"She left early this morning, Monica," the same peculiar voice continued. "Deborah wouldn't wake you as gently as I did, my lady."

  "That's true." Monica Dunston chuckled, casually gathering her auburn hair over her shoulders. "She'd just start hitting me."

  "With a pillow, mind you. Don't make it sound like assault."

  "You seem rather well-informed." The girl tied her hair back with a light blue satin ribbon, her eyes barely open as she squinted toward the window. "Seriously, Bella. Did Patrick tell you, or did you read his mind?"

  "Oh please," huffed the raven perched on the windowsill, speaking with human speech that made its beak move stiffly. "Don't mistake me for some elven sage who can pluck private memories at will. He talks about you constantly, Monica." Bella hopped down onto the bed. "When are you planning to return? I've been spending far too much time keeping him company lately—that was supposed to be your responsibility."

  "Why complain? This is the perfect opportunity for you," Monica Dunston replied with a dismissive wave. "Haven't you always fancied him?"

  Bella waddled closer to the girl. "I do like him. It's hard to find any guys at the academy, especially someone as good as him." She pecked gently at Monica's knee. "Yes, he's somewhat reserved and awkward, but there's charm in that. Unfortunately, his heart seems to have room for you alone."

  "Let me clarify something," Monica said, scooping up the plump raven in her hands. "I've neither accepted nor has he offered any romantic overtures. Don't claim I'm depriving you of opportunities." She brought Bella level with her face. "It's been a while, Vice Principal."

  "Indeed it has, young lady," the raven pecked lightly at Monica's palm. "Or should I address you as Lady Dunston now?"

  The red-haired girl lowered her hands abruptly, making the bird flutter frantically. "Stop your mockery, Lord Coren. Court mages aren't nobles—we're just monkeys dancing for the rich. I much prefer teaching at the academy."

  "Yet you've taken an indefinite leave of absence."

  "Everyone needs a break. You have to take it when you can. Life can end any time, so you need to breathe between the grind." She kicked away her blanket. "Besides, the Cynthian court has little use for mages right now, and as for the academy," she smirked mischievously, "you can simply burden Evelyn with my classes... Wait," she noted Bella's sudden silence and her tone grew serious. "What news have you brought? Has something happened?"

  "Oh... certainly not." Bella's speech slowed, making her unusual accent even more grating. "I'm merely delivering a message from our young principal." She raised her right claw.

  "A letter? From Patrick?" Monica's expression brightened considerably. "It's been over a month since I heard from him—I was starting to think he'd fallen down the stairs and died. Though letter-writing seems rather antiquated..." She busied herself untying the note from the bird's claw. "Tell me, when exactly did you master transformation magic?"

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Stop teasing me, Monica," the raven grumbled, scratching her head with a wing. "Transformation magic is extraordinarily complex and hardly my specialty. Oh... your hands..." Bella stared at the girl's fingers. "You've accumulated even more scars."

  Monica Dunston remained silent as she unfolded the letter. The movement sent her red hair cascading down like a waterfall once again. She muttered in frustration before reluctantly retying it.

  "You look better with your hair down."

  "Is that so?" The sorceress asked absently. "Your observation or his?"

  "His, my dear Monica. Though I concur—you could land a plane on your forehead."

  "Hmph, don't envy my refined appearance." Monica decided to ignore the chattering raven.

  ("Dear Monica,

  I feel quite ashamed at how long it's been since my last letter. If memory serves, I last wrote in early April. What sights and souls have you encountered during your absence? Something delightful, I hope. As for matters here? A mixture of the amusing and the exasperating.

  As you're aware, we've reached the evaluation period of the semester. The two houses are competing fiercely as always, with students vying for recognition like blossoms in the royal garden. Erica from Doranar—that tall girl who studied fire magic under your tutelage—attempted to secure victory in the cooking competition by utilizing two rings as focusing instruments. With one flick, she conjured flames exceeding two meters in height and promptly lost both eyebrows. Even after magical healing, she's been reduced to sporting two crude ink lines until nature restores what she lost.

  Then there's young Pierce from Moslander. Having just celebrated his tenth birthday, he already demonstrates extraordinary skill with defensive barriers and portal magic, rendering opponents' attacks utterly futile. Yes, precisely as written—when facing attacks he believes his shields cannot withstand, he simply manifests a portal to redirect them. What enviable talent! If I could create portals as effortlessly as breathing, I would materialize before you this instant rather than relying on parchment and ink.

  There are countless other remarkable student anecdotes, but I'll spare you the exhaustive inventory. Though you reside in distant lands, you've surely heard the greater news. The Godma Empire has consumed Crividsylvan and now lurks ominously beyond our capital walls. Of course, such accounts often suffer from exaggeration in their retelling, so excessive concern is unwarranted. Both Bella and I remain convinced that Godma's chances of breaching our fortifications are negligible—a perspective I imagine you share.

  Regarding court matters, there have indeed been inquiries about contacting you, though nothing of significance—merely routine matters which I've managed on your behalf. The ferocity with which you react when disturbed during your leisure remains vividly etched in my memory.

  That summarizes matters on my end. Please don't trouble yourself with kingdom affairs or magical concerns; Bella and I will handle court advisement. Oh, and there's no need to respond to this letter—you're as reluctant to rise as a cat on a cold morning. Enjoy your well-deserved respite, and upon your return, I eagerly await firsthand accounts of your adventures, which I'm certain will be filled with intrigue and wonder.

  Oh! I nearly forgot—convey my warmest regards to Deborah. Years have passed since our last meeting, yet according to your previous letter, her fiery temperament remains unchanged. Even at the risk of amphibious transformation, I must confess: her aquiline nose remains utterly charming.

  Yours,

  Patrick")

  Monica couldn't help but laugh. (That fool...) "What'd he say that's so funny?" Bella asked, clearly puzzled.