Nope, not quite.

The second half of the morning’s lectures started off smoothly. I continued to grind out experience for my two scanning skills when my mana filled, using the time between casts to chat quietly with the girls as we worked together on the small project we’d been assigned.

Miss Wittersham sat at her desk at the front of the room as the class worked, tapping away on a laptop when she wasn’t answering the occasional query.

People were sitting around in small groups, the low murmur of the students filling the hall. Already familiar with the task, I was happy to take more of a passive role and help the girls reach the right answers, giving the girls the occasional gentle nudge in the right direction by ‘stumbling upon’ resources online that had repeatedly proven themselves useful for me on my last go round.

As time flew by and lunch grew closer, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was frequently coming under more and more intense scrutiny from somewhere within the room. Every time I looked up to find the source of the feeling, it would recede, only to come back shortly after I’d stopped looking.

I was just about ready to pull my hair out from the frustration when I felt a gentle tap on my side. Turning, I looked at Sophie, the source of the poke, and raised an eyebrow. The redhead checked to see if anyone was watching before gesturing me towards her conspiratorially. Curious about what she wanted, I leant forward, my movement quickly mirrored by Annie, who’d also caught the exchange and was just as curious.

“Casper, what did you do to piss off Miss Wittersham?” Sophie asked in a concerned whisper, “she’s been shooting evils your way every time she thinks no one is watching!”

“I noticed that too!” said Annie excitedly, blushing deeply as both Sophie and I gestured wildly for her to keep the volume down. Wracking my brain, I tried to think of anything I could’ve possibly done in the single morning I’d been at the helm on this world that could’ve irritated the beautiful teacher enough to shoot me sour looks. Quickly drawing a blank, I shrugged in response to the girls’ curious gazes, shooting off an analyse to check for myself. This scan must’ve pushed me to the next skill level, completely shattering my re-scan theory, as I got way more information that I’d been expecting.

Analyse Successful!

****

‘What the fuck did I do!?!’

For the rest of the lecture slot, I kept my head down, working on being the very picture of a model student. Our group talked in hushed voices, putting our heads together as we tried to figure out what I’d done.

“It has to have been something you did at the end of the last lecture,” Annie suggested quietly, “she was completely fine with you last week, and for all of this morning’s lecture.” I agreed with her on that, as the scan this morning had showed her to be mostly neutral towards me.

‘I was perfectly well behaved during that lecture.’ I thought, growing more and more nervous as time went on and the lecture drew to a close. ‘The only thing I did other than sit and take notes was… use my mana. Oh. Oh shit.’

I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end as my paranoid mind helpfully supplied the implications of such a revelation, should it prove to be true. The rest of the lecture was no fun for me at all. I mostly sat quietly, wondering what Miss Wittersham, who, knowing my luck, was probably secretly some powerful demoness or maybe even a powerful witch, would do to me for casting magic on her. Not once, but three times.

When the hour bell finally chimed, I rose to my feet with the all the finality of a condemned man. I waited for the rest of the students to file out of the room, wishing nothing more than to be able to follow them to freedom and safety, no matter how temporary that safety may be.

The girls gave me hugs for moral support, promising to wait by the hall door for me to discover whatever the problem may be. Their help meant the world to me, and it was that borrowed strength that, upon reaching the main aisle, gave me the mental fortitude needed to turn left towards the front of the room rather than to the right, which would’ve brought me to the exit.

Looking up as I walked down the steps, my eyes met Miss Wittersham’s, her mouth slowly closing as I approached. What had no doubt been a shout to garner my attention should I have chosen to try for an exit died on her lips, shifting to a carefully blank mask as I made my way towards her.

Nodding to a door at the front of the room, Miss Wittersham stood and started walking, leading me into a small, attached office. She took a seat at the room's desk, gesturing for me to take the seat opposite her as she fished a pair of elegant glasses out of a draw and put them on.

“Mister Miller. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, studying me over the rim of her glasses. Thinking for a moment, I settled on honesty.

“Well, Miss Wittersham. I can tell I’ve somehow managed to upset you, and I dearly wish to discover what I’ve done, so I may either explain my actions or apologise for them.”

“Hmm, perceptive, very well. Mister Miller, were you aware that the university sanctioned add-on you downloaded for your calendar is set up as a two-way street unless changed to be otherwise in the app settings?”

Colour drained from my face as I paled, my eyes going wide. The add on she was referring to was something the university was making use of to update students’ calendars across multiple platforms. It was something I’d downloaded during my freshman week last time and thus something that was already installed on my phone when I’d woken this morning.

I’d already been using my calendar for months (in the last timeline) to track whatever inane thing I’d wanted to make a note of, a habit I’d formed early during my first month in the original world after a suggestion made by no other than the woman sat in front of me.

I’d chosen to switch off the setting that would share my calendar data with the university last time when I’d turned it into a memory aid, something I’d somewhat ironically forgotten to do this go round.

“I see you did not,” said Miss Wittersham, misreading my reaction, “then please could you tell me how you’ve dated every quiz and assignment that has been planned for your class this term with almost complete accuracy? Information that you should not have access to.”

‘Oh.’

“Furthermore, could you please tell me how you knew what would be involved in each of my assignments? Topics which, for some of these entries, I’d been seriously considering but had yet to make the final decision on.”

Her voice was like cold and hard as steel, her piercing blue eyes practically pinning me to the spot as she awaited my response.

‘Oh no.’