keen for any signs of disorder—be it a stray dog or an unauthorized vendor. It was still too early for the townsfolk to populate the streets, a reality that gave the town an air of serenity he savoured. The early peace of the day.

"Ah, Mayor Paxton, up and about already!" Clarence, the bistro owner, greeted him as he stepped through the door, its chimes announcing his arrival.

"Morning, Clarence. How could I resist the aroma of your muffins?" Paxton replied, settling into his usual seat by the window.

Clarence set down a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, followed by a plate of buttered scones. "Enjoy, Mayor."

"Ah, simple pleasures," Paxton murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. It was strong and invigorating, like the town he had been serving for years.

His breakfast ritual complete, Paxton made his way to the municipal office—a tiny space cluttered with a myriad of paperwork. He thumbed through a few reports, signed some documents, and scribbled notes for his clerk. Urgent matters were rarely more than settling disputes between farmers or signing off on building permits, but Paxton took his role seriously. Yet, as the clock struck nine and a half, he snapped the leather briefcase shut.

"Off to school," he told his clerk, a reedy man who rarely looked up from his work.

"Yes, Mayor Paxton. Have fun with the little ones," the clerk mumbled without lifting his eyes from the papers.

For Paxton, the short walk to Ravendrift Elementary School was like a sojourn into a different world—one filled with chalk dust, wooden desks, and the scent of youthful exuberance. His heart lightened with each step, for teaching was the real bright solace of his day, even more than Clarence's muffins.

Math problems and history tales flowed easily from his tongue, and the children's eyes widened in fascination. Well, and sometimes boredom.

He could hold court on the wonders of the periodic table or the history of the foundation of Neddingstein Nation, but alas, when it came to painting or music, his skills were sorely lacking.

The children forgave him this. They truly liked his teaching, even if they called him The Bouncing Uncle. But the Mayor had no idea, and his students kept it secret from his ear.

It was another perfect morning until...

The arrival of Nord Morningstar was like a sudden storm on an otherwise tranquil day. Her very name conjured catastrophe and her presence disrupted the serene flow of his daily existence.

A woman of unparalleled beauty and artistic prowess, no doubt, she cast a shadow that tormented him, the pulsing notion that inside her, a terrible creature nestled - the Hollow. Yet, beneath the veneer of enchantment lay a darkness, a lurking horror that sent shivers down his spine.

"Children, we have an esteemed guest today," Mayor Paxton announced, his voice quivering with a peculiar mix of excitement and anxiety. "Let's take a break for recess!"

With grace, Nord advanced, her gaze locking onto Mayor Paxton's. "Good morning, Paxton. I sense a certain unease in you. Or is it just me?"

Paxton wiped a single bead of perspiration from his forehead. "Will it still be a good morning after our conversation, I wonder?"

"That, Mr Mayor, depends entirely on whether you intend to be a friend or…" Her words hung in the air, incomplete yet pregnant with ominous implications.

Impatience gnawed at Paxton's nerves. "Please, Miss Morningstar, let us dispense with the theatrics. What is it that brings you here?"

She circled a small, child-sized stool and seated herself gracefully. "I have a proposition for you. One that concerns a teaching position."

"A teaching position?" Paxton blinked, caught off guard. "But I am the teacher here. Are you suggesting that I should dismiss myself?"

She shook her head. "Not yourself, Paxton. I'm speaking of a different kind of teacher—a music teacher."

Paxton's bewilderment was evident. "A music teacher? In this town?"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Nord leaned forward, her voice a mellifluous yet commanding whisper.

"Yes, Paxton. And the candidate I have in mind might surprise you."

"Who is this candidate?" Paxton inquired, his curiosity now piqued.

"Mr. Berith," she said, her lips beginning to tremble with a hint of nervous anticipation.

Paxton's eyes widened. "Berith? Do you mean the demon? You wish for a demon to be our music teacher?"

Nord leaned in closer, her words laden with conviction. "Who better to teach music than a demon? You've heard him play, Paxton. The violin is an extension of his very being. He can master the piano, the cello, and even the electric guitar—"

"Electric guitar?"

Nord's lips curled into a smirk. "A mere slip of the tongue. Pay it no mind." Paxton huffed, swivelling his chair a few degrees to the left. "A demon, Nord? Do you want a demon to teach children? What kind of pitchfork-wielding madness is that? The parents will run for the hills, and the children will have nightmares."

Nord rose, abandoning her perch on a stool. She paced slowly around the room, her boots clicking authoritatively on the hardwood floor. "I have children at the Morningstar estate, you know. They find him delightful. If those little ones aren't scared, why would anyone else's be?"

Paxton's eyes darted toward the window and back. He felt cornered, like a deer suddenly aware of the hunter. "Do I have any say in this? Any at all?"

She leaned in so close he could feel her breath. "No," she said, almost a whisper. "Deny me, and I swear, Ravendrift will suffer a fate worse than being in the most forsaken corner of the Nethersphere."

Paxton blinked, his mouth opening and closing. "Nethersphere?"

"Yes, Mayor Paxton, the Nethersphere."

"I see. And, um..."

"Make your decision. I've not the patience to wait."

Paxton's face crumpled into his hands; he was wrestling with an impossible choice. "Why, Nord? Why are you so desperate to place him here?"

Her eyes softened for just a moment. "I need Baal to be busy, distracted, and most of all, happy."

He looked up, sighed, and reluctantly extended his hand. "Alright, fine. But if he's even a minute late or a single parent complains, he's gone."

Nord seized his hand and shook it firmly. "Agreed. You've no idea the service you've rendered today."

Paxton raised an eyebrow. "Have I really?"

"You have," she said, already moving toward the door, her footsteps parting punctuation. "Indeed, you most certainly have. Thank you."

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The aroma of pancakes mingled with chocolate, a seductive dance in the air. Baal lay there in bed, unwilling to yield to consciousness until he felt the gentle stroke of fingers through his hair, followed by the soft press of lips on his cheek. He smiled.

"It's early," he mumbled, the corners of his mouth curling into a wider smile.

"I brought breakfast in bed," she said, her voice tinged with a warmth that seemed to defy the morning chill.

His eyes fluttered open, and for the first time since their arrival in Nyu, he saw her in her full element. Makeup was perfectly applied, and her eyes were transformed into an alluring cat-like gaze. Dark red lipstick and butterfly-wing eyeliner completed the look as if her old self had resurfaced from the depths of their new life.

Sitting up, he took in the details: the tray she balanced with the care of a tightrope walker, the perfectly flipped pancakes, the rich hue of the chocolate sauce. She placed it carefully on his lap.

"Did you eat already?" he asked, picking up a fork and examining the breakfast spread before him.

"I woke up early," she replied, her eyes meeting his in a way that said more than words ever could, but he didn't understand.

"Did something happen?" Baal asked, his fork suspended midway to his mouth, sensing a layer of meaning behind her actions.

"Yes," she replied, her smirk more mysterious than ever.

"What is it?"

Her hand darted out, snatching a piece of pancake awash in chocolate from his tray. She locked eyes with him as she slowly ate it, relishing each bite and the secret she was about to unveil. "I got you a job."

"You got me a job?" Baal's voice carried a mix of disbelief and confusion.

She nodded, that smirk never leaving her face. "Yes, I did."

"But why? I'm swamped with work here on the estate as it is. Why get me another job?"

"Ah, well," she leaned closer, her eyes twinkling. "I had a chat with Mayor Paxton. Do you know they have a school in town?"

"Yeah, an elementary school, so?"

She paused, relishing the crescendo of his growing anxiety. "It's adorable. Small but cosy. Gives off a sense of community."

"Okay..." Baal's words trailed off, his brows furrowed, the pit of his stomach aflutter with a swarm of restless butterflies.

She let the suspense hang in the air a moment longer, thickening like syrup. "Mayor Paxton, it turns out, is quite the handyman. Teaches all sorts of things at the school. But there's one thing they don't have—"

"And what would that be?" Baal finally asked, nearly desperate to unravel the riddle she was weaving.

She leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear. "A music teacher. And guess who that's going to be?"

Baal's eyes widened, the swarm of butterflies in his gut suddenly transforming into a full-fledged orchestra. "You're saying—"

"Yes," she interrupted, her voice tinged with triumph and something softer, something like love. "Mayor Paxton agreed. You're going to teach music at the elementary school."

"Please take the tray off me! Please, please!" Baal's eyes were wide with excitement, his body twitching as if electrified.

Nord complied, lifting the breakfast tray from his lap and setting it on a nearby dresser. As soon as he was unburdened, Baal sprang up on the bed, jumping with the glee of a child at Christmas. "I'm going to be a teacher!"

It was an enthusiasm Nord had never seen in him before. He reached for her, pulling her up onto the bed to join in his jubilant jumping. They laughed and jumped until Baal abruptly halted. "Wait. I don't have a degree for this."

Nord landed next to him, her grin undeterred. "Who needs degrees when you're as talented as you are? You know the music inside out!"

He looked reassured, but then she added, "However, you must promise me you won't miss a single day, come what may. And you can't be late. Ever."

"Yes, yes, absolutely!" Baal nodded, his face radiant with joy.

"Promise me," she pressed, locking eyes with him.

"I promise, Nord! I won't miss a day for any reason, and I will never be late!"

She beamed at him. "Good, because you start in two hours."

Baal's face suddenly lost its colour. As the words sank in, he glanced down at his pyjamas and shot out of the bed like a bullet. "I need to get ready!"

Nord chuckled as he sprinted out of the room, his joyous energy now channelled into hurried preparation.

One thing was out of her to-do list. Next would be the Sisterhood of Ravendrift.