Bab 2: I Am The Principal.

The duo exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with mischievous intent as they moved toward the purple-haired boy sitting in the corner of the spacious office. They crept forward as silently as they could manage, trying to be as sneaky as possible. Yet, for a Novice Rank mage—an Awakened—it was child's play to notice such a clumsy attempt.

The boy, his deep blue eyes soft and observant, turned toward them and smiled gently, even going as far as to stand up and offer a handshake, walking toward them. But he seemed unaware of who he was dealing with—the infamous troublemakers, Ethan and Trevor, also known in some circles as the "brothers from different mothers."

"Hello, guys. It's been a long time. How have you been?" the boy asked warmly, clearly an acquaintance. However, the duo's eyebrows shot up in confusion, as though this purple-haired guy had suddenly popped out of thin air. They shared a look of bewilderment before turning back to him. Their minds were already racing through countless malicious schemes, each worse than the last—plans that could make even history's greatest tricksters pale in comparison.

"Huh? Who are you? Trev, do you know him?" Ethan asked, his face painted with genuine confusion. He tilted his head, squinting at the boy as if trying to place him in his memory.

"Me? Nah, I don't. He looks familiar, though, but I don't know him," Trevor replied, his deadpan face offering no clues as to whether he was playing along or genuinely lost.

"Can you please introduce yourself?" Ethan said politely, but there was no doubt that politeness was far from his actual nature.

The boy's face visibly drooped at their lack of recognition, but he tried to smile again, his voice a little higher as he practically shouted, "It's me! Your best buddy. You don't remember me?"

Both Ethan and Trevor stood there blinking, clearly unconvinced.

"It's me, Lamair Griswold. The one and only Griswold and noble with a perfect face! The most handsome boy in the academy!" Lamair declared, clearly frustrated by their blank expressions. He wasn't lying—he was a sight to behold. His flawless fair skin shimmered under the soft lights, and his tall, athletic body was draped in a sleek black turtleneck, black trousers, and classy shoes.

His muscular frame and smooth posture made him the picture of a model, but his proud, almost pompous aura was hard to miss. He was 18, a year older than Ethan and Trevor, and a member of the prestigious Griswold family, the fourth of the main powerhouses in Anbord. But more importantly, he was a Novice Rank mage, while the duo in front of him hadn't even Awakened. Yet, they stood there, still confused.

"Is this punk senile? I thought Trevor was supposed to be the confused one," Ethan muttered, disdain dripping from his voice.

"Nah, man. I don't remember meeting anyone by that name. You look vaguely familiar, but nah. Never met you before," Trevor added, his face a perfect mask of annoyance.

"Can you elaborate on how exactly you became the most handsome boy in the academy?" Ethan asked with an arched brow, skepticism radiating from every pore.

Lamair's perfect smile faltered for a second as he stared at the two. "Seriously, guys, stop joking. I'm the only guy in the academy with purple hair. I'm special!" he said with utmost confidence, clearly proud of his unique look.

Both Ethan and Trevor exchanged yet another knowing glance before Ethan smirked. "Oh… Lil Winkie, right?"

Trevor nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that name does ring a bell. Unfortunately, though, I heard Lil Winkie's no longer with us in this mundane world."

Ethan placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head, playing along. "A moment of silence…"

Lamair's face twisted in frustration. "Guys! It's me! I'm not dead, for heaven's sake!"

"Oh, so you're claiming to be Lil Winkie? The almighty Lil Winkie?" Trevor asked, looking at Lamair like he was the most ridiculous liar he'd ever seen.

Lamair's face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly denied it. "Tch! I'm not called Lil Winkie!"

Ethan suddenly nodded in realization, his face lighting up with a sly grin. "Oh, I remember now. That's why you look so familiar."

"Will you guys stop calling me that awful name?!" Lamair yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

"Oh, is Lil Winkie getting mad?" Ethan said, his voice mockingly sweet as he tried to suppress his laughter.

"I'm sorry, okay? I swear I won't do that again, just please stop calling me that!" Lamair pleaded, his frustration palpable.

"So, you really are Lil Winkie…" Trevor repeated, his tone dripping with mock disbelief.

"*Don't call me that!*" Lamair snapped, his face now bright red.

Trevor suddenly adopted an overly nurturing voice, "Aww, don't worry, my little Winkie Winkie. Granny's here. Want some cookies?" He reached out and pinched Lamair's cheeks like a doting grandmother, pushing the older boy to the brink of his patience.

"I'm gonna kill you guys for this!" Lamair roared, and in that instant, his aura flared around him. The room buzzed with energy, his strength as an Awakened evident. But just as quickly as it had flared, the overwhelming pressure of his magic was snuffed out, as though extinguished by an invisible force.

"No fighting in my office," a calm but unmistakably authoritative voice rang out.

The trio froze in place, as if ice had settled in their veins. They had momentarily forgotten where they were—inside the infamous principal's office. Their mischief now seemed so foolish, and an oppressive silence settled over the room as they hesitantly turned toward the source of the voice.

Standing at the top of a grand stairway that had appeared as if out of thin air, a woman gazed down at them. She had long, braided black hair that shimmered like onyx, obsidian eyes that seemed to pierce through the very soul, and flawless fair skin that gleamed in the soft light. Her curvaceous, athletic figure was elegantly draped in a crisp white long-sleeved shirt tucked into a black skirt. Black stockings encased her long, slender legs, ending in sharp, polished black heels that clicked softly as she began to descend the stairs. Her entire presence was mesmerizing—no, it was almost otherworldly.

"M-Miss Racheal? What are you doing here?" Ethan managed to stammer, a bad feeling curling in the pit of his stomach. Her presence was beautiful and imposing all at once.

The woman's full lips curled into a soft, almost playful smile as she approached them, followed closely by two girls trailing behind her. "Why, Ethan, you still haven't figured it out?"

The three boys exchanged bewildered glances as Miss Racheal ushered them down a quiet hallway toward a door at the far end of the room. The nameplate on the door read, "Private Room."

They hesitated before following her into the room, which was surprisingly serene. The polished wood floors, softly glowing furniture, and peaceful ambiance did nothing to calm their nerves. Ethan, still bewildered and unable to connect the dots, finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been burning in his mind.

"Miss Racheal... Uh, why are we here? Isn't this the principal's office?"

Miss Racheal—no, Miss Carmen—turned to him, her smile growing ever so slightly. "Oh, Ethan. This is my office. I'm Miss Carmen Steil. Racheal was just a name I used to hide my real identity. Surprise!" she said with playful smugness. "Pretty cool, right?"

The girls beside her looked on in shock, their wide eyes reflecting the same disbelief that clouded the boys' faces. Lamair looked like he had just been hit in the face with a brick. But Ethan and Trevor—oh, they looked like the ground had crumbled beneath them.

BOOM! CRASH! BOOM!

The two boys fell to their knees in pure horror. Ethan's jaw trembled as he realized the full scope of his sins. All those times he and Trevor had ogled and fantasized about Miss Racheal... the teasing, the pranks, the lewd suggestions… everything. It all came crashing down on them like a tidal wave of regret. She had been the principal all along—the infamous "Killer Cat." And now? Now there was no way out.

The infamous Treacherous Duo was about to face their reckoning.