"And that concludes today's lecture," Matt finished, pushing his glasses up and putting his notes away. He didn't usually have classes at this time of night, but the usual professor had gotten sick, and here he was. He waited for his students to leave the room, answering their questions one-by-one, listening closely for the sounds of their fading footsteps.

Once he couldn't sense anyone other than his ever-present assistant, he took a seat, set his cane aside, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Gods, I could use a drink. Or five. Or fifty."

Matt had been working overtime for days now, covering for various colleagues, all afflicted by the same mysterious illness of magical origins. Apparently someone had mixed the wrong ingredients in the alchemy lab and brought the ill-conceived potion into the staff room, infecting most of the faculty. Matt and the few others who had been absent that day had been spared the disease but saddled with their coworkers' teaching load, as well as their own, leaving them all in shambles.

"I'm going to sleep for a week," he muttered. "No, two weeks." He let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, then continued. "Sorry. I'm here whining and rambling like this doesn't affect you too."

He managed a weak smile at his assistant, a shapeshifter masquerading as his seeing-eye dog. It wasn't too far from the truth; as skilled as he was at sensing the mana around him and despite knowing the Academy's layout by heart, there were things Matt still needed help with, and so his assistant filled in where his other senses fell short—this on top of doing all the usual work of a professor's aide. Keeping the dog form was draining, Matt knew, and he could sense his assistant's exhaustion and dwindling mana reserves.

"You should change back and get some rest," he said. "I still have some things I need to finish, but I'll be fine."