The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Amberine's eyes fluttered open to the warm, soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the thin curtains of her small dormitory room. She groaned as she realized she had slept in—again. Her gaze drifted over to the small clock on her bedside table, and she cursed under her breath as she saw the time. She was late.

As she sat up in bed, the blanket falling to her lap, her eyes landed on Ifrit. The fire spirit, usually buzzing with energy, was curled up on her pillow in his salamander form, his small, scaled body rising and falling gently with each breath. He was… asleep. She blinked in disbelief. He never slept.

"Hey!" Amberine barked, her voice groggy and annoyed. She reached over and poked him in the side. "What the hell, Ifrit? You were supposed to wake me up!"

Ifrit didn't stir at first, only shifting slightly as if trying to burrow deeper into the pillow. Amberine poked him again, harder this time, her fiery temper already starting to flare up. "You're a spirit! You're not supposed to be sleeping!"

Finally, Ifrit groaned, his glowing eyes cracking open with obvious reluctance. He yawned, stretching his tiny limbs before rolling over to face her, his fiery eyes blinking lazily. "Amberine, you are perfectly capable of waking up on your own," he said, his voice gravelly with exhaustion. "It's not my job to be your alarm clock."

Amberine scowled, pushing the blanket off as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Of course it's your job! You've always been the one to wake me up!" She stood up, stomping over to her dresser to grab her robe. "What's the point of having a spirit companion if you can't even help with the simple things?"

Ifrit rolled his eyes, his body slowly shifting as he floated off the pillow and hovered in the air, his form shimmering faintly with heat. "I am not your personal assistant," he retorted, his voice sharper now. "You're old enough to be responsible for yourself, Amberine. Maybe if you didn't stay up all night brooding and muttering about Draven, you wouldn't sleep through your mornings."

Amberine whipped around, her eyes narrowing at Ifrit. "Brooding? I wasn't brooding—I was thinking! And don't change the subject! You're a spirit—you don't even need sleep! What the hell were you doing, dozing off like a lazy house cat?"

Ifrit huffed, his small, fiery body pulsing with irritation. "I stayed awake far longer than you, enveloping you in warmth, making sure you didn't freeze in this cold room. Maybe that's why I fell asleep. Ever thought of that?"

Amberine paused, her mouth opening as if to fire back another retort, but the words stuck in her throat. Ifrit had stayed up, warming her through the night? Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the heat of it rivaling her own fiery magic. An awkward silence settled between them, the tension of their earlier argument melting away.

"Oh…" Amberine muttered, her voice quieter now. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Ifrit's eyes. "I… I didn't know. Sorry."

Ifrit hovered there for a moment, his expression softening. "It's fine," he replied, though his voice was still tinged with a hint of grumpiness. "Just… try to be more responsible for yourself, Amberine. I can't do everything for you."

Amberine cleared her throat, the awkwardness still thick in the air. "Right, yeah. I'll… I'll work on that." She glanced back at the clock and cursed again. "But I'm still late!"

She scrambled around the room, grabbing her robes, books, and stuffing them into her bag as quickly as she could. Ifrit watched her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation as she ran back and forth, muttering to herself.

"Don't forget your hair's a mess," he added helpfully.

Amberine shot him a glare but grabbed a brush from her dresser, roughly yanking it through her tangled red hair as she darted toward the door. "Thanks, smartass."

___

The dormitory halls were bustling with students preparing for their classes, but Amberine kept her head down, weaving through the crowd as she made her way toward the exit. She was almost out the door when she was stopped by the familiar voice of the dorm matron, Mrs. Prella.

"Amberine!" Mrs. Prella's sharp voice called from behind her, causing Amberine to wince. She turned slowly, forcing a strained smile onto her face.

"Yes, Mrs. Prella?" she asked, her tone trying to hide her annoyance.

"When are you going to pay your dorm rent?" Mrs. Prella's arms were crossed over her chest, her stern expression showing no signs of sympathy. "You're two weeks behind."

Amberine's smile faltered, and her heart sank. She had completely forgotten about the rent. Her part-time job at the tavern hadn't paid her yet, and she was still struggling to gather enough coins to cover her expenses. "I… I'll have it soon," she stammered, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "I'm just waiting for my job to pay me."

Mrs. Prella sighed, her expression softening ever so slightly. "You've been saying that for a week now, Amberine. I understand things are tough, but I can't keep holding your spot if you don't pay."

Amberine bit her lip, nodding. "I know, I know. I'll get it to you as soon as I can, I promise."

The matron gave her a long, measured look before finally nodding. "See that you do. I don't want to have to evict you."

Amberine's stomach twisted with guilt as she hurried out of the dormitory, her mind racing with thoughts of how she was going to make the money she needed. She couldn't lose her dorm—she had nowhere else to go.

The walk to the carriage stop felt longer than usual, her mind clouded with worries about rent, classes, and everything else piling on top of her. By the time she climbed into the carriage heading to the Magic Tower University, she was exhausted before the day had even properly begun.

As the carriage rumbled down the cobbled streets of the city, Amberine rested her head against the window, staring out at the passing scenery. The towering spires of the Magic Tower University loomed in the distance, and for a moment, Amberine allowed herself to admire it.

The way the sunlight glinted off the glass windows, the grandeur of its architecture—it was a breathtaking sight, even if she had seen it countless times before.

But as she approached the gates, her thoughts drifted back to the recent dungeonification incident. The chaos, the destruction, the death. The once-pristine tower had been battered and broken, its walls crumbling under the strain of the dark magic that had corrupted it.

Amberine had been there, fighting alongside the others, watching as the tower she had come to think of as her second home was torn apart.

Yet now, it stood tall once more, completely restored. The repairs had been swift and precise, almost too perfect. The structure looked exactly as it had before, as if the dungeonification had never happened. But Amberine knew better. She could still feel the scars, even if the tower itself had been mended.

The number of professors walking its halls had significantly decreased, the result of the many casualties during the incident. The loss was palpable, even if it was hidden behind the tower's flawless facade.

As she made her way through the entrance, she overheard snippets of conversation from students and professors alike.

"Professor Draven really is something, isn't he? I heard he was the one who figured out how to repair the dungeonification."

"Of course he did. He's a genius, cold as ice, but brilliant. Who else could have handled something like that?"

"He may be ruthless, but he gets things done. I'd rather have someone like him in charge than someone too soft to make the hard decisions."

Amberine's jaw clenched as she heard the compliments being thrown around so casually. Her fists tightened at her sides, heat rising in her chest. Draven, praised like some kind of hero, when all she could think about was the way he had admitted—without a hint of remorse—that he had killed her father.

"Brilliant," she muttered under her breath, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Cold and brilliant. Right."

Her steps grew heavier as she walked, her boots stomping against the stone floor as she made her way toward her class. She didn't want to hear any more about Draven or how "amazing" he was. She didn't want to think about the fact that the man everyone admired was the same man who had torn her life apart.

And yet, everywhere she turned, his name was on their lips, a constant reminder of the unresolved rage burning inside her.

Amberine stormed through the halls, barely noticing the glances from other students as she passed. She just needed to focus on her day, get through her classes, and figure out how to scrape together enough money for rent.

As she rounded the corner toward her classroom, she could still hear the whispers of admiration for Professor Draven echoing in the back of her mind, each word fanning the flames of her anger. She shoved open the door with a bit more force than necessary, her fiery temper simmering just below the surface, waiting to ignite.

"I have a feeling that this is definitely not going to by greatest day by far,"