The stone corridors of Blackthorn Academy echoed with the clipped footsteps of staff members, their polished shoes clicking against centuries-old flagstones. Surveillance drones hummed like mechanized wasps past barred windows, their lenses catching glimpses of students shuffling between classes—some adjusting ill-fitting blazers, others sporting fresh bandages beneath their sleeves. In the courtyard, a cluster of anthro girls huddled near a leafless oak, their tails twitching as they passed a smuggled cigarette. The scent of burning tobacco lingered just long enough to trigger a ventilation system purge, chemical mists dissolving evidence before it could reach the principal’s sensors.

Among the student body, rebellion took myriad forms. A human girl with shock-blue hair had sewn razor blades into her collar, smirking as a teacher’s finger bled during uniform inspection. In the east wing bathroom, a serpentine lamia coiled around a sink, using her fangs to etch infernal symbols into the mirror. The air buzzed with tension—a feline hybrid’s purr reverberated through a silent study hall, while a hulking ursine girl cracked her knuckles loud enough to drown out the morality lecture. Each infraction, whether petty or profound, fed the academy’s insatiable machinery.

The principal’s office door groaned open without ceremony. A secretary in a high-necked gray uniform stepped inside, her gloved hands clutching a tablet that glowed with biometric alerts. “Good morning, sir,” she intoned, voice stripped of inflection. “Your 9:15 appointment arrived early. Violation code 6-D: unauthorized undergarments.” Her eyes flickered to the steel cabinet behind the desk, where a bone-handled awl gleamed beside a jar of iodine. “Shall I send her in immediately, or let her... steep in the waiting chamber first?”