The Good Teacher
A/N:
Thank you for being patient with me and my process. Without further ado...
*****START OF [VOLUME 2 - THE GRAND EXPERIMENT]*****
"Jean don't come closer!" The woman screamed anxiously, as she conjured a quick |Gust| spell to push the little girl, barely 5 years old, away.
"But, Mommy-"
"Stop!" The woman interjected the girl's pleading words and began circulating through a series of spells haphazardly, yet at the same time familiarly.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, Jean rushed towards her mother, only to face a rigid yet transparent screen blocking her.
She curled her tiny palms into a fist and began hammering them away at the screen while crying out vehemently.
"Mommy, no! Please let me in!" She screamed out, only to receive an apologetic expression from the woman beyond the screen.
Her mother looked at her with a worrying gaze, which transformed into dismay and despair. She too approached the screen and placed a free hand against it, opposite Jean's. A lone tear tumbled down from the woman's eye and collided against her warm and caring smile.
Jean looked up at the familiar face and wiped her tears with the cuffs of her dress.
"Please let me in, Mommy," she pleaded.
Her mother opened her mouth to answer, but then she stopped.
Jean looked on with confusion as the familiar face of her mother contorted to display emotions completely unlike her.
With a devious sneer, the woman said incisively, "You did this!"
"Mommy?"
"If only you had stayed at home, I wouldn't have had to die saving your life!"
"Mommy..."
"Murderer!" The woman screamed out with a violent cackle.
Jean stumbled back and fell on her bottom in fear as she saw her mother's accusatory gaze. Her mother's face began darkening rapidly and her body started to desiccate in a similar fashion.
Through the woman's oscillating mouth, a dark, viscous, bile-like substance started to ooze out, as boils started to pop out in her skin.
"You're the reason I'm dead, girl! My husband is all alone, because of you! Mother-killer!" The woman screamed out loud with a frenzied expression.
Her skin and flesh started to dissolve along with the dark ooze, slowly turning her into a malignant blob of muck. The blob began to undulate and change shape, settling into an enlarged form of the woman it used to be.
"You're a curse! A jinx! A monster!" It howled in the woman's voice, yet with an additional almost inhuman reverb.
As Jean processed the events, her eyes widened with overwhelming guilt. Tears started to stream out unceasingly as she began hyperventilating.
"It's all my fault... It's all my fault... It's all my fault..." She muttered repeatedly, with a dazed expression.
The dark form of the woman pointed directly at Jean and declared with a sinister grin, "When I died, in my last breath, the only feeling I had towards you was hate. I hated you for killing me. I hated you for separating me from the man I loved. And I hated you for being born!"
"Now, die!" The form declared as it swooped down on Jean, consuming her into a suffocating mass of toxic slurry.
____
Jean gasped loudly as she woke up from her nightmare. Her forehead was coated with sweat, just like the rest of her body.
She inhaled and exhaled heavily as she tried to catch her breath.
She looked around in her bed. Her surroundings were familiar to her. It was an elegant and well-maintained room, indicative of a boudoir of a young lady from a wealthy household. However, there was an additional accommodation in the room for a private workspace, filled with appliances and devices used by alchemists and physicians, such as a small cauldron, a plethora of beakers and tubes, mortar and pestle, acupuncture needles, knives, and so on.
Interestingly, this addition did not seem jarring to the eyes as it blended seamlessly into the remainder of the room. This was assisted by the fact that the boudoir itself did not entertain excess decorations that were common in the bedchambers of the wealthy young misses from other households.
This room was simple, yet it did not sacrifice its feminine charms in favour of minimalism, nor did it overcompensate by tilting heavily towards a more masculine and rugged ambience.
"My room," Jean confirmed monotonously.
She then inspected her body thoroughly. She patted her youthful face that was in the process of transforming the soft and immature baby fat into a firmer replacement. She felt her slim arms, which were neither bony as a result of excess starvation or unhealthy eating practices, nor excessively muscular.
She slid her hands over her chest, housing the still growing mounds that bloomed as she progressed through her adolescence, and then passed over her flat stomach, which accentuated her developing abdominal muscles. She patted her well-proportioned hips and thighs and stopped right before her knees.
"Still 13 years old, alive," she affirmed with an unwavering tone.
#But I'm still dead,# a voice retorted in her mind.
Jean knew better now than to entertain the voice with a response. Hence she chose to ignore it and carefully sat up in her bed.
*Did you have a nightmare again, baby?* the same voice asked, but with a warmer tone.
*Did you forget to take the medicine Mage Baruchel prescribed for you again?*
#That man was a hack! She should have poisoned him when she had the chance.#
*We must not hurt others! We're healers. Our job is to treat people.*
*It's your fault that she is unable to cultivate!*
#Oh please! You say that as if I am the only guilty party here. You are equally responsible, oh saintly one!#
Jean shook her head, in a vain attempt to quieten the rampant argument occurring within her mind. She released a sigh filled with a mixture of different emotions, yet her face remained unchanged.
The room she was in maintained a serene silence unlike the cacophony resonating from within the deepest recesses of her mind.
But the physical silence was disturbed by a series of knocks from her room door.
"Young miss, are you awake?" a soft, aged, female voice followed, speaking with a respectful tone.
"Come in, Josie," Jean answered.
The room door opened and an elderly maid walked in, with her head facing low.
"Young miss, Lord Rasmus is expecting a guest, and would like for you to be present," the maid said.
She immediately followed up with a few points, "I have prepared your bath and an appropriate outfit. This slave awaits your instructions."
Jean clicked her tongue and reprimanded the maid, "Josie! Can you stop acting so formally with me? You've raised me for goodness sake."
"This maid apologises. She will try harder from now on, young miss," Josie responded without missing a beat.
Jean sighed in defeat, and replied, "I trust your choice. Please help me get ready."
The maid bowed in affirmation and proceeded to assist Jean off of her bed. As she approached the mattress, the maid noticed the dampness soaking the area where Jean was sleeping.
"May this slave be presumptuous to ask the young miss a personal question?"
Jean simply nodded.
"Did the young miss experience another nightmare? Is the medicine from Mage Baruchel ineffective?"
Jean shook her head. "I've stopped taking it. They are just sleep-inducing potions. I don't want to build an immunity to it through overconsumption."
"But this..."
"You don't have to tell Father. If he asks, just say you don't know or something."
"Young miss, you know that I cannot lie to the Lord."
"You would do it for me, right?" The girl asked in a coquettish manner, yet and expression barely shifted from uncaring coldness.
"This may be presumptuous of this slave. But I hope young miss knows that Madam would never blame young miss for what happened that day. I have been with Madam since the day she entered this household through marriage. She loved the young miss oh so dearly - like the world!"
Jean sagged her shoulders in response and nodded in resignation.
After she finished taking a bath, Jean sat down in front of her dressing table and observed her reflection in the mirror. The person that stared back had skin as smooth as Jade, polished to perfection.
"The young miss grows to look more like the Madam every day," Josie said lovingly as she started to work Jean's hair expertly.
"A portrait may capture the appearance of a person, but it is seldom able to mimic the person's aura," Jean answered.
Jean held the ends of her lips and pulled them upwards to mimic a smile. But the moment she lifted her fingers, the corners retreated to her default neutral state.
#You may look like me, but you will never be as good! You are a disgrace to that face. You should cut it with that knife!#
Jean glanced at the knife on her workspace, which happened to neighbour her dressing table.
*No! Don't listen to her!*
"Did father say who the guest was?" Jean asked casually.
"To answer the young miss, the Lord only revealed that the guest was some teacher from the Radiant Academy," Josie answered.
"Another one? Father should just give up. Magic and cultivation just aren't in my destiny," Jean muttered.
Josie quickly responded with a serious tone, "Young miss should not disparage herself! This slave firmly believes that the young miss will one day soar through the heavens!"
Jean wanted to chuckle in amusement, yet she just couldn't vocalise the emotion.
With Josie's help, Jean got ready and adorned a simple, yet practical outfit. Nowadays, Jean seldom purchased any clothes that accentuated frivolity. Her mind could not fathom such fleeting emotions anymore. For her, an outfit must conform to its basic tasks, as well as offer practical additions that may come to use at a moment's notice.
Feeling hungry? Worry not, there is a snack bar in the back trouser pockets. Feeling a sneeze approaching? The front pockets hold both a kerchief as well as a few phials of flu medicine. While most young mistresses relegated such mundane tasks to carry-on bags, usually held by their attendants, Jean preferred to tack them onto her person. It was more convenient that way.
Jean walked familiarly through the corridors of her home, towards the salon, with Josie following closely behind her.
She knocked on the door, before entering. Although it was her own home, it was bad manners to enter without indicating intent. Ironically, Jean wasn't waiting for an affirmation from the occupants within. She was only offering a courtesy, not capitulating.
Once she entered, her eyes swam over the figure of her father and locked on the unfamiliar entity sitting opposite.
"Jean! Come, I want you to meet Teacher Jo Way!" Her father said jovially.
Chapter 76: Nightmares
Thank you for being patient with me and my process. Without further ado...
*****START OF [VOLUME 2 - THE GRAND EXPERIMENT]*****
"Jean don't come closer!" The woman screamed anxiously, as she conjured a quick |Gust| spell to push the little girl, barely 5 years old, away.
"But, Mommy-"
"Stop!" The woman interjected the girl's pleading words and began circulating through a series of spells haphazardly, yet at the same time familiarly.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, Jean rushed towards her mother, only to face a rigid yet transparent screen blocking her.
She curled her tiny palms into a fist and began hammering them away at the screen while crying out vehemently.
"Mommy, no! Please let me in!" She screamed out, only to receive an apologetic expression from the woman beyond the screen.
Her mother looked at her with a worrying gaze, which transformed into dismay and despair. She too approached the screen and placed a free hand against it, opposite Jean's. A lone tear tumbled down from the woman's eye and collided against her warm and caring smile.
Jean looked up at the familiar face and wiped her tears with the cuffs of her dress.
"Please let me in, Mommy," she pleaded.
Her mother opened her mouth to answer, but then she stopped.
Jean looked on with confusion as the familiar face of her mother contorted to display emotions completely unlike her.
With a devious sneer, the woman said incisively, "You did this!"
"Mommy?"
"If only you had stayed at home, I wouldn't have had to die saving your life!"
"Mommy..."
"Murderer!" The woman screamed out with a violent cackle.
Jean stumbled back and fell on her bottom in fear as she saw her mother's accusatory gaze. Her mother's face began darkening rapidly and her body started to desiccate in a similar fashion.
"You're the reason I'm dead, girl! My husband is all alone, because of you! Mother-killer!" The woman screamed out loud with a frenzied expression.
Her skin and flesh started to dissolve along with the dark ooze, slowly turning her into a malignant blob of muck. The blob began to undulate and change shape, settling into an enlarged form of the woman it used to be.
"You're a curse! A jinx! A monster!" It howled in the woman's voice, yet with an additional almost inhuman reverb.
As Jean processed the events, her eyes widened with overwhelming guilt. Tears started to stream out unceasingly as she began hyperventilating.
"It's all my fault... It's all my fault... It's all my fault..." She muttered repeatedly, with a dazed expression.
The dark form of the woman pointed directly at Jean and declared with a sinister grin, "When I died, in my last breath, the only feeling I had towards you was hate. I hated you for killing me. I hated you for separating me from the man I loved. And I hated you for being born!"
"Now, die!" The form declared as it swooped down on Jean, consuming her into a suffocating mass of toxic slurry.
____
Jean gasped loudly as she woke up from her nightmare. Her forehead was coated with sweat, just like the rest of her body.
She inhaled and exhaled heavily as she tried to catch her breath.
She looked around in her bed. Her surroundings were familiar to her. It was an elegant and well-maintained room, indicative of a boudoir of a young lady from a wealthy household. However, there was an additional accommodation in the room for a private workspace, filled with appliances and devices used by alchemists and physicians, such as a small cauldron, a plethora of beakers and tubes, mortar and pestle, acupuncture needles, knives, and so on.
Interestingly, this addition did not seem jarring to the eyes as it blended seamlessly into the remainder of the room. This was assisted by the fact that the boudoir itself did not entertain excess decorations that were common in the bedchambers of the wealthy young misses from other households.
This room was simple, yet it did not sacrifice its feminine charms in favour of minimalism, nor did it overcompensate by tilting heavily towards a more masculine and rugged ambience.
"My room," Jean confirmed monotonously.
She then inspected her body thoroughly. She patted her youthful face that was in the process of transforming the soft and immature baby fat into a firmer replacement. She felt her slim arms, which were neither bony as a result of excess starvation or unhealthy eating practices, nor excessively muscular.
She slid her hands over her chest, housing the still growing mounds that bloomed as she progressed through her adolescence, and then passed over her flat stomach, which accentuated her developing abdominal muscles. She patted her well-proportioned hips and thighs and stopped right before her knees.
"Still 13 years old, alive," she affirmed with an unwavering tone.
#But I'm still dead,# a voice retorted in her mind.
Jean knew better now than to entertain the voice with a response. Hence she chose to ignore it and carefully sat up in her bed.
*Did you forget to take the medicine Mage Baruchel prescribed for you again?*
#That man was a hack! She should have poisoned him when she had the chance.#
*We must not hurt others! We're healers. Our job is to treat people.*
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#Ha! Her, a healer? Please! She can't even cultivate past the Early stage of Mana Condensation realm. Is she even qualified to call herself a healer?#*It's your fault that she is unable to cultivate!*
#Oh please! You say that as if I am the only guilty party here. You are equally responsible, oh saintly one!#
Jean shook her head, in a vain attempt to quieten the rampant argument occurring within her mind. She released a sigh filled with a mixture of different emotions, yet her face remained unchanged.
The room she was in maintained a serene silence unlike the cacophony resonating from within the deepest recesses of her mind.
But the physical silence was disturbed by a series of knocks from her room door.
"Young miss, are you awake?" a soft, aged, female voice followed, speaking with a respectful tone.
"Come in, Josie," Jean answered.
The room door opened and an elderly maid walked in, with her head facing low.
"Young miss, Lord Rasmus is expecting a guest, and would like for you to be present," the maid said.
She immediately followed up with a few points, "I have prepared your bath and an appropriate outfit. This slave awaits your instructions."
Jean clicked her tongue and reprimanded the maid, "Josie! Can you stop acting so formally with me? You've raised me for goodness sake."
"This maid apologises. She will try harder from now on, young miss," Josie responded without missing a beat.
Jean sighed in defeat, and replied, "I trust your choice. Please help me get ready."
The maid bowed in affirmation and proceeded to assist Jean off of her bed. As she approached the mattress, the maid noticed the dampness soaking the area where Jean was sleeping.
"May this slave be presumptuous to ask the young miss a personal question?"
"Did the young miss experience another nightmare? Is the medicine from Mage Baruchel ineffective?"
Jean shook her head. "I've stopped taking it. They are just sleep-inducing potions. I don't want to build an immunity to it through overconsumption."
"But this..."
"You don't have to tell Father. If he asks, just say you don't know or something."
"Young miss, you know that I cannot lie to the Lord."
"You would do it for me, right?" The girl asked in a coquettish manner, yet and expression barely shifted from uncaring coldness.
"This may be presumptuous of this slave. But I hope young miss knows that Madam would never blame young miss for what happened that day. I have been with Madam since the day she entered this household through marriage. She loved the young miss oh so dearly - like the world!"
Jean sagged her shoulders in response and nodded in resignation.
After she finished taking a bath, Jean sat down in front of her dressing table and observed her reflection in the mirror. The person that stared back had skin as smooth as Jade, polished to perfection.
"The young miss grows to look more like the Madam every day," Josie said lovingly as she started to work Jean's hair expertly.
"A portrait may capture the appearance of a person, but it is seldom able to mimic the person's aura," Jean answered.
Jean held the ends of her lips and pulled them upwards to mimic a smile. But the moment she lifted her fingers, the corners retreated to her default neutral state.
#You may look like me, but you will never be as good! You are a disgrace to that face. You should cut it with that knife!#
Jean glanced at the knife on her workspace, which happened to neighbour her dressing table.
*No! Don't listen to her!*
"Did father say who the guest was?" Jean asked casually.
"To answer the young miss, the Lord only revealed that the guest was some teacher from the Radiant Academy," Josie answered.
"Another one? Father should just give up. Magic and cultivation just aren't in my destiny," Jean muttered.
Josie quickly responded with a serious tone, "Young miss should not disparage herself! This slave firmly believes that the young miss will one day soar through the heavens!"
With Josie's help, Jean got ready and adorned a simple, yet practical outfit. Nowadays, Jean seldom purchased any clothes that accentuated frivolity. Her mind could not fathom such fleeting emotions anymore. For her, an outfit must conform to its basic tasks, as well as offer practical additions that may come to use at a moment's notice.
Feeling hungry? Worry not, there is a snack bar in the back trouser pockets. Feeling a sneeze approaching? The front pockets hold both a kerchief as well as a few phials of flu medicine. While most young mistresses relegated such mundane tasks to carry-on bags, usually held by their attendants, Jean preferred to tack them onto her person. It was more convenient that way.
Jean walked familiarly through the corridors of her home, towards the salon, with Josie following closely behind her.
She knocked on the door, before entering. Although it was her own home, it was bad manners to enter without indicating intent. Ironically, Jean wasn't waiting for an affirmation from the occupants within. She was only offering a courtesy, not capitulating.
Once she entered, her eyes swam over the figure of her father and locked on the unfamiliar entity sitting opposite.
"Jean! Come, I want you to meet Teacher Jo Way!" Her father said jovially.
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