Don't really know if this one should be trigger-warning-ed or not, but for the sake of caution, see notes at the bottom anyway before reading if you think you might need to.

Dear Lowen,

It's weird, writing letters to you. Before you died, there'd never been a time when we weren't practically in each other's pockets, was there? I suppose I should be over it really, after all these years, but is there really such a thing as getting over things?

I don't think so, not really, otherwise I wouldn't have ended up in this godforsaken mess. Writing letters isn't really going to fix anything-what is done is done. In any other school I would have been thrown out, fired, reported. But here, I cannot, and they don't have anyone else they can swap around to become teaching staff instead. Especially not since they had to switch Snow to admin, the poor girl. She's not been getting worse since, though there is no getting better so that is a cold comfort.

But, in any case, what's done is done, really. There are new school rules, and I'm not a freshman tutor anymore, because all my troubles started from that. Yes, it was my responsibility to not give into the urges and temptations, but it protects them too, really. They will still love and idolise me, but it won't get so entrenched the way it does when you're the one right at the start of their schooling experience, practically shaping it for them. There are other rules, too, and I'm glad of them, really. I just wish none of it had to happen, that I wouldn't end up having to hide away from everyone else's eyes, faced with the fact that not only are they horrified by me, but that it turns out they weren't enough for me.

I don't think I can put it all into one letter, so I'll leave it for now.

Love,

Cinnabuns

…

Dear Lowen,

You probably noticed the name I signed off with and you're probably wondering about it. Well, you would be if you could read these, I suppose. I took on the name about ten years after we opened the school, though not straight away. The first week or so, I still had my old name and still introduced myself by it to my tutor group and to my other classes, but in that tutor group there was this one girl, a couple of years younger than the rest of the freshman cohort, unusually talented but oh so shy. I'd become a sort of joking, buddy-like teacher, if only to make my life easier (I never imagined myself as a teacher, back when we were fighting together. You wouldn't have either, would you?) and mostly it did, but this girl-Daisy- was so distressed, so shy, I couldn't get through to her.

I settled on the approach of trying to make Daisy laugh, and tried a few different things, before I decided, for whatever absolutely ludicrous reason, to 'accidentally' refer to myself as Cinnabuns when recounting something or other that had happened between me and Nyamai as part of the lesson (I don't remember what, it wasn't important) and then, when the whole class burst out with confused laughter, to double down, even going so far as to draw a diagram of a cinnamon bun on the board as an illustration.

It was, as you can imagine, complete utter nonsense, but it worked. Daisy laughed and….well, strange as it sounds, I never felt so accomplished as I did then. Almost as much as realising we'd won the Great War. But that joy was filtered by knowing we'd lost you and Eita and Rielle. This joy was undiluted, and Daisy ended up having a particular fondness for me. And of course, the name stuck. Sometimes shortened to Cinn, but it stuck and here I am now.

As for Daisy-she ended up special to all of us, to the extent that she's now known as Little One to us, but it was always me who was the favourite. And that….well, this teaching madness started to make sense, a little. Up until then, it was just something I was doing, because what else could I do? But Daisy, our Little One, she made it different.

She made me realise that this was something that could fill the holes that I didn't really realise I still had in me.

Love, Cinnabuns

…

Dear Lowen,

You're probably thinking the horrible things I've done were to Little One, but I can assure you nope, that's not the case. This was too long ago, but as I said, it sparked something.

You know some of the effects of the pact we all made back when Cher and Hades approached us, magnetic with charm that was irresistible to resist, even though we would have done anything to protect the light anyway. There's not much point in me going over those again now, is there? But afterwards, after the three of you were gone, the pact was sort of….I guess you could say channelled into a new one, a new one to help build the school and to keep it standing for as long as possible. A safeguard, if you will, to make it stand above any kind of school and ensure that not only it trained our youth to protect the world if need be, but to protect them too. That safeguard? It meant that none of us could ever leave.

Oh, physically speaking, we could step through the gates (though not across the river, that's only in the direst of circumstances) and let's be real, we kinda needed to. For shopping and other things, for teaching conferences and seminars (not even the most elite school can escape those!). Bin's a frequent visitor to the outside world for fashion ideas, and Shippa but to see how the world changes and keeps changing, as he likes to put it. So we could leave to go somewhere-but not leave with the intention of not coming back. That, again, is only for the direst of emergencies, and even then…well, our presence is, almost literally, holding up the school. There will be trouble in the event one of us does die in the process of protecting it. As cages go, it's a nice one, more or less. But it's a cage, all the same.

And I guess that gave rise to the unwritten rule that we can't have relationships. With each other, it's kinda messy, I guess, if one minute we're attracted to each other and then we break up, since of course we can't make a clean break. A long-term proper relationship with anyone 'outside' wouldn't work either obviously. I guess if Rielle had survived an exception would have been made for her and Kenta, but apart from that…the relationships are just another sacrifice. But of course, losing that means losing the chance to have children even by adoptive means. The friendships I have with everyone-oh how I do love them-I am truly glad that I have them and I wouldn't give them up for the world. But if any of them were to directly accuse me of not thinking that they were enough for me then I wouldn't be able to refute that, because it's true.

It's true, because I've always wanted to be loved. You remember, right? I wanted to be adored and admired and fawned over, and to fall head over heels with someone and experience romance, get swept up in it all until the waves of feelings deposited me somewhere in the middle of happily ever after. I wanted the feeling of a sweet young face looking up at mine, small hands slipping in mine, all that trust and devotion and admiration, and being able to live up to it.

I still wouldn't have changed any of the choices that I made up until Kawaakari was made, you know, but there were times and there still are times when I wish that there was a way to have the best of both worlds. Until Little One though, I had assumed that that was just nonsense, that I was being greedy and ungrateful. I pushed down my own sadnesses and more or less just went through the motions, and I did find little pinpricks of joy here and there, it's true. Maybe the others weren't enough for me, as such, but at the same time it's not as if they were deficient. They're my friends and comrades and always will be.

It's just….I don't know, really. But anyway, my friend, it's getting late and there are end-of-term assignments for me to look over, so I'll have to leave this letter here. More to come soon.

Love,

Cinn

…

Dear Lowen,

Nothing really happened straight away, but I built up to it. Essentially, what I did was just to turn the charm up, become closer to the students. I used endearments a lot and described a lot of things as things to 'love' and I made a point of listening to them, even as I started to reach an age that could be considered old despite not looking it.

There's a funny thing, being old when you're in a situation like ours. Sometimes, I look into a mirror and wonder if age even matters at this point anymore. I'm almost 300 years old now and you would have been too and that's a weird thing to be able to say.

Sometimes, if it was appropriate, I would use physical affection. Nothing more than a hand on the shoulder or a high-five or even a hug-when students are crying because of a family bereavement or whatever you can't just stand there like a plank, can you? I was aware that there was a thin line and I did my best to be careful with my own actions, trying to make it seem more paternal than romantic, because they were children. They were children, and I remembered that.

But I also remembered they were adolescent children, prone to crushes. I told myself that if any of them claimed to be in love with me or made a clear pass, I would reject them because that there was a line that was crossed. I stepped back, shook my head, once or twice even had to avert my gaze from an unbuttoned shirt. But if they sparkled under the extra attention, were completely enchanted? If they more casually declared love "I LOVE Professor Cinnabuns, he's the best!" or insisted on giving me little gifts…that, that was fine. To me, that was fine, because that was proof that I was loved and adored and well…that's what I wanted.

It's no excuse, even for that. Even then, I probably broke a lot of still-blooming hearts, confused many more. That line was thin, and with each year that went by my own age felt a blurry and indistinct fact, with little meaning, and I used that as further justification. What did it matter if they were head-over-heels for me, if they were completely dazzled? I was completely dazzled by the feeling. I couldn't get enough of it.

I told myself that it was fine, that as long as I cut things off if they made attempts at advances and emphasised their youth by using more childish endearments and referring to them as 'my children' or whatever that it would be fine. Since I was teaching them perfectly, and getting results, I thought it was fine. As there were plenty of other teachers who could be effusive and somewhat alluring in their approach (Arianna calls her ones 'dear') and plenty of students who had crushes on them too, I thought it was fine.

Of course, it wasn't fine, and the thing about addiction is that you build up tolerance and then end up needing more and more of whatever it is to get the same effect once again. My age may have felt meaningless to me, but I should have known better anyway.

-Cinnabuns

…

Dear Lowen,

That was his name too, you know. The boy who became my downfall.

No, that's not right. He didn't become my downfall, none of this was his fault-I caused my own. I know that. But in any case, his name was Lowen, like you, and though his tutor group and other friends called him 'Louie' instead, that struck me. For now, I'll call him that in these letters, otherwise it'll feel weird.

But anyway, Louie….he was lovely. I mean, at this point I thought all of them lovely, though in a selfish way-they were lovely because of the potential they had to fulfil my fantasies, though I'm sure they were wonderful in themselves anyway. But he was really lovely, an absolute dream, all gold hair and unusually night-sky-like eyes. I think, in a normal life, if I met someone in my age range who had looked like that I would have instantly been attracted.

I thought that back then too, of course, but I mentally underlined the idea of if he had been my age, and left it at that. At first, I didn't treat him any differently to any of the others, not in terms of the intensity. Louie was quiet, and a little shy, though not to the extent of Little One. He just needed, occasionally, for a quiet nod or moment of eye-contact, a quiet acknowledgment. He liked to come in to tutor time or other lessons early and talk to me…or not talk, but bring in assignments from another class and finish them off sitting across the desk from me until others arrived. Then, he'd go to them and chat with them. I had no problem with providing those things, with letting those things happen.

Metalwork wasn't one of his strengths, and indeed that particular teaching group that he was in with was a little weak overall. It wasn't anything a few weeks of more intense tutoring couldn't fix, so I set up a schedule of evening and weekend sessions-some with this small group, and a few one-on-ones. That, of course, is where it all unravelled.

I'm…I'm finding it a little hard to continue on now. It's unfair of me to feel entitled to such sadness, but there it is. I'll tell you what happened next in the next letter.

Love,

Cinn

…

Dear Lowen,

I told myself I would write what happened next, how things did indeed unravel, but putting pen to paper like this, it's still hard. In the cold light of the day I am horrified by myself. Even in the dim warm illumination of night, I can't escape the guilt. I knew, deep down, even when it was happening, that this wasn't right. I was creeping around, after all, tying myself into knots to keep things secret, planning meetings with Louie in the same detail we'd plan missions and journeys. I knew, all along. Of course I did.

But…I suppose that I owe it to him, don't I? He's forgotten now. Whatever feelings he had for me, the times we spent together, I erased them all from his mind, and all he'll remember are the ups and downs of his lessons, the things he did with his friends, racing up the Angel Tree to get to class on time. All those things, the silly, trivial carefree aspects of youth that should have been what his life consisted off. That and the knowledge and skills, of course. But yeah. I erased it all.

You see, when it all ended and he stood in front of me crying and crying as we approached the final week of his senior year, telling me that his heart was completely shattered and that he didn't want to live like that. I should have seen that it'd end this way-I, myself, was fantasising (yes, to an extent further than what I had already been doing)-but I had continued and continued to string along his affections. Just that week we'd snuck out for picnics and swum in the river together. I hadn't been prepared for that. The sun was setting in the classroom, and I knew I had to turn the lights on soon, but I couldn't move for sitting there, completely and utterly washed away by the sheer strength of Louie's misery. He was trying to be brave about it, standing straight, fists clenched by his sides, but his beautiful, beautiful face was creased and soaked with unrelenting tears and he was shaking. I wanted, so badly, to hug him. If he'd been crying for any other reason, I would have, but in the end what I said was this:

"You know, though, I can't leave here. There's no future in that, Louie, as much as I wish there to be. You knew that, right?"

He did know, by the way. I knew his deepest fears and worries, he'd known mine. In any case, that hadn't worked. It didn't work, though. Louie just glared, the last rays of sun making his eyes glow for a moment, making them angrier.

"Then, you lied to me! You lied to me, Cinn, and that's…"

He trailed off for a moment, looking down at his shoes, and then back up at me.

"I wish I'd never existed, then we never would have met and it would have been better, right?"

"No, no, don't say something like that-" I tried to say, but he interrupted me.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you make me fall for you like this if it was never going to be real?"

I'd wanted to defend myself then, to tell him that it had been real, thanks very much. It'd been too, too real. But I forced myself to take a breath, to mentally step back and look at him, and for the first time in those three years it felt like I was seeing him properly.

The first time he kissed me, an impulsive gesture after a one-on-one catch up session, he sort of…reared back. His eyes went all wide, blinking-blinking-blinking, and colour crept up his cheeks as he put his hand to his mouth. It was cute, but more than that it showed just how young he was. That perhaps my age didn't matter, but his did. I had buried that realisation back then, under the rhythm of my own beating heart. This time though, obviously, I couldn't. Not when so clearly I could see that what I had done was not spin a fun little fantasy that we could have enjoyed and treasured.

No, Lowen, that's not what I did at all. Instead, what I had done was damage him. I'd damaged him, and when I realised it, that day, my mind scrambled for things to say. 'Sorry' wasn't going to cut it, nothing like that would cut it. In the end, what I asked him was this:

"Would you like to forget?"

I'm no rune-caster, but we all knew the different thought runes and protection runes, and I remembered the combination needed for forgetting. I remember thinking of you when I told Louie that I could do that for him, that I could make him forget our time together, that it'd make his memory of our more appropriate interactions hazy too, but that it wouldn't hurt anymore. He'd be able to continue on as if nothing had ever happened. Maybe, he'd be happy.

He was reluctant at first, but then he nodded. Wiped his tears and stood even straighter (if such a thing was possible) and then told me that yes, he would prefer that. I wanted to hug him at that, again, but I didn't. I think he wanted the same, but he didn't reach out, either. I told him that the rune would work as he slept that evening, and that the next morning it would be as if it never happened. I promised it, and I kept my promise, and sure enough, the next day when he arrived for my class he simply said "morning, Prof" and continued on, barely giving me a sideways glance.

He looked free and happy. Now that he no longer had the memories, I could see the difference in him. He looked….smoothed out, somehow. Freer. His posture was completely relaxed, he was casual, didn't even take in a breath if I walked past him while checking another kid's work. I'd done the right thing. Even as I felt my own heart break, I knew for sure then that I had done the right thing in making him forget.

I know it didn't really undo any of it, not really. But, Lowen, do you think that was the right thing? Oh, I wish I could ask you.

-Cinn

…

Dear Lowen,

Once the school year had ended, once Louie had left, I went straight to Cher. I knew that it wasn't enough to make Louie forget, that it could easily happen again. Just the strength of feeling from various little tokens and handmade cards that I'd stashed in my room on the way to the office told me that I hadn'tchanged. I wanted to be punished, I suppose. I've spent all these letters lamenting, and yet, I do know. I have said, I do know I was wrong, and I deserve this, really, the weight of it all. I think you'd agree that at the very least I've been terrible.

But anyway, yeah, I basically burst into the office, intending to tell them both if they were there, but it was only Cher who was there, so I just told him. Rambled the whole situation in a garbled mess in his doorway until he made me sit down and go through it, step by step.

Who was the student? When did it start? How far did the relationship go, physically? (Kisses, hugs, hand holding, nothing more than that, by the way. That restraint is nothing to be proud of, but all the same, I did make sure to not cross that line)Who started it? Who ended it? Was it serious? Why?

It was the last question that was the hardest of all, really. Answering that felt like I was peeling off my skin in chunks, but I answered it. All the things I've said in my letters to you, I tried to articulate to Cher. I told him I didn't want to do anything like this again, and that I wanted to be punished for it.

He did not punish me, not really. I could tell he was disgusted, because who wouldn't be, but he suspended my teaching duties for a term for having cast a forgetting rune on Louie without consulting him or Hades, and then put the rules into place I mentioned before. Officially, that suspension was due to 'sickness' but the truth snaked its way through the cracks in that story anyway. I didn't make any efforts to hide it, anyway. And when I did go back to teaching, I distanced myself.

Oh, the dramatic, honeyed persona is still there. I still charm the students into liking me, because that's still my best weapon. Sometimes they still give me gifts, especially at the end of the year or when they're leaving the way they would for any other teacher. I keep them all, still. I know that listening to students is still an important part of being a teacher and I do that, just not as strategically, and I don't encourage them to confide as personally as I did before. The only things I tell them to love are the skills and knowledge they'll learn in my classroom, and the things they produce from their own efforts. On the outside, I suppose I'm still the same.

But inside is different. Inside, I've withdrawn myself, completely. From the others, too. I still want to be loved, but I'm no longer trying to make that happen. Shippa keeps me in the loop and sometimes drags me to socialise, Snow makes me extra baked goods, and Cher keeps a particular eye on me. It's been a good few decades since Lowen left, by the way. More than that, even. But, yeah, this is life, and it's…fine, I guess. Not like I have the right to complain, really, huh?

Well, I'm not sure what else there is to say. Soon, it'll be the third centenary-three hundred years, since we started this school. That is pretty amazing, is it not? It'll be another Magic Games year too and I have to say I am looking forward to getting to judge those too. My life is not all misery but nonetheless, I am weighed down. Still, I'll get used to it. I will learn to live with it, because there is no easy forgetting.

I probably won't write again to you, Lowen. That doesn't mean you won't be remembered, but I'm done telling this story and well, that's why I started writing to you in the first place. I hope you'll forgive me for that though, and for everything.

Bye for now, my friend. I miss you.

Love,

Cinnabuns

It was certainly a challenge, writing about what is an inappropriate relationship involving abuses of power from the viewpoint of the person being the inappropriate one, even if they are remorseful and even if it's not described graphically. I've tried to strike a balance between making it clear such things are unacceptable, but also allowing you all to feel sympathy for the base emotions underneath it all. Not what was done with those emotions, but the fact they existed in the first place and that they were painful things to endure. I can only hope that I've done it right.