Let's go face the music

As Theron stepped out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and somewhat composed, a deep sigh escaped his lips. He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, trying to push away the lingering exhaustion that clung to him like an unwelcome shadow. Today was already shaping up to be a disaster, and he hadn't even left his dorm yet.

Despite regaining some of his usual sharpness, a new dread settled in his chest—the unavoidable confrontation with Principal Valtheris. Missing classes at Astoria Academy wasn't unheard of. In fact, it was almost expected, especially for gnomes, who frequently got lost in their own world of innovation. It wasn't uncommon for a gnome to vanish for days—or even weeks—entirely consumed by an invention, tinkering away in the depths of their labs until hunger or sheer exhaustion forced them to rejoin society.

Other races had their own valid reasons for missing classes as well. Werewolves and vampires often went on missions for their packs or covens, while fairies occasionally vanished into the spirit realm for training. Elementals, when the mood struck, could simply become one with nature and reappear whenever they pleased. But regardless of the reason, protocol dictated that students had to submit a formal leave of absence. A minor formality, really—one that most students handled effortlessly.

Unfortunately, Theron had forgotten to do that.

And now he was walking straight into the principal's office with no valid excuse beyond 'I was busy, my bad.'

Rubbing his temple, he turned his attention to his AI watch. "Rex," he called, his voice still tinged with morning grogginess. "Did you send my leave of absence request to the principal?"

A brief silence. Then Rex's familiar voice, calm and precise, answered, "I believe I did."

Theron frowned. 'I believe?' That wasn't exactly reassuring.

Stopping in the middle of his room, he narrowed his eyes at the sleek, metallic band around his wrist. "You believe you did? Either you sent it or you didn't, Rex."

Another pause. Then, "…There is an 87% probability that the request was submitted successfully."

Theron groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not the kind of answer I need right now."

"Would you like me to confirm?"

"Yes. Right now."

A soft hum emitted from the device as Rex processed the request, scanning through its logs for any record of the submission. Theron tapped his foot impatiently, his mind already conjuring the worst possible scenarios. If the letter hadn't been sent, he would have to explain himself to Principal Valtheris. And Valtheris was not the kind of man you wanted to explain things to.

The headmaster of Astoria Academy was **intimidating**—a relic from the war that had shaped the world's current hierarchy. He was sharp-eyed, razor-tongued, and utterly devoid of patience for nonsense. He respected brilliance, but he also expected discipline.

If that letter hadn't been sent…

Rex beeped. "There is no official confirmation in my records that the leave request was processed."

Theron's stomach dropped.

He was so, so screwed.

Theron let out a slow, controlled breath, his fingers tightening into fists before relaxing. Stay calm, he told himself. Panicking wouldn't help. Think.

"Rex, if the letter wasn't processed, then what happened to it?" he asked, his voice steady despite the unease simmering beneath the surface.

"Accessing records," Rex replied smoothly. A brief pause, then— "Ah. The leave request was drafted but never submitted."

Theron's jaw clenched. Of course.

He had likely started dictating it while caught up in some other task, intending to review it later. And then, being him, he must have gotten distracted, buried himself in work, and completely forgotten about it.

"Can I submit it now?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"That would be ill-advised. The academy's system automatically flags backdated requests for review, meaning Principal Valtheris would see the late submission and still require an explanation. The probability of leniency is low."

Theron sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Of course, it is.

Astoria Academy valued independence and intelligence, but rules were rules. And Principal Valtheris—despite his grudging respect for gnomes and their obsessive work habits—was not known for being forgiving. If anything, he'd probably admire Theron's dedication but still punish him for his irresponsibility.

So, what were his options? 1. Own up to it, accept whatever punishment came his way.

2. Try to charm his way out of it—not a strong suit. 3. Find a loophole.

Naturally, Theron's brain latched onto option three.

"Rex," he started carefully, "how many classes have I missed?"

"Seventeen."

Theron nearly choked. "Seventeen?!"

That was way worse than he thought. He had been expecting seven, maybe ten at most. How had he managed to completely lose track of time?

"To be precise," Rex continued, "you have missed seventeen scheduled sessions across five different subjects. However, only nine were mandatory. The remaining eight were either self-study periods or practical lab sessions where attendance was not strictly enforced."

That was… slightly better. But still, nine mandatory absences? He was officially a dead man walking.

His mind raced through possibilities. Could he argue that some of those classes weren't essential? Could he claim an emergency? No, that wouldn't work—emergencies were logged in the academy's system, and he had no such record.

There had to be another way.

"Rex," he said slowly, his strategist mind kicking into gear, "if I were to… let's say… mitigate the situation, what would be my best course of action?"

"If your goal is to avoid severe disciplinary measures, the most effective approach would be to acknowledge your absence and immediately present a solution that benefits the academy."

Theron frowned. "A solution?"

"Correct. Principal Valtheris values competence above all else. If you demonstrate that your absence, while irresponsible, resulted in a tangible benefit to the academy, it may lessen the severity of your punishment."

Theron's thoughts clicked into place. That could work.

If he could prove that whatever he had been working on during his time away was valuable, it might give him some leverage. Fortunately, he wasn't just slacking off—he had spent weeks refining new combat-enhancement algorithms, upgrading Rex's tactical response systems, and fine-tuning his mecha's adaptability. If he pitched it correctly, he might be able to convince Valtheris that his time away had been well spent.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was better than walking in empty-handed.

Decision made, Theron squared his shoulders and took a steadying breath.

"All right," he muttered. "Let's go face the music."

With that, he grabbed his bag, made sure Rex was fully operational, and headed out of his dorm, bracing himself for whatever awaited him.