This academy was truly full of strange and fantastical sights.
Along the way, Aurora saw many things she had never encountered before: familiars of various shapes and sizes, bizarre-looking plants, massive windmills etched with magical runes, and even entire school buildings drifting through the sky.
The old windmills creaked softly as they turned. The three blades were lined with glowing white magical runes that traced bright trails through the air.
When the blades completed a full rotation and the runes formed a complete circle, a luminous white magic circle appeared in the air.
From that glowing circle, witches on brooms flew out one after another.
Their faces were lit with cheerful smiles, chatting and laughing with friends. Some inhaled deeply after emerging, shouting excitedly, “Finally, class is over!”
Each witch held several books in her arms. Aurora glanced at one and noticed a title printed boldly on the cover — “Basic Magic Circles and Intermediate Theories in Alchemy I.”
Are those their textbooks? she wondered.
She looked toward Beatrice. Even though they were supposedly going to class, Beatrice didn’t seem to be carrying any books at all.
In fact, just the idea of Beatrice teaching magic seemed almost absurd.
Beatrice was hot-tempered and impatient. When she set her mind to something, she cared only about her own standards—not others’ feelings.
Aurora had seen her take teaching commissions in the past, usually hired by noble households to tutor their children in magical theory.
But without fail, the students would end up mentally crushed, and the employers would pay her quickly just to get her out of the house. Her temper was simply too foul—at the slightest annoyance, she would explode.
That part of her always gave Aurora headaches.
Still, deep down, Aurora couldn’t help but feel curious about what Beatrice would be like in a classroom setting. Maybe she’d discover a new side of her.
“What are you smiling about?”
A cool voice drifted over from ahead, snapping Aurora out of her thoughts. Only then did she realize she’d been smiling without noticing.
Was she grinning while imagining Beatrice as a teacher?
“It’s nothing,” she replied.
“I was just thinking… it’s kind of hard to imagine you as a teacher, Master.”
“Are you looking down on me?”
“N-No, not at all.”
Aurora replied in a small voice, tinged with a trace of grievance. She was just curious, after all—how did that become an insult?
“Hmph.”
Beatrice snorted coldly, then fell silent.
Although Aurora couldn’t see Beatrice’s face, she could tell from her tone that she was clearly angry.
‘Yep… still has that explosive temper…’
The rest of the flight was silent. Aurora didn’t dare say another word, worried she might accidentally provoke her again.
After flying for a while longer, a palace-like school building appeared ahead.
It wasn’t exactly luxurious or dazzling, but with its white stone columns, aged tomes, stone statues, and stained-glass windows reminiscent of a cathedral, the whole place exuded the atmosphere of a sacred sanctuary of knowledge straight out of a fairy tale.
Once inside the building, Aurora dismounted and followed obediently behind Beatrice, walking past one classroom after another.
As they passed a large lecture hall, a rich scent of herbs and flowers wafted out. Aurora glanced inside and saw that the witches were all busy concocting potions.
Unfamiliar herbs and blossoms covered their desks, and small clay cauldrons were bubbling with green froth, looking as though they might explode at any second.
“We’re here.”
Beatrice, still floating slightly on her broom, suddenly came to a stop. Aurora, who had still been looking into the classroom, didn’t react in time and bumped headfirst into a sign standing in front of the door.
“Ouch…”
Beatrice glanced at her, then gave a faint smile as she said, “You really are an idiot.”
Aurora knew Beatrice had a soft spot for her clumsiness—but she had resolved to change that. Even if Beatrice liked it, she couldn’t let herself stay like this!
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Hmph.”
That mocking little scoff made her bristle, but she didn’t dare argue.
“Come in.”
Beatrice stepped into the classroom. Aurora was about to follow when her eyes caught the words written on the sign she had just bumped into:
“Familiars must remain outside the classroom.”
She froze mid-step, uncertain. She glanced at Beatrice, then at the sign, unsure what to do.
“Um… it says familiars aren’t allowed in…”
“Maybe I should just—”
Boom.
Flames flared up in Beatrice’s hand, and in the next instant, the sign was reduced to a pile of ashes.
“Come in.”
A colder voice followed, and Beatrice turned and rode her broom straight into the classroom.
Aurora swallowed nervously, then tiptoed in behind her.
The classroom was quite spacious—just enough to seat about a hundred students.
Aurora looked around and saw that nearly all the seats were already taken. Some witches, unable to find space, were even hovering midair on their brooms just to attend the class.
A massive blackboard hung above the podium, still bearing faint traces of chalk that hadn’t been fully wiped clean.
Even from the doorway, one could hear the lively chatter inside.
The witches were laughing and chatting with their friends, showing off their new wands or magic brooms, or proudly discussing newly learned spells.
They all looked genuinely happy.
But the moment Beatrice glided into the room on her broom, the noisy classroom fell completely silent in an instant.
Aurora followed closely behind her, dressed in a black and white maid outfit. From the moment she stepped through the door, she felt the weight of countless eyes settling on her.
Whispers quickly spread across the classroom. The witches glanced at Aurora and leaned in to quietly gossip with their seatmates.
Aurora stood awkwardly to the side of the podium. As a familiar and maid, she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to be. Just standing there like a statue felt oddly stiff.
Maybe it would be better if she found a seat?
She was used to being stared at, but this—being stared at while just standing there—was a first, and it made her uncomfortable.
She looked over at Beatrice and quietly whispered, “Beatrice, maybe I should just—”
“What did you just call me?”
Beatrice’s voice rang out, laced with unmistakable anger. It echoed through the entire classroom, making the whispering witches fall silent in a flash.
“M-Master…” Aurora squeaked out in a voice barely louder than a mosquito’s.
Beatrice seemed intrigued by this. She leaned in close to Aurora’s ear and whispered, “Too quiet. Make sure everyone can hear you. Otherwise, I’ll make you cry right now.”
Her lips curled into a teasing smile, and her expression clearly showed she was looking forward to it.
“I…”
If she really cried in front of so many people, she would die—emotionally—on the spot. That absolutely couldn’t happen!
Aurora swallowed hard, blushing furiously, then tilted her head back and shouted at the top of her lungs,
“I’m sorry, Master!”
After shouting those words, Aurora’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.
Her rosy, delicate cheeks formed a stark contrast with her silvery hair—at that moment, she looked just like a silver-petaled flower dusted with pink pollen: beautiful, yet irresistibly cute and pitiful.
In the next moment, a burst of commotion erupted from the students below the podium. The witches and mages were buzzing with excitement, their spirits soaring.
Some even shouted directly at Beatrice:
“Teacher, is she your maid?”
“Teacher, you two were being so flirty just now!”
“Didn’t you say you didn’t like getting close to people, Teacher?”
Smack!
Beatrice slammed her palm hard against the blackboard. The loud thwack instantly silenced the entire classroom once again.
“Take out your pens and paper. Today, you’ll be writing from memory—100 basic magic circles.”
“Ehhh~”
This time, groans and wails echoed across the classroom.
The witches who had just snuck into class hoping to sit in and relax started making a run for the door—only to find themselves enveloped in darkness the moment they stepped outside.
“The windmill’s magic array has already been activated. No one leaves until you’ve finished the assignment.”
Aurora noticed the faint smile tugging at the corner of Beatrice’s lips and suddenly realized—this was probably just an excuse for her to slack off.
‘Yep, she’s definitely not suited to be a teacher after all.’