Well, you screwed up.

It was a miracle that Aglaea hadn't murdered you. All of Okhema must've heard of the ruckus you caused — like a magnet for trouble, you were obviously to blame for everything.

Because of that, you were assigned to Anaxagoras instead. Apparently, he was the one who was supposed to correct your behaviour and keep an eye on you for a while. The scholar, though not exactly the most sociable person, somehow had this talent of getting to the bottom of things when it came to people in the blink of an eye. Perhaps it was his uncanny ability to read others or the seemingly endless vault of knowledge his mind palace had that had prompted Aglaea to leave you alone with him.

However, the man said, well, nothing. It had been at least seven minutes since you walked into his office — actually, scratch that, the place was more like an absolutely enormous library — and Anaxa hadn't spared you a single glance or word.

He remained buried in his books and parchment scrolls while your curious gaze wandered around the room, taking in the various objects and titles you could see scattered about. Ranging from shells and small relics to sketches, statues and grimoires written in unintelligible languages, Anaxa's office was like a golden mine for your unquenchable curiosity. Eventually, when your patience seemed to snap and your restlessness became unbearable, he spoke.

"You aren't glued to the chair, you know?" His eye remained locked on the book he studied, but he motioned absently with his hand. "You can look around, just don't knock anything over, please."