The rhythmic sound of the mechanical future rang in the prefect office. Our assiduous president was hard at work at her desk, chipping away at the mountain of old paper records to be digitized and preserved for future generations.

  Or, well, I wasn't so sure what Vanille was doing.

  As busy as she looked at a glance, the stack of documents next to her on the edge of the desk hadn’t grown a hair shorter since the last I checked, and it wasn’t her keyboard making any noise. The clamor was mostly produced by my own hands.

  Consulting Ms Asia, we learned it was possible to plug in a second typewriter and display into the same central unit, which let two or more people share the work at once. But Ms Asia had only one spare writing instrument to lend us, and we had not one extra volunteer in our staff, so I ended up transcribing the documents practically by myself.

  Not that it really mattered how I wasted my time after classes.

  It was all marketing.

  Presenting as a dutiful student worked to my advantage.

  Here was a witch who selflessly helped others and would definitely never do nothing naughty.

  I began to get used to the layout of the keys and typing wasn't half as slow and laborious now as it was at first. It surely took less time to jot down these documents with the machine than they’d spent composing them in ink originally. Human creativity was a wonder to behold.

  The project proceeded smoothly and the clock raced down to 6 PM before I knew it.

  As industrious as all the Cabinet members wanted to appear, nobody ever wasted a second to drop whatever they were doing and rise as one to leave when the clock said it was time. Who’d want to sacrifice their precious, very finite free hours per day on work for which they didn't get paid?

  I was no different from the others, of course. Becoming a secretary for real was not my dream career. But leaving the current document unfinished when I was on a roll didn’t feel so good either. I wouldn’t remember what I was doing anymore by the next session, and it’d take a decent while to get back into the swing of things again.

  So I begrudgingly remained seated.

  “I'll finish this last article before I go," I told the others. "You can leave the key with me. I'll take it to the faculty office when I'm done.”

  Anette Harlow, the usual keeper of the Cabinet key, didn't like my idea.

  “No way, newbie. You do any mischief here and it'd be on me. I'm not waiting on you either. Just leave it till next time.”

  What mischief? Did she think the General was so poor that I had to steal my aunt's equipment to make lunch money? Half the things in this room were here courtesy of the Ruthford House.

  But before I could make my retort, I was distracted.

  —“Hey, Vanille, want to join for a casual evening spar?” Harding was inviting the president alongside the third prince.

  “Actually, I still have a bit of work left too,” Vanille replied to them. And to Harlow, she added, “You can give me the keys, Annie. I'll turn them in when I go.”

  “You're the boss,” Harlow replied with a resigned shrug.

  She went over to slap the room key onto the president’s desk and proceeded out the door. The others bid their farewells and followed suit. And then it was just us two left in the much emptier room, working in silence.

  In about ten minutes more, I was finished with the document. I proofread each line twice, navigated out of the writer application, turned off the projector, and cleaned up my desk. I double-checked with special care the contents of my bag, which had seen no change since the last check, appraised the flawless condition of my uniform, straightened my ribbon just to be on the safe side, and looked at the clock on the wall by the door. It showed 6.18.

  Vanille still sat at her desk, staring intently at the fuzzy display, measuredly punching a key on occasion, and I had no idea what she was doing. But she didn't spare me a glance and seemed, for all intents and purposes, seriously working, so I was reluctant to ruin her focus by speaking.

  I guess I was reading too deep into it when I thought she’d stayed for me.

  Or maybe she was being bashful and didn’t want me to know that she did? But I no longer had any sensible excuse to hover there in the room, since she took custody of the key too. It was starting to look dangerously like pining.

  I should’ve just left.

  I faced the window and gazed out into the bleak night. It was already this dark at six. The window opened towards the front yard, where the walkway lights twinkled golden between the two facing dorms, flowing downward at the distant front gate and, squinting really hard, they almost looked like stars upon the void sheet of outer space. Although, the genuine sky was densely clouded and rain fell over the land in silent, misty drizzle, only perceptible against the quivering lamps and their lustrous reflections on the wet pavement.

  I turned around and went over to the president.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Oh no,” Vanille lightly replied. “I'm almost done here. You can go ahead, if you're finished.”

  What was she talking about?

  So she really didn't wait for me? But what work could you do on a computer that required you to press a button once a minute? I decided to be a bit cheekier.

  “What's so interesting, anyway?” I asked and leaned over to take a peek.

  She scooted out of the way while moving the cursor back to the beginning of the page.

  “Ah, these are just—records of the court ball top scorers from the past few years,” the girl explained matter-of-factly. “I wanted to see how our school team performed in previous tournaments, for reference.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “...”

  Sports. My interest couldn't have died faster if you shot a poison dart in a vena cava.

  “Then I guess you can’t go back with me.”

  “Oh, I can go if you wait just a bit!” she chimed. “But you don't have to hang back just for me, if you’ve got better things to do.”

  No, really, what was going on? Couldn't she have just admitted she wanted to go back with me, instead of trying to make it seem like I was the one desperate to spend time with her and she only humoring a clingy junior?

  But I wasn't going to play along with her childish games. I didn’t strictly need her company, or anyone’s. I could survive alone perfectly well. Solitude never had any power over me. But I knew most people were different. I knew she was different, being surrounded by company practically around the clock. She was only hurting herself, crafting these schemes, and letting opportunities slip by. But I saw no point in being unnecessarily cruel and walking out on her just to prove a point.

  I could be the bigger person.

  “No. I'll wait,” I said. “It's getting late. It's not a good idea for girls to move alone out there in the dark. I'll escort you back to the Sword dorms when you're finished.”

  “I’m pretty tough, you know?” Vanille replied proudly. “But true, you have a point there. Wait just a moment, and I'll take you back to the Mage dorms when I leave.”

  I smiled at her empty bravado.

  “You don't even have a sword now. On the other hand, a mage is never without weapons. I’m in much less danger than you are.”

  She turned to face me fully on her seat, her lips smiling but her eyes weren't smiling at all, her pride a touch wounded.

  “You know, Hope, being a fencer isn’t only about swords. We train unarmed combat techniques too. Not even a mage can do much if they're caught by surprise, while a fencer is always ready.”

  “That's fair. However, we mages also train extrasensory abilities so that we couldn't be caught by surprise. And the scenario where we'd need to resort to fisticuffs won’t happen as long as you're with me.”

  “And what if I were to be the one to attack you?” she shot back. “Have you ever thought about that? You’d definitely never see that coming.”

  Attack me? How? In what sense?

  No, she had to have been speculating on a theoretical betrayal, and I had my mind in the gutter. This was the bad side effect of growing up among the military; every conversation invariably turned to sex. But I had no reason to start a serious argument over who would win in an honest fight.

  “Go right ahead,” I humbly said and spread my arms. “I won’t even put up resistance.”

  Vanille turned back to the display, away from me, pouting and a little flushed.

  “You’re far too trusting for your own good, Hope…”

  Did she seriously contemplate stabbing me in the back?

  I returned to the window to gaze out at the school lights, thinking about nothing whatsoever, until Vanille turned off the computer and picked up her bag. Was she genuinely that interested in court ball? But why? Did she plan to join the school team? Or was she into athletes? I couldn’t comprehend.

  “Okay, let's go.”

  We took the Cabinet key back to the faculty office, where a staff member scolded us for being so late, and then headed out into the cold, damp night. No criminals showed up on the way down the yard to let us test which one would prevail in a real fight. Since neither of us was willing to agree she needed an escort, we made a compromise and parted exactly on the halfway point on the paved, roofed walkway connecting the entrances of the two dorms.

  The president insisted on counting the large granite slates on the path to see that neither won over the other in the deal. She didn't trust at all in my report on it, obtained by Third Eye. But there lay less than two hundred feet from entrance to entrance, with nothing to obstruct visibility. She could’ve let me take her all the way.

  “Good night, Hope,” Vanille told me there over the line between the tiles twenty-five and twenty-six. “Thanks for your hard work today. Make sure to get plenty of rest, okay? Don't stay up too late.”

  She waved her fingers at me and turned to go.

  “Vanille,” I called her name for no real reason. Just felt like saying it.

  “Yeap?” She turned back, questioningly lifting her eyebrows.

  Suppose I needed a real reason.

  “You must be familiar with the town, yes?”

  “Sure. As much as anyone. Why?”

  “Do you think you could show me around there sometime? I haven't been to Grimons myself, and have no idea what's where.”

  “Really, you haven't? Nobody from your class took you there yet?”

  “Everyone's too busy. The professors work us like dogs.”

  She smiled. “Sure, we can go. If you're fine with me.”

  “I'd love that.”

  “I'm pretty boring company, you know. Don't expect too much.”

  “I'm not bored now.”

  “I can never think of anything interesting to say.”

  “Conversation is optional.”

  “You always have an answer to everything, don’t you?”

  “This is me imploring you, as your helpless junior.”

  “If you’re going to insist that much. When do you want to go?”

  “How's next Sunday?”

  “I have practice with the guys in the morning. But after that? Unless it's too late?”

  “At ten? Twelve?”

  “It should be fine at ten. We get up early.”

  “Then, Sunday morning, ten o’clock. I'll see you at the school gate.”

  “Okay. I'll be there.”

  “You've given your word. Don't forget. A knight's honor binds you to hold it.”

  “Do you want me to swear?” At the mention of honor, her eyes grew serious and the air about her sharp and lofty.

  “Don't,” I said. “I was joking. It's fine to skip if you’re occupied. Forgetting is all right too. We're only human. It won’t be such a serious occasion.”

  “I'll be there.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Good night, Vanille.”

  She's stared at me without a word, various thoughts and feelings behind her gaze, too many for me to put a name on. But it wasn't solely joy I saw there. Those eyes had silent sadness too. And regret.

  “Good night, Hope,” the girl whispered and was then gone.

  It was only on the way back to my room that I recalled I had another appointment in the town. Not on Sunday, tomorrow. An appointment that could still end up being the death of me.