51. Some Days, You Just Can’t Think of a Title

In the end, Elsa never got to show Lilith her dorm or the cafeteria; their plan fell like petals in a sudden wind.

The Little White Dragon’s chance to peek at her favorite astrology gear fluttered off like a spooked sparrow.

Mr. Joseph Selnoser stepped in while a dragon and an elf ripped through the halls like a gusty squall.

He scooped them up like stray kittens, one per hand, and tossed them into his office like sacks of feathers.

“Elsa, what did I tell you?”

Young and handsome, Joseph sat on his leather sofa like a quiet panther.

Dark rings under his scholar’s eyes hung like bruised moons.

Lilith wondered, like a worried bird, how long he’d gone without real sleep.

“You told me to show our guest around the Academy, let her see the gear, and not disturb anyone’s study.”

Elsa sat ramrod straight like a pine, motionless under his gaze like the teacup before her.

“Then how did you actually do it?”

Joseph smiled like a winter sun, warm but distant, and pressure pooled in the room like a falling barometer.

The White Dragon felt the low air press her chest like a heavy tide.

She grabbed her tea and took a sip like a startled fawn.

“So bitter!” Lilith’s tongue flicked out like a tiny flame.

“So astringent!” Her face crumpled like an unripe persimmon.

A little dragon needs milk in her tea, like snow to tame fire.

But Joseph was a pure‑tea man, steady as stone, so Lilith set the cup down like a defeated flag.

“I just walked Lilith around, like a breeze. I showed her where we craft aquamarine and store star charts, and that’s all.”

Head bowed, Elsa poked her fingers together like timid fish, and looked up at her teacher with eyes wet as dew.

“Really? Do you need me to read the complaint that just landed on my desk?”

Joseph raised a brow like a drawn bow and tapped one finger on the table like a metronome.

With each tap, the elf in front of him shivered like a reed in rain.

Elsa’s mouth drooped bit by bit like a wilting petal.

On the thirteenth tap, her knees went soft like melted wax.

She dropped onto the carpet like a fallen kneeler and hugged Joseph’s leg like a desperate vine.

“I was wrong, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have driven the seniors out while they were working.

I’m guilty, but please don’t make me copy the Stellar Codex.”

“I’ve copied it three times this month. One more, and I’ll die like a moth in a lamp.”

“Let go first.”

Impatient, Joseph shook his leg like shooing a clingy pup, then pressed his brow with a sigh like a winded bellows.

Lamter’s finest Astrologer gave Lilith a small bow like a bending reed.

“My apologies, Miss Lilith. My student showed you an undignified side.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!”

Lilith waved her hands like willow leaves and rummaged through her poor little head like a bare cupboard for a defense.

“I don’t mind. If anything, Miss Elsa feels very… real.”

The moment she said it, she shut her mouth like a snapped fan.

She wanted to slap herself like a misbehaving drum.

A Little White Dragon isn’t good with words—why posture, only to spill nonsense?

Would Joseph be angry like thunder building over the sea?

“Sorry, I’m not good at talking,” Lilith blurted, then covered her mouth like a lid on a boiling pot.

“It’s fine, I understand you.”

Joseph smiled like a thawing spring and pried Elsa from his leg like sticky rice from a bowl.

He bowed to Lilith, polite as a moonlit path, and spoke softly like falling snow.

“I knew none of this at first, either. I learned after taking students, like a craftsman learning the grain.

For scholars, social ties are a common hardship, like walking on thin ice.

Look at my hopeless student; she isn’t much with words.”

“Ah-haha.”

Lilith let out an awkward laugh like a squeaky door and chose silence like a folded blade, since Elsa was still here.

“Forget it, I’m off. You two talk.”

Elsa sprang up like a startled hare, dusted her clothes like beating a rug, and dashed to the door like a gust.

She yanked it open and bolted out like a shooting star.

A few seconds later, the elf cracked the door like a thin crescent, poked in her head like a curious sparrow, and waved.

She left a line, bright as a bell: “I’m not copying a single page!” Then she was gone like wind.

“I think Miss Elsa’s actually pretty good at talking to people,” Lilith said, watching Elsa vanish like a gale, and let the dry joke float like a feather.

“This girl’s just born that way; you’ll get used to it.”

Joseph sighed, heavy as rain on tiles, and dropped onto the sofa opposite Lilith like a felled log.

He lifted the red tea and took a sip like tasting a cool drizzle.

“Sorry. Because of my wayward disciple, I never introduced myself. That was rude.”

Joseph lowered his eyes like closing shutters, then offered Lilith a hand like a straight bridge.

“I’m Joseph Selnoser. They call me Lamter’s best Astrologer, but I’m only a common Astrologer.”

“Lilith, disciple of Asterios, for now just a simple apprentice of Stellar Magic.”

Lilith shook his hand like clasping a warm lantern and introduced herself like a steady drum.

“As the Archbishop said in her heart, I came hoping to borrow some of your star‑gazing instruments.”

“Of course. I’d be glad to.”

Joseph nodded like a steady pendulum and agreed to the Little White Dragon’s request as easily as opening a window.

“Letting the Daughter of the Star Canvas use my instruments to read the sky is my greatest honor as an Astrologer.”

“You flatter me. I’m only a Stellar Magic apprentice, with no noble standing,” Lilith said, shaking her head like a wind‑tossed bell.

She knew her identity was a hot pastry in Astrologers’ eyes, sweet as steam, but she didn’t want special treatment.

“Besides borrowing your instruments, I have many questions about Stellar Magic to ask you.”

“My honor, miss,” Joseph said, like a calm lake taking moonlight.

“But why are you still an apprentice? I feel Star Energy on you as thick as a rising tide.”

“I don’t know. Maybe Master Asterios keeps strict standards,” Lilith said, shaking her head like a drifting reed.

“Asterios once told me Astrologers are ranked by how well they know the Star Canvas, like mapping a coastline.

But does the amount of Star Energy tie to rank like weight to an anchor?”

Lilith didn’t know; the answer lay in fog like a veiled moon.