In the imaginations of most students at Glory Cael Academy, the Headmistress's office was undoubtedly a place shrouded in a veil of mystery.
After all, this was the workplace of a Great Archmage over LV80—one of the top combatants on the surface of human civilization.
As a result, students couldn't help but fantasize that the room was supremely elegant, solemn, and brimming with an air of wisdom.
They imagined ancient oak bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, packed with forbidden tomes bound in leather with gold-embossed lettering, radiating ripples of magic.
Portraits of past sages and trophies of formidable magical beasts would hang on the walls, while the air held the tranquil scent of aged parchment, fine ink, and refreshing incense.
However, for Greg, who had already visited this place in the original game, he knew all too well that the real Headmistress's office had absolutely nothing in common with the students' romantic, awe-filled fantasies.
Pushing open the carved wooden door—which looked heavy but was actually unlocked—the first thing to assault his nostrils wasn't the scent of books or incense, but a rich aroma of fermented malt.
"Clink! Clatter!"
A crisp clinking sound echoed from underfoot.
Greg looked down to find dozens of empty wine bottles scattered topsy-turvy across the polished dark wood floor.
Like carelessly discarded trash, they formed a minefield that had to be carefully negotiated to cross the room.
With every step, one risked bumping into a few, setting off a series of clear, ringing sounds.
In the center of the room stood a massive dark desk.
It was meant for official work, as its size and style certainly suited that function.
Now, however, it had clearly abandoned its primary duty entirely.
On its surface, office supplies like documents, files, quill pens, and inkwells were nowhere to be seen. In their place sat various opened snacks, interspersed with several bottles of top-tier liquor—some freshly opened, others half-empty—their amber, ruby, and honey-gold liquids rippling gently inside exquisite crystal glasses.
And the most eye-catching thing on this desk... was a pair of jade-like bare feet.
Their owner clearly didn't mind displaying them in full view.
The ankles were delicate and slender, the skin so fair it was almost translucent, and the arches of the insteps were elegantly curved. The ten toes resembled freshly peeled bamboo shoots, their neatly trimmed nails gleaming with a healthy pink luster.
At this moment, the pair of bare feet rested crossed over the edge of the desk in an extremely relaxed posture, the toes wiggling softly now and then to some unseen rhythm.
Looking up along those long, straight calves, one could see what their owner was doing.
She was leaning back in a high-backed leather chair that looked inviting enough to sink into, lounging lazily in an almost reclined position.
She wore a uniquely styled outfit—neither a mage's robe nor noble attire, but a set of dark brown leather vest and matching trousers. The vest outlined her plump, proud bust line and slender waist, while the trousers tightly wrapped her long, lithe legs. She wore no shoes or socks.
A dark, broad-brimmed cowboy hat was pulled low, shading half her face and revealing only her beautifully sculpted jawline, along with a few strands of wine-red hair hanging from beneath the brim like liquid fire.
Her gaze was turned with keen interest toward a side wall, where a portable magic projector shone a steady light, casting a moving image onto the blank surface opposite:
Dusty wilderness, a town of wooden buildings, men and women wearing broad-brimmed hats with revolvers at their hips, and iconic quick-draw shootouts—it was clearly a magic film with a cowboy theme.
"Damn cow—Respected Headmistress, may I ask why you summoned me here?"
Expressionless, Greg sidestepped a few wine bottles and walked up to the desk piled with snacks and liquor, speaking in a flat tone.
Indeed, this voluptuous woman exuding the aura of a veteran shut-in neat-freak, slacker, and drunkard was the current Headmistress of Glory Cael Magic Academy, one of the top combatants on the surface of human civilization, and a Great Archmage over LV85—Olivia Moore.
Even in the original game, she was an absolute ceiling in terms of combat power.
In all fairness, strictly judging by appearance, Olivia was flawless.
Her long wine-red hair resembled a burning sunset, and her deep, sculpted facial features carried a wild, untamed beauty. In particular, her golden eyes—currently shaded by the hat brim—were captivating enough to steal one's soul.
Her figure was hot enough to make any man's pulse race, and the leather cowboy outfit brought out every curve of her voluptuous body to perfection.
However, aside from this virtually perfect outer shell, every other aspect of the Headmistress... was, in the words of the player community, the textbook definition of a disappointing beauty.
Sloppy and uninhibited in her daily life, obsessed with alcohol, enthralled by cowboy culture, hating troublesome socialization and administrative tasks, and preferring to recline whenever she could sit—she exhibited the quintessential style of a hands-off manager.
As for why a magic world would have cowboy culture? It had to be a prank by the development team.
"Hmm...? You're here already..."
Olivia seemed to snap back slightly from the magic film's plot. She tilted her head up a little, raising her cowboy hat brim to reveal a pair of eyes hazy with drunkenness.
She swirled her wine glass, apparently finding drinking alone a bit dull, and naturally extended the crystal glass she had just drunk from toward Greg.
"How about you... have a glass too? Volcano Ale, got quite a kick."
Greg's gaze swept over the suggestive lip mark on the glass's rim, his brows knitting imperceptibly.
"No, thanks. Please just get straight to the point if you have business with me. I'm in a hurry to get back to the dungeon... to feed the cat."
"Oh?"
Olivia seemed slightly surprised by his reaction. Her molten-gold eyes narrowed as she sized him up, her drunkenness seeming to recede a bit:
"You look like... you're not afraid of me at all? You lack even basic nervousness and respect. Why is that? Because you were banished from your family, so you've given up on yourself and lost all awe for the Headmistress?"
Greg twitched the corner of his mouth and spouted nonsense: "Because Fish Leong gave me courage."
Even though he was facing the Headmistress—a Great Archmage who could turn him to ash with a flick of her finger—Greg's tone was far from respectful, bordering on casual.
On one hand, this was because he had played the original game and knew her personality and behavior patterns inside out, lacking the god-worshipping filter other students had.
On the other hand, it was because Olivia wasn't someone who cared about etiquette anyway; otherwise, she wouldn't have kept her bare feet resting on the desk even after a student walked right up to her.
Rate on N.U.
