Chapter 7: 7. Undefined Deference

In the time that I introduce myself, a good eight seconds or so, I manage to get a good grasp of the surrounding area. If there's one word I can use to describe the place, it would be 'standard', but if I were allowed two, then 'uniquely standard.'

Much like any usual school classroom, the place is large enough to accommodate roughly 25 students (judging by the average dimensions) and consists of a series of wooden desks aligned in rows of five.  

The only difference to the standard is a series of personalised decorations and furnishings that fill the room, from movie posters, ornamental swords, to a juicer.

Even though the evidence is rather circumstantial, I suspect that the room is the territory of a student body and not a teacher's. Inferring, in other words, the complete lack of presence and power a teacher might have. 

Meaning this is probably the territory of a so-called ‘Crown’.

In some pursuit of who does lead said territory, my eyes dart around the room, examining each student. There’s a mix of people here, human, elf, and even dwarf, all with the appearance of one in their late teens.

Though if I might add, a certain pale-skinned people are missing. And perhaps mages, too (though you can only identify them really through clothing and not physical features).

To validate my point further, I continue my inspection. Spying a girl on the centre table, I realise that she’s the one who threw Ms Knight out the window. 

One of the professed Crowns, so to speak. Ms. Ceylica herself. 

Now that I can get a better look, I also realise that she’s neither human, elf, dwarf, or any of the earthly races. Which is a somewhat roundabout way of saying she’s a demon. At the bare minimum, at least half, anyway. With two horns protruding backwards from the sides of her head, black sclera and a muscular build to boot, there's really no wonder. 

Actually. 

To be more specific, she’s probably half demon and half-Crilandese.

The latter, I can infer through her slightly darker skin, her lower lip which is around 11 degrees wider from the corner of the mouth, and thinner than Aoelian eyebrows.

Azamazing if I say so myself. Nowadays, folks of such variety are hard to come by!

Relations between the USA and Criland aren’t exactly the best, so to get the opportunity to see one first hand is more than an exquisite occurrence. Moreover, it seems she's got quite the personality to boot. With a cool leather jacket, shorts, a skull on her right shoulder and goons surrounding her, chances are that she has quite the fiery spirit. 

Now I know you shouldn’t judge based on appearances only, but come on! 

If that isn’t a recipe for a modern, outgoing, confident personality, then I don’t know what is!

And that’s not even adding another crucial detail. For some reason, there's also someone on her lap. A furry-eared boy, to be precise. Feeding her ice cream from a tall glass, one scoop after the next. 

Is this slavery or companionship, I wonder? The former’s formally illegal. But the latter is dubiously acceptable. 

Either way’s fine by me!

Nobody’s paying me much heed as of the moment. So, in the meantime, I tune into their conversation, wanting to witness two lovebirds in their natural school environment.

"Say ahh,” whispers the cat-boy.

"Ahh,” she replies barely above a whisper, a spoon now in her mouth.

Chomp. The half-demons’ eyes close, absorbing all the delectable flavour of her food.

The boy looks up for a moment, his eyes meeting hers. "Ceylica, you're so cute when you're eating!"

Regardless of my presence, the two still carry about their routine. They speak to each other in Crilandese, referring to each other amicably, as do friends or family. I can tell due to the nuance in their language. 

The sudden pang of metal against glass, punctuated only by chomps and ‘Ahhs’ pass. It’s going to be over soon. The ice cream is diminishing. Made smaller and smaller in volume, leaving nothing save for a long biscuit stick. 

When they come to, the boy smiles and playfully presses it between his lips.

He closes his eyes at this point, clearly flushed with desire.

With one half of the biscuit stick in his mouth and the other in the open, what comes next seems more than obvious. If this follows conventional romance tropes, that is. 

"Ah, would you do yours truly, such an honour?"

Putting on his best smile, the catboy attempts to entice the half-demon. Without a response, she then bites onto the biscuit stick. At first, it seems like they will inch ever so closer and kiss. But what really happens is quite different.

Because as the boy closes his eyes, heart in dramatic yearning, the girl's head suddenly pulls back. In an instant, Ceylica has the snack all to herself. Then, with one fling of her head, tosses it into the air and eats it whole.

Ah.

What a tremendous subversion of expectation!

I clap my two hands together. Seven. I clap a total of seven times and congratulate them for their display of passion. 

“My my, aren’t you a cruel one Ceylica?”

She hears her name. Ceylica’s eyes are on me now, watching my still posture back against the wall. 

“Cruel?” Her face is that of a smile. “Is takin’ what ye want in life cruel?”

“It would depend on what you’re taking.”

“Then tell me!” 

With a shout, Ceylica thrusts her index finger in my direction.

“Are ye cruel for takin’ the last tissue from the box, even if ye know there’s none left? Are ye cruel for wakin’ up early in the mornin’ so ye can buy the freshest fish before others? ARE YE CRUEL FOR BEATIN’ UP A LADY SO YE CAN HAVE HER BOYFRIEND TO YERSELF?”

Ceylica points to herself and grins.

“The answer to all of these is no, isn’t it, boys?!”

A round of applause. A dozen or so teenage lads look to her in admiration and what may possibly be hormonally altered logic. 

“And ye know what, I think I’m feelin’ pretty hungry right now”.

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“You’re quite the glutton, Ceylica.”

“GLUTTON?!” She chokes out a chuckle. “Don’t make me laugh; that was just an appetiser!”

Heh.

In some sense, she’s not wrong. 

Speaking in terms of food, this really is the appetiser. A preliminary for the real dish that awaits, something beyond just surface-level awe. First impressions, while key, are no basis for a complete character study after all. 

In fact. 

I’d argue Ceylica feels the same way.

Oh, I’d even go as far as to argue that Ceylica now hungers for something less literal.

Something, a bit more engaged, if you will.

Because at this moment, she smiles and, with ease lifts the boy off her lap. Getting one last waft of his hair, Ceylica nods. On cue, her companions then disperse - paving an open line for her. Finally, when all this is said and done, she stands.

And boy, does she stand!

Due to her physique, I’m led to believe that she must’ve had quite the diet growing up! Now that she’s off the table, I can finally get a good assessment of her physicality. Pronounced biceps, quadriceps, abs, and an all-around strong body, to speak.

But that’s not all!

Included in this package is also a most impressive height!

Two or so metres!

To rise even a head and more above me is no meagre feat, I say.

But that’s where my compliments end. 

Because despite her muscles, my suspicions and instinct allude to something most disappointing. Unlike Jaiga, there is a clear lack of scars or even wounds from battle. Demons are strong, and half-demons sometimes even moreso. Depending on her circumstances, the possibility that she never met a strong opponent is definitely possible. 

Highly, even.

At this point in time, Ceylica begins to walk toward me, the exaggerated swagger of a half-demon in motion. Soon, she manages to strut across the room, leaving an arm's length of distance between us. One thing’s for sure, even without saying it, there’s an unspeakable tension, like the calm before the storm.

“So Azama.” She declares, before slamming her hand to my head's side, "What do ye say to becoming mine?"

Upon this request, a round of snickers erupts around the classroom, accompanied by wayward looks and hushed whispers. If I had to guess, I would suppose this is a routine occurrence, given the casual reactions. 

Some sort of quaint initiation ritual, maybe.

“My my, I don’t even know your full name yet!”

“Ceylica Lardeyenaga-megil-Øvste.”

Well played! Though I’m afraid, now that I know your name, I'll just use my second excuse!

"I'll have to decline. My responsibility lies with the student community and not a student, I'm afraid."

Raising her brows, her face inches even closer, a sparkle of playful hostility in her eyes.

 "Ye sayin' I'm not good enough for ye?"

"In some abstract sense, absolutely."

That's not to say any student would be good enough for me to date, of course. As a man of great principle and fun, I find the idea of dating a student a terrible waste of time. Why dedicate your time to one when you have the duty of cultivating a whole community? 

But given the opportune moment, I figured it was as good a time as any to strike. Which, speaking of, does seem to have brought forth a most cheeky glare in her eyes.

"Yer brave, ye know?"

"Fully aware and cognizant of that fact.”

“Ye sure ye won’t change yer mind?”

“One hundred and twenty percent, with a twenty percent margin of error”.

It’s well into a potentially malicious and terribly predatory grin that she finally utters, “Alright.” 

Which, accompanied by further murmurs around the room, and undertones of suspense, can only infer one thing. Most of the time, when such a reveal happens, something’s going to change. Whether it be a firm handshake, declaration of rivalry, or confession of sin. 

Though from what I can tell, whatever it is that’s coming next surely won’t be as friendly as what came before. It may be more exciting, however, if you catch my drift.

Frankly, I think a demonstration of power is in order, is it not?

Chitter chatter is fine, and all, but a break from the repetition of dialogue is always welcome!

“Then I’ll make ye mine!”

Her free left-hand thrusts forward, aiming for my collar.    

In that phantasmal moment, no more than a second, I react.

Just like that, our battle had begun, an exchange of movement and limbs.

Wonderful.

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