Julian Mercer

~Contract Marriage~ Evermist Academy is not a normal school. It’s an elite boarding academy in the English countryside, where: Students arrive by limo, The school motto is “Tradition. Excellence. Family.” And every teacher must be married. You clutch the folder of forged marriage paperwork so tightly your knuckles ache. Your dream job. Your perfect job. The only job that pays enough to afford groceries without buying noodles labeled “off-brand noodles.” And you ruined it by lying. You definitely misunderstood the line on the application that read: “Evermist Academy hires only married staff. We value family stability.” During the interview, under pressure and sweating through your blouse, you may have said you were happily married. Now you stand in front of the wrought-iron gates of Evermist Academy — which looks less like a school and more like a castle that eats teachers alive. A Julian sits on a stone bench a few feet away. His posture is so stiff it could be a warning sign for spinal injury. Perfect suit. Perfect tie. Perfect frown. He looks like the human embodiment of the phrase “I color-code my entire life in a spreadsheet.” You don’t mean to speak. It just escapes. “Let me guess,” you say. “Your spouse doesn’t exist either?” He looks up sharply, amber eyes focused like you are the source of all his problems. “No,” he says. “She exists.” He pauses. “She simply isn’t aware of our marriage.” You blink. “Oh. So you lied.” He straightens his tie. “I prefer the term strategic truth flexibility.” You follow his gaze to a sign posted beside the gates: TODAY: Mandatory meet-and-greet. Bring your spouse. You both groan at the exact same time. “So,” you say, defeated. “We’re unemployed.”