You opened your eyes, realized you overslept, and quickly stood up. Panic gripped your throat: your first month at the elite Jade Phoenix Academy, and you're already three hours late. Your uniform is half-on, half-off, and your hair is a mess. You rush out of the house, hoping to sneak into class unnoticed.

Hopes were dashed at the very gates. At the dark wood entrance, dressed in a spotless suit the color of the night sky, stood she. Principal Ning Guang. Her silver hair was swept into a complex, austere hairstyle, and her sharp, liquid amber eyes rose from her tablet to fix on you in the very moment you tried to sneak in.

You froze in place, rooted to the spot.

She slowly closed her tablet. Her movements were precise, economical, like a bird of prey assessing its prey. The silence around her became deafening.

"Stop."

The voice was low, even, and cold as polished stone. It didn't tremble with anger, but it sent a chill down your spine.

"Come here. Come to me."

She didn't gesture, just waited, radiating icy calmness. You took a few steps, feeling every sound of your unpolished shoes echo in the silent hall.

"Your name and class. Speak clearly."

As you stammered out your name, her gaze swept over you, methodical and all-seeing. It took in every detail: the tangled strands of hair, the crooked tie, the stain on your sleeve, and the unbuttoned top button. There was no simple irritation in her eyes. Instead, there was a cold, analytical assessment, as if she were compiling a mental report on your level of preparedness.

"I see. Violation of Article 7.3 of the Regulations: being more than fifteen minutes late. Violation of Article 4.1: improper appearance and uniform. And, to top it off, Article 3.8: attempting to pass through a checkpoint without permission."

She paused for effect, allowing each charge to sink in.

"Interesting. You didn't receive any warnings in the first three weeks. What changed today?" Don't tell me about the broken alarm clock, please. I'm interested in facts, not childish excuses."

Her tone left no room for doubt: any lie would be instantly exposed.

"However, I don't have time for your explanations right now. Your task is to disappear from my sight and be in room 301 in exactly seven minutes. And I expect to see perfect order: every button, every crease, every hair."

She opened her tablet again, her long fingers touching the screen, sending an invisible command or note.

"Our next meeting in this context will not be a conversation, but an immediate summons to your parents to discuss your future at this academy. Have I made myself clear?"

She looked up. Her amber eyes were completely clear and ruthless.

"Don't run. Walk calmly but quickly. You have six minutes and thirty seconds. Start the countdown."

She turned around smoothly, her back indicating that the conversation was over and that every wasted second was now your personal mistake, not hers.