May, 10th, 1007

  Robin sat alone in her personal room, facing the vanity mirror with a content smile on her face. Small glass bottles and narrow trays encircled its surface—powders, brushes, and pencils laid out, all at arms length.

  She leaned closer to the mirror as she finished her eyeshadow, layering it carefully and blending the edges until no harsh line remained. A thin brush followed, drawing her pitch black eyeliner into a precise shape that framed her eyes until she was irresistible. She paused often, tilting her head, checking symmetry before allowing herself to move forward.

  She went for a yellow color palette today, the same shade as the kimono she had chosen to wear. The fabric fell smoothly over her shoulders, loose at the back, its sleeves hanging off her forearms.

  Around her waist, she had wrapped a peach-pink obi—she wanted to exude that kind of cheerful energy to anyone lucky enough to be graced by her presence today. Just above her left ear, she pinned a floral kanzashi of the same peach color, its petals a delicate pale.

  But her hair took the most time off her routine. She brushed it thoroughly before gathering it up and twisting it into a tight, structured bun. Pins disappeared into the dark strands, hidden but securing it in place.

  She smoothed the sides with her palms, then applied spray in the unruly areas, pressing stray hairs into place so they couldn’t randomly escape and god forbid, make her look anything but immaculate.

  Once finished, she checked herself in the mirror from every angle, adjusting a pin here, a fold there—until everything was perfect.

  She looked perfect.

  In New Baymort, especially, she truly stood out. The fashion here was unlike anything she had ever seen in Akashima.

  It was hideous, really. At least in her humble but very correct opinion.

  Thankfully, Trizstan found her a designer even in this backwards country who could cater to her fashion sense with the exact kind of fabrics Robin liked to wear.

  The only downside? The stylist lived all the way in Solencia. Well, across the entire country. But that was to be expected. Most foreign goods came to New Baymort through Solencia’s harbor anyways. If she wanted quality, she had to work with the best this nation had to offer.

  As she rose from her chair, she hissed, reminded of the ‘act’ she performed yesterday. When she woke up, she felt a small discomfort in her lower back, but now it was more like she had been run over by a train.

  Was she slouching by the mirror without realizing it? Was the chair just that uncomfortable? Or was it her age catching up to her?

  God forbid, she was already twenty-six. A well old hag by most standards.

  She stretched her back from side to side, rubbing at the sore spot with her hand. Now, only one last decision stood between her and the rest of her day.

  Sandals.

  A peachy pair would have been perfect with her color palette, but the only ones she owned were on a high?heeled platform. Her back was already creeping up into her neck just thinking about walking in those all day.

  No. Just this once, she would choose comfort.

  She slipped into her beige flat sandals instead. The color didn’t quite work with the yellow tones, but maybe it wasn’t that noticeable.

  Wasn’t it?

  No—it was extremely noticeable. A glaring violation of her established aesthetic.

  But rationally, she knew she would be dealing with children all day, with their messy antics… And with her back already sore before the day had even started, this could turn messy fast…

  No. That didn’t matter. Style over comfort. She slid into the pink heeled sandals after all, making a mental note to ask her designer for a flat peach pair to add to her upcoming summer collection.

  Not like she was paying for any of it anyways.

  Now, standing tall, she finally left her room and entered her workplace—Trizstan Attila’s Spiriter Home orphanage.

  She walked through the pristine hallway, cupboards placed in perfect symmetry, vases filled with a beautiful array of marigolds—her girls knew to keep every nook clean and harmonious despite the dozens of children zooming around constantly. She would expect nothing less if they wanted to keep her off their cases.

  Making her way downstairs, she looked over the children’s drawings dotted all over the walls.

  The older ones would be at school by this hour, while the younger ones were likely playing in the courtyard. Robin was the head custodian of the orphanage responsible for delegating work to Trizstan’s employees. But because of Trizstan’s vast influence and business affairs all over New Baymort, many times she was expected to welcome and help him with his influential guests too.

  So it wasn’t expected of her to be with the children at all times. But honestly, she loved that part of the job more than anything in the world. Plus, she already missed those little rascals, so she decided to skip breakfast entirely and make her way to the courtyard instead.

  She opened the large wooden door, immediately encased by the emanating light from outside.

  “Ms. Taylor!”

  Immediately, she heard the high pitch shout of a little boy clambering towards her. She didn’t waste a second as she bent down to grab him up and plopping him on her waist, doing so in such a practiced fashion, her aching back barely felt it.

  As if a little sore back would stop her from responding to her kids’ energy.

  “Now, now, Kevin. Someone’s a little excited to see me, hm?” She pinched his little cheek as the boy giggled, unable to stop her own smile at his antics.

  Other children grouped around her—Robin crouched down to pat the children on their heads. Their calls and greetings blended into one.

  “Good morning, Ms. Taylor.”

  “Ms. Taylor!”

  “Ms. Taylor. I’m hungry.”

  Robin clocked that last complaint—coming from Vanessa. She tilted her head at her, reaching out to caress her soft cheeks.

  “How come? Didn’t you have your breakfast already?” she soothed her voice for the kids, but inside she was about to combust.

  What was that supposed to mean? Did the girls not check if the children ate properly?

  The little girl wriggled from her spot. Robin’s eyes darted to her grey tunic—fixing a crease on her shoulder while the girl spoke, “Well, yes. But I want your rice balls.”

  She giggled over her smile—others joined in almost instantly.

  “Me too!”

  “Ms. Taylor, I’m also hungry.”

  “Please, Ms. Taylor!”

  Robin exhaled. She probably should have expected this—especially since she was the one giving them her tactics: how to get what they want, how to manipulate their caretakers and teachers alike. And yet, despite this coming straight from her play book, she walked right into it.

  But even knowing she was played, how was she supposed to say no when all of them were staring up at her with those beady eyes?

  “Awe, you little daredevils,” she exaggerated the betrayal with her voice, earning her a laugh from the young ones. “Well, it’s a bit early for snacks, but I’ll start preparing it later in the day. How would you like that?”

  The children cheered, nodding their little heads. Ah, it was so sweet. To bring a common snack from her home country and have these children enjoy it so much. You would think they were going to an amusement park with how excited they were.

  Just as she was about to stand up, she felt a weight crashing onto her back. She resisted the urge to hiss in pain. Without even looking, she knew exactly which little rascal it was.

  “Oh, Corey, dear. This isn’t the time for playing.”

  “Ms. Taylor—what took you so long?” Tiny hands patted at her hair, making her panic internally, but she fought hard not to overreact. “Wahh! Your hair’s so pretty today.”

  Robin knew Corey was a gentle and clever kid—he was the one least likely to mess her hair up. But she added the warning just in case.

  “Okay, Corey. Just be careful. Or else you’ll be redoing it for me.”

  She could feel Corey’s tiny paws caressing her hair instead now. Wrong solution, but she appreciated the attempt.

  She stood up tall, despite the little monkey still on her back—hoping to get a better angle at him but it didn’t work quite as planned. She still couldn’t reach him, and… if he were to fall from this height.

  Then she felt a sting from her lower back—this time sharper than before.

  Alright, perhaps there was room to worry. But before she could figure out what to do—she heard another child running up to her.

  “Ms. Taylor!”

  Robin instinctively reached out her hand to pat them on the head, and looked down—it was Kimberly. The little girl pointed to where she came from.

  “Patrick broke the window!”

  Robin twirled around instantly, but careful not to drop Corey.

  “What window?”

  Her question was met with a dozen or so children explaining in a huddled mess. It was only then that she realized the courtyard was suspiciously clear of her girls. Where were they slacking off now? Did they actually leave these kids unattended?

  And now a window was broken, and she had to hear it from a child instead of the staff whose entire job was to tell her these things instantly.

  They better have a good explanation for this.

  Then a man’s voice cut past all the chaos.

  “Now, now, children. You shouldn’t be ambushing your caretaker from all sides like this.”

  Robin didn’t recognize that voice right away, but she felt the weight release off her back. Finally, allowing her to stretch her spine—the crack in her back was embarrassingly loud.

  Was that a male voice just now? It certainly didn’t come from any of her girls.

  She turned around, taken aback as she recognized Gerald Aldrick standing behind her with his back slouched slightly to hold Corey up underneath his armpits. Corey flayed his legs playfully, clearly enjoying being so high up. Robin instinctively reached out to take Corey from him into her own arms, plopping him on her waist but her eyes were rooted on the man before her.

  “You…”

  Whatever Robin was about to say died in her throat as Mr. Aldrick straightened to his full height, a polite smile spreading across his face, his hands settling on his hips. The last time they met, he had been seated behind his desk, and even when he finally stood, she was already halfway out the door.

  But now, with him this close, she could finally grasp just how imposing he really was.

  A bit too tall for her liking. Men like that typically had an inflated sense of ego for no good reason.

  She could feel hands tugging at her robes from below. Robin patted whoever’s head it was to get them to wait.

  Where were the girls when they had company? Robin couldn’t cater to the kids and an important visitor at the same time.

  “Hello, Ms. Taylor, it’s been a while. I apologise for the intrusion, but it looked like you had your hands full.”

  She examined his stature—he came in dressed formally. A three piece grey suit with a light blue scarf over his shoulders with what looked like a saric pattern sewed onto it. The combination worked to accentuate his broad shoulders, that kind of physique would be expected of a recently returned soldier. But he was clearly put together; there certainly wasn’t any single crease or loose thread she could spot at a quick glance.

  He raised his hand–Robin noticed the gloves on his person. A bit odd for this weather.

  She hid her annoyance behind a feigned smile, readjusting Corey on her hip, feeling the boy reaching over her neck to play with the kanzashi in her hair.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Well, well. Mr. Aldrick. I apologize for the ruckus, but I wasn't aware you would be visiting us today.”

  Though she tried to look the part of a proper custodian, it was hard with Corey picking at her accessories like she was a porcelain doll. She caressed his head as she placed the star-eyed boy on the ground with the rest of the kids. The group scattered now, no doubt losing interest over the adult conversation.

  “It’s alright. I assume this is common with children at that age. Teenagers and young adults come with their own difficulties, but at least they don’t climb on you.”

  Robin smiled at the joke, but it died down just as she spotted a familiar figure running towards her. Finally, one of her workers decided to show up—Clara. She was huffing and puffing, her uniform a complete mess. Hairs loose, and—was that a stain on her blouse?

  “Ms. Taylor! Patrick broke the second floor window of the apartment across the street. He cast his spirit, and somehow managed to give it a solid form this time. The neighbor is here and he is very angry. We’re trying to keep him at bay, but…” She cringed at the thought, clapping her hands together. “Could you please—”

  “Clara. Do you not know how to handle a simple complaint?” Robin interrupted her, unforgiving.

  This was already a terrible look. Not only did she need help from him to get a child detached from her back, now her incompetent workers were about to make her look even worse.

  Clara was now as red as a tomato, eyes darting between her and Mr. Aldrick. Robin was quick to snap her fingers—this wasn’t time for her wandering eyes.

  “W-what am I supposed to tell him then?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Robin flailed her arms incredulously. “You were there. Figure something out. Tell him he should have left his window open if he didn’t want it crashed by spiriter children for all I care.”

  She ignored the chuckle coming from Mr. Aldrick. Meanwhile, Clara fidgeted in her spot.

  “I—I don’t think that’s going to—”

  “Do it!” Robin raised her voice. “And if he still has an issue with that, I’ll deal with him later. Now, scurry off. We have a visitor.”

  “Y-yes, ma’am!”

  The girl spattered off, finally.

  Robin shook her head. Ugh, and she wore such a nice color scheme today only for it to be wasted on all this nonsense.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting your work,” Mr. Aldrick commented, “The last thing I would want is to cause you or your staff any problems.”

  Robin crossed her arms, turning her full attention to him now.

  “The girls need to learn one way or another. I can’t always be here to clean up after their mess.”

  The man seemed comfortably amused by the situation, his blue eyes trained on hers. Robin straightened herself, adjusting her tone as she switched roles.

  “So… What brings you to our humble Spiriter Home, Mr. Aldrick?”

  “I’m here on business, actually. As a homeroom teacher, I have an appointment with one of your children. Tamara. She should be joining my future class, after all.”

  Robin watched his every movement, but he was… surprisingly formal today. The last time they’d spoken, he was silent, caught completely off guard. But now he looked composed.

  She preferred the previous version of him. It felt good to have the upper hand over someone so revered. Now she would have to adjust her approach just to get the same result.

  “Ah, yes. I remember. Tamara had to miss school today just to have this check-in, after all,” she said flatly, eyeing him like this was his fault. Which it was.

  But then Mr. Aldrick’s smile vanished, replaced by a quizzical look.

  “Really? Why was that necessary?”

  “You tell me,” she fired back—this was exactly the thing that had been gnawing at her nerves for weeks. “Your partner demanded the check-in on this day. But I wonder why she cared so much if she was going to send you instead anyways.”

  Robin was expecting an excuse or some form of a defense. Instead, Mr. Aldrick just looked like this was the first he ever heard of it.

  “Well, I do apologize for this disruption. I’m afraid I missed that. I should have checked my calendar better. Of course, I would have re-scheduled if I realized Tamara had to be in school at this time. A simple check-in can be done at any time.”

  Robin smiled, getting the picture now. For whatever reason, Ms. Solbakken and Mr. Aldrick had switched places for this arrangement; it didn’t even matter whether Ms. Solbakken had sent him here on purpose so he would be blamed for her scheduling demands, or whether she hadn’t bothered to mention it to him at all. Both would be on brand for her.

  And considering that this man was like a deer in headlights in front of even just Robin, there was no way he could keep up with that witch regardless.

  Though Robin couldn’t blame him—of course, as homeroom partners, it was expected he would take her side. Albeit, somewhat disappointing.

  “That’s the simple concession. What I’m curious about is why you switched roles?” she needled into the details, but couldn’t stop herself from the incoming rant. “Did that little witch need to craft yet another artifact to make herself even younger? Perhaps, she is aiming for the look of a toddler this time? Would make it easier for me to knock her off her feet mid-tantrum.”

  Mr. Aldrick chuckled at that, but considered his next response momentarily. She could see a mischievous smile forming on his face. It was odd, but made him seem more human.

  “Well… Let’s just say I haven’t been the best partner recently. So I decided I’d try to make up for it by taking this responsibility off of her hands.”

  “Oh?” Robin smiled, raising her eyebrow. Of all the things she expected him to say, that didn’t even make the list. “That’s surprising.”

  He tilted his head, amused.

  “Which part?”

  She smirked.

  “You apparently having horns.”

  He laughed lightly. It was a smooth baritone. Lucky bastard. Had to have hundreds of female pursuers at his doorstep just for that alone.

  “Haha, well…”

  But as clever as he tried to be, Mr. Aldrick didn’t seem to have prepared an explanation for that…

  Robin decided to leave it be. That seemed to be the most tea she would get out of him.

  “Well, regardless, come with me Mr. Aldrick. My girls should have cleared out a room for you already. I’ll have someone call Tamara over too.”

  He smiled, still so polite—bowing his head ever lightly. “That would be very kind of you.”

  Robin motioned for him to follow. But as she climbed up the stairs, she was pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Aldrick take the lead and get the door open for her.

  Hm, perhaps he wasn’t completely useless. And here she thought chivalry was dead.

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  Mr. Aldrick merely nodded his head, with that infuriating smile on his face that showed his dimples.

  Ugh, he was a real piece of work. She would almost be charmed…

  If she didn’t know he was a veteran.

  There’s always something. With every single man…

  As they entered the orphanage together, Robin noticed Emilie scurrying down the hallway with a laundry basket balanced against her hip. She snapped her fingers and tipped her chin toward Mr. Aldrick. Somehow, that alone was enough—Emilie stiffened, nodded once, and hurried off toward the upper floors, no doubt to fetch Tamara.

  Good. Robin had trained her girls quite well it seemed.

  Robin continued down the hallway without looking back, certain Mr. Aldrick would follow. She meant to start a conversation so they wouldn’t have to meander in silence, but he beat her to it.

  “Ms. Taylor, I apologize, but I’m quite curious about you. I meant to ask you a question if that’s alright with you…”

  She chuckled, but rolled her eyes in a way he wouldn’t notice. There it was—always there ready to creep up on her.

  “Of course. Ask away. What caught your attention, Mr. Aldrick?”

  She cocked her shoulder, knowing it would expose the skin underneath her robe momentarily. His blue eyes—nearly black in the indoor light—strayed for a moment before he caught himself.

  Whatever he was about to ask, she had heard it all before. Questions about her origin, thinly veiled curiosity over her wardrobe, inquiries dressed up as concern for her “story,” or, when subtlety finally failed, a blunt attempt to find out whether she was single.

  It was always the same act, curiosity masquerading as interest, never aimed at her as a person.

  Or, in the worst cases, reducing her down to little more than someone to be ogled as ‘exotic.’

  Mr. Aldrick cleared his throat.

  “How long have you been working here?”

  Well… Robin tried not to show her surprise. That was a unique way to start, she had to admit. But she rationalized: it was most likely just a different wrapping of the same query.

  “I guess…” she considered, but realized she didn’t have an answer prepared off the top of her mind. “Well, I worked here ever since the Spiriter Home was established but that was, uhm…” she pursed her lips, doing the calculations for a short moment. “I was nineteen at the time, so seven years ago.”

  “Seven years.” He nodded his head, before that same mischievous smile graced his features. “Now I understand why you were so confident slamming my doors open.”

  That was a quip.

  Oh how bold of you, Mr. Aldrick. But two could play this game.

  “Hah!” She flipped her hands where her hair would have been if it were loose. “You think your irrelevant veteran status would intimidate someone like me?”

  “I would never dream of it,” his response was immediate, unbothered, the same tone as before.

  Hmph. She was hoping to offend him or at least trip him up momentarily, but it didn’t seem to work quite as planned. Perhaps she would have to try harder.

  They reached the room where Mr. Aldrick would be interviewing Tamara, but there was still time, so they lingered in the hallway.

  “But more importantly…” Mr. Aldrick continued, hand under his chin. He looked up in thought. “Correct me if my math is wrong, but if you started working here at nineteen–that means you never attended the Spirit Academy, right?”

  Now it was Robin who tripped up, but of course, she wouldn’t show it.

  Perhaps he was more perceptive than she was giving him credit for.

  “Who said that I’m a spiriter?” She fired back, but realized her mistake only after. A veteran like him was obviously a skilled spiriter, so there was no way he wouldn’t—

  “I hope this doesn’t come across as rude, or god forbid boastful, but… I can tell…” he explained but it sounded more like an apology than an elaborate boast. Not like the common confident man, ready to explain his business to a woman.

  Robin shrugged in response, careful not to give him the impression that he was anything special.

  “Well, I guess I had my tricks to avoid the academy life.”

  Mr. Aldrick hummed in response but didn’t say anything.

  Robin was now very curious about his thoughts—getting questioned like that without elaboration, nor any direct interest she could detect. What was his goal?

  She had been avoiding it until now, thinking he was fairly straightforward, after all. But now, she decided to just use her ability—her eyes focused on him, allowing her access into his thoughts.

  [Was it Trizstan’s doing too?]

  That made Robin pause. What was that supposed to mean? Was Mr. Aldrick suspicious of Trizstan?

  What did he mean by ‘too’?

  Did he know about—

  Mr. Aldrick turned his gaze towards her—Robin snapped her head to the side, cursing herself for the mistake immediately. It was unlikely that even someone like him would realize she was literally reading his thoughts a moment ago, after all.

  And without that context, her looking away so suddenly seemed even more pathetic on her part.

  “Well—I wouldn’t want to interrogate you while you’re on the clock so to speak. I apologize if I said something wrong,” he softened his tone, as if she were some delicate flower needing careful handling.

  Robin composed herself and rolled her eyes. The man was polite—uncommon for someone like him, but it had the risk of becoming infuriating fast. Though this time, it was her own fault that he assumed he made her uncomfortable.

  So to regain some semblance of control, she decided to use her favourite card in response.

  There was no way out of this one. Any man would either stumble and show his nerves, or reveal himself as a hopelessly desperate fool.

  “Did I just hear an offer to take me out on a date?”

  She smiled smugly up at him—he met her eyes directly.

  “I would be honoured, of course,” again, same tone, perhaps with a sprinkle of charm this time.

  Robin was about to lose it with this man.

  No, she was losing already and she hated every second of it.

  Who was this composed gentleman and why did he replace that shivering mess from the office?

  And most importantly, why was she enjoying herself?

  Oh, Trizstan would be hearing about this. Knowing him, she anticipated exactly how her ‘boss’ would expect her to exploit this situation…

  “Well—if you insist. I’ll consider it through my busy schedule.” A thinly veiled acceptance—not so clear that she couldn’t back out, but enough to make him feel he was the one in pursuit.

  Mr. Aldrick nodded, every bit the picture of propriety, hands clasped behind his back. “I will, of course, abide by your strict schedule to the best of my ability.”

  Robin shook her head at this situation, finding it hard to come up with a response.

  What was wrong with her today?

  She felt oddly warm all of a sudden. Did her girls not leave the windows ajar to ventilate?

  Just then, Tamara came barreling down the hallway, a blur of energy that offered Robin an immediate escape from her discomfort. Robin reached out her arms to stop the young girl in her sprint. She examined her with a scrutinizing eye; she was pleased to see Tamara came in her school uniform.

  Good representation—just like Robin had instructed her.

  But the young girl’s eyes gawked at Mr. Aldrick. Disappointed.

  “Wah! Where’s the ghost lady?” she pouted, her complaint prickling even at Robin. Not because of the child, but because it forced her to think of Ms. Solbakken again.

  Oh, imagine how terrible this day would have been if she were dealing with Ms. Solbakken instead of Mr. Aldrick this whole time…

  Before Robin could correct Tamara’s attitude, the man beside her opened up with a brief chuckle.

  “Hello, Tamara. I apologize but the ghost lady is busy with her charms and spells today. My name is Gerald Aldrick; I am but her humble assistant, here to stand in for her absence.”

  Robin had to hold in her laughter, not to break the illusion for the child. It wasn’t particularly easy either.

  But of course, Tamara loved it. She was grinning—eyes rooted on Mr. Aldrick like he was some fairy tale wizard.

  “Wow, can you also do spells?”

  And he didn’t miss a beat, playing into it with the same seriousness he had in his conversation with Robin.

  “I can do a great many spells. Though they aren’t quite as creative as my master’s. Would you like me to teach you some?”

  The girl was now skipping from foot to foot, her eyes shining with wonder.. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! Really? Can you teach me how to fly?”

  Mr. Aldrick cocked his head—not a confirmation, but a nod to her excitement. He motioned for the girl to enter the room and closed the door behind them, not before sending one last smile at Robin.

  Once they were in the room, Robin released her amusement. She laughed wholeheartedly in the now silent hallway. A veteran. Casting spells. She had absolutely no words for this absurdity.

  She turned on her heels, shaking her head. Even down the hallway, she was still replaying that whole exchange. About Mr. Aldrick. About his blue eyes. About that smile.

  She stopped her stride to correct herself. Snap out of it, Robin! Since when did she let a simple man bury her thoughts like this?

  Robin Taylor was the custodian of the Spiriter Home, the only person keeping this orphanage from collapsing, not some flustered teen with a crush. And even though Mr. Aldrick was still lingering in her mind, reality called. Her girls were jabbering about a complaining neighbour—it was time to deal with that.

  With that, she stormed off towards the courtyard, prepared to make a grown man cry.