In the academy's pristine medical wing, Ambrose found himself seated on an examination bed, observing the school nurse with analytical interest. She embodied the stereotypical description he'd encountered in novels - a professional woman in her late twenties wearing wire-rimmed glasses, her white coat crisp and perfectly pressed. Her curves suggested an hourglass figure, and her presence carried an air of mature confidence that seemed at odds with her subsequent behavior.
"Thanks for doing this," she said, approaching with a clipboard. "Your maid hasn't been letting anyone examine you. Even though you've recovered, we still need to do a proper checkup." She paused meaningfully. "Our lives rather depend on it, after all."
