Valmet slouched at her desk it was now history class, arms folded, her eyes half-open as the teacher, Mr. Cranston, droned on in a monotone voice. clearly he hated his job hammer down by the lack of good students and the abundance of little rich shits.

“…and so, the founding of Emerald City was made possible 152 years ago by the brave efforts of our hero, Lord Idris, and the prestigious Mages Guild. Without them, this great city wouldn't have become the thriving metropolis we see today,” Mr. Cranston recited, his voice lacking the passion that might bring such a tale to life.

Valmet let out a quiet snort, earning a side glance from her friend Melody, who sat two seats away, scribbling half-hearted notes.

"Jones," Cranston's voice rang out, sharp as a knife. "Since you're so clearly engaged, perhaps you could tell the class why the Mages Guild was pivotal in the city’s founding."

Valmet stretched her arms, a lazy grin forming on her lips. "Oh, sure," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because, you know, they needed some magical folks to... enslave creatures, build walls, and do the hard work while the humans took all the credit? Right?"

A murmur rippled through the classroom. Cranston's eye twitched ever so slightly.

"The Guild didn’t 'enslave' creatures," he corrected, his voice tightening. "They formed contracts with beings from other realms. It was mutually beneficial."

"Sure it was," Valmet muttered under her breath. “Beneficial for the humans.”

The room went quiet, tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Cranston straightened, eyes narrowing. "Jones, if you’d like to discuss alternative histories, I suggest you save it for conspiracy forums. This is a classroom, not your personal soapbox."

Valmet smirked, leaning back in her chair trying to stretch her stomach as she was in pain from melodys attack "I’m just saying, history seems a little... censored, don't you think?" She stared him down, her eyes glittering with a dangerous kind of curiosity.

Cranston cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "As I was saying," he continued, ignoring her last comment, "the Mages Guild’s contributions went beyond simple magic. They helped stabilize the city after the Great Rift War with these creatures, ensuring protection from the darker forces of the magical realms."

Valmet stared out the window, her mind wandering. The city's shiny, modern skyline stretched toward the horizon, a mix of sleek skyscrapers and older gothic buildings. Magic wasn’t visible here, not anymore. People acted like it didn’t exist as history forgot about it, like the past was just some fairy tale they told in history books. But Valmet knew better. The Mafia knew better. Emerald City wasn’t just built on magic—it was built on blood, exploitation, and deals made in the shadows.

“And as for the creatures themselves,” Mr. Cranston continued, “they were integral to the foundation of the city’s infrastructure. Take the Dwarves, for example, used primarily for mining as they have robust frames ideal for for the earth, or the fae, who—”

“Oh right, because nothing says progress like forced Labor,” Valmet interjected, earning a few chuckles from her classmates.

Cranston shot her a sharp look. “One more outburst, Miss Jones, and you’ll find yourself spending the afternoon in detention.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she muttered with a grin, folding her arms again to support her stomach.

The lesson continued, though Valmet barely paid attention. Her mind wandered back to her childhood. Growing up, she had heard plenty of stories about the city's dark history, whispered in the alleyways of the city. Her father’s connections in the underworld ran deep, much deeper than most people could imagine. She had once overheard him talking about some "contracts" still being enforced today—old ones, made with creatures that the public believed were extinct or had long since returned to their realms.

Valmet’s thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang, signalling the end of class. As students packed up their things, Mr. Cranston’s voice cut through the chatter. “Miss Jones, I’d like a word.”

She rolled her eyes but sauntered over, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “What’s up, Cranston?”

He gave her a hard look. “I don’t appreciate your disruptions in class. And your... interpretation of history is less than helpful.”

“Interpretation?” Valmet raised a brow. “Or the truth?”

Cranston leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You know as well as I do that there are things we don’t talk about in this city. Things that are... best left in the past.” Valmet leaned in close to has face.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen,” Valmet shot back, her expression hardening.

The teacher straightened, clearly uncomfortable again. “This isn’t a debate, Jones. Keep your opinions to yourself, or I’ll have no choice but to inform your father.”

Valmet’s eyes narrowed. “Go ahead,” she said, her voice cold. “Tell him. I’m sure he’d love to hear how his daughter isn’t falling in line with the official narrative.”

Cranston paused, clearly weighing his options, before walking away. “Just stay out of trouble, Jones.”

Valmet gave a mock salute and turned on her heel, heading out the door. She hated being in that classroom, hated the way the teachers danced around the truth like it was some kind of dangerous secret. But more than that, she hated how they treated her like she was the problem. If only they knew what she was capable of.

As she walked down the hallway, Valmet's mind continued to churn. This city was built on lies and control, but she wasn’t about to let herself be one of the sheep. If Emerald City wanted to keep its secrets buried, it would have to get through her first, and she know exactly how to get more information, The Mafia had deep pockets Afterall and even deeper connections.

Valmet walked briskly down the hallway, weaving through the sea of students heading to their next class. The familiar buzz of conversation surrounded her, but her mind was elsewhere focused, calculating.

She knew what she had to do. Emerald City was built on secrets, and if anyone could help her dig up the truth, it was him. She just had to get off-campus first without raising any alarms. Not an easy task, considering the entire school had eyes and ears everywhere, but Valmet had pulled off riskier moves.

As she approached the stairwell leading down to the back of the school, Valmet shifted her pace, blending into the crowd like smoke. Her feet moved with purpose, her face unreadable as she passed by groups of students laughing, shouting, and completely oblivious to her mission.

It was like moving through a war zone, dodging enemies and making her way through the ranks. A stray thought crossed her mind: If Cranston thinks he can bury the truth, he doesn’t know how deep this city’s roots really go.

A sharp turn, and she was out of the main hall, ducking into one of the side corridors that led to a door the janitors barely ever used. She tugged at the handle, her heart racing as she slipped outside into the sunlight, immediately sticking to the shadowed part of the building. A quick glance over her shoulder—no one had noticed her.

Valmet smiled to herself, adrenaline surging through her veins. She felt invincible, slipping past everyone without a sound.

Like a ninja.