objects in session: 11.0

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A bewildering consciousness, not a gentle awakening, pulled a girl from slumber. No familiar light or scent, no cheerful alarm to rouse her, just abrupt awareness in an utterly alien place. Sterile, alabaster walls encompassed her. A ubiquitous fluorescent light emitted a relentless, low thrum, as if whispering clandestine secrets. Smooth, cool marble stretched underfoot, reflecting the distant, unreachable ceiling.

Amidst this austere expanse stood Mochi, a delightful confection of a girl, with a plump, pleasing softness. She clasped her arms tightly, a tiny, self-made cocoon, wishing to coalesce into her own sweet, sugary core.

Her wide, innocent eyes fluttered open, struggling to recalibrate. With hesitant steps, she traversed the deserted corridors of this unfamiliar institution, her gaze drawn to a prominent looking-glass on the right wall. The mirror, of considerable stature, presented her reflection. Mochi's porcelain complexion was framed by shoulder-length, bubblegum-pink hair, styled with demure hime-cut bangs. Her luminous, slightly downturned eyes, fringed with abundant lashes, lent an air of perpetual innocence. She wore the official uniform of this perplexing academy, cut to accommodate her pleasingly rounded figure. A silent gasp escaped her.

Before a single, questioning syllable escaped her lips, a peculiar sound permeated the silence: a disembodied, saccharine voice, punctuated by faint static, declared cheerily, "New arrival, please report to the principal's office! You cannot miss it! Just adhere to the intriguing red arrows on the ground. Thank you kindly! ♥︎"

As if conjured by her unspoken thought, vivid, neon-crimson arrows instantaneously materialized on the polished floor. They were undeniably ominous, unfurling in a bold, zigzagging pattern, almost taunting her to stray.

With a hesitant gulp, Mochi trailed behind, her curiosity outweighing her lingering confusion.

The Principal's "office" wasn't merely a room; it was a breathtaking, glass-paneled sanctum, a crystal aerie perched precariously at the zenith of a spiraling staircase that seemed to dissolve into nothingness below. Literally nowhere - a misstep would send you plummeting into a shimmering abyss of data fog, a swirling nebula of lost numbers that blinked like static snow on a forgotten screen.

At the sanctum's heart stood two extraordinary figures: one, a towering, impassive monolith, as stark and rectangular as his very name - Mr. Whiteboard. He sported an impeccably tailored suit, its pockets neatly organized with a spectrum of color-coded markers, but beneath his perpetually weary gaze, faint, purple smudges hinted at countless sleepless nights. His face remained a perfectly blank canvas, devoid of all expression. Opposite him, a whirlwind of joyful chaos, Ms. Highlighter practically effervesced with energy, clutching a vibrant smoothie in one hand and a bouquet of five pens in the other. Her eyelashes, like miniature neon bolts, crackled with electric energy, perfectly complementing her long, oblong glasses with their peculiar yellowish-blue tinted lenses. A dazzling crown of neon yellow hair framed her face, vibrant as a cartoon lightning strike. Both wore their formal attire with an almost ceremonial gravity, and each sported a simple band on their ring finger.

"Ah, Mochi," Mr. Whiteboard intoned, his voice a drone as flat and unyielding as the horizon of a sad spreadsheet. "You are approximately... ninety-seven seconds late. However, given your visibly dazed state, I shall generously round down and grant you a second. Consider it a benevolent gesture."

"She's sooooo absolutely adorable!! Just look at her precious little faaaace!~ Are you seeing this, Whitey, are you truly seeing this?!" Ms. Highlighter squealed, nearly flinging her smoothie across the shimmering room as she twirled in her chair, her entire being radiating a warm, yellow glow with every effervescent syllable. "We never get ones this enchanting anymore! The last one looked like a crusty, forgotten rag!"