The Academy's silence was short-lived.
No sooner had Alex muttered about sleep than his magi-comm buzzed again, this time with an unfamiliar sigil—a geometric storm of inked lines and soft gold glow that screamed one thing: Administrative Summons.
Oh good, bureaucracy. Just what my existential dread needed.
He tapped the screen, and the summons unfolded in midair:
[You are requested—no, required—to report to Wing Theta-9, Room 4B: Departmental Arbitration and Special Case Management.]
"Sounds like a fun place to die of paperwork," he muttered, dragging his feet toward the hall.
—✦—
Wing Theta-9 was located precisely where you'd expect a room for "special case management" to be: inconvenient, slightly too cold, and guarded by a door that looked like it judged everyone who walked through it.
Inside, the walls were lined with glowing glyphs, softly rotating scrolls of legal nonsense, and one magical fern that appeared to sigh when Alex walked past it.
At the center sat a woman with too many rings and not enough patience.
"Alexidrin Finch," she said, without looking up. "You are aware you have been flagged with thirteen departmental pre-clears, five conditionals, and one provisional override."
"Is that... bad?"
"It's annoying," she replied flatly. "Mostly because people keep betting on which track you'll choose, and the odds have skewed the Academy's internal morale pool."
Fantastic. I'm a magical stock option.
"As such," she continued, sliding a stack of enchanted forms toward him, each brimming with flickering headers and twitchy legal footnotes, "we're giving you seventy-two hours to finalize your department enrollment. Any longer and the gossip alone might rupture space-time."
Alex blinked. "Only seventy-two hours?"
"And a mandatory orientation with the Dean of Cross-Disciplinary Convergence."
That sounds fake and dangerous.
She smiled sweetly. "Good luck. Try not to cause a scandal until after lunch."
—✦—
Back in the dorm courtyard, Alex finally collapsed onto a bench near the fountains, letting the spray cool the rising heat in his head.
Jamie found him there ten minutes later, holding two bubble teas and an expression that said, please tell me we're not in trouble again.
"So?"
Alex took a long sip before answering. "I'm officially a one-man academic crisis."
"That's not new."
"But now it's institutional."
Jamie plopped down beside him. "I bet on you picking Energy Systems. Jenkins bet on Magical Resonance. Orin went wild and said you'd dual-track."
Alex groaned. "Everyone's betting on me. Is that legal?"
"No. That's why it's fun."
They sat in silence for a beat, the fountain burbling behind them like it, too, was gossiping.
"Okay," Jamie said, pulling out a charm-bound notebook. "We've got seventy-two hours. Let's do this like we're prepping for a field exam. Pros and cons. What's on your shortlist?"
"Energy Systems is flashy," Alex said. "But I don't think I want to explode things for a living."
"Fair. You'd probably get bored of the fireballs after a week. Magical Resonance?"
"Interesting theory, less interesting lifestyle. The people in that department hum when they concentrate. It's unsettling."
"Magical Engineering?"
"Too many tools. Too many goggles. Too much math."
Jamie tapped the notebook. "Okay, so we're crossing out everything that requires safety equipment. What about Diplomacy?"
Alex paused. He hadn't mentioned it out loud yet.
"I've been thinking about it," he admitted. "It's not as glam as the others, but it's... useful. Strategic. And maybe the least likely to result in magical burns."
Jamie's brows lifted. "That would actually suit you. You're annoyingly good at talking your way out of things. And into things. And sideways around things."
"Thanks, I think."
"Plus," Jamie continued, "they say the Diplomacy department has the best snacks."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to bribe me with food."
"No. I'm trying to bribe you with you. You need a department that lets you outsmart people for a living."
Alex stared at the notebook, the list half-filled with sarcastic commentary and one big, underlined: DIPLOMACY.
—✦—
Elsewhere in the Academy, in a lounge cloaked with hush charms and lined with velvet seating, several faculty advisors met behind magically sealed doors.
"He hasn't chosen yet?" one asked, disbelief lacing every syllable.
"He's been summoned by Arbitration. The Dean of Cross-Disciplinary Convergence is interested."
Everyone collectively winced.
"That department's a rumor. A myth. A trap for the overly ambitious."
"Or the exceptionally doomed," muttered another.
They all looked at the wall where Alex's profile floated, still flagged with too many glowing tags to be polite.
One advisor leaned forward. "If he chooses wrong, it'll be a headache. But if he chooses right, we might actually learn something."
Another nodded. "Let's just hope he doesn't invent a new department by accident."