The bell marking the end of the afternoon's final Magic History class rang out melodiously across the Academy.
Unlike most students, Greg did not immediately head for the dining hall or return to his dorm. He sat alone for a while in the now-empty classroom, letting his thoughts settle.
Then he stood, left the classroom, and walked through corridors dyed orange-red by the setting sun, finally stopping before an Oak Door inlaid with the Academy Crest.
This was the Student Council office.
Once, he had thought he would probably never have anything to do with a place like this in his entire life.
Yet through a strange turn of events, he had not only joined but also spent a stretch of time here-not particularly long, but hardly brief either-bearing the ill-fitting title of Disciplinary Committee Member.
Now that he was truly about to leave, he suddenly felt a little nostalgic.
I'm not some glutton for punishment. Why am I suddenly getting sentimental?
Greg laughed at himself inwardly.
He knew this was merely the instinctive human attachment to familiarity rearing its head in the face of change.
But he knew even better that, rather than indulge in this false nostalgia for his comfort zone, he ought to take another step forward.
He drew a deep breath, and that faint wistfulness was quickly replaced by firmer resolve.
Without further hesitation, he pushed the heavy door open.
Creeeak-
The sound of the hinges turning was especially clear in the relatively quiet evening corridor.
The scene inside the office came into view.
A deep red carpet, bookshelves lining the walls, a long conference table, and figures scattered about, busy working or talking.
Since Greg had lingered in the classroom before coming over, nearly all the Student Council's key members had already arrived.
In the