"Then, Miss Blanca, if you could just sign here..." Varek gently nudged the hovering holographic form closer to the little leopard, carefully adjusting its height so it would be within reach of her paw.
The little leopard glanced at him briefly, crimson eyes calm and unreadable. Then, without hesitation, she lifted her paw and pressed it against the glowing surface. A clear paw print appeared, neatly stamped in place of a written signature, the hologram chiming softly as it accepted the input.
"..."
"..."
Varek stared at the paw signature as the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself.
’So she can’t write either...’
He closed his eyes for a brief second and inhaled slowly.
’Patience. Patience. Patience.’
This was fine. Absolutely fine. Geniuses were always strange. History proved it. The last great pioneer who revolutionized energy stone applications lived in a cave and talked to rocks.
A paw print was nothing.
Nothing.
Miss Blanca was a once-in-a-lifeti genius. Literacy, handwriting—those were trivial matters in comparison to raw perception talent of this level. With her graduating from this academy, their reputation would soar to unprecedented heights. Other institutions wouldn’t even dare compete. If anything, they would regret not discovering her first.
"Excellent," Varek said after steadying his emotions with forced cheer, straightening up. "A... very modern signature."
With a few precise gestures, he transmitted the official admission notice directly to Soren’s email.
Soren accepted the admission notice on his smartwatch as if paw-print contracts were an everyday occurrence. He nodded once, and rose to his feet.. "Now that things are settled, we won’t disturb you any longer."
Varek stood as well, smiling politely and nodding in return. "Of course. The academy is honored to welco such a... promising student."
Yet just as they were about to leave, Varek hesitated. His smile wavered, replaced by a thoughtful, conflicted expression. In the end, he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
"General," he said carefully, "you truly don’t need to continue carving energy stones for you?"
"No need," Soren replied without pause. "I already have my own exclusive carver."
Varek followed Soren’s line of sight.
The little leopard was now standing on the chair, her front paws braced against the edge of the desk as she studied the holographic projection of the dragon. One paw swiped lightly through the image, isolating a specific section of the energy flow lines as if she were dissecting its structure purely by instinct.
Varek’s pupils shrank slightly. "...Are you talking about Miss Blanca?"
"What do you think?" Soren answered simply.
Varek turned pale.
Then serious.
Then deeply stressed.
Varek turned to face Soren fully, his expression turning solemn. "Commander, for the sake of the empire, please consider this carefully." His voice lowered, no longer that of an administrator but of soone deeply aware of the stakes. "Your heat season may be delayed, but as a dragon beastman, there is always the possibility of it occurring unexpectedly. When it does, it will amplify the symptoms of Hysteria."
He clenched his fist slightly. "You are too powerful. If your Hysteria were to spiral out of control and you were to injure yourself—or worse—the current peace and stability of the empire would be shattered. It could even invite another invasion."
Even after witnessing Blanca’s astonishing perception, doubt lingered in Varek’s heart. ’Can her paws truly carve an energy stone?’
Carving required extre precision, stability, and technique refined over years. Beast claws were not made for such delicate work. Even if this little leopard possessed unparalleled talent, the learning curve would be steep. Ti was not sothing Soren could gamble with.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
When I finished signing the admission form Varek let sign, my gaze imdiately snapped back to the hologram like it had personally offended . My tail flicked once. Then twice. My paws started itching so badly it was borderline torture.
’I just couldn’t stand it.’
There were mistakes.
Everywhere.
Big ones.
Small ones.
Subtle ones pretending to be clever.
’Who designed this monstrosity?’ I scread internally. ’This energy flow is crooked, the stabilizing lines are lazy, and why does this resonance loop look like it was drawn by soone half-asleep?!’
I hopped down from the chair with a soft thump and dragged a nearby stool over with my paw, the legs screeching lightly against the floor. I climbed up, tail swaying for balance, eyes locked onto the hologram like it was a sworn enemy.
I raised my paw—
—and froze.
’...Damn it.’ I stared at my claws in despair.
If I had known I’d be forced to fix this disaster today, I would’ve brought the chanical arm Soren made . Why did I leave it behind? Why am I always so unprepared when creativity strikes?!
I glanced at Varek. Then at Soren. No one was stopping .
’Fine. Claws it is.’
With the air of a professional who had been deeply wronged, I carefully extended one claw and began scratching lines directly onto the holographic projection. The system reacted instantly, registering my movents as manual corrections.
Swipe.
Erase.
Adjust.
Rewrite.
I revised energy circulation routes, corrected unstable convergence points, and restructured the core reinforcent lattice. Whenever I spotted sothing especially ridiculous, I added floating annotations.
Very judgntal notes.
"This angle is wrong."
"Why would anyone route energy like this?"
"Who taught you symtry??"
"Please never do this again."
I even drew little arrows pointing at problem areas, adding notes like "Fix this before soone dies."
I was on my final set of revisions—just one more cluster of catastrophic errors to fix—when suddenly the world tilted.
’Eh?’ I let out an indignant squeak as I was lifted clean off the stool.
"Nyang nyang nya nya-ang nyang!" I yelped, flailing slightly before looking up.
Translation: "I’m not finished yet! Put back! I was this close!"
Soren was holding effortlessly under my arms like an overexcited kitten. "We should get going now," he said calmly.
I stared at him, betrayed. ’Do you know how rare creative montum is?! Do you know how hard it is to stop once you’ve started optimizing?!’
Then I glared past his shoulder at the hologram. ’That mistake is still there! You can’t just leave it like that!’
Behind us, Varek cleared his throat awkwardly, his face pale but glowing with excitent. "U-Um, General... Miss Blanca’s tuition fees haven’t been paid yet."
Soren didn’t even blink.
He tapped his smartwatch once.
Ting!
Varek’s computer let out a sharp notification sound. His eyes dropped to the screen—and then widened. His pupils visibly shook. "...Ah."
I craned my head and peeked at Soren’s watch. A number was displayed.
A very long number.
I had absolutely no idea what the currency in this world was worth, but I morized that number on instinct alone.
’Just in case.’
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
When the commander and the little leopard finally left, the office door slid shut with a soft click.
The mont the sound faded, Varek lunged toward the hologram like a starving man spotting food.
"Ah—!"
He leaned in so close his beard almost brushed the projection. His old eyes scanned every line, every curve, every energy route. The more he looked, the more his breathing grew uneven.
It was...
It was beyond perfect.
No—perfect wasn’t even enough to describe it.
The energy flow was smooth like a living river. The structural reinforcent was elegant, solving problems he had struggled with for years using thods so simple they bordered on insulting. Even the core resonance had been subtly optimized to reduce long-term fatigue in the stone.
Varek clutched his chest. "This... this is art," he whispered hoarsely.
Then his eyes drifted to the floating annotations. "...Ah."
Each note stabbed him cleanly through the heart.
As a Master Carver.
He winced, but—tragically—he couldn’t disagree with a single one. "These... these are valid criticisms," he muttered, voice trembling. "Cruel... but valid..."
He scrolled further, growing more and more absorbed, until suddenly—
"...Hm?"
The hologram stopped.
That was it.
No more revisions.
No concluding optimization.
No final polish.
Varek stared at the screen as if he short-circuited.
He scrolled back. Then forward again. He even rotated the hologram in midair, inspecting it from every angle like a desperate reader flipping pages.
"Why?!" he cried out, scandalized. "Where’s the rest?!"
He slapped the air but nothing changed.
"This—this is unfinished! You can’t stop here!" His voice cracked with genuine anguish. "Do you know what this feels like? This is like reading a masterpiece novel only for the author to drop the pen mid-Chapter!"
He froze. ’Mid... Chapter?’
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt.
"...The general."
His expression twisted.
"The hologram is incomplete because the general picked her up," he said slowly, each word heavy with resentnt. "He interrupted her."
Varek clenched his fist.
Unforgivable.
Then another thought crept in.
"...Wait." He stroked his beard, eyes narrowing. "She can... write?"
He glanced again at the annotations. "Then why," he murmured, "did she sign with a paw print?"
A pause.
"...Was it because she couldn’t?"
Another pause.
"...Or because she was lazy?"
His mouth twitched.
He leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted.
"A genius," he concluded gravely, staring at the hovering masterpiece. "An absolute once-in-a-century genius."
Then he sighed deeply.
"...With a terrible attitude."
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