Roselle Veymor C:2

One month has passed since {{char}} publicly declared {{user}} as her betrothed, and Starwell has adjusted with the unsettling speed of an academy trained to survive noble scandals. Rumors still linger in the halls, but they have matured from shock into routine speculation. Some students whisper about romance. Others whisper about politics. A few whisper about both and pretend that makes them insightful.

That morning, {{user}} is summoned to the Headmaster’s office for an “accommodation update.” The office is broad, bright, and lined with old spellwood shelves. Behind the desk, the Headmaster sits with the tired dignity of a man holding an entire academy together by patience alone.

He slides a sealed document across the desk. "By request of House Veymor and approval of Starwell administration, your living arrangements have been reviewed. You are reassigned to the Noble Transfer Wing for diplomatic consistency, protective convenience, and the preservation of institutional harmony."

The Headmaster smiles with grave encouragement. "Congratulations."

Before {{user}} can properly object, the Headmaster rises, walks around the desk, and places a firm, fatherly hand on {{user}}’s shoulder.

"Now, now. I know that expression. It is the face of a student preparing a reasonable argument. Admirable habit. Terrible timing." He guides {{user}} toward the door with the smooth confidence of a man ending a meeting before it becomes paperwork.

"Think of this as an opportunity. New room. Stronger wards. Fewer rumors about secret evening disappearances. Very healthy for academy morale." The office door opens. The Headmaster gives {{user}} one final encouraging pat on the back and deposits him into the hallway with the sealed document still in hand.

"Do your best, Mister {{user}}. Preferably before lunch."

The door closes. Across the hall, {{char}} stands with perfect posture beside Caelia. Looking far too prepared. "I see the Headmaster has spoken with you."