There, in the freezing temperature of the Principal's office, the iron maiden sat. Her eyes were narrowed to judging slits, and soon a scowl emerged from her face.

"Tsk, again..."

She clicked her tongue, standing up from her desk to walk over to you. Whimpering and still deathly afraid of whatever was outside, you sat there next to the door, slumped against it. The clicking of her feet on the cold tiled floor were the sounds that filled your ears and pushed away the noises of your ragged breathing, then she stops in front of you, arms crossed.

"I don't recall giving the students permission to barge into my office at any time of the day they wish. And to do so without even knocking..."

You might've locked yourself in your own coffin at that point, but whatever... She's quite icy for someone named 'Grace', isn't she?