We arrive at a two-story building sitting atop a lush hill, the elevation giving a grand view of the campus below. I take a second to note the fine architecture, marble pillars and a dome roof holding what looks like a bell, before we proceed through heavy set front doors. Once inside, we climb up the stairs of a grand foyer, pausing only briefly at the entry of our destination, after which Gin casually throws open the doors without even knocking. A second later, and he’s burst through the entryway, arms outstretched, running full steam ahead, calling, “~Principal~!”

As I follow cautiously after, I find myself rubbing my eyes, for I can’t quite believe what I’m witnessing. Somehow, beyond the doorway, is an open meadow, dotted with vibrant flowers. There is even an open sky, blue and clear, with warm beams of light casting down. In the distance, a figure approaches, a young woman. She too is running, arms raised as if seeking an embrace. “~Gin~!” she calls in a singsong tone.

“~Principal~!”

“~Gin~!”

This goes on for a few more seconds, and as it does, something about the physics of the entire scene starts to stand out to me, for their motions appear bizarre, like they're running but not really covering any distance. Then the moment passes and the woman is upon us. Rather than the two embracing, however, something rather unexpected happens instead.

“~Prin- Ack!”

A sudden punch from the woman sends Gin reeling to the ground. Then she walks over to him, her swooning face replaced by one of ticked off annoyance. “I see you’re empty handed, Gin. What the hell happened to the stuff I asked you to bring back?” she demands. And when Gin doesn’t answer, I see her raise a foot, planting her heel on his face, smooshing it back and forth. “Oi, how long are you going to keep playing dead for?”

I see Gin glance up, a lewd expression across his face. “How long are you going to keep stepping on me?” he asks.

A look of disgust flashes across the woman’s face. Then she sighs, removing her boot before snapping her fingers. Abruptly, the idyllic scenery around us vanishes. What remains appears to be a normal office, filled with bookshelves and a desk. The latter is the woman’s destination. She plops herself down behind it, folding her arms across her well-endowed chest. Given the earlier craziness, this is the first time I’ve really gotten a good look at her.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The woman appears surprisingly young, younger than Gin in fact, perhaps early-twenties. She has long blond hair, and amber colored eyes, which at the moment are glaring in our direction, well, Gin’s to be more precise. “So, you never answered my question. Where’s my stuff, Gin?”

Hopping to his feet, I note Gin brushing himself off. Then the man offers a shrug. “Eh, this or that happened. You know how these things go,” he says, “But that’s not important. Look, I’ve brought back something better.” Gin reaches behind me, shoving me forward. “Tada!”

I feel a bit like livestock being shoved before onlookers at a county fair, but I try my best to act properly. “Hello, Principal Ramwinkle,” I greet with a polite bow.

When I look up, I see the woman giving me an annoyed look, glancing between me and Gin. “Who’s this?” she asks, “Your illegitimate son?”

Why is that the first thing everyone assumes?

“Why is that the first thing everyone assumes?” Gin asks aloud.

“Because of your prolific… relationships. Can we even call them that?” the principal asks, letting out a sigh before giving a wave of her hand. Then turning to me, she continues, “So, what’d you come here for, child?”

“He’s here to-”

“I asked the boy, Gin,” the principal snaps, and to my surprise, this actually has the effect of shutting Gin up. When I look back to the woman, I note that she is still staring at me, waiting patiently for a response.

“I, uh, I’m here to study magic, Ma’am.”

The woman lets out a sarcastic laugh. “This is the Royal Academy, child. The most prestigious school in the entire kingdom. We don’t just offer to teach random people off the street, particularly those with ambiguous heritages. You can’t just show up and expect to enroll.”

Isn’t that exactly how Gin had characterized it to me? That I should just show up and enroll?

I let out an internal sigh, not quite surprised by the turn of events. Composing myself, I look back to the principal and say, “I apologize for being so presumptuous. It was not my intent. But please, can you inform me as to what I should do so as to be able to enroll? I would very much like to attend this school, if there is any possibility of such.”

The principal eyes me up and down a long moment before turning to Gin, saying, “Where’d you find this kid? A monastery?” Then with another sigh, she returns to me, continuing, “Child, if you are determined to enroll, then you’ll have to pass the entrance exam for the mage’s track.”

That sounds fair.

I nod. “I see. I will take the entrance exam then. When is it?”

“In an hour.”