[Winx Club] The Fairy Godmother (Anti-Hero / Reincarnation)

[VitahAR]

Bloom woke up to the loud slam of a wardrobe door. She reluctantly opened her eyes and stretched sweetly, working out the muscles that had stiffened after yesterday's detention. The morning light was already flooding the room, promising a clear day. Another loud slam. Bloom turned her head. Musa stood by her open wardrobe, snatching things out of it and carelessly tossing them onto her bed. Bloom slowly sat up on the mattress, rubbing her sleep-filled face. Her gaze swept across the room. Musa started stuffing textbooks into her bag; she didn't even turn her head or show in any way that she had noticed her roommate waking up. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Someone was taking a shower, and judging by Tecna's absence from the room, it was definitely the Fairy of Technology. Musa, meanwhile, finished packing, walked over to Flora's bed, and gently shook the sleeping Fairy of Nature by the shoulder.

"Flora, time to get up."

Stella was also still asleep. The princess lay on her stomach, her face cozily buried in her pillow and her blonde hair scattered across the sheets. Usually, Musa or Tecna woke her up in the mornings, but today it was clear they couldn't expect any help from the Fairy of Music—Musa was fundamentally ignoring half the room. Apparently, this grand mission would have to be taken on her own shoulders.

"Good morning," Dominique said calmly, lowering her bare feet onto the cool floor.

"Good morning..." Flora replied sleepily and a bit awkwardly, rubbing her eyes.

Musa silently zipped up her bag, completely ignoring the greeting. She slung the bag over her shoulder and, without giving Dominique even a passing glance, walked out of the room. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of warm steam, and a fresh-looking Tecna stepped into the room. Dominique, wasting no time, grabbed her things and slipped behind the door the Fairy of Technology had just exited. The hot shower helped finally wash away the remnants of sleep and yesterday's exhaustion. When she returned to the room, towel-drying her hair, Flora immediately slipped into the freed-up bathroom. But Stella, as it turned out, still hadn't been woken up by anyone.

Dominique sighed, walked over to the princess's bed, and ruthlessly yanked the blanket off her. The blonde shivered displeasedly from the morning chill, curled into a ball, hugged her pillow with both arms, and didn't even think about opening her eyes. Dominique walked over to her own wardrobe, quickly got dressed, and then intentionally slammed the door loudly.

"Stella," she called out in a commanding tone. "Get up. Griselda is here."

The princess only let out a martyred groan, burying her nose even deeper into the pillow.

"Mmmm... let her wait... I'm busy..."

"It seems that won't work a second time. Apparently, she's already developed a strong immunity to Griselda's name," Tecna chuckled, watching the princess's bed with interest.

A sleepy Stella looked absolutely hilarious: a disheveled blonde mane, a ridden-up pajama top, and that ridiculous fetal position, permanently fused to the pillow. Her appearance inspired two contradictory feelings at once: mild endearment and a sadistic desire to shake her vigorously.

"Stella, if you don't get up right now..." Dominique scanned the room for inspiration, and her eyes snagged on the doors of the princess's wardrobe. She took a couple of steps toward it and slammed the door so hard the hangers jingled. "Oh my God, Stella! Someone stole all your new dresses!"

"What?!" The princess's eyes snapped open instantly. The sleep vanished from her as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head. She sat up sharply in bed, staring at her wardrobe in horror. "What did you say?!"

Dominique calmly pushed the door open slightly, demonstrating that all the countless outfits were hanging in their rightful places, safe and sound.

"I said: get up. Breakfast is soon."

"No, you said..." Stella trailed off, shifting her gaze from the dresses to an unbothered Bloom. It finally dawned on her. "Oh, you..."

She jumped up on the mattress, intending to kick her redhead friend in righteous fury, but her foot treacherously tangled in the crumpled blanket. Stella lost her balance, flailed her arms, and with a loud, entirely unaristocratic curse, flopped back onto the pillows. Tecna's lips twitched slightly as she watched the scuffle.

"Interesting..." the Fairy of Technology muttered. "I wonder how many times that trigger will work?"

"I hope it lasts for at least a week," Dominique grabbed her bag and headed for the exit.

At that moment, the lock clicked, and Flora stepped out of the shower.

"The bathroom is free."

"Excellent!" Stella, instantly forgetting her offense, frantically grabbed a towel, scooped up a pile of fresh clothes, and darted into the bathroom like a bullet.

"Let's go, Tecna. This is going to take a while," Dominique stated, knowing the princess's morning rituals perfectly well.

"The first class today is with Professor Wizgiz," the Fairy of Technology reminded them as she headed for the door. "I hope today he shows us something more interesting than recoloring mice."

"Hey! Wait for me! I'll be quick!" Stella's voice echoed from behind the bathroom door, muffled by the sound of running water.

"We'll save you a seat!" Dominique shouted back. She shifted her gaze to the Fairy of Nature, who was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot by her bed. "Flora, are you coming?"

"Huh? Yes... coming," Flora hurried after Dominique and Tecna.

The girls stepped out into the bright morning corridor and merged into the stream of students heading for breakfast. On the way to the dining hall, Dominique pondered exactly how today would go. She was mentally preparing herself for the fact that by lunch, every second freshman would be pointing a finger at her. For now, dozens of fairies just rushed past, discussing homework, guys from Red Fountain, and plans for the week. To them, she was still Princess Varanda.

Sitting down at an empty table and placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her, the girl cast an observant glance over the crowded, buzzing hall. The majority of the upperclassmen fairies here hadn't crossed paths with her at all and didn't know her from Eve. Most likely, the rumor that some freshman had impersonated a princess would pass through the school as background noise, and no one would care. But her classmates and teachers—that was a different story.

I wonder how Avalon will react? the thought suddenly flashed through Dominique's mind. What a shame his class wasn't on the schedule today. Partially, she couldn't care less about the opinion of the crowd, but for some reason, the reaction of that enigmatic combat magic teacher was the one she wanted to see the most.

Toward the end of breakfast, Stella burst into the dining hall like a hurricane. The princess was pouting fiercely because she had been treacherously abandoned without them waiting for her. Fortunately, they didn't have to listen to her whining for long. There were only ten minutes left until the bell, and in front of Stella sat a steaming pile of pancakes with maple syrup that she desperately wanted to inhale. In the end, the princess made the right choice and chewed more than she complained about her hard life.

Musa never showed up at their table. The Fairy of Music had chosen to sit with some other freshmen at the far end of the hall. Because of this, the girls at that table kept throwing eloquent, judgmental glances toward Stella and her group, having apparently already guessed about the argument and mentally appointed the guilty parties.

Right after breakfast, the girls headed to the classroom, managing to take their seats just as the bell rang. Professor Wizgiz literally materialized in a cloud of sparks a minute later next to his desk, and immediately hopped right onto the tabletop, as was his habit.

"Good morning, young ladies!" the leprechaun greeted them cheerfully.

The class responded with a disjointed, sleepy hum.

"I see you're all in a wonderful mood today, that's just fantastic!" Wizgiz broadcasted joyfully, pacing back and forth across the tabletop.

"I would beg to differ..." Stella, sitting next to Dominique, grimaced quietly.

She had been unceremoniously shoved awake today, forced to rush through the shower, only managing to hastily brush her hair, and hadn't even applied her mandatory light makeup. So her mood was infinitely far from what the professor was describing.

"Alright! In the last lesson, all of you did a wonderful job recoloring the mice's fur orange," Wizgiz clapped his hands. "And that means it's time to experiment on yourselves!"

The leprechaun laughed merrily. In response, an anxious whisper rolled through the class.

"There's no need to be frightened, I am absolutely certain everyone will succeed!" the professor waved his arms soothingly. "The absolute worst that threatens you in case of a loss of concentration is temporarily losing your hair. That is such a trifle, honestly! It'll grow back in a couple of weeks!"

The girls in the audience gasped in unison. A few instinctively clutched their hairstyles.

"But those who succeed will be able to forget about hair dye forever!" With a theatrical gesture, Wizgiz took off his tall green hat.

His completely bald crown was instantly covered with a thick mop of chestnut hair. Right before the students' eyes, his newly grown hair began to rapidly change color. First, it turned blue-black, then transformed into a platinum blonde, then flared blue, and finally settled on a bright pink color. An awed sigh swept through the classroom. The girls were clearly inspired by the prospect, but the threat of going bald still palpably cooled their ardor.

"But before we move on to the practical part of our lesson," Wizgiz suddenly stopped and put his hat back on, hiding the pink curls, "I think someone might want to introduce themselves to the class once more. Isn't that right, Miss Bloom?"

Dominique froze. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Headmistress Faragonda informed the teaching staff about your situation this morning," Wizgiz smiled encouragingly.

"I..."

"Please, step up here. Don't be shy, my dear. Introduce yourself with your real name."

Dominique slowly stood up from her desk and walked over to the teacher's table. Thirty pairs of eyes instantly locked onto her. Bewildered, curious, openly surprised, and, it seemed, one gloating—from Musa, of course. Dominique swept her gaze over the class, frantically trying to figure out how to act. Wizgiz had completely blindsided her with this "step up and introduce yourself" routine. She hadn't intended to put on a public performance at all, but since there was no way out, her choices were slim. All that was left was to put on the mask of an innocent victim of circumstance—teenage girls love that sort of thing and are quick to forgive.

"Well... As the professor said, I am not actually Princess Varanda," Dominique began, lowering her eyes. A loud murmur of surprise rippled through the audience. "My real name is Bloom. I... I am so ashamed that I lied to you all for so long. I sincerely apologize for..."

"Oh, honestly, my dear, there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of here!" Wizgiz interrupted her loudly, throwing his hands up. "You were merely fulfilling Princess Varanda's request! Taking her place for the sake of the heiress's safety is a very brave and noble act for a young fairy!"

Dominique's brain simply shut down for a second. What the fuck?! Only her colossal past experience helped her keep a straight face and not drop her jaw right onto Wizgiz's shoes. She slowly turned her head and threw a sharp look at Stella. She looked just as dumbfounded. Catching Dominique's unspoken question, the Princess of Solaria only gave a slight, barely noticeable shake of her head, as if to say, "I have absolutely no idea what's going on here."

"It's a great shame that due to security threats, Princess Varanda was forced to decline studying at Alfea this year," the leprechaun shook his head ruefully. "But now that the crisis has passed, you no longer need to impersonate her and carry this burden, Bloom."

"Yes... I... I'm so glad that everything has finally been resolved safely," Dominique squeezed out a soft, relieved smile, instantly adapting to the situation. "I apologize once again, and I hope for your understanding."

She bowed her head guiltily, listening in the background as the class began to buzz with excitement. Mentally, Dominique was trying to digest what was happening. She and Faragonda hadn't agreed to anything like this! With such an elegant move, the Headmistress managed not only to legalize her presence in the school but also to completely salvage her reputation. What it cost Faragonda herself to arrange with the royal family of Callisto to agree to confirm this wild backstory, Dominique didn't even try to guess. However, the fact remained: she now owed the Headmistress for a second time. But what was even more terrifying was that Dominique had absolutely no understanding of the motivation. Why on earth was Faragonda spending so much political influence on some freshman from Earth? Dominique didn't believe in the Headmistress's altruism for a single second.

"Alright, alright, that's enough apologies. You handled your task perfectly. Return to your seat, Bloom!" Wizgiz commanded, and immediately barked at the rest of the class. "Quiet in the classroom! Let's get back to the lesson."

Dominique returned to her desk and sat next to Stella. The princess looked at her with wide eyes but said nothing. As soon as Bloom sat down, Professor Wizgiz snapped his fingers. At that exact moment, the notebooks lying in front of each student hopped up and transformed into elegant hand mirrors.

"Metamorphism of one's own body is a much more complex process than recoloring someone else's fur!" the leprechaun began to explain, pacing across the desk. "There are no ready-made spells for this! Here, everything depends on your individual understanding of yourself. After all, we are all unique. There is no universal formula for changing a specific body part."

He tapped his temple.

"Therefore, you must rely exclusively on your internal ability to control your power and on a clear visualization of who you want to become. Begin! Just remember to be careful!"

The rest of the lesson passed in tense silence, broken only by disappointed sighs. By the end of the class, only Stella, who clearly knew how to do this beforehand, and a couple of other students who likely had some form of home tutoring behind them, managed to successfully change their hair color.

Tecna, who had been openly bored for the entire lesson, finally decided to give it a try right before the bell. Dominique noted with surprise that the Fairy of Technology easily changed her usual crimson color to platinum blonde. And she had to admit, that color definitely suited Tecna, making her facial features even softer and more attractive.

Dominique herself didn't even try to change the color of her red hair. For the whole lesson, she sat looking into the mirror, but she didn't see her own reflection there; instead, she saw the sly, all-forgiving smile of Headmistress Faragonda, who had just fastened yet another leash around her neck.

---------------------------------------------

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[VitahAR]

The sharp, melodic trill of the school bell cut through the silence of the classroom. In that same instant, the elegant hand mirror Dominique was holding turned back into an ordinary notebook with a soft pop.

"Don't be upset, ladies, you have plenty of time ahead for practice!" Wizgiz cheerfully proclaimed, before simply dissolving into thin air.

But for Dominique, the lesson didn't end there. No sooner had the professor vanished than a second, much more exhausting trial began, codenamed "girlish curiosity." As soon as she stood up from her desk, she was immediately surrounded by a tight ring of chirping first-years with their endless "hows," "whats," and "whys." Fortunately, Stella didn't lose her head and stepped in right on time, shielding her from the inquisitive crowd. Together, they masterfully fed the enthusiastic audience a freshly baked legend, confirmed by the Headmistress herself, about a personal request from Princess Varanda. The half-hour break was rapidly melting away, and no matter how curious the girls were, they eventually had to stop their questioning and head to their next class—Nature Magic with Professor Palladium. They stepped out into the hallway, trying to break free from the flow of students.

"What the hell was that just now?" Stella nudged her friend with her shoulder and leaned in, dropping her voice to a tense whisper.

"I'd love to know what kind of games the Headmistress is playing myself," Dominique answered through gritted teeth, keeping a polite half-smile on her face for the passing fairies. "We never agreed to anything like this."

Suddenly, a quiet buzzing sounded from the side. Tecna's spherical drone flew past, and the Fairy of Technology herself fell into step slightly behind them, trying to keep pace.

"Are you saying you didn't know it would go down like this?" Tecna asked in a tone devoid of inflection.

"No. I was just as shocked by what Wizgiz pulled," Dominique turned to her, looking her straight in the eye.

"But you realize how absurd this sounds from a logical standpoint?" Tecna crossed her arms over her chest. "First, you claim to be Varanda. Saturday night, you say you're Bloom from Earth. This morning, the Headmistress officially announces that you were covering for the Princess at her personal request. Where is the truth in all this, Bloom?"

Tecna stopped. Her drone, making a smooth semicircle, hovered right over Dominique's shoulder. Flora, who had been trudging silently behind them the whole time, also stopped in confusion next to the technology fairy. It was clearly visible on the nature fairy's face that she was completely tangled in this web of lies and no longer knew what to believe. The four girls froze in the middle of the wide corridor, forming a tense island that the students rushing to class carefully navigated around.

"I will tell you," Dominique gave a short nod and looked around, realizing the hallway wasn't the best place for confessions. "Let's sit down quietly in our room after classes and talk. If you are ready to listen, I will tell you everything. Holding nothing back."

"We wanted to tell you everything on the very first day, but someone threw a tantrum out of nowhere!" Stella chimed in, crossing her arms in offense.

Tecna lowered her gaze to the screen of the communicator on her wrist and gave a barely noticeable sigh. Dominique could have sworn: for a fraction of a second, a jagged green line flashed across the flickering display, looking suspiciously like a pulse or breathing rate graph. Did she hook up some kind of portable polygraph to us through her drone?! Dominique barely suppressed a nervous chuckle, glancing sideways at the hovering sphere, whose lens whirred and rotated strangely. Or is my paranoia just going into overdrive? But whatever it was, the Fairy of Technology had drawn her conclusions. She nodded and turned to Flora.

"I think we should give them a chance to explain. What do you think, Flora?"

"I... I want to know the truth too," the nature fairy nodded quietly but firmly. "This uncertainty... it's just destroying us from the inside."

"Alright. Then we will postpone the conversation until tonight," Tecna gave everyone a serious look. "But there's another problem... Musa."

Stella grimaced as if she had bitten into a lemon.

"What about Musa? She doesn't want to listen to anything at all! She'll just throw another fit, start slamming doors and yelling! Why do we need that concert?"

"Because she lives in the same room with us, and she needs to be aware of what is going on," Tecna countered. "Otherwise, living in such a stressful state won't lead to anything good."

"I agree, this fight isn't doing anyone any good," Flora softly supported her. "If we could just talk and make peace, so everything could be like before... that would be great."

"She at least talks to you. Can you convince her to come to the room tonight without a scandal?" Tecna asked Flora.

"I... I'll try," the girl nodded, though her voice lacked total confidence.

"Good, then..." Tecna started to say, but didn't get to finish.

A sharp trill of the bell rang over their heads once again, announcing the start of class.

"First period is with Professor Palladium, and we are now officially late," Tecna stated dryly, glancing at her watch. "Just perfect."

"To hell with classes, the fate of our team is actually being decided here!" Stella protested.

"Alright, girls, let's discuss everything after classes," Dominique commanded, cutting off the brewing argument.

Tecna gave a short nod, Flora looked openly alarmed at the fact that they were late, and Stella grimaced in displeasure, showing her reluctance to attend the subject with her entire demeanor. But no matter how much the princess wanted to skip, getting caught by the omnipresent Griselda in an empty hallway was a far more terrifying prospect. They already had a month of detention with mops hanging over them, and if they gave Griselda a reason, she would gladly double that sentence. Wasting not another second on talk, the girls headed to class at a brisk pace. The Nature Magic classroom was located in the left wing of the castle, which was adjoined on the outside by a garden and massive glass greenhouses. The classroom they needed was located precisely in one of these extensions.

As soon as Dominique pushed open the heavy doors, the first thing she felt was an incredibly thick, rich scent. The huge, sun-drenched room smelled of dozens of blooming exotic plants, whose vines hung right down from the glass ceiling.

"You are late, young ladies," a soft, melodic male voice called out from the back of the classroom. "Quickly, take the empty seats, we have only just begun."

Dominique and Stella quickly slipped into the very back desk and were finally able to focus on the teacher. He had sharp, long ears and thick wheat-colored hair, neatly tied back at the nape of his neck. He was dressed with impeccable elegance, yet slightly old-fashioned: a snow-white shirt with wide sleeves, light trousers tucked into high brown boots, and a fitted green vest with a cravat. Dominique had seen elves on the streets of Magix before, and she frequently spotted Professor Palladium himself in the school cafeteria or the hallways. But today was the first time he was teaching their class. Right now, the elf was sitting quite casually on the edge of a massive teacher's desk, next to which towered a giant wooden hourglass measuring the lesson's time.

"And so," Professor Palladium swept his calm gaze over the class, "today we are going to talk about how magic interacts with wild nature, and why even the most powerful fairy should sometimes rely on her instincts rather than spells..."

"But Professor, we aren't all nature fairies here," a disgruntled voice suddenly rang out from the adjacent row.

Amaryl—for it was indeed her—cast a look of mild contempt toward Flora. The nature fairy at that moment was gazing in delight at the massive glass walls of the greenhouse, thickly entwined with emerald vines and bizarre flowers.

"For what I will be teaching you here, it is absolutely not necessary to be a nature fairy, Miss..." Professor Palladium smiled politely.

"Amaryl," the girl raised her chin proudly. "And I am the Fairy of Starlight. These little flowers are kind of..."

"I understand you, Amaryl," the elf interrupted her softly but insistently. "However, light magic synergizes perfectly with flora. Without light, there is no growth. You are much closer to nature than you can even imagine."

The elf hopped off the desk and paced smoothly down the aisles, scanning the audience with an attentive gaze.

"By the way, are there any among you who hail from Linphea?"

A few hands went up hesitantly into the air. Flora also timidly raised her palm. Professor Palladium's face instantly lit up with a warm, genuine smile.

"Oh, how wonderful! My compatriots. I welcome you," he gave a slight, almost imperceptible bow. "But let us return to our topic. Nature studies is not a science about memorized spells and combat stances. It is about sensations. About the ability to listen and be in harmony with the surrounding world. I will teach you how to survive in the wild: how to navigate a forest by the moss, how to find safe shelter, how to properly ask a plant to share its moisture with you if you are dying of thirst..."

"Excuse me, Professor," a girl at a back desk raised her hand. "What is the problem with simply conjuring water for yourself with magic? For example, the spell 'Aqualis.' On Andros, where I am from, absolutely every mage knows it from a young age. Look."

The girl extended her hand over the desk and snapped her fingers. Right above her open palm, a complex, blue-glowing rune circle instantly flared to life. It consisted of several concentric rings covered in fine script, within which strict lines intersected, and runic symbols shone in smaller circles. The air above the rune circle rippled, and in its center, a large sphere of water materialized out of nowhere, quivering slightly like mercury. Dominique leaned forward with interest. It genuinely looked impressive.

"An excellent question!" Palladium perked up. "This water looks like water, it feels wet to the touch, and if you drink it, it will even give you the sensation of quenching your thirst. But alas, young ladies, this sensation is a deadly illusion."

The professor stepped closer to the girl's desk and pointed a long finger at the hovering sphere.

"Your spell does not create water out of the void. 'Aqualis' merely transmutes your own innate magical energy into the shape of water. By swallowing it, you will gain absolutely nothing useful. Your body needs real water with minerals, not structured mana. In a real survival situation, feeding on your own illusions, you will simply die of dehydration, and with a stomach full of your own magic to boot. That is exactly why you must know how to interact with the living world," Palladium concluded.

He waved his hand smoothly, and a small clay pot landed with a soft thud on the desk in front of each student. Sticking out of the dark soil was a dense, tightly closed green bud, looking very much like a large Earth tulip.

"This is a Moonflower," the professor announced. "A nocturnal plant that opens its petals exclusively at night. Your task for today is to try and convince the plant to open right now. And the most important condition: the use of any spells is strictly prohibited. Only harmony and your inner intent. You may begin."

The classroom plunged into focused sniffling and huffing. Girls stroked the pots, whispered things to the buds, someone even tried humming. As expected, things went quickly for the fairies from Linphea: Flora simply wrapped her hands around her pot, closed her eyes, and her bud almost instantly bloomed into a beautiful, silvery flower. Stella, sitting next to Dominique, sighed heavily as she looked at her tulip.

"Alright, little flower, how about a little sun?"

The princess held her open palm up to the bud. Her hand suddenly began to radiate a soft, warm light. But instead of opening, the Moonflower bud contracted violently, as if burned, and leaned to the side, trying to hide from the direct "sunlight."

"Hey! What gives?" the princess huffed in indignation.

"Stella, it's a moon flower," Dominique pointed out in a low voice, watching her attempts. "It needs night light."

"Oh right, exactly! I always forget about the second half of my title," Stella slapped her palm against her forehead. "Take two."

She brought her hand to the flower again; this time, the warm glow faded, giving way to a silvery luminescence. The bud immediately twitched, reaching gratefully toward the source of the cool glow, and its petals opened with a soft rustle.

"Professor! She's cheating!" Amaryl immediately shrieked, whipping around to face the princess. "You expressly forbade the use of spells!"

"I wasn't using a spell, you idiot," Stella replied lazily, not removing her glowing hand. "I am the Princess of Solaria, the Fairy of the Sun and Moon. Light is my innate power. I just gave it what it likes."

Palladium walked over to their desk, looked carefully at the bloomed flower, and nodded approvingly.

"Princess Stella is absolutely correct, Miss Amaryl. She used her innate power to find harmony with the plant. Light and life always go hand in hand. A wonderful solution!"

Amaryl snorted in irritation, crossing her arms. Then, narrowing her eyes, she turned to her own bud and held her palm over it too, trying to replicate Stella's trick. Light did indeed begin to emanate from her fingers, but it was cold, and somehow dim. Her flower only shuddered weakly and slightly parted a couple of its top petals, flatly refusing to bloom completely under such meager illumination. Stella smiled haughtily, catching Amaryl's angry glare. Dominique, meanwhile, was looking at her own tightly shut tulip, thoughtfully drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Light—that was understandable. Plants reach for the light. But what was she supposed to do, a fairy whose nature was fire? How to avoid burning this miserable weed to hell and back, and make it bloom instead?

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[VitahAR]

Dominique stared silently at her green tulip, feeling a dull irritation boiling inside her. It was easy for Palladium to talk about harmony and just "feeling" nature. But to Dominique, a modern adult from Earth, trying to negotiate with a bush sounded like utter madness. The plant had neither a brain nor ears. How can you "feel" something that is fundamentally incapable of feeling? Where was the clear, step-by-step instruction manual on how to do this?

She carefully cupped the clay pot in her hands and, feeling like an absolute idiot, began to mentally recite simple commands, starting from a basic "open up" to a sincere "just bloom already, you little shit, before I rip all your leaves off." But alas, neither gentle coaxing nor threats worked. No magical unity with nature or voices in her head, other than her own, appeared. The flower remained a flower. Okay, let's think logically, Dominique ordered herself. What do plants need to bloom? Light? Stella managed it, even that idiot Amaryl got something to work, which means forcing it to open its bud is theoretically possible.

But there was one tiny problem: she didn't wield light; her element was fire. And if she influenced it with her flame, she would simply turn the plant into a damn charcoal briquette. Doing that right in front of the elf... could end badly. Not physically, of course—Palladium was unlikely to harm her—but he was fully capable of suffocating her with bad grades. How was she supposed to complete this damn assignment then? She couldn't burn it... Or could she? Right. Fire doesn't just burn; it can also provide warmth. Flowers supposedly like warmth. At least, all normal flowers on Earth reach for warmth and bloom in the spring when the ground heats up.

Deciding she had found the right answer, the girl focused and reached for her inner flame. Her palms warmed slightly, transferring a pleasant heat to the clay walls of the pot and the soil inside. The air around the flower became hot, like a summer day. And the result didn't take long to manifest. Only it was the exact opposite of what she expected. Instead of unfolding its petals, the Moonflower's bud shrank sharply and drooped dismally, bowing all the way down to the soil, as if trying to hide.

"Oh no, incorrect. Cease using fire magic immediately, Miss Bloom," Palladium's voice sounded right by her ear.

The elf shook his head, looking at the drooping plant.

"Fire and excessive heat are a signal of a sweltering day approaching. And the Moonflower is a child of the cool night. It instinctively hides from your heat, trying to conserve moisture. You are acting aggressively upon it, instead of listening to its needs."

Dominique took her hands off the pot and pursed her lips, suppressing the urge to say exactly what she thought about these botanical riddles.

"I'm sorry, Professor. It seems harmony with nature isn't my strongest suit," she replied.

"All in good time," Palladium smiled gently. "I didn't learn everything in a single day either. So don't be upset if you didn't succeed on the first try," he continued in that same melodic voice. "Interacting with nature requires not only strength but also patience."

The elf turned and walked back to his desk with a light step. Dominique cast a dark look at her tulip. Next to her, Stella giggled quietly, stroking her perfectly bloomed silver flower. Soon after, the bell rang, sparing Dominique the need to keep glaring at the miserable weed.

"A moment of your attention, young ladies!" Palladium's voice echoed through the greenhouse, cutting over the students' chatter. "Those who managed to find common ground with the Moonflower today—excellent work. Those who didn't... do not despair. Nature requires patience."

The professor leaned both hands on his desk, and his face suddenly grew very serious.

"What we did today was merely a light warm-up in comfortable conditions. But real nature is far from always being as friendly as these flowers. It is often hostile, unpredictable, and sometimes... very dangerous."

A tense silence fell over the classroom.

"That is exactly why," the elf continued, sweeping a piercing gaze across the room, "next week, we will be going on a field trip so you can apply your acquired knowledge in real conditions."

Dominique glanced sideways and noticed the face of Stella, sitting next to her, contort with genuine horror. The princess had already figured out where this was going.

"Oh, God... Not again," she groaned, dropping her head onto her crossed arms in despair.

An excited and slightly anxious whisper ran through the rows.

"Excuse me... where will we be going?" someone from the front desks asked hesitantly.

"Oh, it's quite close," the elf smiled encouragingly. "It is simply the perfect place to learn how to... listen to nature. A unique ecosystem, rich with rare plants and astonishing life forms..."

"The Mud..." Stella mumbled into the desk in a miserable, strangled voice.

"...Swamp," Palladium finished for her enthusiastically. "You will have to navigate the terrain, find safe routes... and perhaps convince more than one stubborn plant to cooperate with you."

With a slight smile, the elf surveyed the class full of shocked girls' faces.

"I will provide the details during our next lesson. For now, you are dismissed."

Lunch passed in a highly tense atmosphere. Musa sat apart from their group again, but this time Flora joined her. The fairy of nature was softly but actively arguing with her, repeatedly casting pleading glances toward the table where Bloom, Stella, and Tecna sat. Apparently, Flora was trying her hardest to persuade the fairy of music to at least listen to their version of events. Because of this, the remaining two classes—a tedious history lecture and an unbearably boring etiquette class with Madam Du Four—passed in a blur for Dominique. All her thoughts were exclusively focused on the upcoming evening. She sat at her desk, staring blankly out the window, while a tense process was underway in her mind. She was running through the script of the upcoming conversation: what to say, how to present it, where to pause, and where to raise her voice. She anticipated possible questions and immediately selected the perfect answers for them.

Dominique was preparing for this conversation as if she were walking into another board of directors meeting, rather than a reconciliation chat with teenage girls. However, the stakes here were no lower. Right now, she needed to present herself in the correct light to finally close the issue of trust once and for all. Of course, she had ironclad arguments; her story itself was the perfect excuse. But the whole trick lay in exactly how to present it. Dominique mentally broke her roommates down into psychological profiles. Making soft-hearted Flora feel sorry for her was a piece of cake; she just needed to place the emotional emphasis on the fear for her parents correctly. Meticulous Tecna would have to be fed facts and pressed with logic. But Musa... With her, things were more complicated. Musa could only be pressured with one weapon—sincerity. This meant that in her case, only the truth was needed. But the truth, presented from the right angle. The truth that she, too, was afraid, that they had a common enemy and a shared vulnerability—that was the best glue for prickly loners like her.

Dominique gave a barely noticeable smirk at her own thoughts. It shouldn't be difficult. Her whole story was so good you couldn't make up a better one, and best of all—it was entirely true. All that was left was to tell it correctly. The sharp trill of the final school bell snapped her out of her thoughts, which had already acquired a clear structure. Well, the time had come. She could head to room 207 and wait for everyone to gather. And it would be best to close this issue quickly. She really wanted to manage to grab at least a little rest before her evening detention with Griselda. She was already starting to have nightmares about that damn mop. Dominique slung her bag over her shoulder and, exchanging a glance with Stella, headed toward the desk where Tecna and Flora were packing their things. At the desk next to them, Musa was also packing up.

"Well, shall we?" Stella tried to make her voice sound casual, though it came out frankly strained. Then she shifted her gaze to the fairy of music. "Musa?.."

Musa, zipping up her bag, let out a barely audible hmph and looked up.

"Flora said you're planning an evening of revelations here," she drawled, giving the princess a cold stare. "You know, I'm actually curious: what new fairy tale are we going to hear today?"

Stella instantly flared up with indignation.

"Listen, if you're just going to be snarky and rude out of nowhere again..."

"Stella, please, don't," Flora hastily wedged herself between them, pleadingly folding her arms over her chest. Then she turned to the fairy of music. "Musa, we agreed. You promised to just listen."

The fairy of music rolled her eyes and hitched her shoulder in annoyance, adjusting her bag strap.

"Go to the room. I'll catch up," she tossed out and, without waiting for an answer, walked briskly out of the classroom, disappearing into the corridor.

Dominique merely scoffed mentally. Another petty demonstration of her grievance. Fine, let her play this game if it made her feel better. However, half an hour later, the atmosphere in room 207 began to heat up rapidly again. Stella paced the space between the beds, repeatedly glaring at her watch in irritation.

"Where is she?!" the princess finally exploded, throwing her hands up. "Half an hour has passed! Are we supposed to beg her to come? She's clearly doing this on purpose to piss me off!"

"She'll come. Just show a little patience, Stella," Flora replied, looking at the door with growing anxiety.

"Yeah, well my patience is already..."

A sharp click of the handle cut Stella's angry tirade short. The door swung open, and Musa finally entered the room. She carelessly tossed her bag onto her bed and immediately sat down next to it, crossing her legs.

"Alright," Tecna looked at everyone. "We're all here."

"Finally," Stella snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "We can begin this historic moment."

Musa gave the princess an icy stare.

"No historic moment," she cut her off. "I only came because Flora asked. And because I'm genuinely curious to find out: what new little fairy tale have you come up with?"

Stella opened her mouth to shoot back a barb, but Flora beat her to it. She took a timid step toward the fairy of music.

"Musa, please," the fairy of nature asked quietly. "Let's just hear them out. For the last time. For all our sakes. Please."

Musa sighed heavily and, leaning back against the headboard of her bed, crossed her arms over her chest.

"Fine," she hissed through her teeth. "I'll listen to your latest nonsense. But don't even hope that I'll believe a word of it."

Dominique took a deep breath. Well, the moment had arrived. She cleared her throat dramatically, gathering her thoughts and drawing everyone's attention, and then began her story:

"I'll start from the very beginning, then. As I mentioned before, I was born and raised on Earth. In an ordinary little town called Gardenia. My planet has no fairies, witches, or monsters. All this magic is considered purely children's fairy tales where I'm from. And I thought so too, until one day, walking in the park, I stumbled upon something that completely changed my life. I met Stella. And she... was fighting some kind of demons."

"It was an ogre and a pack of ghouls," Stella immediately chimed in. "I was just returning from Callisto. I really do know Varanda; we're very good friends. We were supposed to go to Alfea together this year, but... literally a couple of days before our departure, her father, the king, had a severe heart attack."

Stella stopped in the middle of the room and sighed heavily, remembering that day.

"Panic broke out in the palace, and the planet's borders were temporarily closed. Naturally, studying was out of the question for the heiress in such a situation. Varanda wrote an official letter of withdrawal and asked me to personally deliver it to Faragonda."

"Why a letter?" Tecna spoke up from her chair. "Wouldn't it have been faster and more efficient to cancel the enrollment via the extranet or simply call?"

"Because due to the closed borders, all communication channels were also blocked so information about the king's health wouldn't leak to the press," Stella explained. "There really is something strange about that attack. I saw the king the day before, and he was as healthy as a horse."

"An assassination attempt?" Tecna frowned, trying to look up current information from Callisto on the extranet. "Is that why Faragonda was talking about the princess's safety?"

"I don't know what really happened; I left before anything was cleared up," Stella began pacing the room again. "I took the letter and returned to Magix. There was still a whole week before classes started, so I decided to hit the boutiques. That's when those jerks ambushed me."

"They wanted to take your ring?" Flora guessed.

"Yes. And I had a bunch of shopping bags with me! They would have gotten ruined in a fight. I'm talking about designer pieces from limited collections..."

"Stella..." Dominique cut off the princess's monologue, which had clearly taken a wrong turn.

"Right, right, anyway, I decided: screw the fight. I wanted to portal straight to Solaria. But they did something..." Stella narrowed her eyes angrily and clenched her fists. "Most likely, those nasty Trix gave the ogre some kind of jammer that scrambled my portal's coordinates. And instead of ending up at home, I was thrown into some dirty park on Earth. And those freaks jumped right after me, into my own portal."

 

[VitahAR]

Stella stopped abruptly and threw up her hands.

"Naturally, I didn't risk teleporting blind again, so I had to fight. And that's exactly when Bloom came to my rescue."

"Yeah, it all happened incredibly spontaneously," Dominique shifted her gaze to Musa. "When the ghouls spotted me in the bushes, I thought I was just going to die of fear. I had never seen such monsters in my life. When they lunged at me, I thought I was a goner, but..."

"That's when your magic awakened, right?" Tecna asked, looking up from her communicator.

"Yes. I have no idea how it worked, but I burned the little creatures with a wave of fire, and the ogre ran away. Then Stella and I introduced ourselves. She told me about magic, about Alfea, and said that since I have this gift, I have to learn how to control it so I don't accidentally burn myself or my loved ones."

Tecna, listening intently to every word, nodded approvingly.

"Well, and then we went to my house," Dominique continued. "And Stella spent a solid hour trying to convince my parents to let me go study in another world."

Dominique gave a sad chuckle.

"Naturally, they absolutely refused to let me go to god-knows-where."

"At first, they actually thought I was crazy!" Stella chimed in with genuine indignation.

"I can understand them," Musa snorted sarcastically, not changing her posture.

"Ha-ha, very funny," the blonde rolled her eyes. "I'd like to see you try explaining to adult humans from a magic-less planet that their daughter is a fairy!"

"Calm down, both of you," Tecna reprimanded them strictly. "What happened next, Bloom?"

Dominique frowned, recalling that night.

"And then... They tracked us down somehow. That same ogre, a whole pack of ghouls, and some huge blue troll. They all just busted into my house."

"'Busted into' is an understatement..." Stella shuddered. "We had a full-blown war in there. So, picture this. Night. Silence. And suddenly—BANG! Such a crash that the windows rattled. Growling, cracking, shattering from downstairs. I run down, and the place is wrecked with a bunch of monsters everywhere."

Musa tensed, and Flora covered her mouth with her hand in fright.

"You didn't see what was going on in there... It was a total nightmare," Stella's voice became uncharacteristically serious. "We couldn't even run away because Bloom's parents were in the house. We weren't going to leave them behind. I don't know by what miracle we held out, but when Bloom's father came out... with this ancient rifle... and just blew that troll's head off with a single shot... everything kind of ended abruptly. We freaking won."

A deafening silence hung in the room. Flora looked at Dominique with huge eyes, full of terror and mute admiration. Musa slowly lowered her crossed arms. Something complex and unreadable flashed in her eyes, as if Stella's words about the father had stirred something within the fairy of music's own soul.

"Do you understand now?" Stella took a step toward the center of the room, looking at all of them. "Because of me and my ring, Bloom got dragged into my conflict with the Trix. Do you think they would have left her alone? That's why she had to learn, urgently! To protect herself! To protect her parents!"

"But... then why the deception? What was the point of the lie with Varanda?" Flora asked quietly.

"Because enrollment at Alfea was already closed!" Stella threw her hands up. "They would have just turned her away at the doorstep. They would have said, 'Sorry, dear, come back next year.' In a year!"

Stella gave a bitter laugh.

"That's what the cover story was for! That's why Varanda! To get into the school bypassing the rules! Because waiting a whole year meant dying!"

"Dying?" Flora gasped, turning pale.

"What do you think? The laws of the magical dimension don't apply to Earth. The Trix could have come to her house and done... well, whatever they wanted. And no one would have even known. We had no choice! Alfea was the only place where Bloom could be safe and learn! And most importantly, as long as she is here, her parents on Earth automatically fall under the school's protection."

After Stella's words, a tense silence filled the room. Stella caught her breath after such an emotional speech, while the girls digested what they had heard.

"A fascinating story," Tecna finally broke the silence. She turned in her chair to face Dominique. "And quite terrifying. By the way, what is the name of your kingdom on Earth, Bloom?"

Dominique barely arched an eyebrow. A light, ironic smirk rose inside her. A kingdom? Seriously? God, how cute and archaic that sounds regarding the modern world with its democracies, republics, and nuclear arsenals. But out loud, she said:

"On Earth, we call them countries or states. The one I live in is called the United States of America. The USA, for short."

Tecna froze for a second, her fingers rapidly punching data into her communicator.

"The USA, right? Interesting. And which state?" she asked, frowning slightly, not taking her eyes off the screen. "I see several settlements named 'Gardenia' in this country. Which one are you from?"

Dominique paused for a moment. The question seemed simple, but it caught the girl off guard with its absurdity and terrible timing. Why the hell did Tecna need the state? Plus, Dominique herself wasn't one hundred percent sure exactly which state Gardenia was in. She strained her memory, trying to recall the license plates on the cars in the streets. It seemed like it was California.

"The state of California," Dominique answered after a slight hesitation.

"How interesting, you have so many different kingdoms... I mean, states on one planet," Tecna drawled thoughtfully, continuing to glide her eyes over the screen. "It says here, by the way, that the country of France is the world's trendsetter in fashion. Did you know that, Stella?"

The princess blinked in confusion and shrugged.

"I've only been to Earth once, and that was at night in some dirty park. How would I know? But..." a characteristic shopaholic glint instantly lit up in Stella's eyes, "I definitely wouldn't mind popping over to this France to see what kind of fashion they have there!"

"Not a bad idea," Tecna nodded. "I wouldn't mind visiting Earth either. To study your level of technological development. Remind me, Bloom, what is the name of the capital of this France?"

Dominique froze. Her lips twitched, forming a light, condescending smile. The puzzle in her head instantly clicked into place. Well, of course.

"Are you testing me, Tecna?" Dominique asked with a slight smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.

The fairy of technology's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She slowly raised her head and looked away, clearly feeling a little awkward that she had been figured out so quickly.

"It's called Paris," Dominique continued calmly. "Want me to guess any more capitals for you? Just a bit north of there, across the channel, is Great Britain with its capital in London. To the east is Germany, capital Berlin. And, since we're talking about style, the real trendsetter in fashion for us is actually considered to be Italy. Look at the map on your search, it looks exactly like a woman's boot. The capital is Rome. Any more questions, detective?"

Stella, who had finally grasped the meaning of what was happening, gasped in indignation.

"Tecna! Are you seriously testing her?! Right now?!"

"I'm sorry," Tecna sat up straighter in her chair, adjusting her collar. "But you have to understand my position too. You're telling an absolutely unbelievable story. Secret letters, blocked planets, monster attacks on Earth, sudden awakenings of magic..."

"But it's the truth!" Stella flared up. Her indignation knew no bounds. "I can open a portal right now, and we can all go to Earth together! We'll show up right at Bloom's parents' house, let them confirm everything for you in person!"

"Calm down, Stella. I'm not saying I don't believe you," Tecna raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just stating a fact that this whole story sounds very fantastical."

"She either believes what she's saying herself... or it really is the truth," a quiet but confident voice suddenly rang out.

Musa slowly lowered her feet to the floor.

"Musa?" Stella asked, uncomprehending.

"Alright. Fine. I admit that your situation was an emergency. That explains why you lied to Headmistress Faragonda. I can understand that."

The girl fell silent for a moment and stared demandingly at Bloom.

"But... that doesn't explain why you lied to us. Here, in this room. Every. Single. Day."

"We..." Stella faltered, her fervor dying down. "We didn't want to drag you into it..."

"Drag us into it?" Musa repeated. She gave a crooked smirk. "Seriously? That's your whole argument?"

"Yes! We didn't want you to get in trouble! If you had known..."

"We already got dragged into it!" Musa cut her off sharply, jumping up from the bed. "Because of your ring, we fought those witches too! We got arrested! Griselda chewed us out and slapped us with a month of detention!"

She stepped closer to the center of the room, right up to Stella and Bloom.

"We are already up to our necks in this crap, Stella! And you know what the most insulting part is? We would have done it anyway! Even knowing the truth! Because we thought we were a team!"

"I know!" Stella threw her hands up defensively. "I know, but..."

"But what?!" Musa spun sharply toward Bloom. "Do you have that low of an opinion of us? Did you think we'd get scared? That we'd run to Griselda and turn you in?"

Dominique stood perfectly still, taking her time to answer. Throughout this entire conversation, she had been closely watching the faces of her roommates. When Stella embellished details slightly, Dominique saw Musa's lips twitch and her eyes narrow, like a musician hearing a false note. Tecna had also been constantly glancing at her communicator screen, and it was highly unlikely she was just looking up information about Earth the whole time. Yes, Dominique didn't have concrete proof that the fairies were somehow testing her words, but she was almost certain, at least in her own conclusions, that they had some means of distinguishing a lie from the truth. Dodging and making excuses now wasn't just stupid—it was fatal. All that was needed was the pure truth.

"Yes," Dominique answered calmly. "That is exactly what I thought."

Musa froze. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. It seemed she was expecting more excuses, or apologies, and therefore was caught off guard by such disarming bluntness.

"What?"

"I didn't know you," Dominique continued, getting up from the bed. She straightened up, looking down at Musa. "I didn't know who you were, what you were capable of, or whose side you'd take when things got genuinely dangerous."

Dominique swept her gaze over the silenced Musa, Flora, and Tecna.

"I couldn't risk it. You could have been anyone. Allies, friends... or the ones who would sell me out at the very first threat of expulsion. My life and the safety of my parents were on the line. I couldn't afford to take your word for it."

"So you were testing us?" Musa asked quietly.

"Yes."

"And for how long?" Musa's voice trembled, but her gaze remained firm. "How much longer would you have tested us? A month? A year? When would you have told us the truth?"

Dominique didn't answer immediately. She genuinely pondered that question. If Faragonda hadn't forced her hand, when would Dominique have taken the leap?

"I don't know," she admitted honestly. "Maybe never."

Musa let out a bitter laugh.

"Well... at least you're honest."

She turned away, paced across the room to the window, and ran a hand nervously through her hair.

"So, is this how we're going to live?" she asked, looking out the glass at the evening courtyard. "You'll keep testing us, and we'll pretend that we're a team?"

"Musa, we fought together against the witches," Dominique's voice became demanding. "Now they have it out for all of us. We all took the heat from Griselda, and we're mopping these damn floors together. We are all in the same boat, and it has already left the shore. And if that isn't a team, then I don't know the meaning of the word."

Musa stayed silent, looking out the window. A heavy internal struggle was clearly taking place in her head.

"Maybe," Musa finally said, turning back to them. "Maybe you're right."

She let out a loud exhale, and her tense shoulders finally dropped.

"But if you lie to us again, Bloom..." Musa stepped right up and looked Dominique straight in the eyes. There was no hatred in her gaze, only a warning. "If you play us in the dark one more time... I will never forgive you. Understood?"

Dominique met her gaze and gave a silent, confident nod.

"Alright," Musa took a step back. "Then we're moving past this."

She headed for the door, but right at the threshold, she suddenly stopped and, without turning around, added quietly:

"And one more thing... Your father... he's a hero. No magic, no powers, but he stood up to protect you... That deserves respect. You're lucky to have him."

Such a deep, chronic sorrow slipped into her voice that Dominique instantly understood everything. Musa wasn't talking about Mike. She was talking about someone else. Someone who, faced with disaster, had simply given up and broken.

The door closed quietly behind the fairy of music. Flora immediately rushed over to Dominique.

"Your parents! They must be so worried about you right now! I'm sorry we were mad at you, we just didn't know what you had to go through!"

Dominique lightly, comfortingly patted Flora on the shoulder, trying to look touched, although inwardly she was triumphing: the crisis had been successfully averted.

"It's alright. It's my own fault for letting the situation get to such a boiling point," Dominique said softly.

"No. I... I perfectly understand why you did it," Flora shook her head. "It was so scary. For you. For your family. You just wanted to protect them by any means necessary."

She shifted her shoulders awkwardly.

"If I were in your place, I would have been afraid to trust anyone too. After all of that."

She turned and walked to her bed, but stopped by her nightstand and looked back.

"But you can now," Flora added warmly and very sincerely. "You can trust us. We won't betray you. I promise."

Dominique smiled back at her. Well, it seemed everything had gone quite swimmingly.



-------------------------

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[Kwame]

Just one more secret left she must take to the grave.

 

[VitahAR]

Twilight had long since enveloped the castle's stone walls. The sentry approached the battlements, peered intently into the moat below, and, satisfied that it was empty, resumed his patrol, whistling a mournful tune. The moment he disappeared into the night, two shadows slipped silently onto the wall. A young man in a cloak quickly tied a thick rope to the stone crenellation and tossed the end into the darkness. Beside him, nervously shifting from foot to foot and wrapping herself tighter in a shawl, stood a girl. She cast a terrified glance over the edge and paled noticeably.

"It's so high up..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Don't be afraid, I'm right here with you," the young man encouraged her passionately, taking her hand.

"Maybe we shouldn't? Let's go back before it's too late! If my father finds out..."

"No. We can never be together here, my love." The boy gently cupped her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes. "Your father will never accept..."

"Hey! Who's rustling over there?!" a guard's gruff voice barked from the darkness. "Halt right there!"

"The guards!" the girl gasped.

"Hurry! Just don't look down!" The guy grabbed the rope decisively and vaulted over the wall, smoothly beginning his descent.

The girl froze hesitantly at the edge, watching him go. She finally reached a trembling hand toward the rope, but at that exact moment, heavy, gauntleted hands fell upon her fragile shoulders and forcefully spun her around...

"Stella!"

Someone's palm suddenly slapped over the datapad screen, and the ruthless poke of a foreign finger killed the display, cutting the scene off at the most interesting part.

"No!!!" Stella squealed indignantly, trying to snatch her gadget back. "It was just getting to the best part! That was the season finale!"

"And the finale of my patience," Tecna stated in an absolutely calm tone, looming over the princess with a mop in hand. "May I ask why the rest of us are working while you're watching your shows? Don't you think that's a little unfair, Stella?"

"I already finished everything!" the blonde protested with genuine indignation, hopping off the windowsill and planting her hands on her hips. "We had a deal: you guys mop the floors, and I wash the window! I washed it!"

"Windows, Stella. Win-dows," Tecna enunciated carefully. "Plural. And how many did you actually wash? Half of one?"

"Why just half?" Stella cast a critical eye over her handiwork.

The corners of her lips twitched nervously for a second—the quality of the execution really did leave much to be desired. But the Princess of Solaria never gave up without a fight. She immediately stretched her lips into a radiant smile and waved her hand at the glass:

"This one is completely done! It shines, it sparkles, an absolute beauty!"

"Uh-huh," Musa snorted skeptically, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The girl dropped her mop into the bucket with a loud splash. "It shines so much you can't even see the street through all the soap streaks. Just gorgeous."

"For your information, I am doing the hardest job!" Stella turned her nose up proudly. "Jumping around on windowsills isn't like just pushing a mop around the floor. It's hard labor!"

"Yeah, so hard, make sure you don't pull a muscle," Musa snorted, leaning on her mop handle. "Come on, our shining star, keep going. You've got four more windows to scrub."

Stella grumbled something under her breath about the exploitation of royal blood and reluctantly reached for her sponge. For a few minutes, a working atmosphere settled over the classroom. The only sounds were the rhythmic sloshing of wet mops against the floor and the squeak of a damp sponge on glass. Stella, who was lazily and unenthusiastically wiping the bottom pane of a massive arched window, suddenly froze and pressed her face right up against the glass.

"Oh, our local Cerberus just caught someone," the princess cackled maliciously, peering out into the school's inner courtyard.

Down there, in the shadows of the evening twilight, Madam Griselda was looming menacingly over a flock of cowering first-years, gesturing actively and clearly giving them a lecture on the rules of conduct.

"That's not funny, Stella." Flora let out a heavy sigh and dropped her mop into the bucket. "We were in their shoes literally a couple of days ago. I don't envy those girls, to be honest."

Flora walked over to the window and also peeked outside. Meanwhile, Griselda pointed the guilty first-years toward Alfea's main doors with a strict gesture. And then, the head of discipline suddenly froze, as if sensing she was being watched. The woman slowly raised her head and unerringly fixed her heavy gaze straight at their classroom windows. Flora squeaked and instantly ducked, hiding below the sill. Stella, startled, shied backward, flailed her arms trying to catch her balance, and nearly tumbled to the floor, miraculously saving herself by grabbing the frame.

"God, what a glare..." The princess dramatically clutched her heart, leaning back against the wall and breathing heavily. "I saw Madam Griffin once—she's the headmistress of Cloud Tower, in case anyone didn't know. Well, Griffin can't even hold a candle to our hag!"

"Don't joke like that, Stella," Flora whispered fearfully, still crouching beneath the window. "If Madam Griselda hears that..."

"Let her hear!" Stella braved, though her voice trembled slightly. After ensuring the disciplinarian definitely couldn't reach her on the second floor, she continued: "You know... I actually think she used to be a witch in her youth. And then, for some reason, she just defected to Alfea."

"Are you serious?" Tecna looked at the princess doubtfully. "Highly improbable, if you ask me."

"Why not?" Stella shrugged. "Anything is possible. Just look at her methods! It's pure terror! Do normal fairies act like that?"

"But how could that be?" Flora finally stood up from the floor, her large green eyes filled with genuine confusion. "Alfea is a school for fairies. How could a witch teach here?"

"Yeah, listening to you, half the teachers here are former witches," Musa drawled sarcastically, getting back to the floor.

"Keep shouting about who's a witch around here," a mocking voice rang out from the doorway.

Dominique walked into the classroom, struggling to carry a heavy plastic bucket full of clean water.

"If Griselda hears your fan theories, we're not getting out of these detentions until graduation."

"Take it up with her," Musa pointed a finger at the princess without a second thought.

"What did I do? I just said a few words, and you all got scared like little kids!" Stella scoffed, lifting her chin.

"Oh really? You're that brave?" Musa narrowed her eyes wickedly. "Then go on, march down to the courtyard and tell Griselda straight to her face that she's a witch."

"Do I look like an idiot to you?" Stella was genuinely, deeply offended. "Saying that to her face isn't bravery, it's idiocy and suicide! I may be brave, but I'm definitely not stupid!" the princess declared proudly, hands on her hips.

Musa opened her mouth, clearly intending to deliver some biting retort, but suddenly closed it upon meeting the princess's mockingly indignant glare. Pulling a crooked smirk, Musa simply snorted and turned away. Dominique, setting the bucket on the floor, watched them carefully. It seemed the dynamics in their little group were slowly returning to normal—back to their usual bickering over every little thing, but without the cold animosity that had hung in the air just a couple of days ago. Now it was just friendly banter. At least, that's what it looked like on the surface, and Dominique really hoped that was the truth. A healthy atmosphere in the team was the key to success.

"Let's finish cleaning first," Dominique commanded, tossing Stella a fresh sponge. "And topics like that are better discussed in our room behind closed doors, okay?"

"Agreed. As the wise proverb says: even walls have ears." Tecna froze for a second, apparently processing what she just said, and frowned. "Although, from a logical standpoint, if walls have ears, then it follows that it's better not to talk about such things in our room either."

"You are just a genius of thought," Stella rolled her eyes.

"I know," Tecna nodded in dead seriousness. "But thank you for acknowledging my intellectual capabilities anyway."

Flora couldn't hold it in and giggled brightly into her hand. Musa just shook her head hopelessly, returning to her bucket. The corners of Dominique's lips twitched into a smile, and she turned away, getting to work on washing the desks. Stella, accepting her fate, reluctantly got back to work. But instead of properly washing the massive window assigned to her, the Princess of Solaria kept inventing new ways to slack off. She breathed onto the glass, leaving a cloudy, fogged-up patch, and immediately started tracing a little heart in it with her finger. Then a second one. Then a crown.

"Stella," Musa drawled threateningly, noticing the artwork.

"What? I'm a creative person, I need a creative approach to cleaning."

Without waiting for an answer, the princess lazily rubbed the window again. This time she didn't even bother bending down to the bucket, simply smearing the dirt around with an almost dry sponge, leaving behind even more questionable streaks. A few seconds later, Stella's gaze suddenly snagged on her own nails.

"Oh, no..."

She brought her palm closer to her face and frowned tragically.

"Is it just me, or did my nail polish lose its shine?"

Musa slowly closed her eyes.

"Tell me you're joking right now."

"No, look for yourself," Stella turned her hand to the light. "It used to sparkle way more. It's all because of this disgusting rag. There must be some kind of harsh chemicals in it."

"It's water, Stella."

"Exactly. Water dries out the skin terribly."

Dominique, wiping down the desks nearby, barely held back a chuckle. Stella spent another ten seconds critically examining her manicure before finally losing all interest in cleaning. She dramatically dropped the sponge into the bucket, sending splashes flying across the floor, and with a heavy sigh, gracefully sat down on the wide windowsill, dangling her legs.

"That's it, I'm exhausted. Girls, I'm calling a break," she declared unequivocally, fanning herself with her hand.

"You take a break every ten minutes," Musa replied testily, looking up at the princess. "Here's what I don't get: how do you manage to do laps around shopping malls for hours, dragging a mountain of bags, and not get tired, but ten minutes of waving a rag around leaves you dead on your feet?"

"Oh, those are completely different things, Musa!" Stella raised an index finger instructively. "Shopping requires special stamina and inspiration. It's an art! But manual labor... my royal aura simply rejects it to protect my delicate spiritual nature. You can't fight nature."

"How convenient for your aura," Musa snorted.

Stella ignored the jab and turned to the window, watching the evening bustle in the schoolyard.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," the princess drawled dreamily. "Three days off, it's a real holiday, and no detentions."

"Two and a half," Tecna corrected her without looking up from wiping a cabinet. "Griselda said classes run until noon on Friday."

"Whatever! They're just classes in name only anyway," Stella waved her off. "By the way, what presents is everyone getting for their parents?"

As if on command, work in the classroom ground to a halt. Cleaning clearly wasn't inspiring anyone. Tecna set aside her brush and climbed onto the nearest desk. Flora stopped and leaned her chin on her mop handle with relief. Musa hopped onto the windowsill next to Stella, and Dominique simply leaned her hip against the teacher's desk, crossing her arms. Flora twirled her mop handle and, smiling dreamily, spoke first:

"I want to get my mom singing orchids. Tomorrow, right after classes, I'm going to the botanical garden to buy seven of them... Or maybe nine?" The nature fairy thought for a second. "Yes, nine. I think mom will plant them on the porch of our house. Can you imagine? In the evening, the wind will blow, and they'll sing softly... It's going to be so wonderful."

"And I don't know what to give," Tecna admitted, swinging her legs thoughtfully. "Objectively speaking, we already have everything at home. Maybe... I could build a compact holographic projector that I designed myself. But... we already have two brand-new ones at home. And they're better than what I can build. My gadget would be redundant."

"Tecna, it's a gift from the bottom of your heart," Flora argued gently. "On the Day of the Rose, the most important thing isn't the practicality of the gift, but your attention and care."

"Hmm... Yes, I read something like that somewhere. Perhaps you're right," the fairy of technology agreed. "Though usually, I didn't overthink it and just gave my parents high-capacity energy crystals. They get used up pretty fast in a household setting... So it's practical."

Stella stared at her as if the fairy of technology had grown a second head.

"Are you telling me that for holidays you used to give your parents... batteries?!" the blonde asked in horror.

"Not just batteries, high-capacity energy crystals," Tecna corrected her importantly, and even with a hint of offense. "Plus, I personally upgraded their energy circuits, so they lasted twice as long as the standard ones!"

"Heh. I actually think that's awesome," Musa smirked. "Listen, Tecna, maybe you could get me some of those for a holiday? My music player has been dying way too fast lately."

"Have you tried turning it off sometimes?" Stella asked slyly. "I hear it helps save the battery."

"I would love to, Stella," Musa countered instantly, her face completely deadpan, "but without music in my headphones, I just wouldn't be able to fall asleep over your snoring and endless sleep-talking about which shoes match a yellow crop top."

Stella opened her mouth indignantly, but Flora rushed to change the subject before another argument could break out.

"What about you, Bloom?" The nature fairy turned to Dominique. "Do you even celebrate the Day of the Rose on Earth?"

"We have Mother's Day. It's a very similar holiday," Dominique replied. "Only it's in May. The second Sunday of the month, if I'm not mistaken."

She fell silent for a moment, chewing her lip thoughtfully, then shifted her gaze to Stella.

"Stella, can you open a portal home for me tomorrow?"

"No problem at all," the princess waved off easily.

"And pick me up on Sunday evening," Dominique added in a tone that brokered no arguments.

"Alright, whatever you say. 'Stella-Taxi' is always at your service, miss," the blonde bowed her head playfully.

"Thank you," Dominique returned the smile.

"Anytime!" Stella happily surveyed the resting classroom and landed on Musa, who was sitting on the adjacent windowsill, staring thoughtfully into the darkness beyond the glass. "Musa... Let me guess! You're going to gift a new audio player! Or... no, you're going to write a song!"

"Wrong," Musa didn't even turn her head. Her voice sounded unnaturally flat. "I'm not gifting anything. And I'm not flying home for the weekend either."

 

[VitahAR]

A dead silence instantly fell over the classroom. None of the girls expected to hear that. The Day of the Rose in Magix was something like a sacred, family holiday.

"Why?" Flora asked carefully, almost in a whisper, taking a step toward her. "Did you... did you have a fight with your parents?"

"I..." Musa hesitated. Her shoulders tensed, and a crooked, very sad smile crept onto her face. "I don't have parents."

A heavy silence followed.

"Oh... I'm sorry," Flora pressed a hand to her chest. "I'm... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine," Musa finally tore her gaze from the window and looked at her hands. "I'm used to it by now. My mom died when I was really little. And my dad... well, he's alive. But... you could say he's gone too. We've become total strangers."

"How familiar..." Stella said very quietly, suddenly stripped of her usual teasing tone.

Everyone turned to the princess in surprise. She was staring somewhere at the ceiling.

"I also... I mean, I have a dad, but it's like he's not even there. And the situation with my mom isn't any better."

"Oh?" Musa looked at the blonde without the slightest irony. There was genuine surprise in her voice. "So, things aren't always so rosy for princesses either?"

"Imagine that," Stella chuckled bitterly. "Ever since my parents got divorced, I've become... sort of a spare part. To my dad, I'm just the heir to the throne who needs to be raised properly, and to my mom... a reminder of her failed marriage."

"Stella..." Flora breathed sympathetically, not knowing who to rush to comfort first.

The atmosphere in the classroom was rapidly sliding into a depression. Dominique was about to step in and somehow defuse the situation, but Stella suddenly perked up.

"Oh, come on!" the princess tossed her head and plastered a wide, albeit slightly forced, smile on her face. "Why all the funeral faces? The holiday is right around the corner! We have three days off ahead of us, we should be celebrating, not throwing a pity party!"

"Two and a half," Tecna corrected her automatically, out of habit.

Stella rolled her eyes and pointed a finger at the fairy of technology with mock indignation. "Oh, Tecna! You sure know how to ruin a dramatic moment with your numbers!"

Flora giggled quietly, and Musa gave a genuine, though brief, smile. Dominique shook her head in relief, pushing off the desk.

"Alright, team," Dominique picked up her sponge. "If we don't finish scrubbing this classroom in the next half hour, we'll be spending those 'two and a half' days sitting in Griselda's office instead of going home. Get to work."

The girls nodded with smiles and grabbed their cleaning supplies again. Another Thursday evening detention was coming to an end. Stella went back to work, but almost immediately her eyes caught a familiar tall figure of a man in a white suit, unhurriedly walking toward the academy gates. The students passing by him immediately parted, following the professor with openly goofy smiles.

"Oh, looks like Avalon is heading home too," Stella perked up, pressing her face against the window.

Dominique, who was wiping the glass door of a cabinet, froze for a second. Her hand faltered, leaving a wet streak on the glass, and the girl, not entirely understanding why herself, took a couple of steps toward the window. She noticed him immediately. The tall figure calmly walked through the gates of Alfea, and then Avalon took a few steps down the road and simply... vanished into thin air, as if he had never been there at all.

"Who would you rather spend the weekend celebrating with: him or your parents?" Dominique felt a light poke in her shoulder.

Stella was standing nearby, flashing her trademark, incredibly sly smile.

"Hmm... Not telling," Dominique immediately smirked back and headed toward the cabinet.

"Hahaha, as if I don't know!" Stella followed her, clearly not intending to drop the subject. "It's written all over your face, girl. Ever since I caught you two in the classroom..."

"What did you catch?" Dominique whipped around. "He was just helping me master my magic. Keep your wild fantasies to yourself, Stella. Do you want us to get in trouble out of nowhere?"

"He's the one who wants it," the blonde drawled meaningfully. "And so do you, apparently. Seeing as you didn't even lock the classroom door..."

"Well, well, well, is there something we don't know? More dark secrets?" Musa immediately stopped mopping the floor and stared at them with interest, leaning on her mop.

"No secrets, just Stella getting lost in her fantasies again," Dominique rolled her eyes. "Remember when Avalon asked me to stay after class? Well, our princess decided there's something going on between us."

"And is there?" Musa squinted slyly.

"There is. He's my teacher, and I'm a student. What else could there be between us?" Dominique cut her off.

"Oh, a whole lot of things," Stella purred. "A 'teacher-student' relationship—it's so spicy, it's a classic!"

"A relationship with a teacher?" Tecna stopped scrubbing the cabinet and frowned. "Bloom, that's a gross violation of the rules. It would mean expulsion for you and getting fired for him."

"And it also means a huge belly, sleepless nights, and dirty diapers!" Stella comically widened her eyes. "And trust me, that's way scarier than any expulsion! A huge belly... What a nightmare!"

"Shut up, Stella..." Dominique threateningly weighed the wet, heavy sponge in her hand. "Go... go finish washing your windows before I chuck this piece of crap right at your bright head."

"I'll go," Stella took a graceful step back, "but you, girl, are really playing with fire. Although... you are a fire fairy! Haha, that's actually funny!"

"Wow, Bloom. Avalon himself. You're hardcore," Musa nodded approvingly.

"You too?" Dominique looked reproachfully at the fairy of music. "Did you seriously believe her?"

"Her?" Musa cast a brief, appraising glance at Stella, thinking for a moment.

Did she believe Stella? That was the wrong question. The real question was—did she believe Bloom's own voice?

"I don't even know..." Musa drawled, smiling slyly.

"Musa..." Dominique started warningly.

"Hey, I don't pry into personal business!" Musa raised her free hand in a placating gesture. "Whether you have something going on or not—that's strictly your business, okay? My lips are sealed."

"If Stella is wrong, then fine," Tecna chimed in. "But if she's not... I strongly advise you to think again whether it's worth risking everything for a pointless relationship."

"I don't have anything going on with him!" Dominique practically growled.

"Then I have nothing to worry about," the fairy of technology gave a curt nod and nonchalantly went back to scrubbing.

Dominique exhaled loudly and shot an angry glare at the giggling Stella. Oh, how much she wanted in that moment to just pick this long-legged idiot up and throw her right out the very window she was washing. But Dominique suppressed the flash of irritation and turned away, catching her reflection in the glass door of the cabinet. The conversation had stirred up a memory, and the exact day Stella was talking about instantly popped into her head. It was Professor Avalon's first lesson after Faragonda had launched her new cover story, revealing that she wasn't Princess Varanda at all. Throughout the entire lesson, the mage had acted completely normal, completely avoiding that slippery topic. He even called her "Bloom"—just as naturally and easily as he had called her "Varanda" before. It seemed he didn't care at all who was standing in front of him. But when the bell rang and the classroom emptied, the professor unexpectedly asked her to stay behind.

"Did you want something, Professor?" Dominique had asked back then, walking up to his desk.

"Headmistress Faragonda explained your situation, of course, but..."

At that moment, Dominique's heart skipped a beat. Avalon was standing right in front of her, not breaking eye contact. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and there was something unreadable in his gaze. As if he was trying to look straight into her soul.

"But..?" she asked again with parched lips.

"But I'm still curious," his voice grew quieter. "If you're not the Princess of Callisto... then where are you really from?"

"I'm from Earth," Dominique replied, deciding not to make a secret out of her origins. After all, the headmistress knew where she was from, so it was only a nominal secret anyway. "It's outside the Magical Dimension. A world without magic."

"Hmm... You know, you've intrigued me even more, Bloom," Avalon tilted his head slightly. "If you're an ordinary girl from a non-magical world, how did you end up at the court of Callisto, seeing as the princess herself entrusted you with such a... delicate and important mission?"

Dominique froze. The trap had snapped shut right in front of her nose. In that moment, she had absolutely no idea how to answer that. The gears in her brain were spinning at a frantic pace, trying to construct a logical, convincing lie, but nothing came to mind. Realizing that any fabrication would fall apart miserably right now, Dominique decided to use an old, proven negotiator tactic: the best defense is a good offense.

"Is this an interrogation?" Dominique raised her chin, looking at him with slight defiance. "Why are you so interested in this anyway, Professor?"

The tactic worked perfectly.

"No, of course not," Avalon immediately took a step back, and the tension in his posture faded. A polite smile appeared on his lips. "It's just simple curiosity. Forgive me if I seemed overly intrusive."

"It's fine," Dominique allowed herself to relax slightly. "I just... I just can't talk about it yet. Other people's secrets, you understand."

"I understand."

"Is that why you asked me to stay, Professor? To talk about Callisto?" Dominique clarified.

"No, of course not. My curiosity has nothing to do with it," Avalon stepped closer. "Today in class, your flame took on a blue tint. Let's try to replicate that."

Dominique nodded and reached for her power. Handling fire was already coming somewhat easily to her. At the very least, summoning a tongue of flame with a simple snap of her fingers came easily and naturally. Although precise manipulation still required heightened control, wielding fire was getting easier for her with each passing day, as if she were relearning how to breathe. She opened her palm, and the familiar scarlet tongues of flame obediently danced above her skin. Today in class, at the moment of maximum strain, her fire had indeed flashed blue for a few moments, becoming infinitely hotter and denser. Avalon had noticed. However, she couldn't hold the color, and the flame reverted back to its usual red-orange.

"That blue flame you managed to produce..." the professor closely watched the fire in her palm. "It is exponentially more powerful than normal. You need to be extremely careful with it, Bloom."

"I understand..." Dominique muttered, gritting her teeth and trying to recreate the same result.

She mentally pushed the energy, concentrated on the heat, visualized the color blue, but alas. No matter how hard she tried, the flame resolutely refused to change its tint, remaining stubbornly scarlet. She completely didn't understand the mechanics of the process: what served as the catalyst the first time, and how to make it work again.

"I don't get it..." Dominique clenched her fist in frustration, extinguishing the fire. "I don't know how I did it back then."

Avalon took a silent step behind her.

"In magic, aside from spells and runic formulas, there is such a concept as instinct. Intuition," his voice sounded right by her ear. "Very often, a mage handles their native element exactly like that. They just do what's necessary, completely without thinking about exactly how they did it. Just as you don't think about which muscles to contract in order to take a step."

"And what am I supposed to do now? Just want it really badly?" Dominique asked in irritation, summoning the flame in her palm again. "Your intuition thing isn't working. It's still not happening."

"No, simple desire isn't enough here. That's not how it works," Avalon was unacceptably close.

His warm palms gently rested on her tense shoulders. Dominique instinctively flinched. He was standing flush against her. She could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of her blouse, could smell the subtle, stirring scent of his cologne. He was so close that it felt as if she could feel his heartbeat through her back. And it was... damn distracting, messing up her breathing and making it hard to focus on the magic. In her past life, she would have instantly shut down such liberties. But now, her young body was traitorously reacting to the proximity of an attractive, adult man.

"This is a much deeper, subconscious level, Bloom," his fingers squeezed her shoulders slightly, guiding the energy, helping her relax her tight muscles. "You are trying to control the fire with your mind. But you need to become it."

Dominique tried to change the flame's color again, fighting the welling nervousness.

"This blue flame... It's special..." the mage's voice grew quiet, almost hypnotic. "Tell me, Bloom... What do you know about Domino?"

"Dominoes?" Dominique blinked in surprise, and the flame in her palm wavered. "Is that a game? Back on Earth, old men play it in courtyards."

"No, not a game," Avalon gave a strange, somewhat crooked smile. A shadow of disappointment slipped into his voice.

"Then what? I don't really get it..." Dominique tried to turn her head toward him.

"Never mind. Just remembered something..."

And at that exact moment, the heavy classroom door creaked open loudly.

"Ooh. Am I interrupting?" Stella's ringing voice came from the doorway. The princess leaned against the doorframe, eyeing them with interest. "You guys should at least lock the doors or something."

"Miss Stella, I would strongly ask you to keep your overly active imagination to yourself," Avalon's voice instantly turned to ice. He took his hands off Dominique's shoulders and took a step back. "Step inside the classroom."

"You know, Professor, threesomes aren't really my thing," Stella giggled, completely unbothered. "Maybe I should just quietly leave and erase my memory?"

"Miss Stella. One more word in that tone, and I will erase the passing grade I gave you today in practicals and replace it with a failing one," the mage clipped. "Is that what you want?"

"No, Professor," the smile instantly slid off the princess's face. Grades were a sore spot for her. She obediently walked into the classroom, carefully closing the door behind her.

"Now take that blue book from my desk and take it to the library immediately. And apologize to Madame Barbatea for me for not returning the tome on time."

"Uh... Okay," Stella, hanging her head, walked over to the desk and picked up the hefty volume.

Right by the doors, she turned around hesitantly.

"And... when will you let Bloom go? We actually have detentions this evening."

"We're already done," Avalon shifted an unreadable gaze to Dominique. "Miss Bloom, you are also dismissed. You may go."

Dominique blinked, chasing away the memory. The reflection in the glass cabinet door was replaced once again by the familiar gloom of the evening classroom. Yeah, Stella was a major pain in the ass, but she was definitely right about one thing: playing with Avalon really was playing with fire.

 

[VitahAR]

The piercing bell announcing the end of the lesson literally shattered the nervous silence of the classroom. It was as if everyone had been waiting for this exact moment. In a split second, chairs scraped, bags rustled, and the room filled with the joyful hum of dozens of voices. Dominique merely shook her head condescendingly, packing away the notebook she hadn't opened once during the entire class. When Stella said last night that Friday classes would be "in name only," she hadn't exaggerated in the slightest. Today's lessons really felt more like a collective staring contest with the clock on the wall, and the teachers were among the most impatient spectators.

While Professor Palladium spent the first twenty minutes trying to lecture them about the properties of swamp moss before quickly abandoning the pointless endeavor upon seeing the students' blank stares, Wizgiz didn't even bother starting his lecture. For half the class, the leprechaun endearingly bragged about what a wonderful mother he had, the rutabaga pies she baked, and how much he missed her. And the moment the bell rang, Professor Wizgiz didn't even assign them homework. He reacted to the sound almost faster than his students: he nimbly hopped off his desk, happily waved at everyone, and darted out the door like a bullet.

"Ugh, finally!" Stella exhaled as their friendly group stepped out into the hallway. "So, who's going where?"

"I have a shuttle to Zenith in two hours. I'm going to pack," Tecna announced, checking the schedule on her communicator.

"And I'm heading to Magix for orchids," Flora smiled dreamily. "I hope they aren't sold out yet."

"And I... I'll be catching up on sleep," Musa shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and gave a crooked smirk. "Probably."

"Hey, I could take you to Solaria with me, want to come?" Stella suddenly offered, turning to the fairy of music. "Ever been to Solaria, Musa?"

"No, I haven't," Musa shook her head in surprise, clearly not expecting such a question from the princess.

"Well? The offer stands!"

"And what would I do there?" the girl drawled doubtfully.

"Well... We could go shopping, I'll show you the best boutiques in the capital..." Stella began enthusiastically.

"No! Thanks, but no!" Musa dramatically recoiled, genuine horror reflecting on her face. "I still haven't recovered from last time. My feet still remember your 'just one more little store, and we're done'."

Stella merely snorted but didn't take offense. Meanwhile, the corridors of Alfea resembled a disturbed anthill. The excitement was incredible. Usually, the majority of first-years spent their weekends on school grounds or in Magix, but today was a special occasion. For the Day of the Rose, the administration officially allowed the students to leave the school and travel to their home planets for the entire weekend. Suitcases, gift bags, and fancy dresses flashed everywhere. The air literally buzzed with the anticipation of the holiday.

At that moment, a tall, striking brunette sophomore caught up with them. She squeezed between Stella and Bloom, casually wrapping her arms around both of their necks, nearly hanging off them.

"Hey, youngsters! How's it going? How's young life treating you?" the girl cheered right into their ears.

"Hey, Ange," Flora waved. Tecna and Musa also nodded in greeting to the upperclassman.

"Fabulous, but... ugh, you're choking me, Ange!" Stella, frowning in displeasure, tried to wriggle out of the tight grip. "Let go! This is an assassination attempt on royalty!"

"Alright, alright, I surrender!" Angelica laughed, unclenching her arms and playfully raising them in the air. "Have mercy, Your Highness, and grant me permission to speak."

"Fine, you may speak. Only because I am in an exceptionally good mood today," Stella granted graciously, fixing her slightly disheveled hair.

"I think we're all in a good mood today. And by tonight, we'll be in an even better one," Angelica squinted slyly.

Dominique, noticing how Stella's eyes instantly lit up at that phrase, merely rolled her eyes in resignation.

"Oh, it seems Princess Varanda is displeased with something?" Angelica tilted her head, giving Dominique an openly mocking look.

"Very funny," Dominique grimaced slightly. "Can we drop it already?"

"No, we can't," Angelica crossed her arms, feigning universal sorrow. "I am offended. Luma is offended. The girls are offended. We are all still incredibly offended by your treacherous deception. Care to guess why?"

"I already apologized..."

"Pfft, you can't spread apologies on bread or pour them into a glass," Angelica winked meaningfully at the fairies.

"Well said," Musa smirked, clearly enjoying how the upperclassman was masterfully putting their redhead friend in her place—someone she was still a bit annoyed with herself, despite the issue seemingly being resolved.

Flora giggled quietly, looking away, while Tecna, opening her mouth in a funny way, seemed to be pondering the literal meaning of her words. Dominique let out a heavy, tired sigh, already guessing what they wanted from her.

"And how do I fix it?" the redhead asked, even though the answer was already obvious.

"You're treating us to a party. And if you do, we'll forget about Varanda and start calling you Bloom," Angelica stated her price.

"Agree to it," Stella immediately whispered in her ear, nudging her with an elbow. "They won't let it go anyway."

Angelica nodded vigorously with an innocent look, confirming the princess's words. Dominique lowered her gaze, staring intently at the toes of her shoes for a few seconds, as if making a difficult decision.

"By the way, where are the others?" Stella suddenly remembered, looking around. "Luma promised to show me the sketches of her new outfit! I wanted to discuss the corset design with her."

"Oh, they already took off for home," Angelica waved her hand.

"Damn it..." Stella drawled, disappointed.

"So, what have you decided, Varanda-Bloom?" the upperclassman brought the attention back to the main issue.

"Fine. I'll treat you all to a party," Dominique surrendered, realizing there was no wiggling out of this one.

"Yesss! Now that's a business conversation!" Angelica beamed in satisfaction, rubbing her hands together. "When?"

"Well... I don't know. Maybe during the holidays?"

"Are you kidding! That's way too long, we'll die of thirst!" the upperclassman protested.

"Listen, I suggest Sunday!" Stella's eyes lit up with party-planner enthusiasm. "I'll pick you up from Earth in the evening, and we'll get everything ready. We can rent a room at a karaoke bar, have our own private party. Well, what do you say, girls?"

The fairies exchanged glances. Pure uncertainty could be read in their eyes.

"A karaoke bar?" Musa gave the princess a highly doubtful look. "If you're planning on singing there, Stella, I am definitely out." She thought for a second, and the corners of her lips twitched into a sly smirk. "Actually, no. I think I'll go. I absolutely have to see this."

The princess snorted and laughed heartily, elegantly tossing her hair.

"As if. My vocal cords are far too sensitive for that. It will be your time to shine, darling."

"What do you mean?" Musa didn't understand.

"You are going to be the one singing," Stella declared categorically. "You'll give us a private solo concert."

"Hey, I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"And where are you gonna go? It's a collective decision!" Stella swept an enthusiastic look over the group. "So, who's in favor of hearing Musa sing?"

"I'm in with both hands!" Angelica responded immediately.

"You're a given," Stella waved her off, ignoring the upperclassman, and turned to the fairy of nature. "Girls? Flora, what do you say?"

Flora shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, nervously fiddling with her bag strap.

"I... I don't know. What if Madam Griselda finds out? What will she say?"

"Oh, believe me, she'll have a lot to say," Angelica laughed. "But only if she finds out. You don't actually think our fearsome vice-principal hangs out in places like that on weekends, do you?"

Stella giggled, clearly picturing the stern Griselda in a dimly lit bar holding a microphone. Musa couldn't hold back either; she smiled slightly and bit her lip—it was obvious she liked the idea and was almost on board.

"Tecna? What do you think? Are you with us?" Stella asked.

Tecna went silent for a few seconds, seemingly calculating all the probabilities of getting into trouble on such an outing. Finally, she looked up and stated bluntly:

"If you don't force me to sing or drink alcohol, I will gladly keep you company."

Dominique, who had been silently watching the scene unfold, realized she had absolutely no backup from her pragmatic roommates, and under these circumstances, there was no getting out of the party. Finally, accepting her fate, she gave a doomed nod. Fine. The sooner she got this over with, the better.

"Perfect! I'll tell the girls not to plan anything for Sunday evening!" Angelica rejoiced. "Oh, right, Stella, why I was looking for you... You're going home today, right?"

"Yeah," the blonde nodded.

"Can you give me a lift to Solaria? I really, really need to..."

Stella gave a businesslike glance at the elegant watch on her wrist.

"We leave in an hour. I'll drop Bloom off on Earth and then head straight to Solaria. Will you have time to pack?"

"Works for me!" Angelica was already backing away down the hall. "I'll pack my things real quick and drop by your room. And don't you dare leave without me... I won't forgive you!" she shouted the last word, already sprinting toward the residential wing.

The girls watched her go.

"And what exactly did we just agree to?" Tecna broke the ensuing silence, looking doubtfully at Dominique.

"To a booze-fest, what else?" Musa laughed, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"I would have used a more elegant term, of course," Stella smirked, fixing her hair, "but overall... yes. Musa is right. That is exactly what we agreed to."

The half-hour that had felt like five hours during class now flew by as if on fast-forward. The moment they stepped into their room and started packing, Angelica unceremoniously barged in with a hefty dark-pink suitcase in hand.

"God, it looks like you're moving out for good, not just going home for a couple of days," Musa cast a skeptical glance at Stella.

The princess was currently standing in front of her open closet, intensely debating which of two dresses to throw into her own equally massive suitcase. After a second of thought, she threw them both in.

"Just so you know," Stella said instructively, zipping up the bag, "you might be fine with one pair of pants for every occasion in life. But I need to make room for all the new outfits I'm bringing back from Solaria!"

Musa merely rolled her eyes at that statement and snorted, convinced once again that the problems of the rich and famous were entirely beyond her comprehension. Meanwhile, Flora and Tecna had also finished packing and stood in the middle of the room. They both needed to go to Magix: Tecna to the spaceport, and Flora wanted to drop by the greenhouse for flowers for her mom, so they planned to take the bus into the city together.

Dominique, meanwhile, slung her bag over her shoulder, containing nothing but her wallet with useless American dollars and her cell phone. She hadn't taken any items from Magix with her. Although she would have gladly taken a part of her wardrobe—especially the things Stella had gifted her—back to Earth to free up some hangers. Nonetheless, a pragmatic thought was still brewing in her mind: to quietly fence a couple of these designer dresses at a local flea market to get her hands on some normal local currency. After all, it had been over a month since she landed in another world, and she still didn't have a single penny of personal money, forced to walk around with a pathetic push-button Motorola. Thank God Tecna had tinkered with her flip-phone, so now it could at least receive calls from local magical communicators, albeit with terrible, static-filled sound.

"Well, girls, we're off," Tecna pressed a switch on her suitcase, and it smoothly hovered into the air.

"See you on Monday!" Flora added, waving warmly.

"You mean: Sunday evening!" Stella immediately corrected her. "Keep your phones on, I'll contact everyone about... well, you know."

After promising to stay in touch, Flora and Tecna left the room. Soon after, Bloom, Stella, and Angelica also headed for the door.

"Musa, don't get too bored here," Stella turned back at the threshold. "If anything happens, call."

"Yeah, just get out of here already," Musa waved them off without turning around.

The girls stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind them. Room 207 became deafeningly quiet. Left alone, Musa pulled her massive headphones over her head, blasted her music at full volume, and, pulling her knees to her chest, turned to look out the window.

Meanwhile, Stella, Bloom, and Ange exited Alfea's gates. Before reaching the bus stop, where students were already crowding, they veered off to the shoulder, hiding behind some sprawling bushes. By this point, they had stepped outside the school's protective dome, and Stella could freely open her portals. The princess twirled the ring on her finger with a familiar, dramatic gesture, preparing to open a gateway to Earth.

"Stella, just not in a crowded place, I'm begging you," Dominique warned.

"I know, I know, I'm not a kid," the princess waved it off. "We can step right into your living room. Though... if your mom rearranged the furniture, there's a risk of materializing right inside an armchair or a closet. We could do that park where we first met..."

"Yeah, the park is better," Dominique nodded.

"Alright, here we go."

Stella waved her hand. The space in front of her rippled, and then reality parted like a curtain, revealing a shining, swirling portal vortex behind it. One by one, the girls stepped into the passage. Out of habit, Dominique squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and when she opened them, a familiar green meadow surrounded by thick trees stretched out before her. This was exactly where she had first met Stella. This was also where she had awakened her magic for the first time. Somewhere in the distance, muffled human voices, barking dogs, and the hum of cars could be heard. Also, twilight was rapidly descending upon Gardenia. Dominique hadn't anticipated this: a bright daytime sun was shining in Magix right now, but here on Earth, due to the time zone difference or planetary rotation quirks, evening was already setting in.

"Oh wow, it stinks here..." Angelica wrinkled her nose and covered her face with her hand. "You live here?"

"Yeah," Dominique nodded.

She had instantly felt the difference herself. The air in Magix was different: dense, rich. Here on Earth, the sharp smell of exhaust fumes, sun-baked asphalt, and omnipresent dust immediately hit her nose. It felt like she had suddenly teleported from a pristine alpine village straight into the center of an industrial zone.

"I totally get you, though," Dominique added, adjusting her bag. "This all used to be absolutely normal to me. But now... it feels like I came from another world. Although, technically, I did."

"So what's the problem?" Ange shrugged. "Take your parents to Magix, and everyone's happy. Buy a little house somewhere in the suburbs."

"Well... It's not that simple. Magix has different laws, a different social order, and they are ordinary people without magic..." Dominique cut herself off, realizing she was starting to burden the upperclassman with unnecessary information.

"Adult problems... I get it," Ange nodded sympathetically.

Stella, meanwhile, glanced at her watch and waved her hand, opening a second portal—this time leading to Solaria.

"Alright, Bloom, I'll come pick you up on Sunday evening!" the princess hugged her friend tightly. "Call me if anything comes up!"

The girls said their goodbyes and stepped into the portal, which immediately snapped shut soundlessly, leaving not a single trace behind. Dominique was left alone. She looked around and walked unhurriedly toward the paved path. Everything was painfully familiar, yet at the same time, it felt incredibly alien. So little time had passed since she left, but she already felt like a tourist here. She walked out onto the park's main alley. Couples were cuddling on the benches, dog walkers strolled leisurely along the paths, someone was feeding nuts to the squirrels. People were living their ordinary, measured lives, completely unaware of how vast the Universe actually was, and what miracles existed literally one portal step away.

The girl reached the wrought-iron gates of the park and pulled out her phone. Should she call Vanessa and let her know she was home? The display read 17:43. Her mother was probably still at the shop, and Mike was likely on shift. She didn't want to go back to an empty house. After a moment of thought, she decided to head straight to the flower shop. She walked along the sidewalk, watching the passing cars with a condescending gaze. Dominique felt like a time traveler: as if she had come from a prosperous, high-tech metropolis to a remote backwater village where the locals still rode in horse-drawn carriages, burned tons of oil to kill the environment, and were still terribly proud of their "development."

At that moment, the annoying, crackling sound of an approaching small-engine scooter came from behind. Dominique instinctively stepped slightly to the side, letting the idiot who decided to ride on the pedestrian sidewalk pass. However, instead of driving past her, the engine behind her sputtered, dropped its RPMs, and stalled. And then a familiar, snide voice reached her:

"I'd recognize that mop of ginger hair anywhere. Hey, Bloomie. Did they let you out already?"

Dominique stopped. She turned around slowly and fixed Mitzi, who was sitting on a bright pink scooter, with an absolutely indifferent stare.

"Yeah, it really is a small world," Dominique scoffed. Then, processing the second half of her sentence, she arched a brow. "Let me out of where? What are you even talking about?"

Mitzi smiled nastily, pushing her designer sunglasses up onto her forehead.

"Well... everyone in town is saying your house got robbed the other night. They broke down the doors, trashed the place. And you..." Mitzi took a dramatic pause, looking at Bloom with fake sympathy. "Well, word is those thieves had their way with you completely. You lost your mind, and your parents locked you up in a nuthouse, just to be safe."

Dominique's face turned to ice. Every single thought instantly vanished from her head, giving way to pure, human rage. She felt a vein pulsing rapidly at her temple, and a heavy knot shifted in her chest.

"Who's saying that?" Dominique's voice dropped to a rasp. She took a slow step toward the scooter. "You?"

Gardenia was a relatively small town where rumors spread with the speed of a forest fire. Moreover, this town was her safe haven; her home was here, and the people she valued were here. And, knowing perfectly well how the local busybodies loved to savor any trashy gossip of questionable authenticity, she absolutely wasn't going to let herself be turned into the subject of vile rumors about rape and insanity.

"What does it have to do with me?" Mitzi instinctively backed up, pushing her scooter along, suddenly terrified by the angry, unblinking glare Bloom was giving her. "Everyone's saying it!"

"I know you too well, Mitzi. This 'everyone' is most likely you and your little friends," Dominique took another step, closing the distance completely. "So if I find out that you are the one spreading this garbage about me..."

"T-then what?" Mitzi tried to give a nervous, defiant smile, but it came off pathetic.

"Then you'll find out that I know how to get angry," Dominique loomed over her. "Very angry. And take my word for it, little girl, you are absolutely not going to like what you see."

"Oh, whatever... You definitely escaped from a nuthouse," Mitzi muttered, looking away. "Alright, psycho, I'm leaving."

She turned back to the handlebars, reaching to press the starter button. But at that exact moment, Dominique's hand shot forward. Her fingers clamped down in a death grip on Mitzi's thin wrist, pinning her hand to the scooter's handlebar.

"Ow! What are you doing?!" The jerk was unexpectedly strong. Mitzi nearly tipped over sideways along with the moped and stared in shock into those narrowed eyes, darkened with rage. "Are you completely psycho?! Let me go!"

"Did. You. Hear. Me?" Dominique asked quietly, enunciating every single syllable.

And right in that second, Mitzi felt a burning sensation beneath Bloom's fingers. Faint at first, like from friction. And then—simply unbearable. As if her bare wrist had been pressed firmly against the glowing-hot burner of an electric stove.

"Ow! Ow, fuck, it hurts!" the girl shrieked hysterically, trying to rip her arm away. "What are you doing?! Let go! Let me go!"

But Dominique had no intention of letting go; her grip didn't loosen by a single millimeter.

"Did you hear me?" Dominique repeated in that same terrifyingly calm tone.

"Yes! Yes, I get it! Stop it!" Mitzi screeched, tears of pain welling in her eyes. "Let go!"

"I highly recommend that you do," Dominique sharply released her fingers.

Mitzi stared at her hand in horror and confusion. Just above her wrist, exactly where Bloom had been holding her, a bright red band had surfaced on her skin. It looked like the smeared imprint of someone else's palm. The skin was still burning as if her arm had been shoved into an open fire, even though the foreign fingers were no longer touching her.

"If I hear this kind of garbage in town even one more time, I will come for you, Mitzi," Dominique tilted her head, glaring through her bangs at the idiot who had managed to push her over the edge.

"Why me?! What do I have to do with it?!" Mitzi shrieked, cradling her burned arm.

"Because I know you," Dominique nodded at the burn. "I suggest you apply a cold compress. And never play with fire again."

With that, she simply turned around and walked away down the sidewalk at a calm pace, not even looking back. Mitzi remained sitting on her stalled scooter. She didn't move, clutching her throbbing wrist to her chest, unable to tear her shocked gaze away from Bloom's retreating back. And only one panicked thought was beating in her head:

What. The. Actual. Fuck. Was. That?

-------------------

Friends, I recently received this review on the book:

"When are you going to stop making her refer to herself as Dominique and start her referring to herself as Bloom? Also, she is a bit too manipulative and doesn't really fit in with the theme of Winx. I'm not saying to make her a Mary Sue character, but please tone down the manipulation a bit. Also, maybe find a way for her to get Bloom's memories, because if you don't, you're going to have to reduce the IQ of everyone else so they don't notice anything wrong—especially those who knew Bloom before Dominique basically possessed her. After all, since her parents know about magic, it isn't hard to think about possession if they notice her behavior changing so much."

How would you take a review like this if you were the author? Would you consider it constructive criticism worth taking into account, or more of a list of personal preferences for how this particular reader would like the story to develop? And why?

I'm genuinely curious to hear your opinions, especially since I don't get that much feedback on the book. Because of that, there hasn't really been much reader influence on the story so far.

That said, I'm absolutely not against it. If someone suggests an interesting idea in the comments and I feel that it fits naturally into the existing story and characters, there's a very real chance that I might use it. And I'd be genuinely grateful to the person who suggested it.

So feel free to disagree with me or with each other. I'm genuinely interested in seeing how this review looks from someone else's perspective.

-------------------------
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[NitroNorm5688]

I'm genuinely curious to hear your opinions

Click to shrink...

Okay, so, opinions.

Having a character not have to deal with a previous person's memories is okay with me. So often they are mentioned as having them, and then they're forgotten about by the next chapter. It's usually used as an explanation for why the self insert knows where her stuff is. But I do realize that not knowing Bloom's favorite food or color is going to be problematic. It was getting kind of obvious from the Parents that something was wrong with Bloom but it got drowned out by the sudden Trolls attack.

I expect it to be delt with when Bloom starts receiving the weird prophecy dreams of fire guardian lady and other junk.

This is actually a good plot point. And it gives tension.

Money is a problem. Bloom needs some. She should at least do something to try and get some. Stock options, heal a car and sell it, lottery numbers, do something with plants, a repair spell, a finding spell for treasure and lost items, take a bunch of junkyard Magix tech and sell it, something from history that she can bet on, anything.

I've actually gone back to watch both the original version and the 4Kids version of the show. One of the things I'd forgotten was that the girls got totally trounced when meeting the Trix the first time. Stella actually teleported them away to safety and then the truth came out all at once. She could have done that but you didn't. As someone who has had combat Stella could have done a bunch of other things. I could be nitpicky but I'm not. That ship has sailed. I liked it and was fine.

The police part, not so much. When were the girls interrogated? Did they inform their parents? Blowing up a restaurant is supposed to be a big deal. So were the girl's faces in all the newspapers? Where was the investigation? Do they have records now?

One of the things I don't like is the month of detentions. The principle hasn't even asked what happened. Like, she has no clue as to why the girls blew up an entire restaurant. The parents of each of the girls should have gotten involved, because that's a big thing you know? Do they have repair spells? Were they permanently banned?

Or are we just assuming that Headmistress Faragonda already knows already and that's why she isn't talking about it? Did she and the Headmistress of the other schools have a discussion? Were there security cameras? Because even in the time of the show being made pretty much all major restaurants had a camera to watch the entrances. As Magtrix is far more advanced than earth there should be cameras.

Also, having a few weeks of time pass in classes between the events of two episodes of the show and then meeting that Mitzi girl talk as if it happened a few days ago is really weird. Is time screwed up or what?

That's pretty much all my questions.

Now the story isn't dumb. It's quite well written. But you are leaving behind a lot of things that are being left out.

A small bit of editing can fix most of this.

So, thanx for the story. Please, keep on writing.

 

[VitahAR]

The bell above the door chimed softly, and an elderly woman with neat gray hair stepped slowly out into the street, gently clutching a small bouquet of chrysanthemums to her chest.

"Have a good evening!" Vanessa called out warmly after her.

The door closed, cutting off the rumble of traffic, and a soothing silence settled over the flower shop. For a few seconds, Vanessa simply stood behind the counter, leaning on the tabletop, listening to the evening street buzzing beyond the glass. Friday had turned out to be surprisingly hectic. Regular customers had been coming in since morning: someone bought luxurious roses for a first date, someone chose formal carnations for an anniversary, and one young girl spent almost twenty minutes torn between lilies and orchids, only to sheepishly buy the cheapest bouquet of wildflowers in the end. Vanessa didn't mind in the slightest, though. Everyone had their own budget, and she always served anyone who crossed her threshold with genuine joy.

Stepping out from behind the counter, she adjusted a slipped ribbon on one of the ready-made arrangements near the window, casting a tired but observant glance around her shop. A few fallen petals lay scattered across the light tile floor, needing to be swept. Without putting it off, Vanessa immediately grabbed the broom, mentally outlining her plan for the rest of the evening: the bucket of white roses needed to be moved to a cool spot, otherwise they'd lose their fresh look by morning; the water for the tulips definitely had to be replaced; and finally, counting the till. After that—pulling down the blinds, stopping by the supermarket for groceries on the way home, and finally making dinner. Mike was bound to come home from his shift at the fire station hungry as a wolf. There was still some chicken left in the fridge. If she picked up fresh vegetables, she could make a great stew. Or maybe macaroni with cheese sauce? Bloom absolutely adored mac and cheese...

At that thought, Vanessa let out a heavy sigh, put down the broom, and picked up the shears from the counter. The memory of her daughter brought a soft, slightly sad smile to her face. Bloom was impossibly far away right now, at that strange magical school of hers where Vanessa couldn't go even if she wanted to. Only a month had passed, but sometimes it still felt like some long, bizarre dream. Yet the house felt frighteningly empty and quiet without her daughter. No one left half-empty teacups in the sink anymore. No one forgot to turn off the bathroom light. No one grumbled in the morning, begging for "just five more minutes" when she woke her up for school. Everyday trifles, really, simple domestic details, but those were the exact things Vanessa missed so desperately right now.

She mechanically trimmed the stems of another batch of roses, placing them into clean water, and cast a fleeting glance at her phone. She had heard Bloom's voice exactly a week ago. Her daughter had promised to try and come home for the weekend, and Vanessa had been waiting for a confirmation call all day. She wanted to know for sure whether the girl was coming or not—any certainty was better than empty hope that made her flinch at every ring of the phone. Vanessa forced herself to turn away from the receiver and focus back on the flowers. Outside the wide display window, the sky was gradually graying into twilight. A car door slammed right nearby, and a minute later, the bell above the entrance chimed melodiously once more. Vanessa raised her head, forcing her usual, polite smile onto her face.

"Good evening—"

The smile vanished from her lips instantly, replaced by a mask of cold tension. Stevens walked into the shop. Dressed in his usual gray suit, he swept a possessive, sharp glare across the room and headed straight for the counter.

"Hello, Mrs. Peters. It's me again," Stevens stopped opposite her. "I brought the contract."

"Good lord, how many times do I have to repeat myself?" Vanessa gripped the shears a little tighter than necessary. "The shop is not for sale. I am not signing anything."

"I figured as much," Stevens grimaced in displeasure, but the arrogant smirk quickly returned to his face. "Though I think I can convince you today."

"Don't waste my time or yours. I've already said everything."

"Right, right, of course."

Stevens took a casual stroll along the display window. He unceremoniously shoved a potted plant off a high stool, dragged the stool closer to the counter, and sat down, crossing his legs.

"I did a little digging in my spare time," he began, casually flicking an invisible speck of dust off his knee. "Turns out, you have a daughter..."

Vanessa's heart skipped a beat, and a cold chill ran through her chest. Still, she forced herself not to show her fear, tilting her chin up. Bloom was at Alfea right now, in another dimension. These thugs couldn't possibly get to her, no matter how hard they tried. But then another, even more terrifying thought struck her: Bloom had promised to come home this very weekend! What if she walked in while these people were lurking around? Panic tightened into a hard knot in her throat. How could she warn her? How could she tell her not to come home under any circumstances?

"Enough. That's it. I'm calling the police," Vanessa's voice trembled, but she tried to make it sound firm. "Don't even think threats against my family will go unpunished."

She resolutely reached for the phone, resting her hand on the receiver.

"Good heavens, Mrs. Peters, what threats?" Stevens raised his hands in feigned peace. "Do I look like some kind of crook to you?"

"Then get out of here immediately."

"I was just curious," he ignored her order, leaning forward slightly. "Does your daughter know... one rather curious fact from her biography sixteen years ago?"

Stevens leisurely pulled a thin leather folder from under his arm. Opening it, he fished out a slightly crooked photocopy of a paper with blurred seals and unfolded it so Vanessa could see the text. The woman stared at the paper. The blood instantly drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale. She recognized that form. She recognized the seals of the court order.

"How... did you..." her voice betrayed her, dropping to a raspy whisper. "How dare you dig into my family's past?"

"Oh, I didn't dig that hard," Stevens shrugged indifferently. "Just... took a peek. Useful connections work wonders sometimes."

He carelessly folded the document a few times and slipped it into his inner jacket pocket, setting the folder itself—which held a hefty stack of other papers—right on the counter.

"Teenagers are so fragile these days. Especially at such a transitional age," Stevens placed his hand on the folder, slowly flipping the edges of the documents to check if everything was in place. "Who knows what might go through a sixteen-year-old girl's head after hearing such a shocking truth? She might run away from home. Or... do something even worse."

"You wouldn't dare..." Vanessa's knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the counter.

"Wouldn't dare?" Stevens smiled a little wider. "Why do you think so? Personally, I think the bitter truth is always better than a sweet lie. But... we are adults here. We can always make a deal."

Vanessa breathed heavily, her vision blurring with rising tears of desperation and rage. She stood pale as chalk, trembling slightly.

"So, Mrs. Peters?" Stevens slapped his palm onto the stack of documents, turned the folder toward her, and slid it closer. "Maybe let's not break your little girl's heart?"

She lowered an empty gaze onto the papers. Lying right on top was the same cursed purchase contract with a blank line for her signature. Vanessa's gaze went out of focus for a moment, the black letters blurring into continuous, unreadable lines. In that instant, she desperately wanted to grab that folder and slam it into Stevens' smug face with all her strength. She wanted to scream at him, throw him out, force him to leave her family alone. But what he knew... It bound her hands tighter than any chains. She simply couldn't allow Bloom to find out the truth like this, from a dirty blackmailer. Even if the price for that silence was this shop, her life's work. A ringing silence hung in the room, broken only by Vanessa's heavy breathing. And at that exact moment, the bell above the front door chimed brightly. The door swung open, letting cool evening air into the shop, and Bloom appeared on the threshold.

"Good evening," Dominique said calmly, stepping across the threshold. "Hey, Mom."

Vanessa flinched as if struck by lightning. Her eyes widened, and her hand on the counter clutched tightly into a fist.

"Bloom? What... what are you doing here?" the woman's voice trembled, completely giving her away.

Stevens slowly turned his head. His sharp gaze slid over the girl's figure, lingering on her vivid, fiery-red hair, before shifting to Vanessa's dark locks. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and a strange smile spread across his lips.

"Good evening, young miss," Stevens drawled in a greasy tone, bowing his head slightly. "Came to visit your mom? Commendable, very commendable."

Dominique instantly read the room: the air was practically vibrating with tension. Vanessa looked like she was one step away from a heart attack, while this guy in the cheap suit was practically radiating smugness.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" Dominique raised an eyebrow, measuring the man with an icy glare.

"Nobody. He was just leaving," Vanessa cut in sharply, stepping forward to shield her daughter.

Stevens smirked, entirely unfazed. He slowly stood up from the stool and adjusted his jacket.

"Yes, I suppose it's time for me to go," he knocked his index finger meaningfully against the leather folder left on the glass counter. "I'll drop by Monday morning. And I hope to see your signature, Mrs. Peters."

"Goodbye," Vanessa hissed through clenched teeth. In front of her daughter, she tried her best not to display open hostility, but her voice rang with tension.

The man turned around and headed for the exit. Vanessa didn't wait for him to leave on his own; she followed him immediately to personally see him out the door and ensure he actually got into his car and drove off, rather than lurking outside. While her mother stood by the glass door, nervously fidgeting with the edge of her apron as she watched the car pull away, Dominique walked over to the counter. She calmly sat down on the stool Stevens had just vacated and pulled the open folder toward herself. Her eyes skimmed the first page with practiced speed, and her eyebrows slowly arched upward. She lifted the edge of the first document to look at the second, then the third. At that moment, the bell chimed behind her, and the front door closed with a muted thud. Vanessa turned the key in the lock and hurriedly flipped the sign to "Closed."

"Mom, what's been going on here while I was away?" Dominique asked quietly, not taking her eyes off the papers.

Vanessa came up from behind and wrapped her arms tightly around her shoulders, trying to hide the trembling in her hands.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" she forced a strained laugh. "What could possibly happen in our Gardenia? You'd better tell me how you've been! God, I missed you so much..."

"Mom, don't change the subject," Dominique gently freed herself from the embrace and turned to face her. "First I ran into Mitzi, who claimed the whole town is gossiping about me. Supposedly our house got robbed, and you and Dad put me in a mental asylum..."

"What?!" Vanessa recoiled, the fake smile instantly dropping from her face to give way to genuine indignation. "What is she talking about?! I'm... I'm going to her parents today! This is going way too far! How dare she spread such vile garbage?! Bloom, I..."

"I already talked to her, don't worry. She promised she won't do it again," Dominique scoffed, recalling Mitzi's terrified face, but her smirk quickly faded into cold seriousness. She tapped her finger against the printed pages. "Now explain this to me—what is this? Who was that man?"

Vanessa swallowed hard. Her gaze darted between her daughter's face and the cursed contract on the table.

"It's..." Vanessa hesitated, frantically coming up with an excuse. "Well, I decided to sell the shop. Yes. You know, flowers have started taking up too much energy... And my back has been acting up lately. I thought maybe we should buy something smaller, or... just put the money in a deposit."

Dominique let out a quiet scoff, staring straight into her mother's eyes with a heavy, completely un-childlike gaze that melted away the pathetic remnants of Vanessa's forced smile. Logically speaking, Dominique could have closed the folder right then and forgotten about it. After all, Vanessa wasn't selling the roof over their heads, just a pointless flower shop that took up a ton of time and didn't bring in staggering profits. Let her sell it. But something deep inside... some basic sense of ownership simply wouldn't let her back down.

"Mom, how about you stop treating me like a stupid kid and tell me what's actually going on?" Dominique said flatly.

"Bloom, it's... true..." the woman attempted to protest.

"I might not know much about local real estate prices," Dominique tapped her fingernail firmly on the final sum in the contract, "but even I know this number is barely a third of the actual value of this land and business. This isn't a deal, it's a robbery."

"Well... that's because of the urgency!" Vanessa grasped at the saving straw, nervously rubbing her hands together. "They offered quick cash, no paperwork hassle..."

"Mom..." Dominique narrowed her eyes slightly. "Are you being threatened?"

------------

Friends, if you're enjoying the story, please take a moment to leave a comment. It really helps the book gain more visibility.

 

[VitahAR]

"Mom..." Dominique narrowed her eyes slightly. "Are you being threatened?"

The words were spoken quietly, but they hit right on target. Vanessa flinched and looked away, her shoulders slumping.

"It's just a shop, Bloom," Vanessa whispered pleadingly, tears glistening in her eyes. "Please. I've already made up my mind, I'm going to sell it. So let's just drop it, alright?"

Without waiting for an answer, she began frantically gathering her things, pulling her handbag off the hook and hurriedly taking off her work apron.

"Let's just go home," her voice trembled with an effort to sound cheerful. "Mike will be back from his shift soon. Just imagine how happy he'll be to see you! We'll cook something delicious. Have a real family evening... Please, Bloom."

Dominique watched this frantic fuss in silence. She could clearly see that Vanessa was scared to death, and she understood that if she kept pressing for answers now, Vanessa would completely shut down. She needed to act more subtle, or even better—find out everything on her own. She mentally logged the company name from the header of the contract: "Westfield Urban Development."

"Oh, alright," Dominique sighed heavily, smoothly pushing up from the stool. "Home it is. I'm dying for some normal home-cooked food."

As if waiting for those exact words, Vanessa hurriedly grabbed the ill-fated leather folder off the counter and, without even zipping it up, stuffed it straight to the bottom of her bulky bag, covering it with her work apron. As if hiding the problem out of sight would make it disappear on its own.

"I'll call a taxi right now," she said quickly, picking up the landline receiver. "I don't want us walking in the dark."

A couple of minutes later, they were standing on the porch of the locked shop, waiting for the car. The evening chill was pleasantly refreshing after the stuffy room. Having calmed down a bit in the fresh air, Vanessa looked into her daughter's eyes with hope.

"Lord, let me get a proper look at you... You've grown up so much," Vanessa said softly, tucking a red strand away from her daughter's face. "Or am I just imagining it?"

"I've been gone for a month," Dominique scoffed.

"For a mother, a month is a long time."

Dominique barely held back a chuckle, but didn't argue.

"So, tell me, sweetie. How is it... at that school of yours? I was so worried! After all, another world, magic... Are they treating you okay?"

"Mom, who's going to mess with me there?" Dominique allowed herself a light, reassuring smile, deciding to give her mother exactly the version of events she wanted to hear. "Everything is wonderful. The school is huge, beautiful like a fairytale castle. Studying is tough, of course, but I'm managing. Some of the teachers are weird, but overall good."

"Weird?"

"One of our professors is a leprechaun."

Vanessa froze.

"Sorry, a who?"

"A leprechaun. A little guy, constantly hopping all over his desk."

For a few seconds, Vanessa just stared at her. Then she let out a quiet laugh and shook her head.

"I'm still not used to you saying things like that with a completely straight face."

"Yeah, for the first few days I spent more time staring at him than listening to what he was saying," Dominique smirked.

"What about the girls? Have you made any friends?"

"Yeah, we've got a great group," Dominique shrugged, recalling her motley crew. "Stella—well, you remember her—is a bit loud, but never boring. Flora is sweet, she adores plants, you two would definitely hit it off. Tecna is a total computer genius, and Musa can't live without music. We share a room and help each other out. So everything really is good."

Vanessa breathed out in relief, the lines on her forehead smoothing away.

"Thank God. I'm so glad to hear that, Bloom. So glad..."

A yellow sedan pulled smoothly up to the curb, interrupting their conversation, and mother and daughter hurried into the cab. The house greeted them with familiar cozy warmth and a little rabbit that Dominique had already managed to forget about. Kiko scurried into the hallway, his paws moving in a funny flurry, and immediately began rubbing against his owner's shoes, demanding attention.

"Alright, wash your hands and get to the kitchen!" Vanessa ordered, kicking off her shoes on the go. The anxiety in her eyes gave way to familiar domestic chores. "Dad will be home soon, we need to get everything ready."

Ten minutes later, Dominique, wearing a funny daisy-patterned apron, was standing in the middle of the kitchen staring with complete bewilderment at the tools she'd been handed: a massive green zucchini and a vegetable peeler. In her past life, she had dined at Michelin-starred restaurants, while at home a personal chef cooked for her. Her culinary skills were strictly limited to pouring herself a glass of whiskey on the rocks and taking a sip.

"Sweetie, why are you standing there like a statue? Peel it while I pop the chicken in the oven," Vanessa called back, bustling by the stove.

Dominique tentatively took the peeler. It's just a vegetable, Dominique. You can handle it, she encouraged herself mentally. She pressed the blade against the green skin and pulled hard. The blade slipped, nearly taking off a chunk of her finger, and the zucchini popped out of her hands, rolling across the floor with a clatter before coming to a stop right by Kiko's bowl. The rabbit twitched its nose in curiosity.

"Oops!" slipped out of Dominique.

Vanessa turned around and burst out laughing.

"Bloom, what's wrong with you? You're holding it like you've never seen one before! Hand it here, you silly goose," her mother picked up the vegetable with a smile, rinsed it under the faucet, and stripped off half the skin in three fast, deft moves. "I swear, that school of yours is bad for you. Look at that, you've even forgotten how to cook, how won't that do? Here, try again."

Feeling incredibly foolish, Dominique picked up the tool again. It turned out to be harder than it looked. Huffing with effort, she somehow managed to conquer the poor vegetable, though barely half of its original volume remained. Soon enough, a mouthwatering aroma of roasted chicken with spices and garlic drifted through the house. And at the exact moment Vanessa was pulling the dish out of the oven, a key turned in the front door lock.

"Hey! Anyone alive in here?! I smell food!" a tired but cheerful voice called from the hallway.

When Dominique stepped out into the hallway, Mike, still in his uniform jacket, cracked a broad smile. He pulled her into a bear hug so tight her ribs nearly creaked.

"My princess! You're back! Your mother and I were getting so lonely!" Mike gave her a joyful kiss on the top of her head. "Well, let me look at you. Lost some weight, looks like! Are they not feeding you at all in that magic place of yours?"

"They feed us, Dad, everything's great," Dominique gave a strained smile. "Oof, don't crush my ribs. Come on to the table, we worked hard."

Family dinner went by in an incredibly cozy atmosphere. Mike devoured the chicken while telling stories from the fire station, while Vanessa kept serving everyone salad and laughing. Midway through dinner, Mike suddenly stood up, walked over to a wall cabinet, and pulled out a squat bottle of whiskey and a tiny shot glass with a conspiratorial look.

"Mike Peters!" Vanessa immediately threw up her hands in indignation. "Don't even think about it! You just got off your shift!"

"Vanessa, darling, look at the situation sensibly!" Mike calmly poured himself a full shot. "Our daughter is home. Alive, healthy, and a top student according to her stories. This is a celebration! It's a sin not to drink to a family reunion!"

"Oh, Mike..." Vanessa rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched with a smile. "You're hopeless."

"To my favorite girls!" Mike solemnly declared, knocked back the shot, and followed it up with a hearty grunt as he ate a juicy piece of chicken.

Dinner stretched on until nearly midnight. Finally, tired but happy, they started heading off to bed. Sending her daughter and husband to sleep, Vanessa set about clearing the dishes. Dominique entered her room, shut the door, and leaned her back against it. The smile on her face slowly faded, replaced by a relieved expression of finally, it's over. She changed into pajamas, climbed under the covers, and pulled her Motorola flip-phone out of her bag. The screen glowed dimly in the dark. The internet took painfully long to load. The pixelated progress bar crawled across the screen for what felt like an eternity before the search engine homepage finally opened. Dominique started typing. The T9 keyboard was annoying; she had to punch in words letter by letter, constantly correcting stupid autocorrect suggestions. Finally, the search bar held what she had remembered from the header of that cursed contract: "Westfield Urban Development." She hit search and waited, watching the slowly blinking loading icon. It was time to find out exactly who she was dealing with.

The screen of the old Motorola dimly illuminated Dominique's face in the dark room. WAP mobile internet in 2004 was a true test of nerves. Pages loaded in piecemeal chunks, consisted mostly of broken text, and required saintly patience. At last, the search engine yielded results. The very first link led to the official website of "Westfield Urban Development." Dominique pressed the phone's joystick, and the loading bar froze again. After a couple of agonizing minutes of waiting, text appeared on the tiny screen. The site was designed by every cliché in the book: minimal specifics, maximum hype. Dominique opened the "About Us" section and began to read, automatically translating the shiny promotional buzzwords into the cold language of reality.

"Our mission is the revitalization of outdated urban areas and the creation of modern, comfortable spaces for living and business," read the first paragraph. In plain terms: we buy up land for pennies, tear down old houses, and slap up cheap shopping centers to lease space at triple the price, Dominique scoffed mentally. She scrolled further down. "Dynamic expansion of asset portfolios through aggressive investment strategies." Dominique hummed, reread it, and laughed. Talk about spin. Beneath the corporate fluff lay a very simple playbook: squeeze businesses out from anyone who can't defend themselves using intimidation and legal loopholes. All of this was painfully familiar. In her past life, she had swallowed up dozens of these "dynamically growing" operations. They were typical mid-tier scavengers feeding on the periphery, never daring to step into real big business where they would have been eaten alive in a matter of days.

She moved to the "Contact Us" section. As she expected, only a single address was proudly displayed—a respectable business center in Sacramento. There were, of course, a fax number, an email, and a couple of phone numbers, but no mention of regional branches on this stripped-down mobile version of the site. Dominique thoughtfully rubbed her chin. Sacramento was the state capital. That was far away; no top manager or senior agent from headquarters would drag themselves out to tiny Gardenia over a deal for some flower shop worth fifty grand on a good day. It was far too small time; it wouldn't even cover the gas money. Which means there's a local branch operating here, Dominique concluded. A small office set up as a regional branch. And this Stevens guy is just a local muscle with a briefcase, hired by some local boss looking to suck up to Sacramento with strong quarterly numbers.

The question was how to track down their lair. It was unlikely that the standard boilerplate contract Stevens brought had the local office address on it—those forms were usually printed using a uniform template with HQ details. Unfortunately, Stevens hadn't left a business card, which would have been ideal. No big deal, Dominique locked her phone and set it on the nightstand. Tomorrow is Saturday, but shady joints like this often keep a duty operator or secretary answering phones at headquarters. In the morning, she'd simply dial the Sacramento number and pretend to be an interested party. Say she wanted to discuss commercial real estate in Gardenia and ask who to contact locally. With any luck, the receptionist would give up the local address. If not, at least they'd confirm the branch existed and who ran it.

Dominique lay back, lacing her hands behind her head, and stared up at the dark ceiling. Complete silence hung over the house, save for the low hum of the refrigerator downstairs. Need to wait another hour so they're sound asleep, she thought, feeling a long-forgotten thrill ignite inside her. And then let's go see what kind of terrible raw deal they tried to slide past Vanessa.

------------

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[NitroNorm5688]

Good to see the story still going strong.

That problem with Blooms original memories is still giving her trouble. Never having sliced a vegetable . . . honestly, does she even know how to boil water? Potions class should clear that up.

One nitpick, the wife of the man she loves would not call him dad. She would call him "Your Father," when talking to her daughter or "Mike will be home soon."

 

[VitahAR]

Her lungs burned with flame. She desperately wanted to cough, to spit out this soot, but her entire body felt twisted by a stone spasm. She couldn't move even a finger, let alone anything more. She was forced to suffocate agonizingly, feeling as if she were burning alive from the inside. The acrid smell of burning and smoke ate into her nose, and a hum of distant screams and the crash of something collapsing reached her ears as if through a layer of cotton. Is this happening again? This nightmare again? Why again?! Dominique knew perfectly well that she was asleep. She clearly remembered going to bed in her room, in the house in Gardenia, and therefore couldn't possibly be anywhere else. However, she couldn't find a way to break this agonizing state. She had read that something like this was called sleep paralysis. But what the hell kind of sleep was this? Why did everything feel so real and tangible? Why was her consciousness working with such crystal clarity?

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!

Dominique desperately wanted to pinch herself, bite her lip, hit the back of her head against something hard, but alas, she was still deprived of the ability to not just move, but even cast a sideways glance. Her lungs were still tearing from the smoke, her eyes watered unbearably, turning everything around her into a murky veil. This state seemed to last an eternity. Or maybe just a single moment. Time had lost all meaning here. Suddenly, the figure of a huge, golden-radiant woman appeared before her eyes. Her glow was so blinding that she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut tightly, turn away and not look at her, but Dominique was deprived of even that. The woman's face leaned closer, and through the murky veil in her eyes, she managed to make out details. On the stranger's face was a strange golden mask, covering the upper half of her face. Its edges fanned out in elegant protrusions, resembling the spread wings of some bird, and where the eyes should have been, empty voids shone with a white light.

"Vile witchcraft... When did she have the time?!" the glowing woman's voice sounded unnaturally clear, as if she were speaking right into her ears, and then everything before her eyes was flooded with an unbearably bright light.

An elegant, glowing palm hovered over Dominique's face. And at that moment, she felt as if the space itself around her compressed, squeezed from all sides, and forcefully dragged her somewhere outward. Her vision began to blur even more, the suffocating burning in her chest began to subside. Finally... Finally, it's going to end, Dominique thought with her fading consciousness. But, as if in an elaborate mockery, nothing ended. On the contrary, she was thrown back with a sharp jerk with even greater force, as if she had been plunged headfirst into boiling water.

"Where are you running off to, little nymph?" a repulsive, grating voice seemed to sound from everywhere at once.

It suddenly got darker around them. Dominique couldn't see anything to the sides; her gaze was still glued to a single point straight ahead. And all she could see right now was a high stone ceiling and the tense chin of the glowing woman. A woman who seemed to be... Wait. Is she carrying me in her arms? She really is holding me in her arms. Is it really not her being huge, but me being...

"You were so proud of yourself. The youngest nymph..." the voice from the darkness dripped with sarcasm. "And look what you're doing? Running away like a cowardly animal, ha-ha-ha."

"Shut up, you vile witch..." the golden woman hissed.

"And where are your parents?" the voice from the darkness drawled mockingly. "Oh... Looks like they died."

"You're lying, witch," the golden one cut her off. "If you're here alone, it means they and their friends are holding your sisters back."

"What a perceptive little nymph," the darkness on the periphery of her vision thickened, and an ugly, distorted shadow of a huge, hunched old woman seemed to crawl across the entire stone ceiling. "You certainly don't lack brains."

The shadow loomed over them, filling the entire space.

"Then you must understand that you only have one chance left to save yourselves..."

"No. Never."

"Foolish," spat the witch, who seemed to be getting annoyed by such stubbornness. "Foolish! Foolish! How utterly foolish! You're just as stubborn as your parents!"

The darkness suddenly retreated from the ceiling, flooding off to the side. And then, in the sudden silence, footsteps could be heard distinctly. Dominique saw the golden woman's neck tense as she stared somewhere into the gloom. The woman took a step back, then another, starting to slowly retreat. She threw up her free hand, and a translucent golden dome instantly flared up and hummed around them.

"Belladonna..." the golden woman exhaled.

"You recognized me," another voice was heard from the side—surprisingly softer, insinuating, even somewhat ordinary. "Then you must understand that you are no match for me. Do you want to show character? Then go and die for your planet, but hand over the child. I swear, we won't harm her..."

"Never. I won't let you make her one of you."

"She is already one of us," a triumphant laugh filled the room, echoing multiple times off the stone walls.

"We'll see about that. Soon all the nymphs of Magix will be here. I'll see how you laugh then."

But these words seemed to amuse the witch even more. Her laughter grew deeper; it was as if it began to physically drill into the brain. Suddenly, the entire building shook from a powerful blow. The golden woman groaned in agony and grabbed her head with one hand, as if a sudden, unbearable migraine had pierced her. Her golden shield flickered, rippled, and vanished with a quiet ringing sound.

"Hand over the child!"

For a split second, Dominique saw long female arms dart out of the darkness toward her. But the golden one stomped her foot with force, and a blinding wave of light struck out in all directions, forcing the enemy to recoil with a hiss.

"Never. I'd rather kill her than let her fall into your hands," the golden woman shouted, gasping for air.

Who are you planning to kill, you psycho? a thought flashed in Dominique's head. Although... yeah, do it. Kill, and maybe this nightmare will finally end sooner. She had been suffocating in this half-sleep, half-delirious vision for what seemed like an eternity anyway. Any normal person would have suffocated or lost consciousness from pain shock long ago, but she merely experienced the full spectrum of this physical torment, suffering, but not dying.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha!" the witch's laughter rang out from the side. "Go on then... Kill. Show your true nature. You actually envy her, don't you? What you spent decades of hard work achieving will be available to her from birth..."

"Shut your filthy mouth. Don't judge me by your own standards!"

"I'm not. I'm just telling it like it is... Are you going to wait much longer? Kill her, just don't hit the child!"

"What?..." the golden woman froze.

A sudden, deafening explosion from behind caught her off guard. The shockwave threw the golden woman forward, but with an incredible effort she stayed on her feet and sharply turned around.

"You?..." she gasped, and there was so much disbelief in her voice that for a moment even Dominique became curious about who she saw there.

"Ha-ha-ha, are you still waiting for the nymphs?" the witch drawled mockingly. "Well here's one of you. It seems you're even acquainted. Aren't you going to greet your friend?"

"Why you??? Poli..."

Bzz... Bzz... Bzz...

Dominique snapped her eyes open and instinctively bent double, sitting up in bed and going into a heavy fit of coughing, like a drowning person who had just surfaced. She began to inhale frantically, filling her lungs with long-awaited air. The sensation of oxygen deprivation began to slowly retreat, although the phantom smell of acrid burning and the stinging in her chest were still present, gradually weakening with every breath. The girl raised her shaking hands and began to furiously rub her face. This brought her to her senses a little. She tossed the crumpled blanket aside. On the nightstand, her cell phone was still buzzing annoyingly, vibrating its way right to the edge. She grabbed it and looked at the display. Exactly two in the morning. The alarm she'd set before going to sleep had worked perfectly. The sound of the vibrating phone right now, in the absolute silence of the sleeping house, seemed so deafening that it could well have woken Mike and Vanessa in their room.

The girl quickly turned off the alarm and got out of bed. Her thin tank top was dead stuck to her back—she was covered from head to toe in sticky, cold sweat. Dominique headed straight for the bathroom, shedding her wet clothes on the go. She stopped in front of the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed her face with ice-cold water a few times. Straightening up, she leaned heavily with her hands on the edges of the sink and looked in the mirror. Her mop of red hair was hopelessly tangled and looked more like a crow's nest; her face was deathly pale. But her eyes... They looked as if they didn't belong to her at all. She, Dominique Lefèvre, had never in her life had such a cornered, animalistic fear on her face. She slowly reached out a trembling hand and touched her reflection with her fingertips.

"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez toi?" (What is wrong with you?) Dominique whispered hoarsely, not taking her eyes off the ones in the mirror.

She let out a heavy breath, leaned forward, and rested her hot forehead against the cold surface of the mirror. This dream again. This damn, overly realistic nightmare. She completely didn't understand what was happening. Was she even dreaming this? Some golden woman, then a witch... And she herself was a child in this dream? This started ever since she arrived at Alfea. No, that's not right. She had lived in the school of magic for almost two weeks prior to these dreams, and no nightmares had tormented her. It started... The first time it happened was after that stupid welcoming ball. She had met Faragonda for the first time then...

No, that's nonsense, Dominique caught herself. At that moment, the headmistress didn't even know about me yet, why would she exhaust me with such strange nightmares?

Or... Dominique raised her right hand, and with a snap of her fingers, a small flame obediently ignited on the tip of her index finger. She had also started actively practicing magic around that exact same time. Magical exhaustion and, as a result, various side effects, including nightmares, were frequently mentioned in library books. But she had never really pushed herself to the point of critical exhaustion. What was the matter then? Dominique shook her head in annoyance, extinguishing the flame. She had a few other theories spinning in her mind, but none of them had any solid evidence behind them. These nightmares could be a consequence of one of them, or the result of something completely different that didn't fit into her usual logic.

"You don't exist, do you? These can't be your memories, right?" Dominique stared at the reflection with a slight, suspicious squint. "Nonsense. You don't exist. And you can't have memories like this."

The reflection remained silent, looking at her with huge blue eyes. Dominique clicked her tongue loudly, pulled back sharply from the mirror, turned around, and headed back to the room. She urgently needed a distraction. To do what she had planned, what she had set the alarm for. She definitely wasn't going to fall asleep again tonight anyway. Dominique stepped out of the room and froze in the hallway, listening to the sounds of the sleeping house. Everything seemed quiet. Stepping silently on the parquet with bare feet, the girl went down the stairs to the first floor. It was dark in the hallway; only the pale light of a streetlamp fell through the window. Dominique took out her phone and turned on the dim screen backlight. Vanessa's bag hung on a hook on the coat rack, exactly where her mother had left it upon arriving. Vanessa hadn't touched it once the entire evening.

Never picked it up. All the better, Dominique scoffed to herself. She carefully opened the bag, pushed aside the crumpled apron, and felt for the item she was looking for. Dominique pulled out the whole folder, closed the bag, and, stepping just as silently, returned upstairs to her room, shutting the door tightly behind her. Clicking the button of the dim nightlight on the nightstand, she sat on the bed cross-legged and opened the folder. Before her lay a standard commercial real estate and land purchase agreement. Dominique skimmed the first clauses, and her lips twisted into a cold smirk. The contract was drafted very competently. Formally, within the framework of the law, it was impossible to find fault with it—no court would call it fraud. The company's lawyers earned their keep. But in reality, it was legalized robbery, designed for a frightened person under psychological pressure to sign it without objection. First of all, the amount. It was incredibly understated. But that was only half the trouble. Dominique turned the page, reading into the fine print of the "Payment Terms" section, and clicked her tongue quietly in admiration.

"Not bad... Not bad at all," she whispered.

The buyer wasn't paying the full amount at once. Vanessa would receive only a miserable ten percent on the day of signing. The rest of the amount was structured as a "deferred payment" over a period of five years. At the same time, clause 4.2 indicated in fine print that the buyer reserved the right to "recalculate" the balance of the debt in the event of discovering hidden defects in the building or problems with the land plot. Meaning, they intended to tear down the shop, "find" problems with the foundation, and legally write off the rest of Vanessa's debt to zero. Furthermore. The "Transfer of Property" clause. Under this contract, the seller was obliged to vacate the premises within 48 hours of signing. If Vanessa didn't manage to move out all her floral equipment, refrigerators, and inventory, the company would take it all for themselves and—this was where Dominique actually laughed at the audacity. They wouldn't just seize the property Vanessa failed to move out, but they would also bill her for the "disposal of abandoned trash."

One could only sign such a thing in a state of very great and urgent need for money, or... Under threats. Dominique quickly flipped through the pages to the very end, to where the block of details and signatures was located. So, Buyer... Legal entity. Westfield Urban Development. Registration — Sacramento, she noted mentally, her eyes gliding over the lines. Her gaze dropped to the very bottom of the page, to an inconspicuous "Notices and Correspondence" section. In such standard boilerplate contracts, all legal correspondence, key handovers, and claims regarding the deal are always directed not to the head office, but to a local representative who holds a power of attorney to conduct business in a specific county. So, it was quite possible that a call to Sacramento wouldn't be necessary. Dominique narrowed her eyes, reading the text printed in the tiniest font: "All official notices regarding the execution of this Agreement must be sent to the Buyer's regional representative at the following address: Gardenia County, 42 Oak Street, Plaza Business Center, Office 315. Recipient: General Manager of the Regional Branch, Mr. D. Andrews."

"42 Oak Street..." Dominique whispered thoughtfully. "Office 315. Mr. Andrews."

She slammed the folder shut. Well, it looked like Stevens was just a pawn, a slick-talking courier who got a cut from extorted signatures. But this Mr. Andrews—he was the brain of the local branch. And he was exactly the one she needed to deal with. Dominique glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. There were a few hours left until the start of the workday. She put the folder on the desk and leaned back against the pillows, putting her hands behind her head. There was no sleep in either eye—and what sleep could come after such a nightmare anyway? Dominique turned her head to the window and fixed her gaze on the gradually lightening sky. From this moment on, she had exactly two days left to close this issue. After returning to Magix, she couldn't be sure when she'd be able to make it out to Gardenia again. Possibly not anytime soon. Which meant she had to deal with Andrews right now—while she still had the opportunity.

As much as Dominique thought she wouldn't be able to close her eyes after such a terrifying nightmare, exhaustion ultimately took its toll. Without noticing it, she drifted into a restless but saving slumber. She was awakened by muffled footsteps in the hallway, followed by the quiet thud of the refrigerator door on the first floor. Apparently, Vanessa had already woken up and started bustling over breakfast. Dominique took a quick shower and changed into her usual Earth clothes: jeans and an inconspicuous gray hoodie. Going downstairs, she found a classic morning scene. Vanessa was standing by the stove, stirring a spatula through some bacon and eggs sizzling in a pan. Her bag, which had been hanging on the hook the night before, now lay on an armchair in the living room. Turning around at the sound of footsteps, Vanessa first smiled warmly at her daughter, but an anxious crease immediately appeared between her brows. She cast a nervous glance at her bag.

"Bloom, good morning... Listen, you didn't take any documents from my bag, did you?" Vanessa's voice sounded somewhat tense, even a little nervous.

Dominique let out an exaggerated yawn, stretched, and put on the most indifferent look of a sleepy teenager.

"No, why would I need them?" she shrugged, walking over to the counter and making herself a sandwich. "Didn't you leave them at the shop?"

"No, I took them..." Vanessa froze with the spatula in her hand, frowning. A flash of doubt crossed her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I put them in my bag. Or... Lord, did I really leave them on the counter in all that commotion?"

Dominique swallowed her sandwich, enjoying how easily Vanessa believed in her own forgetfulness. Severe nervous stress always hits short-term memory, and Dominique knew perfectly well how to use that to her advantage.

"Like I said, you left them at the shop. Don't work yourself up first thing in the morning," Dominique said gently, and without giving her mother time to think, smoothly changed the subject. "What are you planning to do today? Do you and Dad have the day off?"

Vanessa exhaled in relief, clearly glad for an excuse to take her mind off the documents.

"Yes, Dad is just sleeping in after yesterday," Vanessa chuckled. "And I wanted to go to the hardware store to buy some fresh paint for the porch. What about you, what's on your mind?"

"I want to go shopping," Dominique brushed some crumbs off her hoodie. "Look for some clothes. Take a break from school."

At that moment, Mike came down from the second floor. He was rubbing his sleep-filled eyes, his hair was tousled, but he looked absolutely happy. Family breakfast went by in a relaxed atmosphere. Dominique skillfully kept up the casual conversation, telling stories from Alfea, while Mike tucked into the bacon with appetite. As soon as breakfast came to an end, Dominique thanked Vanessa, went up to her room, and grabbed her shoulder bag. She carefully placed the folder with the contract inside and checked her old wallet. Fortunately, the dollars left in it, which were completely useless in Magix, had regained their purchasing power here on Earth. Going down to the hallway, she said goodbye to her parents and stepped out onto the street bathed in the morning sun. She had the exact address from the contract: 42 Oak Street, Plaza Business Center. Gardenia wasn't exactly a metropolis, but Dominique had absolutely no intention of wasting time wandering on foot or questioning locals and drawing unnecessary attention to herself. She walked to the nearest major intersection, spotted a taxi driver looking bored by the curb, and confidently opened the back door of his car.

"Plaza Business Center on Oak Street," she tossed out, slamming the door behind her.

------------

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[VitahAR]

The taxi driver nodded silently and flicked the meter switch. The car pulled away smoothly, taking Dominique to her meeting with Mr. Andrews. The well-kept streets of Gardenia, bathed in the morning sun, flashed by the car window. Trimmed lawns, shop fronts, and pedestrians hurrying about their business flew past, but Dominique stared at it all with unseeing eyes. She kept replaying the nightmare in her head over and over again. Once is an accident. Twice is a pattern. Besides, it didn't feel like the usual, disjointed delirium of a tired brain; it was the exact same, terrifyingly clear, sequential dream. And the scariest part was that she felt as if she had actually been there. Suffocating from real smoke, feeling the heat of someone else's body. Could these be the suppressed memories of the original Bloom? Dominique immediately discarded that theory. The local redhead had been completely ordinary. She had lived her entire life on Earth and hadn't encountered anything magical whatsoever until she met Stella in the park. Even that damn cartoon from her past life clearly started with this: Bloom is a simple earthly schoolgirl living a normal life. No magic, nothing supernatural existed in her life before she turned sixteen.

And there was one more detail in that dream that completely shattered any logic and confused her the most. She saw these events as if she were being held in the arms of that golden woman. Through the eyes of a baby. Could a newborn child really remember what was happening so clearly, down to the smallest details and spoken lines? Highly doubtful. No, there was clearly something entirely different going on here. I'll need to ask people who know about this stuff, Dominique decided mentally. Perhaps her roommates knew something about it. After all, Flora, Stella, and Musa had lived in contact with magic since birth and understood much more about it. As a last resort, she could approach Madam Barbatea in the Alfea library. Although... speaking frankly with her was definitely not a good idea. Who knows what she would do. The librarian might very well go and report everything to Faragonda, and Dominique absolutely did not need the headmistress's extra attention right now. It would be better to ask around in a roundabout way, or prompt one of the girls to ask on her behalf.

"We've arrived, miss," the taxi driver's raspy voice interrupted her thoughts. The car smoothly pulled over to the curb. "That'll be six dollars and fifty cents."

Dominique silently took a ten-dollar bill from her wallet, handed it to the driver, and with a brief "keep the change," stepped out of the car. She looked around. Familiar places. So this was Oak Street? This was practically the very center of Gardenia. That notorious park was just a stone's throw away from here. The girl shifted her gaze to the building in front of her and squinted skeptically. A three-story box of glass and concrete, devoid of any architectural flair. For a typical provincial town, this was probably considered elite commercial real estate, but compared to the giant skyscrapers from Dominique's past life, this place looked pathetic. And this is the Plaza? Where does it even say that? she chuckled.

Dominique confidently walked up the low granite steps and pushed open the heavy glass door. Only upon entering the cool lobby of the building did she finally notice the shiny brass sign reading "Plaza Business Center" hanging over the reception desk. It was quiet and deserted downstairs, which was quite logical for a Saturday morning. The only person there was a middle-aged security guard in a gray uniform sitting in a waiting chair near the reception desk. He was engrossed in a newspaper crossword puzzle and didn't even look up when Dominique walked in. No turnstiles, no electronic passes. Anyone could just walk right in. Next to the desk, right beside the elevator, hung a large wall-mounted directory. Dominique walked up to it, her eyes gliding over the plastic plaques. A law firm, a dental clinic, a funeral home... A typical set of tenants for a business center of this class. Her gaze stopped on the third column: Third floor. Office 315. Westfield Urban Development. Dominique adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and strode purposefully toward the elevator. It was time to pay Mr. Andrews a visit he would remember for the rest of his life.

The elevator car, humming with effort and playing some dreary melody, slowly crawled upward. Finally, the doors slid apart with a quiet clank, releasing Dominique onto the third floor. From the inside, the Plaza Business Center looked like a typical provincial office building: a long corridor covered with gray carpet that muffled the sound of footsteps, dim fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Small alcoves held chairs for waiting visitors, alongside plastic water coolers and potted ficus trees. Dominique walked unhurriedly down the corridor, scanning the plaques on the doors until she found the right one. Office 315. Westfield Urban Development. Without bothering to knock, she simply pressed the handle. The door wasn't locked and opened completely silently. A small reception area appeared before her. A coffee table with a stack of old glossy magazines, a couple of leather chairs, and a desk by the window. A woman in her thirties, wearing a strict blouse, sat behind it, typing actively on a computer. She definitely couldn't be Andrews—most likely his secretary. Deep in the reception area, a solid dark wood door was visible, bearing a golden plaque with engraved initials: "D. Andrews." Dominique walked up to the secretary's desk and rapped her knuckles briefly on the tabletop.

"Can I help you with something?" the secretary jumped and looked up. A practiced, generic smile immediately appeared on her face, which turned openly patronizing when the woman assessed the visitor's age.

"You can. Is Mr. Andrews in? I have a private matter to discuss with him," Dominique answered in a completely calm tone.

"With Mr. Andrews?" the woman arched an eyebrow. "And who, excuse me, are you exactly? And regarding what matter?"

"Bloom Peters. Tell him I'm here. I'm sure he can spare a minute for me."

The secretary sighed heavily, steepled her fingers, and looked at Dominique the way one looks at a foolish child.

"Listen... here, Miss Peters. I understand you might have a lot of free time on your weekend, but this is a serious organization, not a kindergarten. Mr. Andrews has a very tight schedule; he works with important clients. So let's not interfere with working adults, and you can run along and mind your own business, do your homework, or whatever it is you do. The door is right behind you."

Dominique gave the secretary a haughty look. Some small fry, a minimum-wage gatekeeper, thinking so highly of herself. Had such insolence occurred in her past life, this particular individual would have been looking for a new job by evening, permanently blacklisted from the industry. But, alas, right now she was a nobody, and her name wasn't Dominique Lefèvre, but Bloom Peters.

"Hmm. I suppose I will go," Dominique shrugged and calmly turned toward the exit. "I guess I really should have gone straight to the police instead of coming here. Sorry to bother you. Have a good day."

"What? What police?" the secretary's voice faltered, instantly losing all its condescension. "Young lady, your stupid games have gone too far! I'll call security and the police myself right now..."

"Call them, do me a favor," Dominique stopped right at the door and turned around with a smile. "I won't even have to go anywhere. They can pack up your boss right here, and I'll get to watch. You know, cases for real estate fraud and blackmail are usually cracked very quickly. Especially when you hand the investigators ready-made evidence."

For a few long seconds, the secretary froze, trying to process what was happening in front of her: was this an idiotic teenage prank, or was this redheaded girl actually talking about something serious? For a moment, the woman even debated whether to call security. However, the visitor's absolutely calm and confident gaze made her doubt herself. After all, normal kids don't walk into an office demanding an immediate meeting with the boss. In the end, doubt won out over common sense. With a sigh, the secretary picked up the phone receiver and pressed the intercom button.

"Mr. Andrews? I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we have an... unforeseen situation out here," she cast a nervous sideways glance at the redhead. "A girl has come in. Calls herself Miss Peters. Says she needs to see you personally, and right now... she's threatening to go to the police."

Dominique snorted quietly, casually stuffing her hands into her jeans pockets. The corners of her lips twitched upward as she watched this little office mouse start fussing.

"What specific matter do you have with him?" the secretary asked, covering the microphone with her hand.

"Well, for instance, the matter of threats and blackmail," Dominique intentionally raised her voice so she could be heard perfectly on the other end of the line. "Oh, and add attempted grand fraud to that. Is that a good enough reason to tear your boss away from his work?"

The secretary's eyes went wide. She listened to the mumbling in the receiver for a few seconds, then nodded in confusion.

"Mr. Andrews... will see you. You may go in."

"How kind of him," Dominique nodded with mocking politeness and pushed open the door to his office.

The branch manager's office looked a bit richer than the reception area. It featured a nice leather chair, a massive desk, and walls adorned with diplomas and certificates in wooden frames. A man in his forties, wearing a decent gray suit, sat behind the desk. Upon seeing Dominique, he hastily tried to pull a mask of friendly bewilderment over his face.

"Miss Peters, is it?" he made a broad sweeping gesture toward the visitor's chair. "David Andrews, General Manager of this regional branch. Please, have a seat."

Dominique sat down silently, crossing one leg over the other. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the familiar leather folder.

"To be honest, I'm a little surprised by what's going on," Andrews steepled his fingers, leaning his elbows on the desk. "Usually, people don't start a conversation by threatening police in the reception area. I'm sure there's been some unfortunate misunderstanding here."

"Perhaps," Dominique placed the folder on the desk with a soft slap. "Then let's clear up your misunderstandings, Mr. Andrews."

She opened the purchase agreement and slid it toward him. Andrews lowered his eyes to the papers. His face barely flinched, but Dominique still caught that brief moment of hesitation. He recognized it. Of course he'd recognize a document he'd authorized himself.

"My mother, Vanessa Peters, owns a flower shop that your company, for some reason, very much wants to buy," Dominique began calmly. "Your employee, a certain Mr. Stevens, has already come to her several times with an offer to sell."

"Ah, so that's what this is about!" Andrews slapped his forehead and nodded knowingly. "Yes, yes, I recall. Our company is indeed currently looking into purchasing several real estate properties in that area. It's a completely standard practice."

"For a third of the actual market value?" Dominique tilted her head slightly, boring her gaze into him. "A curious practice you have, Mr. Andrews."

The manager cast a fleeting glance at the first page of the contract, and his friendly smile became noticeably dimmer.

"Oh, I see. I'm sure Mr. Stevens was simply in a rush while carrying out his assignment and made a mundane error with the numbers when drafting this standard contract. Human error, you understand! I offer you my deepest apologies on his behalf and assure you: he will definitely face strict disciplinary action for this negligence!"

"And you seriously expect me to believe that?" Dominique gave a short scoff. She leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of his desk. "A typo in three key clauses at once? Including the deferred payment schedule, hidden penalties, and immediate transfer of property rights? Mr. Andrews, I'm planning to go to law school. And I know perfectly well what this is called in the penal code: intentional misrepresentation for the purpose of seizing someone else's property."

Andrews recoiled slightly and leaned back in his chair. A schoolgirl throwing around terms from civil and criminal law was clearly not part of his plans for this Saturday morning.

"Young lady, you're throwing around some very big words..."

"I'm calling things by their proper names," Dominique interrupted him, refusing to let him seize the initiative. "I'm curious: does your head office in Sacramento even know what methods you use to conduct business here? Or do your founders not care about the company's reputation as long as the quarterly reports balance out? Do you think they'll be happy if the state prosecutor's office launches a financial audit of all your recent land acquisitions in this county?"

A shiny sheen of sweat broke out on Andrews' forehead. He shifted nervously in his squeaking leather chair, clearly realizing that the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.

"Miss Peters, I understand that this all sounds like pathetic excuses right now, but believe me: our company values its reputation highly," he started talking rapidly. "If a misunderstanding has occurred, we are ready to rectify it immediately. We can recalculate the property's value at the current market price. Moreover... as a sincere apology, we can offer your family additional compensation. Let's say... five percent on top of market value."

"And what if my mother doesn't want to sell her shop? Not for any amount of money."

A heavy pause hung in the office. Andrews laced his fingers together and cleared his throat.

"Well... obviously, we live in a free country. No one can force a person to sell their property against their will. No means no, as they say. If the deal is off, then I don't quite understand the nature of your current grievances against me."

"The nature of my grievances is that your Stevens had already received a polite refusal several times, but kept coming to us," Dominique straightened up, glaring at him from under her brows with an icy stare. "I could tolerate an attempted financial scam. Business is business. But threats—that's pure criminality."

"Threats?" Andrews gave a crooked smirk, feeling a bit more confident. "That's a very serious accusation, miss. Do you have proof? Dictaphone recordings of his words? Witnesses ready to testify to that under oath?"

"Of course I don't have proof for a court," Dominique parried calmly. "Which is why I'm simply putting you on notice right now. Believe me, Mr. Andrews, I know exactly how this all works. If anything suddenly happens to our shop, my mother, or our house—a fire, a tax audit, a broken window... believe me, I will give your company such publicity that you'll have to change the firm's name."

Andrews frowned; his arrogant smirk slid right off.

"What do you mean?"

"'Major Developer Threatens Firefighter's Family and Forces Them Onto the Street,'" Dominique said with a slight smile. "How do you think the local press will like a loud headline like that? My father risks his life every day for this city. If I write to the newspaper about this situation tonight, contact city hall and local television—tomorrow morning there will be news vans with satellite dishes parked right out front. Investors hate public scandals, Mr. Andrews. And as for you... you know perfectly well what kind of career awaits you after a scandal like that. Fired, at best."

Andrews' face paled. He opened his mouth, tried to say something, closed it, and swallowed hard. This damn girl was hitting flawlessly at his most vulnerable spot—his cushy chair and his sheer panic of upper management.

"Am I... to take your words as a threat?" he choked out.

"Take them however you want," Dominique neatly closed the folder and shoved it back into her bag. "I'm merely predicting one of the most likely scenarios. Tell your people to forget the address of that flower shop. If anything happens to my mother, our property, or even the damn rosebush on our doorstep... believe me, that future will arrive for you instantly."

She turned and headed for the exit, but paused for a second right at the door and threw over her shoulder:

"But I sincerely hope you are a smart man, Mr. Andrews. And that we never see each other again."

"I hope so too," the branch manager grumbled quietly through clenched teeth.

Dominique left the office without another word, closing the door firmly behind her. The secretary at the reception desk followed her with frightened eyes, but Dominique didn't even dignify her with a glance. She took the elevator down and stepped out onto Oak Street, which was now flooded with morning sunlight. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, the girl allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. A petty, cowardly pawn. Intimidating such office plankton was a piece of cake; he broke at the very first argument about reputation. Still, it was worth observing for a bit to see if there would be any reaction. Dominique checked her watch. A quarter to ten. The sign near the reception desk listed Saturday working hours as eight to twelve. That meant there were just over two hours left until the end of the workday. Very well. She could wait a little.

Dominique leisurely crossed to the opposite side of the street and took a corner table on the open terrace of a small cafe, which offered an excellent view of the glass doors of the Plaza Business Center. When the waiter approached, she ordered a cup of strong black coffee and a slice of cherry pie. Pulling her cell phone out of her purse, Dominique opened the latest news feed. Her finger lazily scrolled through the headlines, not lingering on any of them for more than a couple of seconds. In reality, she was barely reading. All her attention was fixated on the glass doors of the business center.

 

[NitroNorm5688]

That was nice. Very satisfying. Good chapter.

Are you going to respond to comments?

 

[VitahAR]

That was nice. Very satisfying. Good chapter.

Are you going to respond to comments?

Click to shrink...

Thanks! And yeah, I try to respond when there's a specific question or discussion point, but I read everything