Yesterday Friday, before Raveena Vesper and Rory Brixton were called to the Advanced Culinary Arts Strand’s Home Living Room, Room C-4.

“How can I help you, Miss Raveena Vesper?”

Professor Vask’s voice came from across the desk, and she didn’t raise a brow or change her posture. She simply paused mid-writing, with her eyes now fixed on the student standing across from her.

Third years didn’t have Friday classes. So, Raveena being here wasn’t a matter of schedule, it was a matter of… something else.

“…I wanted to talk,” Raveena said. “If you have time.”

Professor Vask blinked once, then nodded, capping her pen before setting it aside neatly. “I do,” she answered, and then gestured toward the chair across from her. “Sit down.”

Raveena sliding into the seat without a word, her fingers folded together over her lap firmly.

“What’s wrong?” the eagle-folk professor asked.

Raveena didn’t answer right away. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded note—a charm-post paper, still slightly crinkled from the trip. She placed it on the desk and tapped it with two fingers.

“…Look, I’m glad the ovens Rory and I worked on passed your inspection. But what I don’t get is… this other part you wrote,” she unfolded the letter, eyes squinting slightly at the words. “The bit about coming with you tomorrow morning to the Culinary strand’s hands-on activity class?”

Professor Vask nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. What’s wrong with it?”

“You said Rory and I are supposed to be there tomorrow. So, the students know who worked on their ovens?”

“Correct.”

“…So you actually meant that?”

“You just said all the details,” Professor Vask replied plainly. “What’s written is what it means.”

Raveena let out a slow sigh, her fingers drumming lightly on the edge of her seat. “Okay, so… I’m not really sure about that.”

Professor Vask raised a brow. “Not sure about what, exactly? Don’t tell me you’ve got stage fright.”

Raveena gave a soft snort, shaking her head before her eyes fell down for a bit. “No. Not that.”

“Then what?”

“I mean, I appreciate the gesture. I do. But I just don’t know how to feel about… letting myself be known like that. If that makes sense.”

Professor Vask tilted her head slightly. Then shook it. “It doesn’t.”

Raveena looked back up, half surprised as she watched the professor lean forward slightly and folded her arms. “What’s the big deal? You helped make something better. You’re not being dragged onto a stage for applause. It’s just you being acknowledged. That’s all.”

Raveena looked away, feeling her jaw tighten slightly. But she didn’t respond.

Professor Vask sighed. “Look. You didn’t end up at this academy by accident. Aldra sent you here because she wanted you to have an actual change. A clean break. Something new, something better, something you deserve. And now that it’s happening… this is what you’re turning down? A chance to be seen for what you’re good at? That doesn’t line up, Raveena. You wanted this start. So why be like this out of nowhere?”

Raveena remained quiet for another moment, looking down on the way her fingers curled against her skirt. “…It’s not that,” Raveena finally responded. “It’s not about being afraid.”

“Okay? Spill it, then.”

Raveena then sighed and leaned back in the chair a little, arms now loosely crossed. “It’s just… whatever. I don’t want to think too hard about it. I was just hoping if I could just… stay anonymous somehow. That’s all. Maybe Rory can take the spotlight or something.”

Professor Vask raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me… you want Rory Brixton—who couldn’t tell a nut from bolt—to take credit for an Arcane Tech upgrade?”

Raveena nodded. “Basically, yeah.”

The professor groaned softly, her head tipping back just a tad. “Stars above.”

“Is that… impossible?”

“No, it’s just that I still don’t get it,” Professor Vask answered, “why being recognized is such a problem for you.”

Raveena shrugged. “Sorry, professor. It’s just a complicated thing for me.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let it slide. For now.”

And that made Raveena give a small smile. “Thanks for understanding.”

“But,” Professor Vask said quickly, lifting a finger, “you’re at least going to pretend to be the assistant. Rory’s the genius. You’re the backup.”

Raveena’s ears twitched at that proposition. Once, then twice.

Twitch, twitch.

Before, “...What?”

“That’s the condition. She gets the spotlight, but you’re still in the frame. I want you to at least see what it looks like being recognized. Even if it’s sideways.”

Raveena frowned, eyes narrowing. But she relented with a sigh. “...Fine. I can work with that. But I’m not staying long.”

“You won’t have to,” the professor assured her. “We’re in and out. Quick and clean. And to sweeten the deal, I’ll let both you and your fake genius skip strand class for the day. Consider it a trade. I’ll talk to Miss Brixton’s professor about it, not to mention there’s still her extra credit.”

“...Seriously?”

Professor Vask smirked. “Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

Raveena thought on it for a moment, then gave another small shrug. “…What the heck. I could use the extra time. Might as well squeeze in a nap before I head to town to scavenge.”

Professor Vask raised an eyebrow again. “You do know there are materials available in the school workshops, right?”

“Are you forgetting who assigned half a forest’s worth of workshop projects this second half of the month? So much for giving us students a breathing room,” Raveena answered in a flat tone.

“…Ah. Right.”

“Besides,” Raveena gestured vaguely in the air, “I already burned through my whole supply quota this week.”

“I was about to say there are ways to stretch your materials,” Professor Vask muttered, rubbing her temple, “but then again—this is you we’re talking about.”

Then she gave Raveena a look. “You and that genius-level perfectionism of yours.”

Raveena groaned and slouched lower in the chair. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Genius?” Professor Vask smirked.

Raveena frowned harder. “Yes.”

“Then tell me something. If you’re that good, why bother scavenging? You could buy what you need for, what—three gold zennies? That’ll get you a few sheets of steel, wiring, maybe even a crystal node if you’re lucky.”

Raveena stared hard right after the professor mentioned “three gold zennies”.

“…Professor.”

“Yes?”

“Even cheap is outside my budget.” She crossed her arms. “And if you call three gold zennies ‘cheap’ in front of me again, I might consider that as salt in a very large, very open wound.”

“Fair point,” the professor nodded, then she leaned back slightly. “That said… I am, in a way, your guardian while you’re here at Saint Maribelle’s.”

Raveena’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I know that, but—what does that have to do with me being broke?”

Without a word, Professor Vask opened one of the drawers in her desk and pulled out a sealed envelope. She placed it lightly on the table between them and tapped it once with her finger. The seal bore the name “Aldra”, signed and stamped with the inked crest of the Vesper family.

“She already sent a check.”

Raveena blinked in surprise. “Already? January’s not even over yet! What’s she thinking?”

“She sent it as an advance, your budget for February. It’s good for about ten gold zennies.”

Raveena’s eyes widened. “…Ten?!”

“Plus five more,” the professor added casually. “From a little pool I added myself.”

Raveena stood halfway up from her seat, alarmed. “What? No—no, I can’t take that! Why would Mother even give me that much? January’s was just… five!”

“That’s because January’s light,” Professor Vask replied. “At least usually. This week’s mountain was my fault, sure. But come February? That’s when the real fire begins. You’ll need every bit of it.”

Raveena dropped back into her seat, still unable to believe that this just happened. “What is she thinking?” she muttered, although a bit quieter. “She and I both know she’s already juggling her own expenses. She’s struggling enough as it is.”

“She’s managing, not struggling,” Professor Vask corrected.

“For my mother’s case, that’s almost the same thing!”

“Raveena, she’s getting help where she needs it. And you know your mother doesn’t just sit around wasting time. Aldra’s not fragile, she’s a hard worker.”

Raveena sighed, then looked at the envelope again, still feeling hesitant as her hand hovered over it for a few seconds before pulling back.

Professor Vask watched her hesitate quietly, then reached out and slid the envelope forward.

“No one’s forcing you,” she said. “But she worked hard to give this to you. At least take it.”

“…Can I just—take the ten? Send five back?”

Professor Vask shook her head firmly. “No.”

“What, why?”

“It’s not about the number,” the professor answered. “It’s about respecting what she did to give it to you. You send it back, it’s like saying her effort wasn’t worth it. And it’s not easy being a—”

“Okay. I get it, Professor. So please—don’t.”

Professor Vask paused for a moment, then exhaled. “…Sorry.”

Then came the silence, which lasted for a short while before Raveena finally reached forward, scooping up the envelope with both hands.

“I’ll make it last,” she said, slipping it carefully into her coat. “Until the end of February. At least.”

“Atta girl,” Professor Vask smiled. Then she straightened her posture slightly and gave a nod toward the door. “Now, go tell Miss Brixton what she’s doing tomorrow. I still have a class to run for later.”

Raveena stood and gave a small, polite nod. “I’ll let her know,” she said before she turned, heading out of the office with the envelope tucked safely inside her coat.