"Meeting time."
Maeve finally opened her eyes again, "What... do you mean?"
Julian Fairchild chuckled and glanced around the empty classroom.
She got the hint, half-narrowing her fox-like eyes, "You tricked me, didn't you?"
Julian touched his nose, unfazed, "How is it trickery? It's indeed a meeting, but it's just for you—
"An ideological education meeting."
Maeve: "… You're misusing your authority."
"Mm." Julian acknowledged, tapping the desk with his long fingers, looking down into her beautiful eyes, "Have you finished your self-reflection?"
Maeve was momentarily at a loss for words.
A self-reflection?
What self-reflection?
Then, the events in Palova quickly flashed through her mind.
Julian appreciated Maeve's rare embarrassment, then slightly raised the corner of his mouth, somehow producing paper and a pen, "Summer said you haven't submitted it to her yet, so why not write it now and give it to me."
Maeve: "..."
