The door to the headmaster's office closed behind me with a soft click, sealing away the ambiance of the academy. The room was an oasis of calm, filled with shelves of ancient books and the gentle light filtering through the windows. Julius Agrippa, the newly appointed headmaster, sat at his desk, his presence commanding yet reassuring.
"Ms. Vancourt, please have a seat. Would you care for some pastries?" He motioned towards a lavish cart adorned with an assortment of Danishes beside a quaint side table.
Accepting his offer, I took a seat across from him, the scent of freshly baked pastries filling the space between us, creating an invisible bridge of hospitality.
He picked up a small cup of sugar, meticulously pouring it straight onto his Danish—a subtle detail I couldn't help but notice.
Who put raw sugar directly on their pastry? Was he some sort of psychopath?
"I want to start off by saying that I've been appointed this position by his majesty's direct orders. I am also aware of the demon King's upcoming revival so you needn't hold your tongue around me."
This revelation took me by surprise, suggesting a deep level of confidence from the king in Agrippa's capabilities. But it also raised questions about the sudden change in leadership.
"What about the previous headmaster, what happened to him?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. The abrupt transition to Agrippa's leadership, after all, was suspicious.
Before Agrippa could respond, his eyes flickered towards the untouched plate in front of me. "Ms. Vancourt, you haven't touched your pastry," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, skillfully steering the conversation away from potentially murky waters.
Agrippa's observation prompted me to reach for the Danish, its tempting aroma suggesting a delightful treat. However, as my teeth sank into what I expected to be a soft, sugary pastry, I was met instead with a hard, glazed texture. Confusion washed over me as the unmistakable taste of porcelain filled my mouth, the sensation of sipping from a teacup rather than biting into a pastry.
I paused, pulling the item away from my mouth to inspect it closer, only to find that it had indeed transformed into a delicate tea cup, complete with a thin rim and a handle, perfectly designed for sipping rather than eating.
"This... this isn't funny..." I whispered under my breath, a slight frown forming on my face. Agrippa's earlier action of pouring sugar onto his Danish—or rather, a teacup in disguise—suddenly made sense.
Julius Agrippa, chuckled softly, "C'mon, where's your sense of humor?"
My sense of humor was dead. Perhaps killed off by the internet back in my original world.
"Jokes aside," I began, setting the teacup-turned-Danish back onto the plate. "Let's not dance around the bush here, you're here to observe me right?"
It seemed obvious given the timing and suspicious circumstances.
Agrippa's eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement and surprise at my directness. He leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth curling into a thoughtful smile. "My, you're quite the cunning character. Observation is indeed my role, not only of you but of the prince and his allies."
It would make sense that the king was afraid of me, given my unexpected arrival and the power I've shown. It was only logical that he'd want someone to keep an eye on me, to gauge if I were a threat or an asset.
"The young prince has been quite the troublemaker lately," he continued. "From leaking classified information to his recent confrontation with you, it must have been rough for you. For that, I ask that you please forgive him."
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