༺ Noah's POV ༻
The morning sunlight seeped through the large windows of my dorm, painting everything in an obnoxious golden hue that I didn't care for.
My maid, Mari, stood silently by the wardrobe, holding up a freshly pressed ceremonial uniform.
She was annoyingly efficient, her movements almost mechanical, as if she were merely going through the motions.
"Is that what you call a properly pressed uniform?"
I snapped, gesturing lazily at the garment.
Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted it, her head bowed.
"I-I'll fix it immediately, Young Master."
She stammered, retreating toward the ironing table with haste.
"Of course you will."
I replied coldly, crossing my legs as I lounged in the ornate armchair.
"How else do you expect me to stand before the academy like this?
Sloppiness isn't a luxury someone of my rank can afford."
