---
I should've known the headmistress's "special test" wasn't going to involve spellbooks or a written exam.
The moment I stepped into her private chambers, I was hit with warm, perfumed air that smelled like sandalwood and something faintly sweet—like the last whiff of dessert you can't quite name but still crave. The place was unreal. Velvet drapes hung heavy over the tall windows, silken curtains swayed in the corners, and the whole room was bathed in a golden glow from lanterns set low to the ground.
I told myself to focus. This was a magical academy. Things here were always a little weird.
The headmistress didn't waste time with pleasantries. She glided toward me, every step deliberate, eyes fixed on me like she was already measuring my reaction.
"Jin," she said softly, "we value mental discipline as much as magical skill. Tonight, we'll see if you have both."
I was already suspicious. "Mental discipline? Like meditation?"
Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Something like that."
Then she gestured, and the curtains seemed to ripple as magic filled the air. The temperature shifted, the light dimmed even more, and I could feel the faint tingle of energy against my skin.
"You must keep your composure," she continued, circling me like a predator. "No matter the… distraction."
I didn't have time to ask what she meant before the door behind me opened, and in stepped the martial arts instructor.
---
She wasn't wearing her usual gi. Instead, she had on loose training clothes, soft enough to cling to her form when she moved. She didn't say a word—just walked straight up to me and slid her arms around my shoulders in a tight hug.
Too tight.
So tight my face ended up firmly pressed into her chest.
I froze. My brain short-circuited. "Uh—"
"Focus, Jin," she whispered in a tone that was far too pleased. "You'll never win a spar if you can't keep your guard up."
I could feel her smirking even without looking up.
"Pretty sure this isn't in the martial arts manual," I mumbled into fabric, trying to lean back, but she tightened her grip like she was teaching me a lesson in joint locks.
The headmistress's voice floated in from somewhere behind me. "Discipline is tested in many ways, Jin. Can you separate instinct from action?"
I muttered something about needing air, but the instructor only let go after a long, drawn-out moment. She stepped back, eyes glittering, clearly satisfied she'd rattled me.
---
Before I could catch my breath, the air shimmered again, and Ayaka walked in.
Of course.
She didn't look surprised to see me. In fact, she had that little half-smile she always wore when she thought she was in control of the situation.
Without asking, she straddled me right there on the cushioned bench in the middle of the room. My pulse jumped immediately.
"You've been busy," she said, her voice low. "The archery instructor. The martial arts instructor. And here I thought I was your exclusive guide."
"I—it's not like that—"
"Shh." She placed a finger against my lips, then in one slow, deliberate motion, she tugged my shirt upward. I didn't stop her—not because I wanted her to, but because my brain was still scrambling to process the fact that this was the test.
The headmistress's voice echoed faintly, like she was speaking from another layer of reality. "Control yourself, Jin. Do not give in."
Easy for her to say.
Ayaka tossed my shirt aside, eyes glittering with mischief, then leaned close until her hair brushed my cheek. She hooked her fingers under the hem of her own uniform top and began to lift it, slow enough to make every second feel like a hundred.
---
My internal monologue was losing the fight.
Don't look. Don't react. This is a trap. This is definitely a trap.
Ayaka tilted her head, clearly reading the tension on my face. "You can't even look at me? Or is it that you don't trust yourself?"
I swallowed hard. "Both."
She chuckled softly, then leaned in so close I could feel her breath. "Good answer."
The martial arts instructor hadn't left either—she was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, smirking like she was watching her favorite play. "You're sweating, Jin."
"No kidding," I muttered.
Ayaka shifted her weight just slightly on my lap, and I had to grip the edge of the bench to keep from reacting. My thoughts were bouncing between pass the test and this is definitely going to kill me.
---
Minutes stretched. The room felt hotter. Ayaka was close enough that every movement seemed amplified, every shift calculated to test exactly how far she could push me before I cracked.
The headmistress didn't say anything now—she was letting the silence and tension do all the work.
I tried to focus on breathing. One, two, three—don't think about where Ayaka's knee is. Four, five—don't think about the fact that the martial arts instructor hasn't stopped smirking.
Ayaka's fingers brushed along my collarbone, slow and teasing, and my resolve wavered.
Just a little longer, I told myself. Don't give in.
---
I was about to lose it. About to do something I was sure would fail the test—when suddenly the air cooled, the magic dissolved, and both Ayaka and the instructor stepped back like nothing had happened.
The headmistress's voice was calm and crisp again. "Test complete."
I blinked. "Wait—what? That's it?"
She smiled faintly. "You passed. Barely. But you passed."
Ayaka's smirk didn't fade as she tugged her uniform back into place. "Guess I'll have to try harder next time."
The martial arts instructor chuckled from where she leaned against the wall. "Not bad, rookie. You kept your balance. Sort of."
Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, both of them shimmered, their forms breaking apart into drifting motes of golden light. Within seconds, the room was empty except for me and the headmistress.
"They weren't really here?" I asked, still catching my breath.
The headmistress gave a small, knowing smile. "Illusions, Jin. But your reactions were very real—and that's what I needed to see."
I just sat there, trying to figure out whether passing was a victory… or if I'd just signed up for something far more dangerous than failing.
---