the-astral-librarian

[the-astral-librarian]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 17

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Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, as if surprised by the boldness of your declaration. But then something softened in his expression, the ever-present sharpness in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

"Ah," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "So it would seem."

You let out a small laugh, barely more than an exhale, but still, he noticed. His lips curled ever so slightly...a ghost of a smile, fleeting yet unmistakable. "If I were immortal," you continued, shifting in your seat, "I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do with myself."

He hummed in thought. "An eternity of choices can be as paralyzing as having none at all," he admitted. "Some crumble beneath it. Others rise."

"And you?" You found yourself asking before you could second-guess it. "Have you… crumbled or risen?" His expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes, something deep, something distant.

"I am still here," he said simply. It wasn’t an answer, not really. But maybe it was the only one that mattered. You bit your lip, fingers curling slightly over the edge of your parchment.

Now or never. "Do you… do you know what a Soul Jam is?" His gaze sharpened in an instant. He did not startle easily, but there was a shift in the air, subtle yet unmistakable.

"That," he said, "is not a question many dare to ask." Your throat felt dry, but you pressed on.

"I know you have one. I’ve known for a while, but I-" You hesitated, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous this must sound. "I wasn’t brave enough to ask." Silence stretched between you for a long moment, heavy yet not suffocating. He studied you, and for once, you did not shrink under his gaze.

"Knowledge is a burden as much as it is a gift," he finally said. "You must be certain you wish to bear it."

You swallowed. "I am." He considered you for a moment longer before nodding. Slowly, he lifted a hand, and between his fingertips, something shimmered into existence a small, radiant fragment, casting a glow like captured starlight….it came from that mysterious gem…was that it? What gave immortality?.

"The Light of Knowledge," he murmured. "That is what this is called. What I am called." You stared, unable to tear your eyes away. "It’s beautiful." He let out a quiet breath of amusement. "It is what it is." Your mind whirled with questions, but one surfaced before the others. "Are there… others? Like you?"

His fingers closed over the fragment, and the light faded. "There are four others," he admitted. "Mystic Flour, Silent Salt, Burning Spice, and Eternal Sugar."

Your brow furrowed. "Are they… your friends?"

He hesitated. "...We are bound by what we are," he said at last. "That does not always mean we walk the same path." Something in his voice some quiet weight made your chest ache.

"Do you miss them?" He did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it. "One cannot miss what was never truly theirs to keep."

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but it hadn’t been that. "That sounds lonely," you whispered. He looked at you then, something unreadable in his gaze. "Perhaps," he said.

"But not all things are meant to be shared." And yet, you couldn’t help but think, just for a moment, that maybe, he had shared something with you.

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment longer before exhaling softly. Then, with a measured grace, he closed his book and rested his hands over it. “If you wish to avoid the evening crowds,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more composed, more certain, “you should head to dinner soon. Your friends will be waiting.”

You blinked, momentarily pulled from the weight of your conversation. “Oh. Right.” You glanced at the dimming sky beyond the arched windows, realizing just how much time had slipped away.

“I almost forgot.” He tilted his head slightly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That much was evident.” You huffed a quiet laugh, but it lacked any real bite. Your mind was still caught in the echoes of his words, in the light that had glowed between his fingers like something too vast to be comprehended. He had given you a glimpse of something sacred, something most would never even think to ask about. And yet, here he was, returning to the present as if he hadn’t just peeled back a veil between the known and the unknown.

As you gathered your things, you hesitated. "Do you-" You stopped yourself before the question could fully form. His sharp eyes flickered with curiosity. “Do I…?” You shook your head, tightening your grip on your parchment.

“Never mind.” For a moment, you thought he might press you for an answer, but he only hummed in amusement. “So mysterious,” he mused. “And yet, you call me enigmatic.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in it.

If anything, it felt lighter than before less like standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable, more like standing beside someone who understood. As you turned to leave, his voice followed you, quiet yet firm. “You should not keep them waiting.” You nodded, stepping toward the door, but before you could take another step, you paused. “Shadow Milk?”

He arched a brow at the sound of his name, an ever-present air of amusement in his expression. “…Thank you,” you said, the words simple but sincere. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, just as you reached the door, his voice came, softer than before. “Enjoy your dinner.” You stepped out into the dimly lit halls, the warmth of his words lingering in your chest. Your friends would be waiting.

You stepped out of the Scholar’s Wing, the cool evening air doing little to ease the warmth lingering in your face. You had seen it…you had seen it.

A dusting of warmth across his ears, brief but unmistakable. Shadow Milk Cookie composed; enigmatic, unreadable Shadow Milk Cookie had blushed. You pressed a hand against your cheek, trying to steady your breath as you made your way toward the dining hall. The weight of his words still clung to you, curling around your thoughts like ink staining parchment. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing."

You shook your head, trying to clear it. It was just an answer, spoken in jest...wasn’t it? He had turned it on you, after all, as he always did. But that flicker of warmth… the way his ears betrayed him… You bit the inside of your cheek. If you weren’t careful, you were going to overthink this all night. The hum of the dining hall reached your ears as you approached, the familiar scent of warm food breaking you from your thoughts. As expected, your friends were already gathered at your usual table, their trays half-filled with whatever the academy kitchens had deemed edible today. You barely had time to settle into your seat before Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, sharp-eyed and grinning.

“What is that look on your face?” she teased, nudging your arm. “That’s not just an oh, class was interesting today smile. That’s a someone just said something that turned your brain into melted fondue smile.”

You tried...tried to school your expression into something neutral, but the way Chai Latte’s eyes lit up told you that you had already failed. “I don’t have a look,” you muttered, picking up your fork as if your dinner could somehow shield you from her scrutiny. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie arched a brow. “You kind of do.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a knowing hum. “Indeed.” You groaned, letting your forehead drop onto the table for a moment. “Can I just eat before getting interrogated?”

Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin on her hand. “I knew something happened,” she sang, leaning a little closer. “Was it the Sage? It was the Sage, wasn’t it?” You stiffened.

Chai Latte gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh my stars, it was!” You scowled, jabbing your fork at your food with a little too much force. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” she mused, utterly delighted. “You’ve got that look, you never get that look.”

Earl Grey Cookie exchanged a glance with Hazelnut Biscotti, a quiet understanding passing between them. Chai Latte, however, was already in full-on gossip mode, and there was no stopping her now. “What did he say?” she pressed, nudging your tray aside as if it was completely unimportant. “Did he compliment your work? Give you some grand scholarly wisdom? Finally confess his undying admiration for you?”

You choked on your drink. “Chai!” She beamed. You glared, but your heart was still unsteady in your chest. Because even if he hadn’t confessed anything, even if it had only been a fleeting moment… You had seen him blush. And that? That was enough to keep you starstruck for the rest of the night.

Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she drawled, stirring her tea with a lazy flick of her wrist. “Are you finally going to tell us what’s had you all tied up in knots lately?” You nearly choked on your drink. “I’m not-” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. “You’re not what?”

“Knotted up,” you muttered, avoiding their gazes. Earl Grey Cookie gave you a pointed look. “You’ve been distracted for days.” He adjusted his glasses.

“And given your history of not being forthcoming, I’d wager we’re about to hear something interesting.”

Chai Latte Cookie beamed. “Oh, I love interesting things.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay, fine. You win.” Chai Latte practically vibrated with excitement.

“We always win.” You inhaled deeply. “It’s about what I told you before. The story I heard in the Ghost City.”

That got their attention. The playful air around the table shifted ever so slightly just enough for you to feel the weight of their curiosity settle in. “The Storyteller’s Circle,” Earl Grey Cookie murmured, recalling the night with ease.

You nodded. “The one about the lovers who could only meet every hundred years.” Your fingers traced the rim of your cup as you spoke. “I told the Sage of Truth about it.”

Hazelnut Biscotti’s gaze sharpened. “And?” You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. But there was no stopping now. So you told them. You told them how Shadow Milk Cookie had listened, the way his golden eyes had flickered with something unreadable as you spoke. How he had gone quiet, not in dismissal, but in deep thought. How, for once, you felt like you had given him something to ponder. And then you told them what he had said. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing." The silence that followed was immediate. Heavy. Chai Latte Cookie’s lips parted, but no words came out. That was how you knew you had actually stunned her into speechlessness. Hazelnut Biscotti let out a low, impressed whistle.

Earl Grey Cookie merely blinked, but his silence was just as telling. Then, Chai Latte exploded. “Oh, stars above!” She all but launched forward, gripping your arm. “He said that?!” You squirmed under her intense gaze. “It wasn't it’s not...”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “Don’t even try to downplay it. That wasn’t just some offhand remark.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed. “It was deliberate.”

You swallowed hard. “I know.” 

Chai Latte Cookie released you only to clasp her hands over her heart dramatically. “Imagine waiting a hundred years just to see someone again,” she sighed, echoing her own words from that night. Then she snapped upright, eyes locking onto yours.

“That’s romantic!” You felt your face heat. “It’s not-”

“It is,” Hazelnut Biscotti interrupted, grinning. “And you know it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Okay, but he-he turned it around on me! He asked if I was testing his patience or trying to ‘unravel the heart of the Sage of Truth.’”

Chai Latte gasped. “And what did you say?” Your ears burned. “I told him I wouldn’t keep him waiting.” The silence that followed was deafening. Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly.

“I see.” Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “And what did he say to that?” Your heart pounded just thinking about it.

“He just… looked at me.” You swallowed. “And then he said, who indeed?” Chai Latte Cookie slammed her hands on the table.

“I’M GOING TO SCREAM.”

You groaned. “Don’t!”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out an amused chuckle, but his eyes were sharp. “That’s not nothing.” Earl Grey Cookie nodded. “That’s a man who doesn’t waste words.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I know.” Chai Latte Cookie gripped your hands, her gaze searching yours.

“And you...how do you feel about it?” You froze. Hazelnut Biscotti and Earl Grey Cookie both went silent, watching you carefully. Your heart hammered in your chest. How did you feel? You thought about the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way his golden eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary. The way his words always challenged you but never dismissed you. How, when he looked at you, it wasn’t just as the Sage of Truth. It was as Shadow Milk Cookie. Your throat tightened.

Chai Latte Cookie squeezed your hands gently. “Hey,” she murmured, quieter this time. “You can say it.” You inhaled sharply. And then, barely above a whisper “…Maybe my heart does beat for him. Not just as the Sage of Truth.” You swallowed, voice trembling as you admitted finally, finally “But as Shadow Milk Cookie.” For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Chai Latte Cookie let out a quiet, breathless laugh. One of understanding. Hazelnut Biscotti smiled, almost knowingly. Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Well then,” Chai Latte murmured, her voice filled with something warm, something fond. “I think you might be in trouble.”

You stared into your cup, watching the way the liquid rippled as your fingers trembled against the ceramic. It felt as though the weight of your own words was still settling over you, the truth finally spoken aloud yet leaving you with an entirely new set of uncertainties. Because now that you had admitted it to yourself, to them, there was another question lingering, one that twisted deep in your chest, coiling tighter with each passing second.

Would he...could he ever feel the same? Your breath hitched. The thought alone sent a shiver down your spine. Shadow Milk Cookie was… immortal. The Sage of Truth. A beacon of knowledge and wisdom, untethered by time in the way you were. He was beyond mere admiration, beyond simple affection. And you what were you to him, truly? A passing curiosity? A fleeting source of entertainment? A scholar fumbling at his feet, desperate to understand the vastness of the world he had already grasped long ago? Doubt gnawed at you.

“What if…” Your voice came out hoarse, uncertain. “What if it doesn’t matter how I feel?”

Chai Latte Cookie’s brows knitted together. “What?”

You swallowed. “He’s immortal,” you whispered. “And I’m just-” You gestured vaguely to yourself. “He’ll live through centuries. I’m nothing but a brief moment to him.” Earl Grey Cookie exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flickering toward Hazelnut Biscotti, who frowned but said nothing.

Chai Latte Cookie, however, did not let go of your hands. Instead, she squeezed them tighter. “You don’t know that,” she said softly. “Not for sure.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t I?” Your mind spiraled, recalling every conversation, every moment you had spent with him.

“You said it yourselves he doesn’t waste words. And he’s patient. Incredibly patient. He has all the time in the world to humor a struggling scholar like me. But when that time runs out” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to say it. “When I’m gone, he’ll still be here. He’ll keep seeking truth, keep moving forward, just as he always has.” The words tasted bitter. “And one day, I’ll just be… another story.” A soft exhale.

Chai Latte Cookie’s hands tightened around yours. Hazelnut Biscotti’s voice was low, steady. “Are you afraid of being forgotten?”

You hesitated. “Not forgotten,” you murmured. “Just… insignificant.” Chai Latte Cookie’s expression twisted hurt, as if she could feel the ache in your chest as her own.

Hazelnut Biscotti hummed thoughtfully. “Funny,” he mused, resting his chin against his palm. “That’s not the impression I got from him at all.”

You blinked. “What?”

Earl Grey Cookie nodded, adjusting his glasses. “We told you already. He’s deliberate. And if he didn’t care. if he saw you as just another fleeting moment, he would not entertain the idea of waiting a century. For you.”

Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head. “I mean, think about it.” Her voice was softer now, more careful. “He didn’t have to say that. He didn’t have to answer that way at all.”

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “And yet, he did.”

Your breath stilled. “But,” you rasped, “he did turn it around on me. He asked if I was trying to unravel him. What if I am just a curiosity to him? A scholar to test, an equation to solve?”

Chai Latte Cookie exhaled. “Then ask him,” she said simply.

You flinched. “What?”

“Ask him,” she repeated, searching your gaze. “If you’re so afraid of being insignificant of being nothing more than a passing thought ask him.” Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Talk to him,”

Earl Grey Cookie agreed. “He is not a man who plays games with his words. If he does not mean something, he will make it clear.” Hazelnut Biscotti grinned.

“And if he does mean it?” You asked meekly.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well. I suppose you’ll have your answer then, won’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. Could you really do that? Could you really stand before the Sage of Truth, before Shadow Milk Cookie and ask him outright what you meant to him? You weren’t sure. But one thing was certain. You had to know. Chai Latte Cookie, ever the observant friend, must have noticed the way your expression had faltered; the way your fingers had tensed around your cup, the way doubt had taken root in your heart despite their reassurances. She sighed, shaking her head, before nudging your arm playfully.

“Oh, don’t look so gloomy,” she chided, though her voice carried none of its usual mischief.

“I knew we shouldn’t have let you stew on all that nonsense from yesterday.”

You blinked. “What?” Chai Latte pursed her lips before exhaling, her teasing demeanor slipping into something softer. “Listen, I was the one who said all those things about immortality and how fleeting our lives are, but that was just to ground you, not discourage you.”

She poked your forehead lightly, as if trying to knock some sense into you. “I didn’t mean to make you think you didn’t have a chance.” You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked.

“Told you they’d come around.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses. “It was never about whether or not you should feel this way,” he added. “Only about making sure you understood the weight of it.”

Chai Latte Cookie nodded. “And for that, I am sorry,” she admitted, offering you a sheepish smile. “But let me tell you something, okay?” She leaned in, eyes twinkling. “Even an immortal like him one so patient, so distant, so wrapped in his eternal search for truth at some point, he would have to fall, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Chai Latte tilted her head, watching you carefully. “You make him think, you challenge him in ways he doesn’t expect. And maybe that’s new for him. Maybe that’s different.”

She grinned. “And different is dangerous. Even for him.”

Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled. “Especially for him.”

Earl Grey simply hummed in agreement. Your heart pounded. The thought of it the idea that Shadow Milk Cookie was not as untouchable as you had thought, that even he might not be immune to the emotions that tangled so messily within you, sent your mind reeling. Could it be true? Could he truly? You swallowed hard. “Then I’ll ask, I don’t know when…but I’ll ask” you murmured, more to yourself than to them. Chai Latte’s eyes softened. “Good,” she whispered. “You deserve to know.”

The night wrapped around you like a silken cocoon, dreams slipping in and out of reach like the ebb and flow of the astral river beyond the Academy’s grand halls. Yet even in sleep, your thoughts tangled with golden eyes and words spun in careful riddles who indeed? By the time morning arrived, light spilled through your window, golden and unrelenting. You blinked blearily at the ceiling, heart still caught somewhere between waking and the memory of yesterday’s conversation. Even an immortal like him would have to fall someday. Your friends had a way of speaking truths you hadn’t dared voice aloud. But today was not for lingering in thought. Today was for routine. The moment you realized the time, panic surged through you.

Tearing yourself from the warmth of your blankets, you rushed through your morning preparations with the urgency of someone narrowly escaping disaster.

The halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy were already alive with the quiet hum of morning conversation, the faint scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air.

Your stomach, however, had only one thought in mind. By the time you skidded into the dining hall, slightly breathless, your eyes immediately landed on the familiar sight of honey-drizzled waffles and freshly cut pineapple, golden in the morning light. Your favorite. For once, fortune favored you.

Balancing your tray with careful precision, you wove through the throngs of students before settling into your usual seat beside your friends. The conversation at the table was already flowing, words slipping past you in a comfortable rhythm as you eagerly took your first bite, the familiar sweetness grounding you.

And then you heard words you wish you could unhear. “…Professor Almond Cookie’s exam next week,” Earl Grey Cookie was saying, his tone casual, as if the very sentence did not send your mind into immediate ruin. The world froze. Your fork halted midway to your mouth.

Your stomach turned cold. “…What exam?” The words left your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible over the morning chatter. Chai Latte Cookie, mid-sip of her tea, nearly choked. She set her cup down with exaggerated care, blinking at you.

“Please, please tell me you’re joking.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. “You did study for it, right?” Your mind was a blank slate. A vast, unforgiving void where surely there should have been notes, recollections, some indication that you had not simply walked into impending doom. But there was nothing. Not a single page of memory turned in your favor.

Perhaps it was the anxiety…Earl Grey Cookie regarded you with his usual, piercing stare. “Don’t tell me you” Your head hit the table with a dull thud. “I forgot.” Chai Latte let out a long, suffering sigh. “Oh, honey.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled, shaking his head. “This is going to be fun.” Fun. Fun was not the word you would have chosen. The waffles had never tasted so bittersweet.

You groaned into the wooden table, muffling a barely restrained why does the universe hate me? against its surface. Chai Latte Cookie patted your back, equal parts sympathy and amusement in her touch. “Hey, at least you remembered now instead of the night before the exam.” That wasn’t exactly comforting. Lifting your head just enough to peek at them, you croaked out, “What’s it even on?”

Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, ever the diligent scholar. “Professor Almond Cookie mentioned it multiple times,” he said, though there was no true malice in his tone, just that sharp, perceptive edge of his. “It’s covering everything from our last three lectures: the fundamental applications of enchanted sigils, the properties of shifting hexes, and the historical cases of spell miscalculations leading to catastrophic failures.”

Your stomach dropped. You had definitely not studied for that. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie whistled. “Oof. Yeah, you might want to start reviewing immediately.” Chai Latte Cookie nodded sagely. “Good thing you have your standing appointment with the Sage of Truth.”

You groaned again. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, smirking over her tea. “And so will he when you show up looking like you’ve forgotten what words are.”

Hazelnut Biscotti grinned. “Do you think he already knows you forgot? Maybe he foresaw this exact moment and is just waiting to see how you’ll react.”

You shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed, tapping his fingers against his book. “Regardless, you should use your time wisely. That exam is extensive, and you’ll need a structured review plan if you want to pass.” Your fingers curled around your cup, mind already racing ahead. Shadow Milk Cookie would definitely help. You already had an established time to meet, after all. But the thought of admitting yet another failure in the presence of him…You exhaled, steadying yourself. There was no avoiding it. If you wanted to stand a chance, you needed his guidance. Even if it meant unraveling yourself before the Sage of Truth once more. Getting to lecture felt like impending doom you took your breakfast with you. The only anecdote to get you through the morning.

Professor Almond Custard Cookie’s lecture had already begun, but you were still lost in the remnants of your breakfast. The honey-drizzled waffles melted on your tongue with just the right balance of sweetness, the crisp edges giving way to the warm, soft center. And the pineapple perfectly ripe, bursting with a tangy sweetness had been a gift from the heavens themselves. You weren’t about to let such a rare treat go to waste. So there you sat, half-tuned into the lecture, half-devoted to savoring every last bite.

“now, let’s review the foundational principles behind sigil layering,” Professor Almond Custard droned, pacing at the front of the hall. The familiar scratch of quills against parchment surrounded you, your classmates diligently taking notes as the professor gestured toward a series of complex sigils drawn across the enchanted blackboard.

“These are fundamental to understanding the structure of shifting hexes, and thus will be a focal point in next week’s exam.” You nearly choked on your last bite of waffle. The exam. You knew about it now, of course but that didn’t mean you were prepared. Swallowing hastily, you cast a panicked glance toward your friends. Chai Latte Cookie, seated beside you, sipped her tea with the air of someone entirely unbothered.

When she caught your expression, she raised a brow, lips curving into an all-too-knowing smirk. Earl Grey Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, sitting just ahead, were already scribbling notes, perfectly composed. Earl Grey, ever perceptive, didn’t even need to look to know you were struggling. “You should be writing this down,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. You fumbled for your quill. Right. Professor Almond Custard continued, his voice steady and practiced. “Now, who can explain why improper sigil placement in hexes leads to instability?”

A few hands went up. You shoved the last piece of pineapple into your mouth, hurriedly swallowing as you tried to force your mind to focus. You had an appointment with Shadow Milk Cookie later. You would fix this. You’d ask him to go over everything sigils, hexes, historical catastrophes. You would prepare. But for now…You needed to at least pretend you knew what was going on.

The moment your eyes landed on the sigils scrawled across the blackboard, everything clicked into place. The elegant curves, the precise intersections, the delicate but deliberate layering it was all familiar to you now. You had spent hours under Shadow Milk Cookie’s careful instruction, tracing these very symbols beneath the warm glow of candlelight, his voice a steady guide through the labyrinth of knowledge. Preparation alone wasn’t enough, of course.

Knowledge required application, understanding beyond rote memorization. But as the professor continued his explanation, you found yourself keeping pace. The connections formed naturally, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. You exhaled, steadying yourself. You knew this. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie turned slightly, as if checking on you. When he saw the recognition in your gaze, he gave a small nod of approval before refocusing on his notes. Chai Latte Cookie, ever observant, smirked knowingly beside you. She nudged your arm just enough to make you roll your eyes.

"See?" she murmured under her breath. "Told you he makes a difference." You said nothing, but the warmth in your chest spoke volumes. Still, one thing was certain no amount of familiarity with the material would change the fact that you needed to prove your understanding. And that meant making the most of your session with Shadow Milk Cookie later. You had no intention of disappointing him.

You would not-could not disappoint him. Not after yesterday. Not after his words, his unwavering belief in you, his golden eyes watching you not just as a scholar, but as you. The weight of his voice still echoed in your mind, the way he had considered your words so carefully before offering his own. "If it were you… then I suppose… waiting a century would not be such a terrible thing."

A century. A hundred years. An eternity compressed into something so simple, so effortless, as if time itself could bend beneath the weight of a promise unspoken. Your heart tightened, but not in fear. No, this was something else. Something warmer. Something that burned, pushing you forward, making you want to be better not just for yourself, but for the one who had come to guide you.

You kept your focus locked on Professor Almond Custard’s lecture, barely sparing a glance at your half-eaten honey-drizzled waffles and pineapple slices. Normally, the sweetness would have held your attention, but now the symbols before you demanded your full awareness. Sigils layered in meticulous arrays sprawled across the board, shifting in meaning with every line the professor added. Some students furrowed their brows, their quills scratching hastily against parchment as they tried to keep up.

But you? You could see it now. Each stroke, each arrangement it made sense. Not long ago, this level of understanding would have felt out of reach, the logic slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you tried to grasp it. But today, the pieces fit together seamlessly, as if something deep within you had finally unlocked.

Shadow Milk Cookie had been right. The realization filled you with a quiet sort of pride, the kind that settled deep in your bones rather than bursting to the surface. You straightened in your seat, your notes no longer frantic but measured, deliberate. You were going to prove yourself.

Even so, preparation was not enough. If you wanted to truly master this, if you wanted to stand before Professor Almond Custard’s exam next week with certainty, you needed more time. More refinement. More of him. The thought cemented itself before you even finished considering it. You would have to skip lab today. The decision wasn’t made lightly. You valued your grades, and while lab sections were important, they were not weighted nearly as much as the main course. You could afford to drop your lowest lab score, but you couldn’t afford to let your overall comprehension suffer. Not when you had the opportunity to sharpen your understanding under Shadow Milk Cookie’s guidance.

But that meant one thing, apologizing to Chai Latte Cookie. The moment the lecture concluded, you turned toward her, already wincing. "Chai, I"

She held up a hand, already grinning. “You’re skipping lab to go study with the Sage, aren’t you?”

You groaned. “I hate how well you know me.”

She laughed, waving off your concern. “Please, I knew the moment you actually paid attention today instead of zoning out that you were going to pull something like this.”

You sighed. “I am sorry, though. I know we had a system...” Chai Latte Cookie linked her arm through yours with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, woe is me, abandoned by my beloved lab partner in my time of need.”

Then, she winked. “Don’t worry, I can handle it. I’ll tell Professor Star Anise you got sick.”

Guilt tugged at you. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said without hesitation. “Besides, let’s be real you’re way more stressed about that exam than the lab. And if studying with him makes you feel like you can handle it, then go.”

You exhaled, relief washing over you. “Thank you, Chai. Seriously.” She nudged your side playfully. “Just make sure you don’t get too distracted.”

Heat bloomed across your cheeks. “Chai!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, who had been gathering his materials nearby, snorted. “She’s not wrong, though.” You buried your face in your hands. “Not helping.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, merely adjusted his glasses. “If anything, it’s a practical choice. The Sage of Truth is an invaluable resource.”

He paused, then added, “But Chai does make a fair point. Try to keep your thoughts academic.” You groaned, swiping up your books before your friends could torment you any further.

“I am studying, I’ll have you know.”

Chai Latte Cookie grinned, tilting her head. “Oh, of course you are.” With one last sigh, you turned to leave, the weight of their knowing glances trailing after you.

But even their teasing couldn’t overshadow the anticipation building in your chest. Afternoon would come soon enough. And he would be waiting. The Scholar’s Wing loomed before you, its towering spires and arched windows casting long shadows across the courtyard. You had never rushed here like this before...never felt this level of urgency gnawing at your ribs, making every step feel both too fast and not fast enough.

You were early. Far too early. You knew it. You had actively chosen to be early, skipping your lab section entirely. Chai Latte Cookie had understood, even encouraged it, but that didn’t stop the lingering guilt from creeping up your spine. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were making the right choice. That this mattered more. That he mattered more.

No, not like that. You shook your head, trying to dispel the thought before it could take root. It wasn’t about him. It was about the exam. About needing to prepare. About not wanting to disappoint the one scholar in this academy whose respect you had begun to crave. …And yet, your feet carried you just a little too quickly to his door. Your heart, beat a little too fast for this to be just about studying. You inhaled sharply, pressed your hands against the heavy wooden door, and stepped inside. The scent of parchment, aged ink, and a faint trace of something celestial greeted you like moonlight and old libraries. And there, seated at his desk, was him. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced up, golden eyes flickering with recognition then mild surprise. He wasn’t expecting you. He shouldn’t have been expecting you.

His brows lifted ever so slightly. “You’re early.” There was something pointed in his tone, not unkind, but certainly knowing. His gaze flickered toward the enchanted hourglass on his desk. “You should be in lab right now.”

You swallowed hard, shifting on your feet. You had known this would come up, and yet, under his piercing gaze, it was somehow ten times harder to explain yourself. Still, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze. His brilliant, knowing, endlessly patient gaze.

“I need your help more than the lab.” A beat of silence passed. Then another. Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his golden eyes sharp yet unreadable, as if weighing the truth of your words. Then, with a quiet sigh, he set down his quill and leaned back ever so slightly in his chair.

“Very well,” he murmured, amusement ghosting the edge of his voice. “You have my undivided attention. Now,” his eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist “tell me everything.” You exhaled slowly, trying to steady the anxious energy thrumming beneath your skin. Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes watched you. Calm, steady, waiting. His patience was endless, yet somehow, that only made it harder to find the words.

You clenched your hands at your sides, then finally admitted, “It’s about Professor Almond Custard’s exam.” You hesitated, heart pounding, before adding, “I’ve been coming to your tutoring sessions. I’ve been paying attention. I’ve done the readings, the exercises you’ve seen me do them.” You exhaled sharply. “But I’m still worried I won’t do well.”

His expression didn’t change no pity, no irritation, only quiet understanding. His hands folded over the open pages of his research tome, and when he spoke, his voice was as composed and deliberate as ever. “You doubt yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “I just” Your fingers curled into fists, frustration creeping into your voice. “I know I’ve improved. I feel like I’ve improved. But what if it’s not enough? What if I think I understand everything, but when the exam comes, my mind just-just shuts down?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you in silence for a moment, as if carefully unraveling each layer of your doubt.

Then, slowly, he gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit.” You hesitated only a moment before obeying, settling into the chair and setting your bag on your lap. He rested his elbow on his desk, fingers poised lightly against his cheek, watching you with that same unreadable gaze. “Show me,” he said simply. Your brows furrowed. “Show you…?”

“Your notes. Your understanding. Show me what you have learned.” Right. Of course. You fumbled with your bag, pulling out your notebook and flipping to the most recent pages, filled with meticulously copied sigils, dense theories, and rewritten formulas.

The ink was smudged in places where you had rewritten sections too many times, where frustration had nearly won, where self-doubt had whispered that none of it would stick. Shadow Milk Cookie took the notebook with careful hands, his fingers barely grazing the edges of the parchment. His gaze flickered over the pages, absorbing every word, every correction, every hastily scrawled margin note. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally “This is good.” The words were so unexpected, so decisive, that your breath hitched. You blinked at him, mouth opening slightly, but no sound came out. He turned a page. “Your sigil work is precise. Your understanding of transmutation is solid. Even your margin notes show an active engagement with the material.” He tapped a section where you had underlined a key theorem three times. “This is not the work of someone who has learned nothing.”

Heat crept up your neck. “But what if” He lifted a hand ever so slightly, a silent request for pause. You clamped your mouth shut. His golden eyes met yours. “You say you understand these concepts in tutoring. You apply them correctly here, in your notes. And yet, you fear they will abandon you in the moment of the exam.”

You swallowed, nodding stiffly. His gaze softened. “You have come far. You know that, do you not?”

You hesitated. “I… I do.” “You are not here because you lack understanding.” His voice was gentle, but certain. “You are here because you fear that understanding will not be enough.”

Your throat tightened. “…Yes.” Shadow Milk Cookie set the notebook down and laced his fingers together, his expression unreadable for a moment.

Then, he let out a quiet hum. “Then let us put your fear to rest.” You blinked. “What?” His lips quirked upward, just slightly. “You came early, seeking more time to prepare.” He gestured to the notebook. “So we shall prepare.” Something in your chest loosened, just a little.

You nodded, more eager than you expected to be. “Okay.”

He leaned forward slightly, his presence calm, assured unshakable. “We will begin with transmutation theory. Walk me through the process, as you would in the exam.” You inhaled deeply, flipping to the appropriate page in your notes. You can do this. Because this time, you weren’t alone. You took a steadying breath, letting the familiar symbols and words in your notes ground you. Shadow Milk Cookie remained silent, watching with that ever-patient gaze, his hands still folded before him as if he had all the time in the world. It was reassuring and terrifying all at once.

Start simple. Build from there. “Okay,” you began, fingers tracing the inked lines on the parchment. “Transmutation theory. The fundamental principle is the conversion of one form of magic into another an alteration, not creation. That’s the first distinction. You can’t make something from nothing. There has to be an initial essence to manipulate.”

He gave a slow nod. “And the primary laws governing this?” You swallowed, flipping back to an earlier section in your notes where the core tenets of transmutation were outlined. “Right. There are three foundational laws: the Law of Equivalence, the Law of Conservation, and the Law of Stability.”

You tapped the first one. “The Law of Equivalence states that the magical properties of the original substance must match or be proportionate to the intended outcome. If they don’t, the transmutation fails or worse, backfires.”

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed in approval. “And the Law of Conservation?”

You nodded, growing more confident. “Magic doesn’t vanish it shifts. The amount of energy present before the transmutation must equal the amount after. If there’s excess energy, it needs to be redirected somewhere, or else it destabilizes the process.” His golden gaze flickered with something unreadable. “And if too much energy is lost?”

“The transmutation weakens or fails entirely.” You exhaled sharply. “Which ties into the Law of Stability. Any transmutation must be performed within a stable magical field, or external interference, whether intentional or environmental, can disrupt the process.”

Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head ever so slightly, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Good.”

Your breath caught. Good. He didn’t often say that. Normally, he made you prove it. Testing, challenging, guiding you to the right answer only when you’d struggled long enough to earn it. But this time, he accepted your answer without further questioning, without the usual probing remarks meant to push you further. Because of yesterday. Because of that moment his words, your words, the shift in the air between you. You swallowed, pushing forward before your thoughts could spiral.

“Applying these laws, transmutation can be classified into structured and unstructured forms. Structured transmutation follows predetermined matrices, sigils, arrays, written formulas; whereas unstructured relies purely on raw magical control and adaptability.”

Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “And which is more volatile?” “Unstructured,” you answered without hesitation. “Since it lacks an anchor, it requires immense focus and magical control to maintain stability. Structured transmutation is more rigid but far safer.”

He let the answer settle before prompting, “And which does Professor Almond Custard favor?”

You hesitated. “…Unstructured.” His brows raised ever so slightly. You groaned. “Which is so unfair. Because we’ve only been doing structured transmutation in class. Why even give us matrices to practice if he’s going to expect us to-”

“A test of adaptability,” Shadow Milk Cookie interrupted smoothly, his voice calm in contrast to your growing frustration.

“Knowledge is valuable, but so is application.”

You sighed. “I know. I just wish it wasn’t something that could literally backfire if I mess it up.”

His gaze softened, not in amusement, not in challenge, but in something quieter, something reassuring. “Then let us ensure you do not.” The tension in your shoulders eased just a little.

You nodded. “Right. Okay.” You flipped to the next section in your notes, running a finger along the lines of dense writing. “Then there’s dynamic elemental interplay. When transmutation involves shifting one element into another. The closer two elements are on the magical spectrum, the easier the transition. The further apart, the more energy it takes.”

He gestured for you to continue. “For example,” you said, “changing water to ice is relatively simple because they’re closely related. But changing fire to water is significantly harder because you’re dealing with opposing natures.” Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head. “And how does one mitigate the instability of such a transmutation?” You hesitated, running through what you knew before carefully answering, “By either introducing a stabilizing agent like an intermediary element or by reinforcing the magical field to reduce external interference.”

The corner of his lips quirked up not quite a smile, but something close. “You are well-prepared.” There it was again. The validation, unprompted, freely given.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You stared at him, thrown for a moment. “I-I mean, I think so?” His golden eyes held yours, steady and certain. “I do not say things without reason.” Your throat tightened. The weight of his words, the certainty of them, settled over you like warmth against the ever-present chill of doubt.

Slowly, he closed your notebook, his fingers lingering briefly on the worn parchment. “You know these theories. You have studied them well. Your fear is not of failure, but of your own doubt.”

You lowered your gaze, pressing your lips together.

“I just… I don’t want to disappoint-” You cut yourself off, the words catching in your throat. Disappoint who? Your professor? Yourself? Or the one sitting before you now, the one whose praise so rare, so measured had somehow become something you craved? Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice was softer when he spoke again.

“You will not.” You swallowed hard, looking up at him. He held your gaze for a long moment before nodding toward your notes. “Shall we continue?” You inhaled deeply. Then, steadier this time “Yes.” The study session stretched on, the rhythmic back-and-forth between you and Shadow Milk Cookie settling into a steady flow. He posed questions, sometimes leading, sometimes deliberately vague, testing how far you could reach before he guided you toward the right answer. When you faltered, he gave you just enough space to find your footing again.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but the frustration that had knotted your shoulders at the start had long since melted away. The theories, the laws, the formulas they all wove together with a clarity that had eluded you before. Perhaps it was his patience, or maybe just the way he spoke, each word deliberate, measured, filled with an unwavering certainty that left no room for doubt. The parchment beneath your fingers blurred slightly as you fought to keep up with your own notes, scrawling down key insights between spoken explanations.

Your hand was starting to cramp, your thoughts teetering on the edge of exhaustion, when “That is enough for now.” You blinked, the abrupt statement pulling you out of your concentrated haze. Shadow Milk Cookie reached forward, closing your notebook with an air of finality.

“…What?” You frowned, still processing the sudden shift. “It is time for lunch,” he said, rising from his seat with the same unhurried grace he always carried.

“You will need more fuel if you wish to continue studying effectively.” You stared at him. Shadow Milk Cookie, calling for a break? Not you, not after growing too tired to focus or feeling your stomach protest from neglecting to eat. Him.

“…Huh.” You leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re the one stopping for a break? That’s new.” A flicker of amusement passed through his golden gaze.

“You act as though I do not eat.”

“Do you?” you shot back, half-teasing. “Because sometimes I wonder.”

His lips quirked not quite a smile, but close. “Come.” You hesitated only briefly before sighing and rising from your chair, stretching your stiff limbs. “Fine, fine.” You cast a last glance at your notes before following him toward the dining hall. The lingering warmth of his earlier praise still echoed in your mind.

As you walked alongside Shadow Milk Cookie, the air between you was… comfortable. Perhaps it was the lingering ease of having successfully navigated the study session, or maybe it was simply the quiet certainty of his presence. Either way, you found yourself talking about nothing in particular, just filling the space with whatever crossed your mind.

“So, do you think transmutation could work on food?” you mused, half-serious. “Like, if I got tired of my soup and wanted it to be cake instead?”

Shadow Milk Cookie glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “You would require a base element with similar magical properties. Soup and cake are… incompatible.”

You snorted. “That’s the part you take issue with? Not the fact that I’m trying to turn my lunch into dessert?” He hummed, folding his hands behind his back.

“A questionable use of magic, but not impossible.” You grinned, letting the conversation wander further. “Alright, then what about transmuting dreams? If you could alter them, make them into something tangible-”

“An imprecise science,” he mused. “Dreams lack a stable form. To transmute them would require first anchoring them in reality.”

“So, basically, I’d have to bottle a dream first?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

You sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll have to abandon my dream of dream transmutation, then.” A soft huff of amusement escaped him. “A paradoxical statement.”

The back-and-forth continued as you made your way to the dining hall, your questions becoming more ridiculous, more aimless anything to keep talking, anything to keep his attention just a little longer. Not that he seemed to mind.

He answered each question with the same patience as always, as if indulging your nonsense was just as important as discussing transmutation theory. The early afternoon air clung to your skin, cool and thick with the scent of rain that had yet to fall. The floating lanterns that lined the Academy’s walkways flickered with a gentle, wavering light, their glow catching in the golden thread embroidered along his sleeves.

The two of you walked in step though, in truth, it was you who matched his pace, trailing just half a step behind, resisting the urge to look up at him every time the warm lantern light reflected in his golden eyes.

Shadow Milk Cookie was always composed, always poised in that effortless way that only someone like him could be. And yet, you swore you saw something flicker across his face whenever you spoke something fleeting, something you were never quite fast enough to catch. Your hand twitched by your side, fingers curling, then uncurling, before you gave in and reached out.

Not his hand, no you weren’t that bold. But the sleeve of his robes, the fine fabric slipping between your fingers like water. He didn’t stop walking, but he turned his head slightly, just enough to let you see the quiet curiosity in his expression. Not surprised, not alarmed only watching.

Waiting. Your heart pounded. “Wait,” you said, but you didn’t slow your steps. “Just… I need to ask something.” There was no hesitation.

“Then ask.” You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You scrambled for something before the moment slipped from your grasp. “Do you think the moon ever wishes it could touch the sun?”

A slow blink. Then, a soft hum. “A rather poetic notion.” You let out a nervous laugh, gaze fixed ahead. “You didn’t answer.”

“I was considering my response.” A pause. “Do you believe it does?”

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head slightly. “And why is that?”

“Because…” You hesitated, tightening your hold on his sleeve. “Because it’s always chasing after it. And yet, no matter how close it gets, it can never reach it.” His expression did not change, but something in his gaze sharpened, as though he could see right through you.

You pressed on before you lost your nerve. “And what about rivers?” you asked, voice just a little too breathless. “Do you think they ever get tired of flowing forward?” His lips parted slightly, as if the question had genuinely caught him off guard. You didn’t give him time to answer.

“What about echoes? Do you think they feel lonely, only ever repeating what they hear?”

A soft exhale. “What are you truly asking?” Your throat went dry. You had walked this path to the dining halls a hundred times before, but now, the distance felt immeasurable. Every step, every moment, stretched longer than it should have. You glanced up at him, at the serene, unreadable expression he always wore. He was so calm, so unaffected, as if nothing in this world could ever shake him.

But you had seen the way his brows furrowed when you asked too many questions, the way he tilted his head when your words gave him pause. You had seen him think had seen the exact moment when something you said left him considering.

Maybe that was why you spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. “And… what about yesterday?” His steps slowed just a fraction. You pressed forward. “You said something to me. Something I don’t understand.”

Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, the lantern light casting long shadows across his face. "Then ask me again.” Your pulse pounded. "You said I was the question you didn't want to answer."

A pause. He did not look away, nor did he interrupt. So you kept going. “But that doesn’t make sense. You always have answers. You don’t waste words, you don’t leave things unresolved. And if you ever refuse to answer something, it’s only because you already know the truth, and you just don’t want to say it out loud.”

His eyes gleamed. A breath. "Perhaps," he murmured.

"Then why?" Your grip on his sleeve tightened. “Why won’t you answer me?” Silence. You hated it. You hated how he could leave things hanging in the air like that how he could make you feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying. His expression remained still, but there was something else now something restrained. As if he were weighing his words with the utmost care, ensuring that whatever left his lips would not be something he would regret.

Finally, he spoke. "Because some truths,” he said, voice quiet, “once spoken, cannot be taken back.” Your breath hitched. Your fingers, still gripping his sleeve, trembled.

"But I-" You swallowed hard. "I deserve to know." A flicker of something, something just beneath the surface, something almost unreadable. Then, so softly it barely reached your ears, "Yes," he admitted. "You do."

The entrance to the dining hall loomed just ahead. The warmth of it, the voices of other students, the scent of fresh bread and tea it all pressed against the edges of this moment, threatening to shatter the fragile silence between you. But still, he did not move. Still, his gaze did not waver.

“…Not yet though,” he murmured at last. The words settled between you like an unfinished sentence, like a book missing its final page. Your grip on his sleeve loosened, but you didn’t step away. The doors to the dining hall stood open before you. The world beyond this quiet moment beckoned. And yet, you could not move. Not yet. Your fingers curled loosely around the fabric of his sleeve, a fragile tether between you and the only answer you sought. You barely realized you had stopped walking until you felt the shift the absence of movement, the pause of your breath. Shadow Milk Cookie did not pull away.

A/N I know it's an odd spot to stop But I didn't feel well enough to finish the scene so ch 18 will be a little longer...I feel horrible and sorry y'all this was supposed to be out on friday but yknow I got cursed by the heavens or whatever

Anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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[the-astral-librarian]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 14

<<<Previous Next>>>

The morning air was crisp as you and your friends weaved through the lesser-traveled paths of the Academy grounds. The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting long shadows over the cobblestone pathways, the faint hum of morning lectures and student chatter still distant enough to not be a concern. It wasn’t difficult to find the path leading down to the Astral River the shimmering divide between the Academy and the Ghost City. Normally, students would take the officially sanctioned routes: bridges, portals, or authorized ferries. But that wasn’t your group’s style. “Are you sure he’s going to be here this early?” Earl Grey Cookie murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as you all neared the water’s edge. “Of course,” Chai Latte Cookie said breezily, walking ahead. “The Ferryman’s always here. It’s kind of his whole thing.” And sure enough there, standing at the shore, was the Ferryman. A skeletal figure draped in tattered robes, the Ferryman clutched his ever-present scythe, the blade gleaming faintly with an ethereal glow. His hat, adorned with its peculiar crosshatched pattern, tilted slightly as he turned toward your group. Despite his grim appearance, his expression brightened upon seeing you all approach.

“Ah, greetings, little travelers,” the Ferryman drawled, his voice echoing like the wind through hollow bones. “Do you wish to journey across the Astral River?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned in slightly. “Depends. What’s your price today?” The Ferryman let out a deep, rattling laugh, one that sent an eerie ripple across the water’s surface. “The same as always, my dear friends. Company. Conversation to keep this weary soul entertained.” He sighed dramatically. “An eternity of ferrying can be such a lonely task, you know.” “You literally see students all the time,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “Ah, but they rarely have such charming tales to tell,” the Ferryman countered. Earl Grey Cookie exhaled through his nose, already bracing himself. “Fine. What do you want to hear?” The Ferryman grinned, stepping aside and motioning to the shimmering water behind him. “Tell me a story as we walk.” With that, he tapped the butt of his scythe against the river’s surface. The water rippled, then stilled, taking on an almost glass-like sheen. It was always strange, walking across the Astral River. Each step sent soft waves beneath your feet, yet you never felt like you were sinking. Instead, it was as if the river itself had decided, just for this moment, to carry you.

As you all stepped forward, Chai Latte Cookie took the lead in entertaining the Ferryman, launching into a retelling of a particularly embarrassing Academy mishap involving a misfired spell and a very grumpy librarian. The Ferryman chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, students and their magical blunders. Some things never change.”

As the journey continued, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back toward the Academy, its towering spires growing smaller in the distance. There was something exhilarating about sneaking away like this, even if it was just for ice cream. Soon enough, the mist of the Ghost City curled around your ankles, the outline of buildings and flickering lanterns coming into view. The Ferryman finally came to a halt, tapping his scythe against the air. The shimmering path beneath your feet vanished, leaving you safely on the shore. “And here we are,” he announced grandly. “Your destination, delivered without incident.” He let out another rattling laugh. “See? I am an excellent guide.” “You say that like we’ve ever had an issue,” you teased.

“Ah, but one never knows when adventure may strike.” The Ferryman gave a dramatic bow. “Now, enjoy your time in the Ghost City, little travelers. But remember, should you need passage back, I will be waiting.” “Of course you will,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered under his breath. With a few final words of thanks, you and your friends slipped past the misty streets, leaving the Ferryman’s presence behind as you ventured toward the city’s well-known ice cream shop. Now, the real fun could begin. The Ghost City was unlike anywhere else in the world. It was a place caught between realms, where the past and present wove together like threads of mist. Lanterns flickered with eerie green and blue flames, casting long shadows that wavered like living things. The cobbled streets curved in ways that defied logic, twisting around grand, towering buildings with architecture lost to time. Phantasmal figures drifted through the air, remnants of ages past, some engaged in endless conversations while others simply watched the living pass by. Despite its spectral nature, the city was lively. The market square bustled with ghostly vendors selling goods both familiar and arcane enchanted trinkets, glowing fruits, and books that whispered their contents aloud if one dared to open them. The air carried the scent of spiced cider, roasted nuts, and of course, the unmistakable sweetness of freshly made ice cream. You and your friends wove through the streets, eyes wide with wonder. There was something about the Ghost City that made you all feel lighter, as if the weight of lectures, expectations, and the Academy’s rigid structure had been left behind on the other side of the river. Here, in the lantern-lit mist, you weren’t students of magic, burdened with studying and stress, you were just you.

“First stop! The ice cream shop,” Chai Latte Cookie announced, marching forward with purpose. “No distractions!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie scoffed. “You’re saying that? The same person who stopped twice already to admire cursed jewelry?” “I was appreciating craftsmanship!” she shot back, nose in the air. “Anyway, priorities. Ice cream.” The shop was an institution among Academy students. Tucked away on a side street, its glowing purple sign read The Wisp & Whimsy, promising flavors both mundane and magical. A bell jingled as you stepped inside, and immediately, the air was filled with the crisp chill of frozen treats and the rich aroma of caramelized sugar. The glass display cases stretched across the room, holding an array of colors and textures, some of which shimmered or changed hues when viewed from different angles. The owner, a friendly old ghost who had perfected the art of frozen desserts in his afterlife, drifted over with a knowing smile. “Back again, I see. And what will it be this time?”

The four of you lined up, eyes scanning the case with the seriousness of scholars poring over ancient texts. Chai Latte Cookie was the first to decide. “Vanilla bean with honeycomb shards,” she declared, grinning. “Classic, a little sweet, but with a crunch.” She gave you a wink. “Just like me.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, peering over the selection. “Earl Grey ice cream with dark chocolate flakes,” he finally said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “A refined choice, obviously.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie didn’t even hesitate. “Hazelnut gelato with crushed biscotti on top,” he said, nodding as if confirming the universe’s natural order. “Perfect balance of texture and flavor. No notes.” All eyes turned to you. “What about you, (Y/N)?” Chai Latte Cookie asked, rocking on her heels. There was no rush. You took a moment, looking over the options, considering your choice carefully before making your order. Pineapple ice cream, with pineapple chunks when it was finally scooped into your hands, the chill of it seeping through the cup, you couldn’t help but smile. With your frozen treasures secured, the four of you dashed back outside, ice cream in hand, laughing like children set loose in a festival. Chai Latte Cookie immediately looped her arm through yours, steering you toward the center square. “Alright, so what’s the plan? We have the whole city at our feet!” “We could check out that bookstore Hazelnut keeps nerding out about,” Earl Grey Cookie suggested, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his ice cream. “Or, if you want to be really adventurous, we could visit the Phantom’s Alley.”

Chai Latte Cookie shuddered. “Absolutely not. Last time we went down there, a ghost whispered in my ear and I swear I lost ten years off my life.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed, already flipping through his ever-present notebook. “We could try and track down one of the wandering storytellers! They always know the best ghost tales.” “Or,” you suggested between bites of your ice cream, “we could just… enjoy the city. Walk around, explore, see where we end up.” They all paused. Then Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “I like that plan.” So that’s what you did. You wandered through the streets, stopping wherever something caught your eye watching a street magician conjure floating lanterns that danced to silent music, daring each other to taste-test one of the market’s glowing candies, peeking through the windows of long-forgotten buildings where books floated idly in the air. The laughter came easy, the conversations endless. It was one of those rare, perfect moments. The kind where nothing else existed outside of the here and now. No responsibilities, no expectations, no looming pressures just the warmth of friendship, the chill of ice cream, and the magic of a city caught between life and memory. For the first time in a long while, you all felt truly, blissfully free. The city pulsed with an eerie yet thrilling energy, its lantern-lit streets humming with a life that defied its ghostly nature. Wandering through the mist-veiled alleys and bustling market squares, you and your friends felt like children again free to indulge in mischief, to chase fleeting joys, to forget, even for a little while, the weight of the Academy’s expectations. Your adventure truly began at the Market of Forgotten Goods, a sprawling bazaar filled with relics from ages past. Ghostly vendors called out their wares, offering everything from enchanted quills that never ran out of ink to books that whispered their own contents when opened. The air smelled of parchment, dried herbs, and something vaguely metallic, as if the very essence of lost time had settled over the marketplace.

Chai Latte Cookie let out a gasp of delight as she tugged you toward a stand displaying jewelry, each piece embedded with stones that pulsed like tiny heartbeats. “Look at these! Tell me they’re not gorgeous.” She held up a delicate ring that gleamed with a soft golden glow, tilting her head in consideration. “Do you think it would look good on me?” “It’s probably cursed,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered without looking up from his notebook, where he was diligently scribbling notes about the marketplace. Chai Latte Cookie huffed. “You always say that. Maybe I like a little mystery.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, inspecting a pocket watch that ticked without visible hands. “I think what Hazelnut means is that everything here has some magic attached to it. A ring that glows like that? It probably has an interesting history.” You chuckled as Chai Latte Cookie twirled the ring between her fingers, then slipped it onto her finger anyway. “Guess I’ll just have to live with the consequences.” The market held its fair share of curiosities, from bottled moonlight to mirrors that refused to show your reflection unless you asked them a question. You picked up a small music box and turned the key, only for a hauntingly beautiful melody to spill out a tune that sounded familiar yet just out of reach. “Cursed,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said again. “You’re the worst,” Chai Latte Cookie shot back, but there was no bite to her words. As you wandered deeper into the city, the air grew colder, and the streets became narrower. Without meaning to, you all found yourselves standing at the entrance to Phantom’s Alley, a place notorious for its eerie whispers and ghostly apparitions. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the cobblestone, twisting into shapes that shouldn’t have been possible.

Earl Grey Cookie crossed his arms. “Alright, if one of us is going to get haunted today, my bet is on Hazelnut.” “Excuse me?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shot him an incredulous look. “Why me?” “You take notes on everything,” Earl Grey Cookie pointed out. “Ghosts love unfinished business. You’d make the perfect target.” “You guys are terrible,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered, but he still flipped open his notebook, pen at the ready. “You’re all insane for thinking we should go in,” Chai Latte Cookie cut in, eyes narrowed at the darkened alleyway. But when you took a step forward, she immediately grabbed your sleeve, fingers tightening. “I mean, if you insist, at least don’t leave me behind.” The air inside Phantom’s Alley was different. It clung to you, thick and heavy, charged with an unnatural stillness. Every so often, you swore you heard faint laughter just beyond earshot, just out of reach. “Well,” you said, voice deliberately even, “this isn’t too bad.” A whisper slithered through the silence. You shouldn’t be here. Chai Latte Cookie shrieked. Earl Grey Cookie clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes crinkling with barely-contained laughter, while Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie furiously jotted something down. “What did it sound like? Male? Female? Was it an echo, or-” “It sounded like a bad decision,” Chai Latte Cookie snapped, tugging you toward the exit. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue. Even if it was just playful ghostly mischief, there was only so much heart-racing adventure one could take in a day. A few streets down, you stumbled upon a gathering in the town square. Wisps of spectral light floated in the air, illuminating a group of ghostly figures seated in a circle. At the center stood a woman whose translucent form flickered like candlelight as she spoke. “The Storyteller’s Circle,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie mused, adjusting his glasses. “They share tales of the city’s past. Some say they were part of its past.” You and your friends sat among the listeners as the storyteller wove a tale of lost lovers who could only meet in the Ghost City once every hundred years. Her voice wasn’t loud, yet it filled the space as if whispered directly into your mind. “Kind of romantic,” Chai Latte Cookie murmured, resting her chin in her hands. “Imagine waiting a hundred years just to see someone again.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie scoffed. “Sounds tragic.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. But some people are worth waiting for.” You glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at you; his gaze was distant, lost in thought. Before you could dwell on it, the ghost finished her story, and the crowd murmured their appreciation in soft, breathless tones. Eventually, as the sky turned a deeper shade of blue, you all found yourselves back at the ice cream shop, drawn in by the sheer delight of indulgence. “Alright,” Earl Grey Cookie announced, arms crossed, “we need to settle something. What is the objectively best ice cream flavor?” “You can’t be serious,” Chai Latte Cookie groaned. “We just did this earlier.” “I am serious,” Earl Grey Cookie countered. “This is important.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “He just wants validation.” “I think,” you mused, “we should all try something different and compare.” That led to another round of ice cream, a heated debate on the merits of each flavor, and ultimately, no conclusion except that ice cream was always a good idea. As the city lights flickered like distant stars, you made your way back to the riverbank where the Ferryman awaited. “Had your fill of adventure?” he asked, the ever-present grin in his voice. “For now,” you admitted. As he guided you across the astral river, the Ghost City faded into the distance, its lanterns flickering like remnants of a dream. There was a sense of longing in leaving a feeling of stepping out of something magical and returning to reality. But as you glanced at your friends, still laughing, still teasing, still them, you realized the magic of the Ghost City wasn’t just in its haunted streets or its forgotten wonders. It was in the way you had all been free. And that magic? That was something you carried with you, even as the Academy’s spires loomed back into view.

Sneaking back into the Academy was a delicate art, one you and your friends had perfected over time. The night air was cool, carrying with it the last remnants of the Ghost City’s magic, as you all crept across the grounds with hushed laughter and hurried footsteps. The Academy’s towering silhouette loomed ahead, its ancient stonework bathed in moonlight. Chai Latte Cookie led the way, light on her feet, barely making a sound. Earl Grey Cookie followed close behind, adjusting his coat as he kept an eye out for wandering professors or night sentries. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, ever the meticulous one, checked his pocket watch and muttered something about making better time than last week. Once inside, the grand halls were nearly deserted, the only sounds being the soft flickering of candlelight and the distant ticking of the enchanted clocks that lined the corridors. It was late very late but you all moved with purpose toward the dining hall, not necessarily out of hunger, but for the sake of tradition. The dining hall, once filled with the clatter of conversation and the warmth of candlelit meals, was now eerily quiet. Only a few enchanted lanterns remained lit, casting soft pools of light over the long tables. The food left behind was nothing special; cold rolls, half-eaten platters of roasted vegetables, and the last remains of soup that had likely been simmering for hours. Still, none of you hesitated. You each grabbed a plate, sitting at your usual spot, keeping your voices low despite the empty space around you. The Academy was ancient, and its walls had a way of listening.

“That was so much fun,” Chai Latte Cookie sighed dreamily, resting her cheek against her palm as she poked at a slice of fruit. “I haven’t felt that free in ages.” “You say that every time we sneak out,” Earl Grey Cookie pointed out with an amused smile. “And I mean it every time.” She huffed before turning to you with a knowing look. “But I think someone had an especially enchanting time.” You blinked, mid-bite, suddenly wary. “What?” She tilted her head. “You seemed really caught up in the Storyteller’s Circle.” At that, a hush fell over the table. You felt their eyes on you, expectant, curious. The image of the ghostly storyteller drifted through your mind, her words still lingering like a haunting melody. You set your fork down. “It was just… beautiful,” you admitted, voice softer now. “The idea of someone waiting like that of a love that lasts centuries just for a fleeting moment together. I don’t know. It’s tragic, yeah, but… in a way, isn’t it kind of romantic?” Chai Latte Cookie exhaled through her nose, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I knew you’d say that.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie scoffed, flipping through the notes he had taken from earlier in the night. “Sounds miserable to me. A hundred years apart? That’s not love that’s torture.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed, contemplative. “I don’t know. Some people are worth waiting for.” You glanced at him, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he returned to his meal. Chai Latte Cookie stretched her arms above her head, letting out a breath. “Well, if I had to wait a century to see someone, I hope they’d at least make it worth it.” She shot you a teasing glance. “What do you think? Would you wait?” You hesitated, letting the question settle deep into your chest. “…I think if you love someone enough, time wouldn’t change that.” The words left your lips before you had fully thought them through, but as you said them, you realized they felt right. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered something under his breath and jotted it down in his notebook.

Chai Latte Cookie raised a brow. “Oh no. What now?” “Just adding it to my notes,” he said simply. Earl Grey Cookie leaned over to peek at the page. “You’re actually taking this seriously? It’s just a hypothetical question.” “You don’t ask questions like that unless you already have an answer,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie countered. “And I think our dear friend here has a very interesting way of looking at love.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you guys.” Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin on her hands. “No, you love us.” The conversation dissolved into hushed laughter and teasing remarks, the weight of the night settling into something warm and familiar. Eventually, when the last scraps of food were gone and exhaustion began creeping in, you all stood, stretching and stifling yawns. “Alright,” Earl Grey Cookie said, rolling his shoulders. “Time to get some sleep before we all end up sleep-deprived disasters in class.” You all murmured your agreement, quietly making your way out of the dining hall and down the corridors, the Academy’s ancient walls standing silent around you.

As you finally slipped into your dorm, shutting the door behind you, you exhaled, the events of the night playing over in your mind. The laughter, the stories, the feeling of freedom in the Ghost City. And yet, more than anything, the storyteller’s words lingered. Would you wait a hundred years for someone? You had answered so easily before, but now, alone in the quiet of your room, you weren’t sure. Because what did waiting matter… if you didn’t even know who you were waiting for?

Monday arrived sooner than you wanted, dragging you out of the warm cocoon of your blankets with an unrelenting pull. The Ghost City’s lingering magic felt like a dream now, distant and fleeting, replaced by the mundane rhythm of the Academy’s routine. You went about your morning as usual freshening up, gathering your materials for class, and heading to the dining hall, hoping for a breakfast that would soften the blow of another long week ahead. But when you stepped inside and scanned the options laid out before you, your stomach dropped just a little. No waffles. You weren’t sure why that detail bothered you so much. Maybe it was how often they’d been served last week, to the point where you’d begun to expect them, to look forward to them. Perhaps they’d had an overabundance and were simply trying to get rid of them, and now that the supply had dwindled, so had your small morning indulgence. Rationally, it wasn’t a big deal, but still, there was a quiet disappointment that settled in the pit of your stomach. With a sigh, you let your eyes drift across the breakfast spread, searching for something else, something to fill the void left behind. And then, almost absentmindedly, your gaze landed on a dish that looked familiar not because you had ever chosen it before, but because you’d seen him choose it. Shadow Milk Cookie.  

You had watched him, in the way you watched many things, from a comfortable distance. His choices had always seemed so… deliberate. Carefully selected, refined in a way that made you wonder if there was something to be learned from them. So, without thinking too hard about it, you reached for the same dish.  As you settled into your usual seat, taking your first bite, you found yourself dissecting the flavors more than you normally would. Was this good? Was this a meal worthy of someone as renowned as the Sage of Truth? You weren’t sure what you expected some grand revelation, some deeper understanding but instead, all you got was… breakfast. Not bad. Not life-changing, either. Still, you took another bite. Your friends eventually found you sitting alone at your usual spot, your fork idly prodding at your food. You hadn't been waiting for them, but the moment they arrived, the lively energy of their presence swept in like a fresh breeze. Chai Latte Cookie sat beside you first, sliding into place with effortless ease. She nudged your shoulder playfully before setting down her tray, steam curling from her tea. Across from you, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie and Earl Grey Cookie took their seats as well, their expressions far too knowing for your liking.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to speak, his voice laced with amusement. "So," he drawled, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. "Did you dream of long-lost lovers pining through the centuries?" You blinked, caught mid-bite. "What?" Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin in her hand. "You know, the story. The tragic romance. The waiting-a-hundred-years-just-to-see-each-other-again thing?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "It was quite a beautiful tale. Wouldn’t be surprised if it followed you into your dreams." Earl Grey Cookie took a sip of his tea, watching you closely. "They wouldn't admit it if it did." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie tapped his notebook yes, his notebook against the table thoughtfully. "True. But if they did have some swoon-worthy, star-crossed-lovers kind of dream, I want to know." His grin turned sharp. "So? Anything?" You rolled your eyes, stabbing your food with a little too much force. "You guys are ridiculous. It was just a story." "But a good story," Chai Latte Cookie pointed out, stirring her tea as if this was a casual discussion rather than a full-on interrogation. You scoffed. "I didn’t go to bed composing poetry about it, if that’s what you’re asking." "But you thought about it," Earl Grey Cookie said, setting his cup down with an almost victorious air.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Of course you had thought about it. The tale had clung to you, lingering in the quiet space between wakefulness and sleep. Not just the story itself, but the feeling it left behind the weight of devotion stretching across time, of love strong enough to defy centuries. You thought about it now, even as they pressed you for answers. Your silence was enough. Chai Latte Cookie exchanged a look with Earl Grey Cookie, while Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned, flipping open his notebook. "Knew it," he muttered, scribbling something down. You narrowed your eyes. "What exactly are you writing?" "Oh, nothing," he said far too innocently. "Just taking some notes." "For what?" "You," Earl Grey Cookie said simply. "You’re a very fascinating subject, you know." "Great. Love being psychoanalyzed before I’ve even finished breakfast," you deadpanned. They laughed, and you shook your head, pushing your plate away. But even as you tried to dismiss their antics, a quiet thought gnawed at the back of your mind.

It wasn’t just the story that had lingered with you. You hadn’t seen Shadow Milk Cookie yesterday not once. It wasn’t like he was always around, but after last week, after everything, his absence had been noticeable. No keen observations over your shoulder, no well-timed interjections, no presence hovering at the edge of your awareness. And now, here you were, absentmindedly choosing a breakfast he’d favored before. You sighed. Maybe you really were reading too much into things. Because, really… it was just a story. That’s all. As the morning rolled on, the four of you made your way to Almond Custard Cookie’s lecture hall, the familiar path winding through the academy’s grand corridors. The air was thick with the hum of students preparing for the day, parchment rustling and quiet conversations blending into a soft symphony of scholarly ambition. Your friends chatted as you walked, but you were more focused than usual. Today, you weren’t bracing yourself for inevitable confusion. Today, you weren’t dreading the lecture like a battle you were bound to lose. Because at some point, despite your hesitations, you had asked Shadow Milk Cookie to help you review ahead. It had been a quiet request, one you barely managed to voice without second-guessing yourself. But he had agreed graciously, eagerly even and had guided you through the future material with the same careful patience he always showed.

And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t just trying to keep up. You were keeping up. "You’re awfully quiet," Chai Latte Cookie noted, nudging your side playfully. "Are you dare I say actually confident about this lecture?" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. "A rare sight indeed," he mused. "Should we be concerned?" You rolled your eyes. "I just… studied ahead, that’s all." Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. "With his help, I assume?" You didn’t dignify that with a response, though the warmth creeping up your neck probably gave it away. Chai Latte Cookie grinned, linking her arm through yours. "Well, well, well. Look at you, being all prepared. I’m so proud!" "Don’t be," Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie deadpanned. "If they start answering questions before us, we may have to revoke their status as our perpetual academic underdog." "Harsh," you muttered, but you couldn’t help but laugh. The teasing didn’t last long, though soon enough, you had arrived at the lecture hall, filing in with the rest of the students. You took your seat, your fingers tapping absently against the desk as you glanced at the notes in front of you. You could feel a strange anticipation bubbling beneath the surface, a readiness that hadn’t been there before.

Because this time, you weren’t just hoping to scrape by. This time, you knew you could keep up. As the lecture began, Almond Custard Cookie took his place at the front of the hall, his crisp, even voice cutting through the murmurs of students settling in. He adjusted his glasses before tapping the board with the end of his cane, the subtle golden glow of magic trailing in its wake as complex runes and equations appeared. “Today,” he announced, “we will be continuing our discussion on the fundamental laws governing enchantment stability. Recall that last lecture, we examined the properties of self-sustaining magic and the principles of balance that keep an enchantment from unraveling under duress. Now, tell me what is the primary countermeasure used to reinforce unstable enchantments?” A hush fell over the hall as students scrambled through their notes, some hesitating before slowly raising their hands. For once, you weren’t frozen in place, uncertain of the answer. The concept was familiar to you now the nights spent reviewing ahead had made sure of that. You raised your hand. Almond Custard Cookie’s gaze flickered to you, his brow lifting ever so slightly in intrigue. He gestured for you to speak. “Anchor points,” you said, voice steady. “Stabilizing an enchantment can be done by binding it to a fixed locus whether it’s a physical object or an existing magical structure. This disperses excess energy and prevents the spell from collapsing in on itself.” A pause. Then, to your absolute shock, Almond Custard Cookie smiled. “Correct,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “Anchor points serve as stabilizing mechanisms, allowing enchantments to persist without degradation. A strong enough locus can even sustain high-energy spells that would otherwise fail under their own weight.” He glanced back at the board, adding a few additional notes. “It seems you’ve taken the time to study ahead. An admirable effort.”

The warmth in his voice, however subtle, sent a flicker of pride through you. Chai Latte Cookie, seated beside you, shot you a look one of both surprise and approval. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered something under his breath, scribbling in his ever-present notebook. Earl Grey Cookie, on the other hand, leaned back slightly in his chair, expression unreadable but undeniably impressed. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t just sitting there, lost and overwhelmed. You were engaged. As Almond Custard Cookie continued, you nodded along, absorbing his explanations more easily than before. When he opened the floor for further questions, you found yourself raising your hand again, inquiring about the specific limitations of anchor points when dealing with unstable ley lines. The professor blinked at you, clearly taken aback but his lips quirked upward once more. “An excellent question,” he mused before delving into an explanation. The lecture carried on, and while Almond Custard Cookie continued as he always did methodical, precise, ever so slightly intimidating there was a distinct shift in the way he regarded you. It was subtle, but there nonetheless. By the time the class ended, you could hear the murmurs around you, a few curious glances thrown your way. You ignored them, barely containing the thrill of having actually kept up for once.

As you gathered your things, Chai Latte Cookie nudged you with her elbow. “Look at you, star student,” she teased, a grin on her face. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie merely huffed. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll start answering everything. That’s my job.” You rolled your eyes, but Earl Grey Cookie, walking beside you, murmured just loud enough for you to hear “Well done.” And somehow, those two words made the whole morning even better. The transition from morning lecture to evening study had become seamless in a way you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t a forced shift, like stepping into an entirely different world, but rather a natural progression like the slow dimming of sunlight into dusk, the air shifting to something quieter, more introspective.

And here you were again, in Shadow Milk Cookie’s office, seated across from him as the candlelight flickered between you. The study sessions had changed. They weren’t just lessons anymore, not in the way they once were. Before, you had approached them with a quiet, nervous reverence, careful not to overstep, to take up too much space. Shadow Milk Cookie had been patient then, as he was now, but there had been an undeniable distance between you. A formality. That distance had faded. It was in the way he sat, more at ease than before, his arm resting against the edge of the desk as he gestured through an explanation. It was in the way he didn’t just lecture but engaged tilting his head when you questioned something, waiting for you to puzzle through it aloud before offering guidance. It was in the way you leaned forward without thinking, elbows resting on the wooden surface as you traced patterns idly along the margin of your notes. There was something about tonight that made it feel smaller like the rest of the Academy had faded away, leaving only the soft hush of pages turning, the warmth of candlelight, and the quiet weight of shared understanding.

But despite that comfort, something lingered in the back of your mind. You hesitated, fingers lightly tapping against the parchment. You had learned their names now Camellia Pith, Serrano Bark, Fennel Drizzle. The weight of them settled uneasily in your chest, not because they frightened you anymore, but because you had a feeling Shadow Milk Cookie already knew. And you weren’t sure what he would do with that knowledge. You swallowed, gathering your thoughts before speaking. “Shadow Milk Cookie…” He hummed, not looking up immediately as he made a small notation in the margins of his book. “Yes?” A pause. Then: “You know who they are, don’t you?” That made him stop. His quill stilled against the page, though he did not immediately respond. His expression remained composed, unreadable in the low light, but the flicker of his gaze toward you was sharp. After a beat, he leaned back slightly, folding his hands in his lap. “I do.” You had expected as much, but hearing it aloud still made your stomach twist. Of course he knew. He was the Sage of Truth; there were few things that escaped his notice. The silence stretched for a moment, and then, calmly, he asked, “Why do you bring this up?” You let out a slow breath, organizing your words carefully. “I just…” You hesitated, then met his gaze. “I don’t want you to do anything.” A flicker of something crossed his face 

For a moment, Shadow Milk Cookie merely regarded you, his expression unreadable in the dim candlelight. He did not interrupt, nor did he immediately refute your words. And because he did not stop you, you took it as permission to continue. “I don’t want you to do anything,” you repeated, quieter this time, steady despite the slight tension in your chest. “Not because I think they deserve kindness, or because I think what they did was right. But… I understand where they’re coming from.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze did not waver, but you knew he was listening. “They’re ambitious,” you went on, fingers curling slightly against the parchment before you forced them to relax. “And they’re scared. Not of me specifically, but of what I represent a disruption to what they thought was a given. They’ve worked hard, and suddenly, I’m here. To them, I must look like some sort of obstacle, someone who doesn’t belong.” His brow arched slightly at that, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might interrupt. But he didn’t. He let you speak. “I’m not saying they were right to do what they did,” you clarified. “But I don’t think they’re beyond reason, either. And besides…” You exhaled, leaning back in your chair. “It doesn’t bother me as much as it did before. Not when I have people who remind me that I’m worth more than just what they say about me.”

Your thoughts flickered to Chai Latte Cookie’s teasing reassurances, to Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s grumbled but sincere encouragement, to Earl Grey Cookie’s quiet, knowing nods. Your friends had made all the difference. “And,” you added, with a small, almost self-deprecating smile, “it’s not like I come across them often. A rumor here or there doesn’t change anything.” Silence stretched between you, comfortable but weighted. Shadow Milk Cookie observed you for a long moment, his gaze impossibly sharp, as if seeing through every word you had just spoken, examining them from every possible angle. Then, slowly, he closed the book in front of him, folding his hands atop the cover. “I see,” he said at last. You weren’t sure what you had expected him to say, perhaps a reminder that their cruelty was undeserved, or an argument against giving them the benefit of the doubt. But instead, he only studied you for a moment longer before inclining his head slightly.

“If that is your wish,” he continued, voice steady, measured, “then I will not bar them from my work.” A pause, deliberate. “But know this I do not tolerate those who act with dishonesty and malice under the guise of scholarship. Should their ambitions lead them down such a path again, I will not turn a blind eye.” Something about the way he said it sent a small shiver down your spine not out of fear, but out of the sheer certainty in his voice. But he would leave it be. Because you asked him to. You let out a slow breath. “Thank you.” For a while, neither of you spoke. There was no need to. The air between you felt… different. Not tense, not heavy, but changed in a way you couldn’t quite place. And then, as if to ground the moment, Shadow Milk Cookie reached for the book once more, tapping the spine with his fingers before giving you a knowing look. “Now,” he said, as if the previous conversation had not just altered something between you, “shall we return to the matter of anchor points? I believe you were on the verge of an insightful conclusion before we strayed.” You blinked, caught off guard for only a moment before a quiet laugh escaped you.

“Right,” you murmured, shaking your head slightly, feeling something ease in your chest. “Anchor points.” And just like that, the conversation shifted. The study session continued. But the space between you felt warmer now, quieter in a way that spoke of understanding. The shift back to familiarity was subtle but unmistakable. The moment passed, and with it, so did the quiet intimacy that had lingered between you. Shadow Milk Cookie resumed his teaching with the same practiced cadence, his tone even and assured, his presence once more untouchable. That barrier, the one that had always separated you returned as if it had never wavered in the first place. He was, once again, the Sage of Truth, a figure illuminated by knowledge, impossibly distant, his wisdom something to be reached for rather than held. And yet, the difference remained. Because now, you knew that distance was not born from indifference. It was not meant to keep you away. It was a reminder, a challenge, an unspoken expectation that if you wished to stand beside him, you had to work for it. “Anchor points,” he repeated, drawing you back to the present, his voice smooth yet unwavering. He gestured toward the parchment before you, quill tapping against the edge of your notes. “You were on the cusp of something, were you not? An observation that has yet to be spoken?” Right. Your thoughts, your conclusions you hadn’t quite finished them.

You straightened slightly, looking down at the diagrams you had been sketching just moments before. “Right,” you murmured. “Anchor points. I was thinking…” You hesitated only briefly, then pressed forward, confidence threading into your voice. “If a locus can absorb excess energy and keep an enchantment from unraveling, then hypothetically could an unstable enchantment be sustained by multiple anchor points, even if none are strong enough on their own?” A beat of silence. And then Shadow Milk Cookie smiled. “An interesting proposition.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with something keen and knowing. “Tell me how do you intend to prove it?”

The barrier was there, but now, you understood what it meant. It was not a wall to keep you out. It was a threshold. A line drawn between what was and what could be. If you wanted to reach him if you wanted to stand beside him in the pursuit of truth you had to keep moving forward. And so, you did. Your fingers skimmed the edges of your notes, but you weren’t searching for the answer; you already knew it. The knowledge sat firmly in your mind, stitched together from the hours spent combing through the library’s archives, cross-referencing theories, and scribbling annotations into the margins of your own texts. You inhaled, steadying yourself, and spoke with newfound confidence. “By distributing the load between multiple anchor points, the enchantment’s energy would be diffused rather than concentrated on a single locus,” you began, your voice even. “If structured correctly, it would prevent any one point from being overwhelmed, allowing the enchantment to hold even in unstable conditions.”

A pause, then you continued, “This method is particularly effective when dealing with ley lines that shift in response to external forces. I came across a study in Theoretical Applications of Arcane Stability that proposed a similar concept, though it focused more on geographical stabilization rather than constructed enchantments. The researcher compared it to the way bridges are built how weight distribution is key to preventing collapse. If enchantments were layered in the same manner, using a reinforced framework rather than relying on a single stabilizing force, the risk of failure would be significantly reduced.” Shadow Milk Cookie had been watching you carefully from the moment you spoke, but now, something shifted in his expression. He was intrigued you could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his fingers lightly tapped against the desk in thought. Encouraged, you pushed forward. “And in cases where the enchantment still fails, it wouldn’t be a full collapse. The energy would disperse across the weaker anchor points first, like controlled failure points in architecture. Instead of shattering completely, it would degrade in sections, allowing for reinforcement before it’s too late.”

The words left your lips effortlessly, not because you were reciting something memorized, but because you understood it. The long hours in the library, the frustration of deciphering unfamiliar theories, the moments of realization when things finally clicked it all led to this. Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back slightly, his ever-present smile shifting into something more contemplative. “Ah,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “You have been busy.” You didn’t respond right away, letting the statement settle between you. It wasn’t a mere observation. It was recognition. And perhaps, just perhaps, a hint of something close to pride. You frowned slightly, tilting your head. “What do you mean by that?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression didn’t shift immediately, as if he were weighing his response before offering it. His fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping against the desk, folding neatly together instead. “You have been busy,” he repeated, though slower this time, as if letting you sit with the words. “The depth of your answer, the connections you’ve drawn, is not the result of mere memorization. It is the mark of someone who has sought knowledge beyond what was simply given to them.” You blinked, not quite sure how to take that. “I… just wanted to be prepared,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled softly. “Preparation, yes. But also curiosity. You are no longer merely struggling to keep up, you are actively pursuing understanding. That is a distinction many fail to make.”

You pursed your lips, glancing down at your notes. You supposed there was truth to what he was saying, but it hadn’t felt all that grand when you were elbow-deep in books, squinting at complicated diagrams under dim library light. To you, it had just been necessary. Still, hearing it aloud acknowledgment from someone like him sent a strange warmth curling in your chest. “…I guess I have been busy,” you admitted, almost shyly. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but whatever it was, it softened the usual sharpness in his gaze. “Indeed,” he murmured. “And it does not go unnoticed.” Something about the way he said it made you pause, unsure of whether the slight flutter in your chest was from pride or something else entirely. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a sigh before setting your quill down with an exaggerated motion. "I think we've earned a break," you said, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don’t you?"

Shadow Milk Cookie arched a brow, his hands still poised over his own notes. "Oh? Is that so?" You nodded, leaning back slightly in your chair. "I've worked hard. We've worked hard. Surely even the great Sage of Truth can acknowledge that?" For a moment, he simply regarded you, as if assessing whether your request was a serious one. Then, to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Very well," he said, leaning back as well, though with far more poise than you. "A break, then." Your eyes widened slightly before a small grin crept onto your face. "Just like that?" He hummed, his gaze drifting to the window where the fading evening light cast long shadows against the shelves. "You make a compelling argument," he said, tilting his head slightly. "And… I suppose I can admit that you have worked hard." You nearly laughed. "That almost sounded like praise." His lips twitched. "Take it as you will." There was something oddly satisfying about it the way he had agreed so easily, the way he had acknowledged your efforts without hesitation. It wasn’t the first time he had praised you, but this time, it felt different. More natural. More like he had expected nothing less from you. Leaning forward, you rested your chin on your palm. "So, how do you usually spend your breaks?" Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with mild amusement. "Ah. A break and conversation. You truly are pushing the boundaries of indulgence today." You laughed, shaking your head. "Come on, humor me." He let out a long-suffering sigh, but there was no real exasperation in it. "Reading, usually. Or organizing my research notes."You groaned. "That doesn’t count as a break." His eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "Then tell me what does?"

You tapped your fingers against the desk, pretending to think. "Oh, I don't know… maybe something that doesn’t involve more work?" Shadow Milk Cookie simply smiled, resting his chin against his hand as if waiting to see what else you'd say. And somehow, in the quiet warmth of his office, with papers scattered between you and the weight of study lifted just for a moment, the space between you felt smaller than before. You tapped your fingers idly against the desk, your mind drifting in the quiet lull of your break. Shadow Milk Cookie had gone eerily still, as he often did when lost in thought, his expression unreadable as he absently traced the spine of a nearby book. A slow smile crept onto your lips as you recalled something from a past conversation. "You know," you began, tilting your head slightly, "I remember you once mentioned that you play the harpsichord. And that you compose, too." Shadow Milk Cookie’s fingers stilled. His eyes flicked to yours, his expression unreadable. "Ah," he mused. "So you do listen." You rolled your eyes. "Of course, I do. I just think it's interesting. You never bring it up on your own." "Because it is not relevant to our studies," he said smoothly, but you caught the faintest ghost of amusement in his tone. You leaned forward slightly. "Still, I’ve heard people say you play beautifully. And that your compositions are…" You hesitated for a moment, recalling the exact words you'd overheard in the library. "Otherworldly. That when you play, it sounds like something from another time like the echoes of a forgotten truth." That earned you a soft chuckle, brief but undeniably genuine. "Poetic." "Fitting, isn't it?" You smiled. "You said earlier that we deserved a break. Why not make it a proper one? I'd like to hear you play." Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you in silence, his gaze searching. You had learned by now that these pauses were not a dismissal, but a consideration. You held steady under his watchful eyes, refusing to shrink away. Then, finally, he sighed, shaking his head in quiet surrender. "...Very well." Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. "Really?" "Do not mistake this for indulgence," he said, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "It is simply… a brief detour." You nodded, hiding the giddiness threatening to show on your face. He rose from his seat with that same effortless grace, and you followed as he led the way. There was something different about this moment, something softer. Perhaps, just this afternoon, he was allowing himself to let you in. You followed him through the sunlit corridors of the Scholars’ Wing, your footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floors. The afternoon light filtered in through tall, arched windows, casting long golden streaks across the walls. Eventually, he stopped before a set of grand double doors carved with intricate filigree, faint traces of enchantment woven into the wood. The air here felt different, quieter, almost reverent. Shadow Milk Cookie pressed his palm against the doors, and with a quiet click, they eased open. Inside, the room was bathed in warm sunlight, illuminating rows of instruments resting in careful arrangements. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and parchment, the unmistakable hush of a space meant for creation rather than conversation. At the center of the room, placed as if it were the beating heart of it all, sat a harpsichord, its ornate frame gleaming in the afternoon glow.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the grandeur of it all. “This place…” You glanced at him, brows furrowing. “This is where the best composers practice, isn’t it?” Shadow Milk Cookie walked forward, his steps unhurried as his fingers trailed along the edge of the harpsichord. “A common misconception,” he mused. “Just because something resides within the Scholars’ Wing does not mean it is solely for the best. It is for those who seek knowledge. For those willing to listen.” You blinked, turning his words over in your mind. His voice carried the same layered meaning it always did, never quite saying everything outright, always leaving space for something more. Your gaze drifted back to the harpsichord. “And you?” you asked. “Did you come here because you were ‘one of the best’ or because you wanted to listen?” He paused, his fingers stilling against the polished wood. There was something unreadable in his expression before he finally spoke. “…Both.” You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Of course.”

A/N I hope this update is to everyone's expectations next update is hopefully Friday!!! But I'm not sure if I'll be able to update this weekend, I have to lock in. Also, I want to hear no harpsichord slander/j, seriously, I don't know, but I have this strange fascination with that instrument.

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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[the-astral-librarian]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 11

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“Your friends are an amusing bunch,” he remarked, his tone light, but you could hear the hint of genuine amusement beneath it. You huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, they are. They always keep things interesting.” His golden and blue eyes flickered with something unreadable before he nodded. “A lively group. It is good to have such company.” You smiled at that, looking ahead as you walked. It really was nice, wasn’t it? But right now, you were somewhere else entirely walking beside him, about to see where he worked. That was something beyond nice. The idea of stepping into his world, into the space where he uncovered truth itself, sent a thrill through you. Walking with him like this almost felt like a dream, and maybe it was a strange, wonderful dream you hadn’t quite woken up from yet. As you and Shadow Milk Cookie walked through the quiet halls of the Scholars’ Wing, the air between you felt… different. Not quite formal, but not entirely casual either. A strange in-between. You stole a glance at him as you walked, his long strides effortlessly measured, his presence as composed as ever. Still, this felt surreal. You were walking with him not as a struggling student fumbling for understanding, but as someone he had invited along. Your fingers fidgeted at your side before you finally broke the silence. “I can’t believe this is how my morning turned out. I woke up thinking I’d be in Professor Almond’s class, but instead, I’m here. Following the Sage of Truth to see his mysterious research.” You nudged him slightly with your elbow just enough to see if he would react.

He did, but only with the slightest lift of his brow, his expression unreadable. “Mysterious? You make it sound more dramatic than it is.” You gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on. You have an entire wing of the Academy hanging onto your every word. Half the scholars here probably think you’re holed up somewhere unraveling the secrets of the universe.” He chuckled, a low, warm sound. “And what do you think?” You considered that for a moment. “Honestly? I think you’re probably the type to leave behind cryptic notes just to see if anyone can figure them out.” That earned a soft hum of amusement from him. “A compelling theory.” “So you do leave cryptic notes?” “I never confirmed that.” “You didn’t deny it either.” His golden eyes gleamed with amusement. “And what would you do if you found one of my so-called cryptic notes?” You grinned. “Solve it, obviously.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a sidelong glance, something almost thoughtful behind his gaze. “Would you, now?” You scoffed. “You sound doubtful.” “Not doubtful,” he mused. “Merely curious.” Before you could respond, you turned a corner, and the atmosphere shifted. The once-familiar halls of the Scholars’ Wing were quieter than usual. The further you walked, the more removed you felt from the bustle of the main halls. That’s when you realized where you were heading. You blinked, slowing your steps. “Wait… this way…” You frowned slightly, glancing around. “I’ve been down this hall before.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a knowing nod. “Have you?” Your brows furrowed as the realization settled in. “Yeah. A while back. I was just wandering around and” Your words caught in your throat as the memory hit you. Oh. The slightly open door. The small, dimly lit room. The cryptic cards. The notes scattered across the desk. Your eyes snapped to Shadow Milk Cookie. “Wait. This is your research space?” He tilted his head, lips twitching in amusement. “You sound surprised.” “Well, yeah! I thought this was just some abandoned study room or something.” His eyes flickered with something unreadable. “You thought knowledge would simply be left to gather dust?” “…Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “Come. Since you’ve been here before, you should have no trouble finding your way.” You swallowed as you followed him toward the door, your heart beating just a little faster. The last time you had stumbled upon this place, you had felt like an intruder. But now? Now you were stepping into it beside him. And somehow, that made all the difference. Stepping inside, you were hit with the same scent of parchment and candle wax, the same quiet hum of knowledge lingering in the air. But this time, the space felt different. Less like a hidden corner of the Academy you weren’t meant to find and more like… an invitation.

Your eyes immediately flickered toward the desk, and there they were the cards, still stacked neatly, waiting. Shadow Milk Cookie’s presence beside you remained poised as ever, but there was something knowing in the way he watched you. “Strange, isn’t it?” he mused, clasping his hands behind his back. You turned to him. “What is?” “To find yourself here again.” His gaze swept over the room as he walked further inside, trailing his fingers along the edge of a shelf before looking back at you. “Though, I suspect this time, you’ll stay longer than before.” You cleared your throat, willing away the heat creeping up your neck. “I, uh… wasn’t planning on running out this time.”

“Good.” There was an unmistakable glint in his golden eyes. “That would be terribly inconvenient.” You exhaled a soft laugh before your attention was once again drawn to the desk. Hesitating only a moment, you reached for the stack of cards, flipping one over. The same strange, fragmented writing greeted you. "What cannot be created, yet always exists?" The memory of your past confusion came flooding back. You had tried piecing together these riddles before, turning them over and over in your mind, but never quite grasping them. Shadow Milk Cookie stepped closer, peering over your shoulder. “Still pondering the answer?” You frowned at the card. “It’s… vague.” “Most truths are.” You glanced up at him, his expression unreadable but patient, as if he were waiting to see how you would approach the puzzle this time. “…It’s not something simple, is it?” you asked, more to yourself than him. A soft hum. “That depends. What do you consider simple?” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t start that.” His lips curved ever so slightly. “And here I thought you wanted to prove you could solve my ‘so-called cryptic notes.’” Your fingers tapped against the desk, mind churning. You weren’t about to let him win that easily. You turned the card over in your hands again, then hesitated. “It’s… truth, isn’t it?” For a moment, there was silence. Then, Shadow Milk Cookie smiled not his usual unreadable smirk, but something softer. “Well done.” Your heart skipped. You blinked at him. “Wait, I was actually right?” “Are you surprised?” “…Yes.” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, stepping around the desk to take a seat. “Then perhaps you should start having more faith in your own reasoning.”

You stared at him, then down at the card still in your hands, something warm settling in your chest. Maybe you were meant to be here. Your fingers tightened around the card as you exhaled slowly. The warmth of his praise still lingered in your chest, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the small weight of guilt pressing at the back of your mind. You glanced toward the desk, eyes flickering over the neatly arranged notes and books no sign of the scattered mess you had left behind that day. He must have cleaned it up himself. You swallowed, shifting your weight before clearing your throat. “By the way…” You hesitated before meeting his gaze. “I, um… I’m sorry. For the mess I made last time.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “When I was here before,” you explained, rubbing the back of your neck, “I knocked some stuff over. A stack of parchment, some quills… I panicked and, uh… bolted.” You winced at your own admission. “I was afraid of getting caught.” A quiet moment stretched between you before he finally spoke. “I know. Well not of you being the one but I knew of someone’s presence here.” You blinked. “You? Wait. You knew?”

His lips twitched in amusement. “You think parchment scatters itself? I didn’t suspect you of course but…” You felt your face grow warm. “Well I was hoping maybe it was already like that and I just… made it slightly worse?” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, resting his chin against his hand. “It was not.” You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.” He regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, his tone light. “I will admit, when I returned and found everything in disarray, I briefly considered that I had unknowingly discovered a very mischievous ghost.” You peeked at him between your fingers, incredulous. “You thought a ghost did it?” He gave an elegant shrug. “It seemed a reasonable hypothesis at the time.” Despite yourself, you laughed. “You would sooner believe in mischievous parchment-scattering ghosts than consider that some poor, lost student accidentally stumbled in here?” “It appears so.” He leaned forward slightly, golden eyes glinting. “And yet, here you are, proving me wrong.” Your breath caught slightly, not at his words, but at the way he was looking at you measured, observant, expectant. You cleared your throat, willing yourself to hold his gaze. “So… you’re not mad?” He hummed in thought. “Not mad.” His gaze flickered briefly to the desk. “However, next time you drop something, I expect you to pick it up.” The warmth in your face returned full force. “Right. Yeah. That’s fair.” Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face. “Good.” You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course, of course he had known something was off. And yet… he hadn’t scolded you. Hadn’t lectured you. Just waited for you to acknowledge it on your own. And somehow, that made the guilt ease just a little.

Shadow Milk Cookie watched you carefully, as if assessing something unspoken. Then, without a word, he turned, stepping toward one of the many shelves lining the walls. His fingers trailed over the aged spines of books before he carefully selected one, setting it down on the desk with a soft thud. "You came here expecting to see my mysterious research, did you not?" His voice was even, but there was something else beneath it subtle amusement, perhaps. Or maybe something more patient, more knowing. You straightened slightly, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Well… yeah. I mean, if you don’t mind showing me.” He gestured toward the desk, an invitation. “Then come see for yourself.” Hesitant but eager, you stepped closer, peering at the pages as he flipped the book open. It wasn’t filled with endless paragraphs of dense text, as you had expected. Instead, the pages were lined with diagrams arcane circles, constellations, and something that looked like alchemical formulas, though far more complex than anything you had studied. Notes were scrawled in the margins, some in neat, precise handwriting, others hastily written as if recording fleeting thoughts before they vanished. "This," Shadow Milk Cookie began, his voice smooth and measured, "is a study on fundamental truths the forces that govern our world. Why magic bends to certain principles. Why some theories hold, while others crumble." He tapped a particular passage, drawing your attention to a line of text. "Even what we accept as 'fact' can sometimes be a matter of perception. And when perception changes… so too does truth." You swallowed, eyes flicking over the words. Some of it made sense. Some of it might as well have been in another language. “This is… way beyond anything I’ve studied.” "For now," he agreed. “But that does not mean it is beyond your reach forever.” You turned to look at him, confused. “What do you mean?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment before he leaned back, folding his arms. “Tell me… what is it that drives you to learn?” The question caught you off guard. “I uh” You hesitated. “I guess I just… want to understand. I want to be better. I don’t want to feel so lost all the time.” His expression softened, just slightly. “A good answer.” He glanced toward the notes scattered across the desk. “Far too many pursue knowledge for the sake of recognition. Status. They seek to be known rather than to know. But you…” His golden eyes met yours once more. “You remind me of what true scholarship is meant to be.” Your breath hitched. “What?” He exhaled lightly, his voice calm but certain. “Someday, if you reach the upper levels, you could study alongside me.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Study alongside him? You stared at him, sure you had misheard. “You’re joking.” “I do not joke about truth.” His lips twitched slightly, just enough to suggest amusement. “I have been seeking a student with drive, one who values knowledge for what it is, rather than what it can give them.” He tilted his head slightly. “You are not ready. Not yet. But if you continue forward, if you refuse to let failure turn you away… then, perhaps one day, you will be.” Your chest tightened, warmth flooding through you. Shadow Milk Cookie the Sage of Truth someone you had admired from afar, someone whose knowledge felt leagues beyond your own was telling you that you could get there. That you weren’t hopeless. That maybe, just maybe, you had something worth cultivating. You lowered your gaze to the notes before you, your hands tightening slightly at your sides. “I… I won’t let you down.” He hummed, thoughtful. “That remains to be seen.” You looked back up at him, determination burning in your chest now. “Then I’ll just have to prove it.” A slow smile curved at the corners of his lips. “Good.” The moment had started simply enough. He had pulled another tome from the shelves one filled with old scrolls he had painstakingly deciphered over time. You had leaned in, careful yet eager, as he carefully unraveled one of the delicate parchment sheets, revealing intricate script and faded diagrams.

And then you had recognized it. “Oh wait. I know this one!” Your voice was filled with excitement before you could think to temper it. “This is about the ancient celestial inscriptions, right? The ones found near the ruins past the Ghost City?” Shadow Milk Cookie stilled for a moment, his golden gaze flickering toward you with interest. “You’ve studied this before?” “Well not studied exactly,” you admitted, still staring at the scroll as if it might slip away from you. “But I read about it on my own time. I was curious about old magic that isn’t commonly used anymore, and” You sucked in a breath. “This was your research?” He gave a small nod, though he said nothing, as if waiting to see what you would say next. And oh, you had plenty to say. Without even thinking, you launched into everything you had pieced together on your own. How the inscriptions weren’t just decorative but functioned as a form of magical theory condensing entire formulas into elegant, flowing symbols. How some scholars debated whether they were meant to be read like a language or understood intuitively, like music. How his research had been the most compelling out of everything you had read because he had found connections no one else had. And you kept talking. The excitement in your voice grew as you dove into your thoughts, into what you had thought you understood, where you had gotten confused, what theories had fascinated you the most. Your hands gestured as you spoke, pulling from half-remembered books, from fleeting ideas that had once captured your curiosity. It wasn’t often you let yourself talk like this not in front of someone like him. But Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t interrupt. He didn’t stop you, didn’t correct you, didn’t give even the slightest sign of impatience. Instead, he listened. Really listened. His golden eyes never left you, his expression softer than usual, his usual air of detached wisdom replaced by something else. Something… sincere. You didn’t even realize how long you had been talking until you finally stopped to take a breath, your cheeks feeling a little too warm from how animated you had become. You hesitated. “Ah sorry. I just”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice was quiet, but there was something almost gentle in it. You blinked. “I don’t know. I just” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I guess I don’t usually get to talk about things like this.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment, then with the same patience he had shown you all along he carefully placed the scroll between you both. “You understood more than you realize,” he said, his voice measured but sincere. “Your thoughts were unrefined, but not incorrect.” You swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. Then, slowly, he tapped a portion of the parchment, his golden eyes still watching you. “Shall we refine them together?” Shadow Milk Cookie tapped his fingers lightly against the ancient parchment, his golden gaze flickering with quiet amusement. "You mentioned the celestial inscriptions functioning like a language or music an interesting comparison. However, there is a crucial distinction." You leaned in, eyes locked onto the elegant symbols, their flowing script like waves across the parchment. "A distinction?" He nodded. "Music is interpreted. Language is deciphered. But these inscriptions… they are neither. They do not seek to be understood in the way we process spoken words or melodies. Rather, they are realized." You furrowed your brows. "Realized?"

A small smile ghosted his lips at your curiosity. "Here." He pointed to one particular symbol, the ink faded with time. "This symbol what do you see?" You studied it carefully. The shape was familiar, something you had seen in your readings, but putting it into words felt difficult. "It looks… almost like an equation, but more fluid? Like a cycle rather than a fixed answer?" His smile grew just a fraction. "Not a bad observation." He straightened slightly, regarding you with measured patience. "This inscription represents a concept rather than a direct statement. If one were to translate it conventionally, the meaning would be lost." Your lips parted as realization slowly dawned. "So… it's not about reading it literally. It's about understanding what it embodies?" "Precisely." He tapped another inscription, this one branching off from the first. "This is why traditional methods of translation have failed. Scholars who sought rigid definitions overlooked the way these symbols are meant to function. They are not passive words on a page they interact, shift, and reshape meaning depending on what surrounds them." Your mind whirled, the weight of what he was saying sinking in. "Wait, so does that mean each symbol isn’t fixed in meaning? They change based on their placement?"

A satisfied glint crossed his eyes. "Exactly. Just as the position of a star in the sky changes its significance in navigation, the placement of these inscriptions alters their purpose. One symbol alone may suggest balance but paired with another, it could indicate interruption, or even conflict." Your fingers traced the air above the parchment, hesitant but intrigued. "So… how do you realize them? If there's no set definition, how do you know if you're understanding them correctly?" Shadow Milk Cookie's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he spoke again, softer this time. "That is the heart of the challenge. There is no singular truth written within these inscriptions. They require patience. Insight. A willingness to abandon absolutes in favor of comprehension."

You exhaled, the weight of his words settling in. "No wonder scholars struggle with this." He chuckled. "Many do. Those who seek only clear answers rarely find them here. But those who persist who learn to listen, uncover knowledge that cannot be attained through conventional study." Something about the way he said that made you pause. He wasn’t just talking about research. He was talking about you. Your voice was quieter when you finally spoke again. "Do you think… I could ever learn to do that?" Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you carefully. Then, with a certainty that sent warmth through your chest, he said, "If you have the patience to refine your thoughts, and the courage to challenge what you believe you know… then yes. You could." You swallowed, a slow breath escaping you. He believes I could. For the first time since arriving at this academy, the idea of learning truly learning felt less like a battle you were destined to lose. And more like a path you had just begun to walk. The rest of the morning passed in a blur of parchment, ink, and quiet exchanges. Shadow Milk Cookie took his time guiding you through the intricacies of his research, pausing whenever you had a question, indulging your curiosity with measured explanations. It was unlike any lesson you’d ever had less structured, more organic. It felt as though, for the first time, you weren’t just memorizing knowledge. You were understanding it. Eventually, though, the moment had to end. Shadow Milk Cookie straightened, rolling up the scroll before placing it back into its case. “I have other matters to attend to,” he said, his tone composed but not distant. “A lecture to teach, among other responsibilities.”

You nodded, still processing everything you had learned. “Right… Of course.” You hesitated before offering him a small, earnest smile. “Thank you for showing me all this. I really appreciate it.” Something flickered in his gaze not amusement, but something softer. “It was time well spent,” he said simply. “We will meet later for our usual tutoring.” Your heart swelled just a little at that not only because you were grateful for the tutoring, but because it meant today wasn’t the last time you would share a space with him like this. As you turned to leave, Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a final nod. “Be well.” You walked away, still replaying everything in your head. The research, the way he had looked at you when you’d spoken with excitement the way he had said, with absolute certainty, that you could understand it someday.

For the first time in a long time, you felt… hopeful. Until you turned a corner. And stopped. A few scholars stood ahead, lingering near one of the grand arched windows, their robes pristine, their demeanor effortlessly composed. They belonged here. You could immediately tell upper scholars, the kind who spent their days buried in debate and research, the kind who wouldn’t spare you a second glance under normal circumstances. Yet they were looking at you now. One of them, a scholar with neatly combed hair and sharp, unreadable eyes offered a small, knowing smile. “You’re the one who’s been spending time with the Sage of Truth, aren’t you?” Your stomach twisted, but you nodded cautiously. “Um… yes?” The others exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them before another stepped forward, tilting their head slightly as if considering you. “That is interesting,” they murmured. “We’ve seen you coming and going from his office quite often.” A third scholar, this one leaning casually against the wall sighed dramatically. “I suppose it is kind of sweet,” they mused. “You admire him. That’s understandable. He’s… inspiring, isn’t he?” There was something off about the way they said it. You forced a small, wary chuckle. “I mean, yeah, of course. He’s brilliant.” The first scholar hummed in agreement. “He is. Which is why he has so many responsibilities. So many things that require his attention.” Something cold settled in your chest. The second scholar nodded, smiling just a little too kindly. “It must be exhausting for him. Having someone constantly trailing after him.” The words weren’t harsh. There was no outright cruelty in their tone. But that only made it worse. Because it was careful. Deliberate. Another scholar sighed, shaking their head with feigned sympathy. “We’ve seen it happen before, you know. Students who latch onto a figure like him, thinking it means something more than it does.” Your throat went dry. The first scholar gave a small chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, no need to be offended. We’re just looking out for you. Wouldn’t want you to get too caught up in something that isn’t… realistic.” Another nod. Another too-kind smile. “It’s admirable, really,” one of them added. “But you must understand, he doesn’t have time to entertain every student who clings to him.” The weight of their words pressed against your chest, something heavy, something suffocating.

Is that what it looks like?

Is that what he thinks?

Your lips parted, but no words came. You weren’t sure what to say. What you could say. One of the scholars tilted their head. “Just some friendly advice,” they said lightly. “It’s best not to mistake patience for personal interest.” Then, just like that, they turned back to their own conversation, as if you had never been there at all. You stood frozen for a moment, your thoughts swirling into a storm of doubt.

Were they right?

Had you been foolish to think he saw anything in you beyond another student in need of guidance?

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to move, to walk away before your thoughts could betray you any further. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it bother you. But as you made your way back through the halls, their words echoed in your mind, refusing to leave you alone. Your footsteps felt heavier with each step, their words lingering in your mind like an ink stain you couldn't scrub away.

It’s best not to mistake patience for personal interest.

You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself not to let it get to you but it was too late. The seed of doubt had already taken root. Then, a memory surfaced the second time Earl Grey warned you. "You should be careful," Earl Grey Cookie had said, his voice low as you sat beneath the Academy Gardens’ grand archway one evening. The lanterns had been lit, their glow flickering against his contemplative expression. "Careful?" you had asked, confused by the sudden warning. He had sighed, swirling the tea in his cup. "I’ve heard whispers. Some of the upper scholars have been talking about you. Not cruelly, exactly… but not kindly either. They’re wondering why the Sage of Truth is spending so much time tutoring you." Your stomach had twisted at that, but you had brushed it off with a nervous laugh. "That’s ridiculous. I’m just a struggling student, and he’s… well, he’s the Sage of Truth. It’s not that deep." Earl Grey had given you a pointed look. "You might think that. But people like them? They see patterns where none exist. And they don’t take kindly to outsiders gaining attention from someone as esteemed as him." "Outsiders?" you'd repeated, the word cutting sharper than you expected. "You’re not like them," he had said simply. "You’re not here to climb the ranks. You don’t care about prestige or titles. That makes you different." "Is that a bad thing?" "To people who have spent their entire lives clawing for status?" He had taken a slow sip of tea before sighing. "Yes. Yes, it is." You had scoffed at the time, unwilling to believe it would matter. But now? Now, you wondered. Had those scholars been the ones whispering about you before? Had they always been watching, waiting for a chance to remind you of where you stood? You swallowed hard, forcing yourself forward.

Maybe you were overthinking. Maybe they were just passing scholars with nothing better to do than meddle in the affairs of those beneath them. But deep down, you knew better. They had chosen their words carefully calculated just enough to plant a thought that would fester in your mind. And it was working. The thought of sitting through another lecture after lunch where nothing of value would be taught made your stomach twist.  What was the point? History of Food?  If you weren’t going to learn anything, wasn’t it better to just… not go? One day won’t kill me. You let out a breath and changed direction, heading toward the dining hall instead. Lunch wasn’t exactly something you were looking forward to, but it was better than sitting alone, stewing over the scholars’ words. Besides, you hadn’t seen Chai Latte, Hazelnut Biscotti, or Earl Grey since the morning. Maybe being around them would help shake the unease clinging to you.

The dining hall was already bustling when you arrived, the midday rush in full swing. Students and scholars alike gathered in their usual groups, some poring over notes between bites, others lost in heated debates. The comforting aroma of fresh bread and spiced soup filled the air, but even that wasn’t enough to lift your mood entirely. You spotted your friends at your usual table near the grand windows, where sunlight spilled in and painted golden patterns across the stone floor. Chai Latte Cookie waved as soon as she saw you, her bright smile faltering just a little when she got a better look at your face. “You look like you lost a debate,” she said as you sat down. Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “Or like you just had a really bad lecture.” Earl Grey, ever perceptive, simply studied you in silence, waiting for you to explain. You sighed, poking at the food on your plate. “I ran into some upper scholars.” That got their attention. Chai Latte leaned in slightly, her expression curious but cautious. “Oh?”

“They were… nice.” You frowned, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “Or at least, they pretended to be. But they said some things that just” You shook your head, pushing your food around with your fork. “I don’t know. They made it seem like I’m just bothering the Sage of Truth. Like I shouldn’t be following him around like a lost puppy.” Hazelnut Biscotti made a disgusted sound. “They actually said that?” “Not directly,” you admitted. “But that was the implication. That I shouldn’t waste his time.”Chai Latte frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s ridiculous. He offered to teach you, didn’t he? It’s not like you forced your way into his lessons.” “Yeah,” Hazelnut Biscotti agreed. “And honestly? They’re probably just jealous.” Earl Grey, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. “That doesn’t mean their words won’t get to you.” You looked at him, and he met your gaze with something knowing. “You can tell yourself they’re just being manipulative. That they have their own reasons for trying to shake you,” he continued. “But that doesn’t make it any less effective, does it?” Your stomach twisted. You hated how easily he saw through you. “…No,” you admitted. Earl Grey sighed, setting down his cup of tea. “I warned you that they’d talk. That they’d start to wonder why he’s spending time on you.” “I know.” You swallowed. “But I thought I could ignore it.” Chai Latte’s expression softened. “Hey. You can ignore it. You don’t have to listen to them.”

“But what if they’re right?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “What if I am just wasting his time? What if” You clenched your jaw. “What if this is all just… charity?” Hazelnut Biscotti shook his head. “That’s nonsense.” Earl Grey, however, remained steady. “Then ask yourself this has he ever made you feel like you were wasting his time?” You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Because the answer was no. Shadow Milk Cookie had never once acted as though you were a burden. If anything, he was the one who had extended the invitation, who had encouraged you to keep going, who had even suggested that, someday, you could research alongside him. That wasn’t pity. That wasn’t obligation. That was something else entirely. “…No,” you said quietly. “He hasn’t.” Earl Grey nodded. “Then don’t let a few jealous scholars shake you.” Easier said than done. But still… You felt a little lighter. You nodded at Earl Grey’s words, but the uneasy weight in your chest didn’t disappear. Because deep down, hadn’t you always feared this? Hadn’t you always wondered why someone as brilliant as Shadow Milk Cookie would waste his time on you? Maybe you had been able to push those thoughts aside for a while lost in the excitement of learning, of finally having someone patient enough to guide you…but hearing it confirmed by others, seeing how it looked from the outside… It made your stomach churn. You stared down at your half-eaten meal, your appetite gone. The laughter and conversation buzzing around the dining hall felt distant, muffled, as if you were listening through a thick wall.

Chai Latte Cookie must have noticed because she reached out and placed a gentle hand over yours. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” You swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t know. It’s not like what they said was wrong” “Yes, it was,” Hazelnut Biscotti interrupted, his voice firm. You flinched slightly, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. If someone says something you’ve secretly feared all along, it feels true. But that doesn’t mean it is.” Chai Latte Cookie nodded. “Think about it. If the Sage didn’t think you were worth teaching, do you really think he’d waste his time? He’s Shadow Milk Cookie. He could spend his days debating with scholars who actually do care about status and recognition. He doesn’t need to humor you.” Earl Grey added, “And he certainly wouldn’t have invited you to his research space if he didn’t think you were capable of understanding it.” The thought made you pause. He had invited you. He had shown you his work, let you ramble excitedly about the parts you recognized, watched you with something that had almost felt… sincere. Would he have done that if he thought you weren’t worth his time? “I guess,” you mumbled. But doubt still gnawed at you. “But what if I am just a distraction? What if he just feels obligated because he offered?” Chai Latte Cookie groaned, exasperated but fond. “Okay, fine. If you won’t believe us, then ask him.” You blinked. “What?” She gestured vaguely. “If you’re so convinced that you’re a burden, then ask him why he’s teaching you. Why he keeps spending time on you. If he says it’s out of pity, then fine, we’ll drop it. But I bet he won’t.” The idea made you feel sick. Ask Shadow Milk Cookie directly? Ask him if he truly thought you were worth teaching? Could you even handle the answer? “…I don’t know if I can,” you admitted.

Earl Grey tilted his head slightly. “Then at least pay attention next time you’re with him. Really pay attention to how he speaks to you, how he teaches you. Does he treat you like a burden?” You bit your lip, hesitating. You wanted to believe them. You wanted to believe that Shadow Milk Cookie saw something in you that it wasn’t just obligation, that you weren’t just some helpless scholar he felt responsible for. But that fear, that doubt, had been with you from the beginning. And now, it was clawing its way back to the surface. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Alright, listen. If you do run into them again, don’t let them get into your head. They don’t outright insult you because they can’t not without consequences. Instead, they make you doubt yourself, make you do the work of tearing yourself down.” He tapped his temple. “Don’t give them that power.” You nodded slowly, but truthfully, the words felt hazy, slipping through your fingers even as you tried to hold onto them. Maybe if you saw those scholars again, then the advice would come back to you.

For now, though, that gnawing feeling in your chest refused to leave. Earl Grey Cookie, who had been watching you closely, sighed. With his usual grace, he picked up a napkin and unfolded it with practiced ease before gently dabbing at the corner of your sleeve, as if straightening it. It was a small, refined gesture, but something about it felt… grounding. “You are more than what they make you out to be,” he said simply. “And if they can’t see that, then it is their shortcoming not yours.” You swallowed thickly, his quiet confidence in you settling in a place deep within your heart. Before you could dwell on it too much, Chai Latte Cookie huffed and scooted closer, sliding onto the bench beside you. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you in a warm hug, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You so need this right now,” she mumbled. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed at the sight, then grinned and pulled both of you into an even bigger hug. “Oh, we’re doing this? Great.” You let out a muffled noise of protest, but your heart swelled at the warmth surrounding you. And then, just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any more ridiculous, Earl Grey Cookie. Earl Grey Cookie, who rarely indulged in such casual affections sighed, exasperated but fond, and leaned in just enough to place a hand on your shoulder. His version of joining in. The three of them surrounded you, a barrier against your doubts, your fears, against the whispers that threatened to drag you down. And since that awful encounter, you felt something close to safe. Slowly but surely, the weight in your chest began to ease. The warmth of your friends, their unwavering presence it was enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to break the silence. “Alright, enough of that. Time for something much more important.” You tilted your head. “Like what?” He smirked. “Gossip.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped, immediately perking up. “Oh! Finally!” She let go of you just enough to turn toward him. “What do you have? Who’s in a secret relationship? Who got caught sneaking out after hours?” Earl Grey Cookie let out a quiet sigh but didn’t protest. Even he knew there was no stopping them now. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. “You will not believe what I overheard in the library this morning.” Chai Latte Cookie clasped her hands together. “Tell me.” You couldn’t help but smile as he launched into some absurd tale about two upper scholars caught bickering over who had the true interpretation of some old text apparently, it had gotten so heated that one of them had threatened to “challenge the other to an academic duel.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically. “Not an academic duel!” You raised an eyebrow. “That’s just… a debate, isn’t it?” “Not when they bring out the enchanted quills,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, shaking his head. “You’d think they were getting ready for a real battle.” Earl Grey Cookie, who had been stirring his tea with the utmost patience, finally spoke. “It is always the ones with the least to prove who act with the most decorum.” He took a sip, then added, “The rest simply enjoy the theatrics.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. The tension in your shoulders had all but disappeared now. Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “There you are. I was worried we lost you for a second.” You sighed, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless. “You guys are ridiculous.” “And you love us for it,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said smugly. You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest stayed. For the rest of lunch, they made it their mission to keep your spirits up, bouncing between gossip, jokes, and dramatic retellings of completely mundane events. And by the time you had to part ways, you felt lighter than before. The once-lively warmth of lunch faded as you sat alone in the dining hall, flipping through your notes in an attempt to focus. The din of other students around you blurred into a meaningless hum as your eyes scanned the ink on parchment, but your mind wandered elsewhere. No matter how many times you reread a sentence, the same thoughts crept back in.

"Shouldn’t follow the Sage like a puppy dog."

"Coming and going from his office like you belong there."

"You shouldn't bother him with trivial matters."

The words weren’t new, not really. They had existed in the back of your mind before, faint whispers you had long since ignored. But now? Now they echoed loud and clear, no longer just insecurities but opinions spoken aloud, given weight by others who seemed to confirm what you feared deep down. You tried to shake it off, but the longer you sat there, the heavier it became. Eventually, the clock signaled the end of your skipped lecture. You gathered your belongings, tucking your notes under your arm, but the usual anticipation that accompanied your walk to his office was absent. Instead, a quiet discomfort settled in its place. For the first time since Shadow Milk Cookie had taken you under his guidance, you found yourself wondering; Was this really okay? Was it fine for you to keep following him like this?

You swallowed hard and stepped out of the dining hall, forcing your feet to carry you forward. Each step felt heavier than the last. The path to his office was familiar by now, but today, it stretched before you like an uphill climb. You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to this meeting anymore. The knock against the door was softer than usual. Almost hesitant. Shadow Milk Cookie glanced up from his desk, setting aside the parchment he had been reading. “Enter.” You stepped inside, carrying your notes as you always did, your expression composed or at least, you tried to make it seem that way. He did not speak immediately, only observing as you settled into your usual seat. From the outside, nothing seemed amiss. You sat with the same posture, your hands resting over your notes, your eyes focused forward. But the silence between you felt… different. It was in the way you hesitated before placing your things down. In how your fingers fidgeted ever so slightly before stilling, as if you had caught yourself. In the way your responses normally natural, sometimes even eager felt just a touch more rehearsed. “Shall we begin?” he asked smoothly, as if nothing was out of place. You nodded. “Of course.” And so, he began the lesson. At first, you did your best to keep up, nodding along, forcing yourself to listen. But your mind was foggy. The words from earlier clung to your thoughts, unshakable. Shadow Milk Cookie was nothing if not observant. From the moment you entered his office, he knew something was amiss. You greeted him as usual, polite and eager on the surface, but your voice lacked the natural ease it carried earlier that morning. You moved with careful precision, placing your notes on the desk without the absentminded fidgeting you usually did when settling in. And when he spoke, explaining a concept with his usual thoroughness, you nodded at the right moments but there was a hollowness to it, like you were following a script rather than truly engaging. He did not mention it at first. Instead, he allowed the lesson to unfold, watching you closely. You were trying. He would give you that. Your posture remained attentive, your hand gripped your quill as if poised to take notes. But the ink never met the parchment. And your mind, he could tell was elsewhere. Minutes passed, his voice filling the space between you, but your responses were lackluster at best. He posed a question, expecting the usual spark of thought from you. Silence.

Your fingers twitched. You blinked down at your notes, as if trying to recall the words he had just spoken. “…Could you repeat that?” you asked, attempting to sound casual. Shadow Milk Cookie did not repeat himself. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, golden eyes scrutinizing you in that unreadable way of his. “You are distracted,” he observed, tone impossibly neutral. You inhaled sharply. “I-I’m not.” He said nothing, simply watching you. Your grip on the quill tightened. “I mean, I am listening,” you insisted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I just… I just lost track of that one thing you said, that’s all. It won’t happen again.” A pause. Then “What is clouding your mind?” The directness of his question nearly made you flinch. “Nothing,” you lied instantly. Shadow Milk Cookie did not look convinced. You forced a smile, flipping a page in your notes as if to move on. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s all.” His gaze remained steady. He did not believe you. “…You were not like this earlier,” he finally said. Your throat tightened. “I’m fine.” He leaned back slightly, considering you. “You would not attempt to deceive me if you were.” You exhaled through your nose, gripping the edges of your notes as if they might ground you. You could not talk about it. The words from earlier still clung to you, wrapping around your thoughts like vines. That you didn’t belong here. That you were only wasting his time. That you looked like a lost cause following him around. Hadn’t you thought that before? Hadn’t you always feared that deep down?

You had pushed those feelings aside for so long. But hearing them aloud, spoken by scholars who did belong here, ones who didn’t struggle like you had twisted the doubt into something worse. And now? Now it sat like a weight in your chest, pulling you down, making it hard to focus. But you couldn’t tell him that. So you did what you always did. You tried to push through. “I just need to focus,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the lingering thoughts. “Can we…can we just keep going?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a long moment. Then, at last, he nodded. “Very well,” he said, though his tone had shifted softer now, almost careful. And so, the lesson continued. But he was still watching you. He had memorized your mannerisms long ago, and no matter how well you tried to hide it, he knew.

The soft scratching of your quill against parchment filled the quiet of Shadow Milk Cookie’s office. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the tomes and scrolls stacked meticulously on the desk between you. You were trying. You really were. You had been working through the problems he assigned, listening to his explanations, and responding when prompted. But your words lacked their usual conviction, your responses coming slower, your handwriting more uneven. And Shadow Milk Cookie noticed. He always noticed. “Your approach here is not incorrect,” he said evenly, tapping his finger against a section of your notes. “But your application of the theorem is inconsistent. Tell me why.” You blinked, staring at the equation as if the answer would materialize on the parchment. You knew this. You had done this before. But your thoughts felt tangled, clouded by lingering doubts. You hesitated, gripping your quill a little too tightly. “I… must’ve made a mistake somewhere.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “Then correct it.” You swallowed, nodding stiffly as you tried to retrace your steps. Your fingers twitched against the quill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, your mind faltering over the simplest steps. Shadow Milk Cookie observed you carefully, his sharp gaze taking in every small hesitation, every misplaced breath. Then, he spoke soft, yet unwavering. “You are elsewhere.” Your breath hitched. You shook your head quickly. “I’m fine. I just need a moment to-” “I expect honesty from you.” The words settled over you like a weight. You pressed your lips together, suddenly feeling unbearably small beneath his gaze. “I am being honest,” you tried. His expression did not change. You exhaled shakily, your shoulders curling inward. Your fingers twitched against the parchment, ink staining the tips where you had pressed too hard. He waited. Patient. Unyielding. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until you finally broke. “…Some scholars stopped me earlier,” you muttered, not quite meeting his gaze. Shadow Milk Cookie remained still, listening. You hesitated, gripping the edges of your parchment. “They… they said I shouldn’t be bothering you. That I’m just following you around like some lost cause. That I don’t belong here.” Your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “And maybe they’re right.” A stillness settled between you. Shadow Milk Cookie did not immediately respond. Instead, he studied you his golden eyes sharp, contemplative. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his hands atop the desk. “And you believe them?” His voice was quiet, but there was something beneath it something firm, something undeniable. You swallowed. “I don’t know.” His gaze did not waver. “Then tell me. What is it you seek?” You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “I…” You fidgeted with your sleeve. “I just… want to understand. I want to learn.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment. Then, he asked, “And do you know what they seek?” Your breath stilled. “…No.” A flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression. “So enlighten me,” he mused, “why do you measure yourself against them?” Your lips parted then pressed together.

You had no answer. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze softened, just slightly. “It is a most curious thing,” he murmured. “To allow those whose motives remain unknown to dictate your worth.” Your fingers twitched. “…I just don’t want to be a burden,” you admitted. He exhaled quietly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before regarding you again. “Do you know what I seek?” You blinked. “…Truth?” you offered weakly. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Indeed.” His voice dropped slightly, steady and assured. “And I do not grant my time frivolously. If I believed you incapable of learning, you would not be here.” Your breath caught. The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, unraveling something tight within you. “…Thank you,” you murmured. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a moment longer, then slowly, almost hesitantly he did something unexpected. He reached for the parchment before you and, with a graceful flick of his wrist, tore away the section where your ink had bled through. You startled slightly. “Wait, what are you” “You will redo it,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “With clarity of mind.” You gaped at him. “But-but that was…” “Incorrect,” he interrupted smoothly, setting a fresh parchment before you. “And you are capable of better.” Your throat tightened. It wasn’t scolding. It wasn’t dismissal. It was belief. You swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “…Alright.” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed approvingly. Then, after a moment’s pause, he added, “If it will ease your mind, I will inquire into these scholars myself.” Your eyes widened. “You...wait, no, you don’t have to” “I will.” His voice left no room for argument. “I would not see a bright mind discouraged over whispers in the dark.” Your heart pounded. This was… more than he usually offered. More personal than he usually allowed himself to be. You weren’t even sure what to say. “…I don’t really remember who they were,” you admitted, shifting slightly. “I didn’t recognize them.” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Then I shall find out myself.” You inhaled deeply, still reeling from all of it. “…Thank you,” you said, voice quieter than before. He regarded you once more, then gestured toward your fresh parchment. “Now,” he mused, a familiar knowing glint returning to his gaze, “let us see if you can solve this correctly.”

A/N not to crush anyone's hopes but these scholars are just petty they won't try anything tbh only nasty words...well not even just spreading doubt it's not a super important storyline but I need it for the realism it's suspicious if nobody questions the mc and why they're going to his office so often... okay that was all 9 chapters left until the kiss scene

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎���🔥🔥🔥🔥

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[the-astral-librarian]

[the-astral-librarian]

[the-astral-librarian]

BOO OC X CANON ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[the-astral-librarian]

Pin for survivors

[the-astral-librarian]

I edited this clip to have a radio effect. 

[the-astral-librarian]

I made this lil Dogday/Catnap themed Backgrounds for my phone while I was making smt.

I know they're not much but I think they're cute :3

(credit if use)

[the-astral-librarian]

Where's the adoption papers when you need one?!

they homeless catnap box him

Reblog = Adopted him

Like = Pat head

[the-astral-librarian]

Just wanted to drop by and thank you for reading my content! 💛

Aww no problem, I love your content!! :,3

[the-astral-librarian]

I sometimes still see people tagging #please don't reblog but the post is rebloggable so just making sure you know about this feature:

It's in the post settings under the little gear wheel in the corner and the options are Anyone or No One

[the-astral-librarian]

:3 🩷💛💙

Happy Pansexual awareness day!!

People who identify as pansexual are attracted to people of all genders regardless of their sex or gender identity.

The day is to spread awareness of the term pansexual and to understand what it means to identify as pan

💖💛💙

[the-astral-librarian]

is it just me or there is just more and more ppl just disrespecting clown boundaries on the wally x reader tag like nothin. they gettin BOLD

also if u gon post ur bullshit keep yo shit out of the main tags, the peeps following the wally darling tag didn't do shit to u to deserve this

[the-astral-librarian]

Just thought of Manolo from the book of life rn..

I am awake

I am also very hungry and got work today. We at 977 followers. We almost there I’m going to go search for food. Here is cool TikTok by mercywasnthere

[the-astral-librarian]

Listen up!

You see a post like this? Where OP might hurt/kill themselves? You hit that button that I circled

Hit that.

Click Suicide or Self-harm Concern

Yes.

Fill in the rest of it, and hit submit. The "content you reported" will fill itself in

Tumblr will follow up and help them.

Warning: this is only for mobile. If anyone knows how to do this for desktop, please add it!

This could SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.

YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO REBLOG THIS.

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF IT DOESN'T GO WITH YOUR BLOG'S THEME.

And yes, REBLOG. Liking does no shit at all. This isn't ig.

You reblog, people see it. You don't, people don't see it. This shit's that simple.

This could save someone's life. It's not a joke.

[the-astral-librarian]

The fact that people like this exist ,why would you make someone suffer just for fuckin fun?? Like what does that say about you as a person??? How is that funny ???