Apparently, the principal wasn't in. Of course. My cursed luck at its finest.
But the secretary, gods bless her eternally sniffling nose and massive bun that could smuggle a kitten, was kind enough to allocate me a cottage.
Yes. You heard right. Teachers here got cottages. Tiny, old, ivy-choked stone cottages with squeaky doors, dusty bookshelves, fireplaces, and actual free luxury. Free.
Whoever built this academy had taste. And an obsession with Gothic ruin aesthetics. My inner dark witch was purring.
I couldn't wait to throw myself onto some ancient armchair, kick off my boots, and plot revenge while looking for a perfect chubby little vampire to harvest blood from.
And before you start judging, let's be fair: vampires drink people's blood. It's only natural the food chain should loop back.
Okay, maybe not "some." Maybe a lot. Enough to fuel a forbidden ritual or two. Or five.
