Ch 59: Lucien’s Problems

Lucien had just finished eating and was resting in his chair, thinking about what to do next. How to proceed forward, because every damn thing had changed from the original plotlines and the world was no longer following the story.

Melissa was supposed to attend the academy later, Lucien was also supposed to return to the academy later, he was not supposed to see Eleena crying on the bench, and his mother was not supposed to be healed.

Everything had turned into turmoil, the world was no longer following the plotlines from the story, and the little knowledge he carried from his previous life as Evan was not going to help him as much as he would have wanted it to. But he still hoped that some plots and arcs would be followed, because there were some really important character developments in them.

Before he could linger any longer in his thoughts, the door to his office was knocked multiple times, taking him out of his spiral of thoughts.

Knock! Knock!

"Come in," Lucien permitted and straightened himself up in his chair, his back as straight as a pillar, his hands resting on the armrests. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, having already removed his coat and tie and stored them back into his dimensional ring.

The door was meekly pushed open, in the manner of someone who extensively respected Lucien or feared him, and as it parted, he saw a familiar figure.

A girl with long, lavender-colored straight hair that fell freely to her waist, a pale white face, and dark black eyes. Despite her slender frame, she carried herself with a regal and quiet beauty.

She wore a crisp white shirt with a red tie, a red coat over it, and a red skirt that reached her knees, paired with black leather shoes and white socks.

Pinned to the right side of her coat hung two silver stars alongside a tag that read Vice President in bold letters.

The girl fell firmly into the former category, respecting Lucien to her core, something he had known beforehand, for she had always treated him with unwavering deference. It was further proved now by the careful, almost hesitant way she eased the door shut behind her, as though afraid a single loud sound might displease him, the professor known for his precision, order, and discipline.

She slowly walked toward his desk and stopped before the two chairs neatly placed opposite it, the ones meant for anyone who came to his office.

"Student Bianca, do you need any help?" Lucien asked, cutting straight to the matter. "Take a seat if this is going to be a longer discussion."

Bianca glanced at the chair before her, then back at Lucien, her expression shifting. Her face, which usually held the composed and strict bearing befitting someone of the vice president title, was now caught somewhere between uncertainty and resolve, visibly wrestling with whether to sit or remain standing.

"You can sit if you are unsure how long the discussion might last," Lucien added, trying to ease the burden off the poor girl. He genuinely pitied her, for she had always respected him without fail and was the kind of student who submitted every assignment on time, consistently earned fine marks in his class, and had rarely missed a lecture despite the freedom her title afforded her to do so.

"Sure," Bianca replied and took the seat opposite him, her hesitation melted away, and she met his eyes directly and without hesitation. It was a boldness that felt almost contradictory, coming from a girl whose house had long since fallen from grace, stripped of their nobility, the Espinoza name reduced from a Viscount title to nothing more than that of a commoner household.

Because of that fall, the girl had endured no shortage of cutting remarks from those around her, yet she had stood like a pillar, unflinching, and had climbed all the way to the rank of vice president despite every hardship. She had forced those who had once mocked her to seal their lips and never dare speak against her again.

"Would you like some water or anything else?" Lucien offered, noticing how she was staring at him with the look of someone holding in from speaking and she seemed to be struggling to decide whether to speak or to carry through whatever intention had brought her to his office in the first place. The girl’s emotions were like a pendulum, for one moment she was hesitant and the very next moment she would be bold like the title of vice president required.

"No, I have just finished my lunch and my stomach is full," Bianca replied, and then, with the expression of someone finally deciding to cross a line they had been standing before for too long, she reached into her dimensional ring and drew out a single sheet of paper, crisp and new. The moment it appeared, Lucien already knew what it was.

Lucien had trouble understanding why the girl had truly chosen him above every other professor. From the memories of the original story, Bianca had never taken on this role, and Lucien had largely not bothered to seek a teacher's assistant, consumed as he had been by the grief of losing his mother and barely holding himself together.

It was understandable that the arrangement had never come to pass in that version of events. But the present was different. Lucien had healed his mother, and earlier today during his lecture with the second years, he had announced that he would be opening applications for the teacher's assistant role, a position that the academy encouraged as a matter of policy, intended to benefit both parties. The professor gained an assistant who could help with the practical burdens of teaching, checking papers, drafting tests, managing minor tasks, while the student gained something far more valuable: direct access to a professor they admired, the chance to receive private instruction, and even the possibility of material rewards, as some professors of means were known to offer their assistants treasures as compensation for diligent work, something Lucien was willing to consider should his assistant prove themselves worthy.

The girl slid the paper across the surface of the desk and placed it directly before his eyes, every field was filled in with a neat and careful handwriting. Lucien studied it for a moment before lifting his gaze back to her.

"Do you truly want to become my assistant?" Lucien asked, letting the weight of the words settle in the air between them. "You should think it through carefully. The deadline has not yet closed and there is still time."

***

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