One day in class, before the priest arrived, the students suddenly burst into excited whispers, spreading what seemed like earth-shattering news.

"Hey! Did you hear? A new teacher’s coming! They say he traveled all the way across the continent!"

"All the way? How far is that?"

"He’s definitely not from Ipoli—even probably not Hesende! Might’ve come straight from Scholar’s City or the Mage Tower! ’Cause this teacher’s a Mage. A real Mage."

"Seriously? Or are you just blowing smoke again?"

"Swear on my life! The king summoned him personally—to brew potions!"

"A real Mage teaching us? Will he teach magic?"

"Don’t be daft. Mages don’t just hand out spells. The rules are strict. What makes you think he’d teach *you*?"

"...Then what *will* he teach?"

"Arithmetic. The last math teacher got possessed by a demon. He slept with a sheep in his bedroom—Father caught him. The Church took him for purification."

"Slept with a sheep? Big deal! My servants sleep in sheds hugging goats and dogs all the time. Totally normal."

"Not *that* kind of sleeping—ugh, you wouldn’t get it."

………………

Lofna didn’t understand this talk of sheep and demons. She didn’t dare ask anyone—she was terribly unpopular at school.

Still, the thought of that awful math teacher gone was wonderful news.

And a wandering mage-teacher? It felt like a dream.

Lost in thought, she imagined herself as a Mage, swirling her wand, playfully dueling friends, making everyone bow their heads in awe of her magic.

A silly grin spread across her face.

"Hey! Look! Loony Lofna’s grinning again!"

A few class troublemakers spotted the outcast girl smiling and started jeering.

Children’s cruelty is sudden and contagious. One voice rose in an off-key chant: "Loony Lofna! Loony Lofna! Grins like a silly goose! Goose! Goose! Goose!"

"I’m not a goose!" Jolted from her daydream, Lofna jumped up to argue.

But the others ignored her, singing louder.

"I’m NOT a goose!" She lunged to punch the loudest singer—but he dodged with a flip.

As Lofna stumbled and fell, the children’s chants grew wilder.

Hurt and confusion flooded her. Why did smiling draw such hatred? She’d done nothing wrong.

She’d only dreamed of becoming a true Mage—waving her wand like in fairy tales, turning her millhouse into a grand palace, transforming barn cats and dogs into proud steeds, farm animals into armored knights and guards…

What was wrong with that?

The classroom chaos drowned her tears. No one stood by her. The chanters grew bolder.

Then—someone arrived.

A calloused, scarred hand slammed the door. Silence crashed over the room.

Through blurry tears, Lofna looked up. A young face stood at the doorway.

His eyes held a gentleness she’d never seen in any adult.

He carried no brute’s sweat, no noble’s cloying perfume—only a faint, woodsy scent, warm like a hearth in winter.

Clad in white priest’s robes and a black mantle, a rectangular Church pendant at his throat, he was unmistakable: the new teacher. The rumored foreign Mage.

He lifted crying Lofna to her feet, scattered the jeering children, and led her to the office. He fetched water to wash her face, dabbed ointment on her scraped knee.

Years later, Lofna would strain to recall his exact words that first day.

But they’d melted into comforting notes.

All she remembered was the honeyed fruit candy he pressed into her palm after soothing her.

She loved its sweetness. Just like her teacher.