“Finished capturing the exam papers, Student Maur?”

“Hmph. Of course… Eep!” The Forest Fey’s indifferent voice cut in suddenly—Maur hadn’t even processed what it meant.

By the time realization struck, sheer panic sent him bolting for the door. But the resolute Forest Fey had no intention of letting her troublesome student escape.

*SLAM.* The office door shut firmly right before him.

“First, thank you for the gift. Though I do not drink, Golden Memory Wine is indeed favored by most Forest Fey.”

“Second, the Golden Laurel Branch. From a human perspective, finding it in early spring shows genuine effort.”

“Therefore, I accept your apology.”

Evelyn listed the rationale behind her actions with academic precision—devoid of warmth, like a puppet following preset behavioral patterns.

This was precisely the demeanor Maur dreaded most: emotionless, almost inhuman.

“Alright, alright, enough!” Maur cut in roughly. “Since you’ve accepted my apology, can I go now?”

*Just open the door, please!*

He pressed his back tightly against the sealed wood. One crack—*any* crack—and he’d squeeze through.

Alas, enchanted by his Fey teacher, the door offered not even a sliver of escape.

“You seem to dislike me. Why?”

The question had lingered in her mind. Though not all students adored her, none had shown such blatant aversion—respect for her power and admiration for her beauty usually tempered human reactions.

“You dislike me more than you fear me. Why?”

Her tone left no doubt: she would keep asking until answered.

Trapped. Might as well be blunt.

“Hah!” Maur sneered up at the powerful Forest Fey. “I hate hypocrites. And you? Far more hypocritical than any human.”

A creature who scorns emotion, despises humanity, yet drapes herself in human mannerisms—posing as a “responsible,” overly strict teacher.

“You *do* despise humans, don’t you? Seeing them as chaotic, fickle, greedy, foolish… inferior?”

He’d seen it the moment they met: her forced praise for clumsy students, the subtle disdain beneath polished words.

“You can’t stand human scents, pointless rules, reckless indulgence. You loathe *everything* about this world.”

That was why she built her Mage Tower here—lush with emerald flora, utterly Fey in style, standing solitary amid the academy’s artificial human architecture. She rarely left it.

Evelyn offered no denial.

Maur’s glare sharpened. “Then why stay? Why not return to the Golden Forest where only Forest Fey dwell? Why disrupt my peaceful life?”

“I see,” Evelyn said calmly. “So this is how you’ve always seen me.”

No anger flickered in her eyes—but the soil beneath Maur’s feet softened. Vines sprouted, coiling tightly around his ankles, climbing swiftly to bind his limbs.

“Wh-what?! What are you doing?!”

The vines felt eerily like tentacles. Memories of Mavis’s maniacal grin flashed—overlapping with his current teacher’s cold, contemplative face.

“H-hey! Damn it—you’re not planning to do *that* to me, are you?!” he yelped. “You don’t even *know* what that is! Did you overhear teachers gossiping? It’s boring! Don’t you *dare*!”

The Forest Fey blinked, her voice stripped of all pretense. “You are correct. I do not understand emotions.”

*Evelyn does not understand emotions.*

His friend’s words echoed: *“Go see the human world, my friend. Humans are strange. Perhaps someone there can teach you what ‘love’ is.”*

She leaned closer to her bristling-cat student.

“When you said ‘that act’… did you mean *making love*?”

She said it.

With the same casual tone as *“I’ll have an apple for dinner tonight.”*

“Why do you stare at me like that?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “A friend once said humans do this to feel love. Why? It seems… ordinary.”

“It’s a lie! A total lie! You’ve been tricked!” Maur shouted, panic sharpening his voice. He’d already sensed the ominous shift.

Evelyn regarded him silently. “You are lying.”

“Just as your apology letter—claiming sincerity—was a lie. Are you deceiving your teacher again?”

A flick of her wrist. Memory Stones hidden around the office floated into view.

“And these? What purpose did you intend?”

Having lived among humans long enough, she understood their tricks better than he assumed.

Connecting them to the Golden Memory Wine… “Did you plan to record your teacher drunk?”

Maur: “…”

*C-caught! Red-handed!*

“I see. My guess was correct.” Vines thick as arms tightened around him. “But… wouldn’t drunken footage be too mundane for humans?”

A faint, unreadable pause.

“How about… letting your teacher help you record something *more stimulating*?”