Stretched out on Aunt Libel's stiff office chair, I let out a deep sigh. My arms dangle limply over the sides, and my head tilts back. I'm just… done. Kaput. Completely dead. Not literally, but it might as well be. My life is a mess. No, the mess. Monumental, bottomlessp"Of course not," she says, straightening up. I let out another long, resigned sigh. Aunt Libel flashes a smile. I narrow my eyes, wary. That kind of smile from her never means anything good. Then she says one word, heavy with promise, making my heart leap: "But…"m
My voice betrays my rising hope, but before I can launch into a grateful rant, Aunt Libel raises a hand, commanding silence. I shut my mouth reluctantly, crossing my arms. She takes her time, as if each word needs careful weighing, which only fuels my frustration.
"Let me finish, Zayn."
"Fine, I'm listening," I grumble, slumping back into the chair.
"Good. Listen closely, because this is important," she begins, her voice calm. "A magister, especially someone as prominent as you, can't afford to travel alone. You understand what that means, don't you?"
I raise an eyebrow, trying to follow her logic. "Uh… that I'm scared of monsters?" I offer innocently.
She gives me an exasperated look but continues as if I hadn't spoken. "It means you need an escort. Or at the very least, an assistant. Someone to accompany you, support you, and ensure everything goes smoothly."
I blink, and slowly, a grin spreads across my face. Finally, a solution in this sea of problems! I sit up, pointing a triumphant finger at her. "Then it's settled! You're coming with me, obviously. Makes sense, right? You're my assistant, after all."
But instead of agreeing, she shakes her head slowly. "No."
Her refusal is simple, sharp, and brutally disarming. I freeze, words catching in my throat. "What do you mean, no?" I manage, indignation rising like a tide.
Aunt Libel, unfazed, raises a finger to silence me again. She takes a deep breath before saying, "This is the perfect opportunity for you, Zayn."
I squint, suspicious. "Opportunity for what? To die a heroic idiot?"
She rolls her eyes, a gesture that's practically her trademark by now. "The opportunity to find your own assistant."
It's a gut punch. I stare, eyes wide. "My own… assistant? Why? You're right here! Why would I need another?"
"Because," she says with infuriating calm, "technically, I'm your late father's assistant. Not yours."
Her words hit like a cold shower. I'm speechless, unable to form a coherent response. "It's time you took responsibility," she continues, her tone blending amusement and seriousness. "And that includes finding someone to support you."
I shake my head, still in disbelief. "But… you're already here! It makes no sense! Why look for another assistant when you're perfectly capable of helping me?"
"Because," she says, pausing dramatically, her eyes glinting with mischief, "either you take the time to find an assistant, or…" She lets the word hang. "…you go alone."
I swallow hard, the weight of her threat sinking in. My eyes dart from the intimidating stack of documents to Aunt Libel, whose smug smile makes me want to bolt. "Damn it," I mutter, defeated.
Aunt Libel bursts out laughing. I slump back into the chair, crossing my arms with a petulant scowl. I glare at the stack of documents with an intensity that, in an ideal world, would make them vanish by sheer willpower. But no. They sit there, imposing, almost mocking. Aunt Libel watches me with that faintly amused smile, like this is all just a game.
I sigh. But wait a second… she mentioned an escort or an assistant, right? My brain latches onto the idea like a lifeline. If I pick an escort, that counts, doesn't it? A well-armed escort, ready to back me up… perfect.
But before I can flesh out this brilliant plan, Aunt Libel raises a finger, her smile growing alarmingly wide. "Don't even think about it."
I blink, caught off guard. "What? I didn't do anything!"
"No, but you were thinking about it," she retorts.
I sink deeper into the chair, crossing my arms with a sulky pout. "Maybe I was… but it's a good idea, isn't it? An escort makes way more sense than an assistant! They could handle the monsters while I… supervise."
"Oh, really?" Aunt Libel raises an eyebrow.
I grimace. My gaze returns to the stack of documents. They sit there, unmoved, taunting me. "Damn it…" to the stack of documents. They sit there, unmoved, taunting me. "Damn it…"