The second Tuesday of the school term began with the usual chaos: Lyria struggling with her braid, Sylv pretending she wasn't already perfectly dressed, and Elara staring at her reflection with the quiet dread of someone who was starting to understand the power of heels... and worse, starting to enjoy it.
Her outfit today was carefully casual: the Academy uniform with a slightly more tailored waistcoat and a pair of sleek black heels with an even thinner stiletto heel than the navy pair she'd worn before. It was an intentional test—Elara had hoped that a more extreme heel would finally prove to her that heels weren't for her.
Unfortunately, they felt just as natural. Her stride didn't falter. Her balance was impeccable. In fact, she felt even more graceful than before.
Smoother. Effortless. Feminine. That last word still made her stomach twist.
"You're staring again," Sylv said behind her.
Elara blinked, pulled from her thoughts.
"At the heels? Or the girl in the mirror?"
"Both."
"You're terrifying."
"And you're late if you keep thinking about it. Come on, Alchemy waits for no girl."
Morning Class: Fundamentals of Alchemical Reagents
Professor Cillan was a thin, slightly twitchy man who seemed to be permanently coated in a fine layer of chalk and soot. His robe bore the stains of a hundred failed transmutations.
"Today," he announced as he clapped his hands, "we begin with the basics: neutral bonding agents, standard catalysts, and controlled heat reactions. If you can't boil water with precision, you can't transmute lead into anything but disappointment."
Beakers clinked. Students were paired off and directed to heat simple mixtures of common minerals and trace magical elements. It was less magical mystery, more glorified chemistry lab.
Elara worked quietly with Lyria. She remembered enough from her past life to identify basic reaction signs before they happened.
Lyria leaned over. "So this is it? Just chemistry?"
"Right now, yes. They're not ready for real alchemy. Most of the kingdom isn't."
Their reaction turned a clean violet—a perfect result. Theirs was one of three successful mixtures.
Cillan hovered behind them, squinting.
"Efficient. Very efficient. Miss Wyrmshade, you've handled essence bonding before?"
Elara tensed. "Something like that."
He nodded and shuffled off, unaware of the weight that name carried.
Sylv gave her a knowing look from across the room.
Lunch: A New Normal
At lunch, things had gotten worse.
Her popularity was no longer a wave—it was a tide. She didn't even get to stand in line anymore. A flurry of upperclassmen had practically formed a relay to get her food, drinks, napkins, and even a backup fork.
Elara sat down with a strained smile. "How do I make it stop?"
"You don't," Sylv said. "You just manage it."
"It's weird," Lyria added. "They don't even know why they like you. They just do."
Elara sighed. "I'm going to invent a glamour rune just to look boring."
Sylv nodded. "Do that and you'll have a different kind of fanclub. Mystery Elara. Dangerous Elara."
She groaned again. "There's no winning."
"Nope."
Afternoon Class: Noble Etiquette and Feminine Conduct
The classroom smelled like lavender and old books. Velvet curtains framed the windows, and the desks were arranged in a semicircle facing a central rug, more salon than schoolroom. Every detail of the room was designed to exude calm and refinement, from the crystal chandelier overhead to the perfectly polished floorboards that seemed to discourage any hurried movement.
Lady Aldrissa swept in like a force of nature contained in lace and pearls. Regal, elegant, and sharp-eyed, she had the presence of a queen and the voice of a harp laced with steel.
"Welcome, young ladies," she intoned. "Today we embrace the art of grace, the elegance of posture, and the strength hidden in subtlety."
Elara's back straightened instinctively. The atmosphere alone seemed to demand it.
The first hour was walking drills: heel, toe, glide, pivot. Elara tried to fumble, she really did—but her body betrayed her. Every movement came smooth, balanced, fluid.
Then came the tea ceremony. Elara followed each step automatically: the angle of the wrist, the perfect placement of the cup, the poised sip. Her fingers moved as if they'd done this a thousand times. The others spilled, dripped, fumbled.
Curtsey practice followed, with Lady Aldrissa sweeping through the rows to make corrections. Every time Elara dipped, the teacher paused—silent, appreciative. On the third curtsey, she clapped.
"Exquisite. Miss Wyrmshade, you are a vision of nobility."
Elara felt her face burn. Her legs, now well-practiced in heels, didn't even wobble. She hated how proud that made her.
"I—I've never practiced, ma'am," she muttered.
"Then you are blessed with rare natural refinement."
As whispers spread behind her—admiration, envy, awe—Elara's thoughts spiraled.
Why does this feel… nice? Why does my heart flutter when she calls me graceful?
She tried to slouch, to stumble, but it didn't stick. Her body moved on its own, smooth and effortless, adapting posture like it had downloaded a duchess.
Next came the fan drill. She was handed a delicate lace fan and asked to communicate disinterest, amusement, mystery, flirtation—each with subtle changes in movement. And somehow… she did.
Lady Aldrissa beamed. "Your gestures are nearly court-ready. Are you certain you have no noble lineage?"
Elara opened her mouth to protest—and paused. She didn't know how to respond.
The class ended with a posture mirror exercise, where each girl had to walk across the room while observing herself. Elara watched her own reflection glide across the floor. Back straight. Chin tilted. Hips… swaying.
"Oh gods," she whispered to herself. "I'm becoming her."
As they left the room, Lady Aldrissa called after her, "Miss Wyrmshade—flawless, as always."
Outside, Sylv leaned close. "You were born for this."
"I was born a man," Elara muttered.
"Not with those legs, you weren't."
Lyria giggled, looping her arm through Elara's. "Just admit it already. You like being admired."
Elara didn't respond. Her silence was too loud to ignore.
She wasn't sure if she was losing herself… or finally finding someone new.