"Vice Headmaster?" Lyra frowned as she looked at the middle-aged man standing before her, a flicker of disdain flashing in her eyes—though it quickly disappeared.
Standing before her was a tall, broad-shouldered man, roughly 180 cm in height, with brown hair, a square jaw, and a thick beard covering his chin.
He wore a noble's crimson uniform, with a black cloak draped over his back. On the cloak was the insignia of a shield crossed by two swords.
He stood there with his back to Lyra, gazing out the window as if admiring the scenery.
"Why is it you? Where is the Headmaster?" Lyra asked.
"Why can't it be me?" The middle-aged man slowly turned to face her, his expression unreadable and his gaze tinged with apathy.
"The Headmaster is occupied. For the time being, I'll be overseeing all matters concerning the academy."
Lyra narrowed her eyes at the man and said, "Marlon, it was you who made that decision, wasn't it?"
