9. A Pulse

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Come next morning, Elaine found herself standing in front of a full-length mirror dressed in her new Glyph student uniform. It consisted of a navy blazer, a long-sleeved white shirt, a skirt, a cape that covered her left shoulder, and knee-high stockings. Instead of her usual boots, she chose a pair of black leather shoes.

Elaine observed herself in the mirror, a frown marring her features as she gave a twirl and attempted a curtsy, lifting the tips of her skirt's hemline as she did. This felt...she looked...awkward. Noble attire was a unique breed.

Elaine couldn't help but feel self-conscious as she looked down at her embellished uniform. She wondered if the others would view her as strange or out of place. The garment was unlike anything she had worn before, and it felt stiff and uncomfortable. She tried to raise her arms and turn her waist, but the uniform seemed to be restraining her movements. Elaine worried that the fabric might tear, anxiously wondering if she would be held responsible for any necessary repairs.

As she looked at the uniform in its full glory, she couldn't help but ponder how much it cost. The thought of the expense elicited a shudder, and Elaine noticed sweat droplets forming on her forehead. Despite herself, she knew she would need to calm down, lest she favored having a nervous breakdown before she even took a single lesson.

"Wow, you look great," she heard Fearne exclaim. Elaine glanced over her shoulder and saw her roommate standing near Gulp the veladora. The uniform looked nice on her. Most importantly, it fit.

"I don't know," Elaine said, arms stretched in front of her. "I'll need to have a chat with the front desk. These clothes, they don't quite...match my size."

Fearne strode over to her, laughing. "That's because you haven't said the magic words, silly."

Elaine cocked her head. "Magic words? What magic words?"

"Repeat after me, Elaine," Fearne said, holding up a finger. "Stytus Ripare."

Elaine nodded, looking herself in the mirror again as she recited, "Stytus Ripare."

All of a sudden, her uniform started shifting, entirely on its own. Her dress relaxed, the sleeves of her shirt extended, the waistline of her skirt inflated. "Now how does it feel?" Fearne asked.

"Better," Elaine replied, smiling. "A lot better, actually."

"I bet. These uniforms are enchanted to automatically fit their wearer, no matter their size. It would seem as if Glyph spared no expense."

Gulp started grumbling—sounding awfully similar to Milo whenever the mutt was hungry—and Fearne hastened for it, carrying a sheet of paper she'd pulled out of her skirt's pocket. A schedule?

"Let's see," she said. "We should probably make for breakfast soon. We're expected to report to our respective homerooms at 8:30."

"Homeroom?" She recalled Raze mentioning something about her homeroom on their way to the dormitories. Regrettably, she hadn't paid much attention to whatever he'd been muttering.

Although, in her defense, she had been overwhelmed at the time, and when she wasn't gawking at the academy castle itself, she was too busy struggling to ignore her growing drowsiness. Even so, if memory served her well...

"Homeroom Class No. 7," Elaine remembered out loud. "That's where I'm meant to be...I think..."

"You think?" Fearne asked. The girl had crouched to the floor and pulled out a tiny bag of...dead mice. She held one of the petrified, cold rodents by the tail before tossing it at Gulp. The glutinous plant opened its maw and swallowed its meal whole, licking its bloated lips happily.

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