Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 221: Internship

“Sorry, sorry—just kidding.” A few minutes later the subway pulled in, and under Lucia’s furious little fist-thumps, Flami Frost smiled and offered an apology.Of course, what she really thought was anyone’s guess. Even with Lucia’s earnest “clarifications,” the look Anya gave Lucia and Yvette was still odd—clearly suspicious, tinted with a subtle… unwillingness?

Soon they reached District Nine. The group hailed a carriage a size larger than usual and headed for the District Nine Disciplinary Committee branch.

It was very close to Blossom Street, where Lucia and Yvette lived. In theory, when they were on duty in the future, everyone could first meet downstairs at Scholars’ Haven Apartments on Blossom Street.

The District Nine Disciplinary Committee branch shared a building with the police station. The main gate, wide enough for four carriages abreast, had a wall added down the middle, making it feel cramped and narrow. Word was that the police often ran into trouble and came to the Committee for help—basically, the police’s police.

Suffice it to say, the Academy of Truth’s students—at least on the combat side—were beyond doubt.

No interview this time; Lucia and the other two already wore intern Disciplinary Committee armbands on their upper arms, looking the part. After reporting in, the three—plus Yvette as an accompanying party—entered the waiting room. Before long, a spirited Committee girl strode in.

Her gaze swept the four in the waiting room. When she saw Yvette and Lucia, she started. “Oh—it’s you two. I remember you’re over on Blossom Street next door—”

The girl was the very same squad captain from the 13th Squad who’d come by their place to register identities and check on the witch cult: Palea Norlens. She should be a third-year now. She was clearly from the Elemental Sanctum; her badge had three stars for her year, and beneath them the entwined symbols of the five elements—water, fire, wind, earth, and lightning.

“Senior—it’s you! What a coinci—actually, maybe not that much of a coincidence,” Lucia blurted, then realized: since Senior Palea had visited their building that day, Blossom Street had to be in the 13th Squad’s jurisdiction. If she picked the nearest branch, odds were high they’d meet again.

“What do you mean, ‘not that much of a coincidence’?” Palea asked.

“Nothing—I mean it makes sense. We live right next door.”

“Indeed.” Palea nodded. She seemed merely curious, not displeased, and Lucia let out a breath.

Serious type, not much for joking, Lucia judged.

“Are all four of you interns?” Palea glanced down at the report. “Looks like only three.”

“I’m just accompanying,” Yvette said.

Palea took in her Academy uniform, eyes flicking over the first-year badge of the College of General Studies. “Then would you like to take part in the internship activities as well? I mean going forward.”

“Together?” Not only Yvette but Lucia, Anya, and Flami blinked, unsure what she meant.

“You’re enrolled at the Academy. You won’t have Disciplinary Committee authority, but you must have some strength—after all, you’re one of us. And since you share a place with Lucia, if you don’t mind, you could learn the ropes along with them. There’s no downside—and it’ll help with day-to-day coordination.”

Palea explained in her very proper tone, “As a regular student you won’t have enforcement powers, nor fixed pay or benefits. But if you render meritorious service during an incident, you can be rewarded—like a bounty hunter.”

So that’s the difference between the Committee and societal institutions like the police? Yvette thought. No matter what, the Committee is still a student group. Any Academy student counts as half a Committee member. Personnel management is much looser—nothing like the police’s formal rigidity.—

“How about it, Yvette?” Lucia looked over, eyes shining.

The other two also glanced her way. Flami’s gray eyes blinked, curious about the plain College of General Studies girl who’d bewitched genius Lucia so thoroughly; Anya wore a provocative look, clearly thinking who-knew-what.

Faced with Lucia’s pleading, puppy-dog expression, Yvette paused for a few seconds. “Alright.”

“Great!” Lucia lit up, and Anya, off to the side, couldn’t help a quiet little pout.

The internship would run a long time, but the first day’s content involved no real action—at least the 13th Squad’s slice of District Nine was very peaceful.

After a simple lunch out, the afternoon was spent with Captain Palea walking everyone through the Committee’s daily processes and past major cases.

The only somewhat stimulating bit: to acclimate interns in advance to the potential carnage and gore of future fights, and to toughen them up, they were taken into a special room to handle replica corpses modeled exactly on real victims. Even the tang of blood in the air was reproduced one-to-one. It looked real.

Lucia spent the whole session frowning. She’d seen a real battlefield, but compared to this room designed to train psychological tolerance, that had been almost mild. Besides, not many had died that time; when Yvette acted, everything was burnt to ash—no bodies left.

Anya reacted the most—face chalk-white, shrinking behind the others. Only after leaving did she realize she’d been hiding behind Yvette, which made her cheeks burn; afterward she stayed a bit limp and out of sorts.

Yvette and Flami, on the other hand, were steady—enough to draw repeated looks of surprise from Palea.

Flami was not only calm but smiling the whole time, teasing Anya as they went. Who knew if she was putting on a show to seem tough.

As for Yvette, Palea was certain her psychological resilience was exceptional. In many of the “simulation-cadaver inspection” steps—even parts that made an old hand like Palea knit her brows—Yvette completed each task expressionless and unshaking.

Plain though she was, this junior clearly had an unshakable heart—calm in every storm. That kind of composure often matters more than raw power, especially in the Committee, which deals constantly with criminals and cultists.

A shame she didn’t choose to join, Palea thought with a pang. Then again, never say never. If she kept inviting the girl to take part, maybe she’d sign on.

After the first afternoon wrapped up, and mindful that they’d be working together going forward, Palea treated everyone to dinner at a restaurant in District Nine, just a street from the branch—a fairly upscale place called the Sapphire Wellness Restaurant.

At dinnertime the place was bustling, but the second floor was much quieter. Palea explained that the restaurant was Academy-owned, and Committee members enjoyed a discount.

After they sat, Yvette let her gaze drift over the second floor—then it snagged on a slightly balding middle-aged man. He wore a black faculty suit and ate alone by the window. In front of him were mostly vegetarian dishes like corn salad; he ate with a blank face.

A ten-thousand-mana Archmage? No—perhaps higher. The rune-siphon effect just caps out at ten thousand.

Before long, the vice dean named Hills gave them a stiff nod, then lowered his head and returned to his vegetables.

“That’s our Elemental Sanctum’s vice dean. A vegetarian by preference. He looks a bit aloof, but he’s very approachable—you can ask him magic questions. He’s also in charge of the City of Truth’s Elemental Melting Furnace. They say his personal strength is in no way beneath the dean’s,” Palea said.

So a realm beyond Archmage after all—the so-called Saint Archmage. Yvette quietly drew back her gaze.