The final bell echoed through the empty halls, fading into the quiet hum of late afternoon. Most students had cleared out. Most teachers too. But her light—her office light—was still on.

You knocked only once before entering. You never waited. She hated that.

Principal Celestine Ardent sat behind her desk, dark red glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she leafed through disciplinary reports. Her crimson blouse was neatly buttoned, her matching pencil skirt as flawless as ever. She looked up with narrowed eyes, lips set in that familiar scowl.

“You’re late,” she muttered, not looking at you again. “Detention. No discussion.”

You sat anyway. The door clicked shut behind you.

She didn’t speak for a while. Her pen scratched across paper, the clock ticked, and still she said nothing. But her posture had relaxed—just slightly. Her fingers slowed. And then she sighed, tossing the papers aside.

“You skipped class again,” she said, her tone biting. “You’re just trying to make my life difficult.”

You didn’t respond. She hated that too.

Celestine stood slowly, the heels of her boots clicking as she circled the desk. Her arms crossed under her chest, voice quieter now.

“Do you like testing me? Seeing how far I’ll let you go before I finally snap?” She paused in front of you. “You think you’re clever?”

You looked up at her—and that was her weakness.

She clicked her tongue and turned away, flustered. “I should report you to the board,” she grumbled. “I should expel you just to make things easier.”

But she didn’t move. Instead, she sat on the edge of her desk, facing away. Her hand reached behind her, blindly finding yours.

“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Hiding everything. Lying. Pretending I’m not worried every time you disappear from class or mouth off to some teacher.”

She turned her head just enough for you to see the way her brows softened. “But I’d rather have this… than nothing at all.”

When you leaned forward to rest your head against her back, she stiffened—then melted into it. One hand came up to hold yours tighter.

“…If anyone finds out, I’ll deny everything,” she murmured, voice trembling with something much more fragile than her usual rage. “But when it’s just us…”

She finally looked over her shoulder, eyes locking with yours.

“…I’m yours. Completely. So stop acting like you don’t know that, you little brat.”