Daniel had a gift for disrupting order without meaning to.

Over the following weeks, Agatha’s patience was tested in ways she hadn’t thought possible. The man was an enigma: his boyish charm could diffuse even her sharpest reprimands, yet his behavior often left her oscillating between exasperation and bewilderment. He wasn’t malicious—far from it—but his sheer lack of self-awareness made him a constant wildcard in her meticulously controlled environment.

Take, for instance, the faculty meeting.

The agenda was simple: discuss the upcoming gala and finalize responsibilities. Agatha had spent hours crafting a detailed itinerary, complete with color-coded assignments. The meeting should have run like clockwork.

Then Daniel arrived.

“I brought snacks!” he announced, setting a large container of gummy worms on the table.

Agatha froze mid-sentence, her pointer hovering over the projector screen. “Mr. Bright, this is a professional meeting.”

“Right,” he said, popping a gummy worm into his mouth. “But professionals can have snacks, can’t they? Helps with focus.”

The other teachers stifled chuckles as Daniel offered the container to the group. Even the usually dour Mr. Campbell took one, muttering something about “blood sugar.”

Agatha resumed her presentation, her jaw tight. But as she clicked to the next slide, the screen went dark.

“Uh-oh,” Daniel said. “I think I unplugged something.”

He crouched under the table, fumbling with cables while the room descended into whispered laughter. Agatha stood rigid at the podium, clutching her pointer like a weapon.

When the projector finally flickered back to life, Daniel reemerged, grinning. “Fixed it!”

Agatha took a slow breath. “Thank you, Mr. Bright. Perhaps next time, you could refrain from… helping.”