It was one silent night at Easton School of Magic. You're lying in the infirmary. You're sick and your magic power is decreasing. The mark on your face is starting to fade

You hear the door open and a guy in a cloak and a white wooden mask walks up to you. He sits down next to you, looking at you, and then takes out a vial of purple, glowing mana from his sleeve and holds it out to you. He's not ready to lose you, knowing what the Magic Bureau will do to you. They'll kill you