Chapter Text
Glinda sat at her workstation, sipping coffee delicately.
“So, what’s next, going to confess your feelings to her?” A light whistle cut through the air, and Glinda choked, coughing uncontrollably.
“What?!” she shrieked, looking around nervously. “Fiyero, are you still drunk?”
Fiyero leaned over the cubicle partition, wiggling his eyebrows at her, and drawled, “Don’t change the subject. We all saw it…”
Glinda took another sip of coffee, this time to hide her flustered expression.
As if to confirm Fiyero’s words, Boq, from the back row, interjected, “Saw what? Glinda and Elphaba kissing?”
Her face immediately flushed crimson. She stammered, “What’s wrong with that?! The project’s finally wrapped up, we all got a bit tipsy, and celebrating together is just natural.”
“Mmm-hmm, kissing your good friend is such a perfectly normal way to celebrate,” Fiyero said, blowing a kiss to Boq, who rolled his eyes in exasperation. “That’s not gay at all.”
“Fiyero,” Glinda snapped, feigning anger. “Stop messing around.”
“She’s going back to the History Department soon,” Fiyero said, nodding towards the desk to Glinda’s right. “She’s packing up her stuff today and could show up any time. Are you just going to do nothing?”
“I…” Glinda looked at the photo on her desk, speechless. Memories flooded back, taking her to a time five months ago.
＊＊＊
“Why would we need someone from the History Department?” Glinda fumed, packing up her things. She had been promised a private workstation – she was the top student in her architecture cohort, having scored high marks to get into Shiz University, and was familiar with every step of surveying, drafting, modeling, and writing. Her advisor, Professor Raven, had promised her a private desk before the semester even began, so she wouldn't have to share. Now, an uninvited neighbor was about to arrive, and she had to move her mountain of blueprints, notes, and drafting tools elsewhere. “We could clearly handle everything ourselves,” she muttered.
“Because Headmistress Morrible wants to promote interdisciplinary cooperation,” Fiyero said, leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed on the desk, lazily chewing an apple. “Besides, our newly discovered Emerald Palace ruins have lots of inscriptions, and we need a professional.”
“We are the professionals, Fiyero!” Glinda scoffed disdainfully, then quickly added, “Damn teaching reforms.”
Fiyero shrugged. “Don’t be like that. Maybe she’s interesting.”
“‘Interesting’ and ‘history’ don’t belong in the same sentence. History is boring, dull, and I bet history students don’t appreciate ancient architecture; they only care about historical data, facts, and the like…” Noticing Fiyero’s unusual quietness, Glinda turned to look, only to find him staring intently at the doorway. Glinda followed his gaze and immediately understood why he was so silent.
A tall girl stood at the door. She wore thick glasses, and her black hair was styled in a braid that hung by her side. She was dressed in a dark navy blue Shiz school uniform (Shiz University was known for its freedom and openness, allowing students to customize their uniforms, but Glinda could guarantee this was the most old-fashioned, dreary uniform design she had ever seen, as if it came from a magazine from the last century!). In her hand was a letter. “Is this Room B203?” She knocked three times on the door. (In fact, the door was open, so why bother knocking? And the room number was clearly marked B203! Glinda was already starting to dislike her.)
The most striking feature was that she was green. Every inch of her exposed skin shimmered with a green glow.
“Wow, she’s really, really… emerald,” Glinda whispered. Fiyero in the back couldn't help but burst into laughter.
—That was the first day she met Elphaba.
＊＊＊
Glinda really, really disliked her green new deskmate.
After countless tugs-of-war, arguments, and negotiations (in truth, only half an hour had passed since the green girl arrived in B203, but Glinda felt like it had been a lifetime), a clear "demilitarized zone" was finally drawn between her and Elphaba. This meant Glinda would enjoy the left two-thirds of the space, while Elphaba could freely use the right third.
“You’re welcome, it’s what a good deskmate should do,” Glinda said in an overly sweet, deliberate voice, as she used a roll of shiny fluorescent tape to mark the boundary between their seats on the table. Elphaba leaned against the back partition, her face tense, glaring at her with folded arms.
Before Glinda could even snip the tape, Elphaba slammed her single-shoulder bag onto the desk with a thump and sat down beside her without ceremony.
How rude. Glinda gasped, looking at her in disbelief, but Elphaba was completely unfazed, already pulling out her notebook and manuscript paper from her bag.
Glinda snipped the tape with a snip, then pressed down along the taped line again to make sure it was firmly secured. After that, she immediately pulled out a stack of papers herself – she couldn't let the green bean get ahead of her.
Fiyero’s leg tapping, Boq’s typing, the hum of the fan, and the chirping of birds outside quickly became a blurry background sound. Glinda always found it easy to immerse herself in her studies, “very focused,” her advisor always praised her.
Until—
Her elbow was sharply bumped.
The bubble Glinda had built shattered. The surrounding clamor rushed into her ears all at once, and the inspiration she had just grasped slipped away like sand through her fingers.
Glinda slammed down her pen, glaring furiously at the green girl beside her. Even sitting down, she was slightly taller than Glinda, who had to tilt her head back slightly to glare better, which undoubtedly weakened her intimidation.
Elphaba glanced at her, and one word slowly drifted from her dark green lips: “Sorry.” Although, her bland expression didn’t look apologetic at all.
Glinda turned to glare at the culprit—Elphaba’s left arm.
Undoubtedly, she was left-handed.
Oz must be playing a joke on her.
It was too late to switch places now. Besides, adjusting would likely lead to another round of desk disputes. Glinda suppressed her dissatisfaction, slightly retracted her arm, and continued writing her report. She needed to complete preliminary research before the field trip, and she always finished tasks early. She couldn't let this minor setback disrupt her.
But it didn't help at all.
They bumped into each other every few words. Glinda would turn her head and glare fiercely at her deskmate to the right, who never looked up, only raised an eyebrow, showing an expression of "what can you do?" and continued writing.
She certainly hadn't crossed the line, leaving Glinda no leverage, but her elbow tip danced a dangerous jig above the line, provocatively.
Glinda bit her lower lip. She had a lot to say about this but couldn't pinpoint it like a sulking child. So, she could only continue to stew, occasionally buzzing like a boiling teapot.
Elphaba cast a strange glance at her.
Glinda had never been looked at like that before—with such a scrutinizing gaze, as if there was something wrong with her. Her cheeks suddenly burned hot. She felt breathless, dizzy, gasping as if she’d chugged a whole bottle of wine.
Elphaba continued to stare at her, thoughtfully.
Glinda abruptly stood up. She needed fresh air, not to breathe the same air as a green creature.
Glinda staggered through the hallway and collapsed onto the terrace, feeling utterly weak.
Her life had gone downhill overnight. It was as if Oz thought her perfect life needed a little turbulence and sent this green devil to oppose her.
She fanned herself with her hands, trying to dispel the heat from her face.
She admitted she could be quite dramatic sometimes, but not like this—so nervous, angry, vulnerable, even… emotional?
Oz, what was happening to her?
＊＊＊
The next day, something dreadful happened.
At 8:30 AM, when Glinda pushed open the study room door, her green deskmate was already seated. Her side of the desk was now piled high with materials: Emerald Palace Ruins, Architectural Studies of the Wizard Era, Ancient Palace Research of the Land of Oz—all books Glinda had read before.
On her desk was a black teacup (who uses black teacups except punks? Glinda shivered), and the tea was almost gone. It seemed the green bean had been there for a while.
Glinda couldn't help but reflect on whether she had spent too much time on her hair or skincare, but she was sure her routine was as usual.
And before this, Glinda had always been the first to arrive at the study room, a fact she took great pride in, but now her "earliest" status was gone.
Elphaba seemed to have control of everything. Elphaba, the woman casually flipping through documents at her desk, so composed, as if she were the true owner of the seat. Elphaba, no matter what she was studying before, was now steadily surpassing her right under her nose.
This filled her with an overwhelming sense of crisis.
＊＊＊
As if fate intended to play a trick, another day, when Glinda arrived at her advisor’s office with her completed preliminary research report, she witnessed an unbelievable scene:
Her advisor, notoriously distant, was actually nodding and smiling repeatedly during a conversation with Elphaba! Even Glinda, as excellent as she was, could only coax a smile or two out of her, but nodding and smiling? This was truly too much!
Glinda gripped the file folder in her arms tightly; it squeaked under the pressure.
“You know she won’t be here long, right? She’ll only stay until the project concludes.” Fiyero appeared silently behind her. Glinda flinched, definitely not startled.
“Until the project concludes,” Glinda heard herself pant.
Fiyero nodded, giving her a worried look. “…And you look like you’re about to eat her, or, you know, assassinate her.”
“No, I won’t,” Glinda squeezed out a smile, “…until the project concludes.” She repeated it again.
＊＊＊
"Until the project concludes" felt far too distant for the increasingly tense situation.
Because Glinda simply couldn’t stand Elphaba. Every one of Elphaba’s habits and mannerisms was the polar opposite of hers: Glinda was always sunny, cheerful, and vibrant; Elphaba was taciturn and always wore dark clothes. Glinda liked to pull open the curtains, letting sunlight flood her desk; Elphaba hated sunlight, claiming it was "bad for her eyes"—they would tug at the curtains, neither willing to yield. Glinda preferred rich coffee, with milk and sugar; Elphaba drank a bitter tea every day, making the entire study room smell like an ascetic monk's meditation temple.
The two boys had grown accustomed to their daily squabbles. Boq wore earplugs, seemingly unaffected. Fiyero, always one to enjoy a good spectacle, had somehow acquired sunflower seeds, and every time Glinda and Elphaba argued over trivial matters, the crunch-crunch sound would punctually emanate from the back row. Glinda was sure that if it weren’t for the partition, she would definitely have given Fiyero a beating as well.
She truly hated this deskmate. Although the pervasive sense of annoyance would slowly dissipate when she didn’t have to see the green bean, the hatred deep inside her was slowly taking root. Undoubtedly, it would last a lifetime.
＊＊＊
“What exactly does she study?”
One day, after Elphaba left the room with a stack of read books, Glinda leaned over to Fiyero and quietly asked.
“History, I thought you knew that,” Fiyero said, biting his pen. Clearly, the book report assigned by their advisor was giving him a lot of trouble.
“I know, but more specifically? You seem to get along pretty well with her.”
“That’s because I didn’t try to intimidate her on her first day,” Fiyero said, giving her a reproachful look. Glinda glared back. He sighed, slowly saying, “Something about images and inscriptions, I think. She’ll be cooperating with our work.”
“Cooperating?” Glinda scoffed. “Doesn’t sound like something she’d do.”
“She will. She’s even going to write a research report with us. Her advisor specifically chose her.”
“Advisor!” Glinda exclaimed. “I thought she had the same advisor as us, that Professor Raven liked her so much.”
“Are you jealous?” Fiyero put down his pen, smiling somewhat smugly.
Glinda stammered, “Je-jealous? Why would I be jealous?”
Fiyero gave her a meaningful look, not dwelling on the topic, and instead said, “You know, she’s Doctor Dillamond’s star student.”
“What?!” Glinda gasped. “That Doctor Dillamond?”
Fiyero nodded. “Yes, the honorary Headmaster of Shiz, former Head of the History Department, Doctor Dillamond, who has dual degrees in History and Anthropology.”
Doctor Dillamond’s titles weren't important—at least, to Glinda, titles meant nothing. What she knew was that Doctor Dillamond was a survivor from the late period of Wizard rule, one of the few animals who survived the tyrannical reign of the Wizard. He had spent his entire life advocating for the victims, even though he was nearing a hundred years old.
When she was still an undergraduate, Glinda had heard his speech. Doctor Dillamond was a spry old goat with a pair of weathered, wise eyes. Whenever he spoke of painful topics, he would raise his hooves high, as if swearing he wouldn’t fall—a spirit Glinda genuinely admired.
After the speech, Glinda—then still called “Galinda”—stayed behind. She didn't even know what she was going to do; she was just deeply moved by the lecture.
Galinda stood not far away, watching people take photos with him and ask for his autograph, but she knew this old goat could do much more than that.
The crowd gradually dispersed. Galinda took a deep breath and walked forward, clutching her notebook. “Excuse me, Doctor Dillamond?”
“Oh, child.” Doctor Dillamond pressed his hoof into the inkpad. “Do you want an autograph too?”
“No, not exactly…” Galinda hesitated. “I’m very interested in one of the topics from your speech.”
The goat nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
Galinda swallowed. “…You mentioned in your speech that when the Wizard established his tyrannical rule, he began grand construction projects, and at that time, the so-called ‘lower citizens’—the animals—became the primary cheap labor force across all industries.”
“Yes, that was truly a dark period. Animals worked beyond their capacity every day, yet still starved.”
“Right, that’s just awful.” Glinda shook her head, dispelling the terrible images in her mind. “So, when people finally overthrew the Wizard’s rule, they stormed the Emerald Palace—the magnificent palace where the Wizard resided. The angry crowds burned it, destroyed it, razed it to the ground. Now, very few Wizard-era buildings remain.”
“Precisely. Are you an architecture student?”
“My major is management, Professor,” Glinda forced a smile. “Architecture… is just a personal hobby of mine.”
“Oh, child, you have quite a talent for this hobby,” Doctor Dillamond nodded. “Have you ever considered pursuing research in this area?”
Glinda froze for a moment, then quickly masked it with a string of smiles. “Thank you! You flatter me. Returning to the previous question… I’m curious about your opinion on this: Should we destroy the palaces of cruel rulers because they were built with the blood and toil of innocent people? Or should we preserve them as a warning for future generations?”
“That’s a very interesting question,” Doctor Dillamond mused. “I’d like to hear your perspective first, Miss…?”
“Galinda.”
“Gl…inda,” Doctor Dillamond struggled to say. “My apologies, I seem unable to pronounce that.”
Galinda smiled nervously. “No, it’s fine. In fact, ‘Glinda’ sounds quite nice too.”
She silently made a mental note of this new name, then said earnestly, “My view is that we should preserve them. Even if they were built under the Wizard’s instruction, animals poured their hearts and even their lives into them.” She paused, her mind racing. “During the Wizard’s reign, countless Ozma-era buildings were torn down. If we now go and destroy Wizard-era buildings, aren’t we just repeating the same mistakes?”
“You are very right, Miss Gl…inda. Violence begetting violence is always ill-advised. Otherwise, how would we be any different from the Wizard?” Doctor Dillamond looked at her with approval. “I think, if you apply yourself, this would make an excellent thesis topic.” Doctor Dillamond gently patted her lower leg with his hoof.
“Oh! Okay, Professor,” Galinda held her breath. “Your lecture has been incredibly insightful. Thank you so much.”
Glinda slowly came back from her thoughts. “But isn’t it retired already? I never knew it still took students…”
“Elphaba is its last disciple. It made an exception for her,” Fiyero said, making Glinda almost lose her footing. She leaned dizzy against the back of her chair. “I guess that means she’s at least the best in this year’s history department, so, for Doctor Dillamond’s sake… be a bit nicer to her?”
“Hmm… okay.” Fiyero looked at her, clearly surprised by her quick agreement.
Glinda took a deep breath and stated solemnly, “I will. For Doctor Dillamond.”