The bell chimed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.
Ding.
Another customer walked in—arms loaded with books, face flushed, breathless. I placed the returns in the basket beside me, dusted off my shirt, and prepared my best "Yes, how may I help you today?" smile.
He wasn't the first. Or the second. Or even the fifth.
He was the seventh customer this hour.
I handed over his book selection—some political theory title I absolutely did not understand—and watched him leave with a grateful wave.
Then I turned toward the window.
Outside, across the cobblestone path, the tiny café's cashier was being absolutely mauled by a swarm of hungry customers. Some waved coins in the air. Some yelled orders. One woman was dramatically fainting over the dessert case.
"What is happening…?" I murmured.
The city was always busy, but this? This felt like someone dropped free gold coins in the plaza.
I shelved two more books, wiped the counter, and faced the next customer. Another student. Fourth one in twelve minutes. All mumbling about "assignments" and "exams" and "I need anything with history PLEASE."
After the ninth customer left, I set the book in my hands down and sighed deeply.
Enough was enough.
I needed answers.
And there was only one person who would know exactly what was going on.
Alya.
I scanned the shop until I saw a familiar tail hanging over a reading chair in the back. Alya was sprawled dramatically across two seats, tail twitching, ears rigid, a thick textbook held an inch from her face.
She looked miserable.
"Hey," I called softly.
Alya jumped so hard her ears flung upward.
"D-Do you MIND? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" she snapped, slamming the book shut as if I'd caught her doing something illegal.
"I said 'hey,' not 'BOO,'" I replied, resisting the urge to laugh. "Are you okay? You look like someone told you French onion soup was outlawed."
Her ears drooped.
"That… might actually be worse."
I settled into the seat beside her.
"What's going on? There's suddenly hundreds of people all over the plaza. Even the restaurants are full. You look worried too."
Alya groaned loudly, throwing her head back.
"I have a test," she muttered.
"A… test?"
"Yes, a BIG one! The academy exam! All the nobles and students from around the city take it!" She pointed an accusing finger at the textbook as if it personally offended her. "And I have been studying nonstop for three days! My brain feels like mashed potatoes!"
I blinked.
"That sounds awful."
"It IS awful! It's hell! My tail has been twitching uncontrollably, do you see this?" She flicked it with irritation.
I watched it twitch.
It was adorable.
"…Anyway," she continued, "everyone's in town because the test is tomorrow morning. People came early to cram. That's why the shop is full, the restaurants are full, and I"—she jabbed her chest—"am dying."
Understanding dawned.
"So that's why everyone's been buying history books?"
"Yes! We have to memorize so many kingdoms—names, dates, battles, treaties—UGH."
I nodded sympathetically, leaned over, and picked up the book she had been reading.
It was titled:
"An Idiot's Guide to the Seven Kingdoms."
My lips twitched.
"This looks pretty basic."
"It's not basic," she grumbled.
I flipped two pages.
"Alya… this section literally says, and I quote: 'The seven kingdoms are named after fancy words and do fancy things. Memorize or perish.'"
Alya growled.
I stared at her flatly.
"Well… it's only hard because you haven't actually been doing the reading your father sent you here for."
The silence was immediate.
Dangerous.
Alya's ears flattened.
Her tail shot up like a spear.
"You little—!"
A fist flew toward my face.
I yelped and threw myself sideways, barely dodging as her punch cut through the air like a vengeful meteor.
"Alya! Violence is NOT the answer!" I screeched, scrambling beneath the table.
"Yes it is! You insulted my intellect!"
"I said nothing about your intellect!"
"You said it was only hard because I don't read! And you're RIGHT! And I HATE THAT!"
Her frustration was enormous. Her honesty? Even more enormous.
I peeked over the table edge.
She was fuming.
But also—
Her ears were drooping, trembling with stress.
I crawled out slowly.
"Come on," I said softly. "Let me help you. We can study together."
She glared suspiciously.
"You won't laugh?"
"Only if you say something very, very stupid."
She swung again.
I dodged faster.
"OKAY OKAY! NO LAUGHING!"
She dropped her fist… and slumped down in defeat.
"Fine. Help me. Please. I can't fail this test. Father will turn me into a disappointed casserole."
"A what?"
"Don't ask."
I slid the textbook between us and opened a chapter on the geography of the continents.
"Alright," I said, forcing a teacher-like tone. "Let's start with Liara."
Alya groaned like I'd just sentenced her to manual labor.
We studied for the next hour.
Or tried to.
Alya complained every five minutes.
She threw her pencil twice.
She hissed at the book once.
At some point, a customer wandered too close and Alya snapped, "If you're not buying something LEAVE."
I shoved her face back toward the page.
But between the chaos, insults, tail slaps, and pencil duel… somehow, she learned.
I caught her mouthing the seven kingdoms names under her breath.
I caught her ears perking when she understood something.
I caught her smiling—only a little—when she successfully answered a question.
Eventually, the bell jingled, signaling more customers.
I stood, dusting off my pants.
"Stay here, keep studying," I said. "I'll handle the counter."
Alya puffed her cheeks angrily.
"I don't WANT to study anymore."
"You have to."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
I leaned down until our faces were two inches apart.
"Alya."
She froze. Her tail twitched.
"…Fine," she muttered, opening the book again. "But only because you asked nicely."
"I didn't—"
She held up a finger.
"NICELY."
I sighed, defeated, and returned to the front.
The doorbell chimed again.
And again.
And again.
But for once…
I didn't mind the chaos.
Because behind me, in the reading corner, Alya Van Buqeat—the most dramatic beastwoman alive—was finally studying.
And it made the whole day a little brighter.