"Maybe. But look—you’re not alone in this. You’ve got the spirit of a knight and the temper of... well, a Vallière. If you blow something up, I’ll be the one standing in front of you to make sure nothing hits you back."
Louise looked at him, her large eyes softening. "You always say the strangest things."
"Saito! You’re daydreaming again!" Louise de La Vallière’s voice snapped like a whip. She stood at the window of their shared room, the moonlight catching her pink hair. But her usual fire was dampened; her shoulders were tense.
In the halls of the Tristain Academy of Magic, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment and the faint, crackling energy of failed transformation spells. For Saito Hiraga, it was just another Tuesday of being Louise’s "familiar"—which mostly meant being her personal chef, laundry service, and occasional punching bag.