The flickering images on the wall shifted again, this time revealing a bizarre and unexpectedly amusing scene.
The shadows dissolved into a chaotic mess of a student's record, which looked like a comedic parody of the previous dark tale.
This time, the scene was set in a brightly colored, cartoonish landscape.
A clumsy demon, with exaggerated horns that wobbled as he stumbled, was trying to cast a spell but kept tripping over his own tail.
Every time he attempted to do something impressive, he ended up falling flat on his face, knocking over a pile of enchanted books.
The voice of the student, muffled and exaggerated, boomed in a mock-serious tone:
"Behold! The mighty demon—master of chaos and comedy!"
Suddenly, the demon slipped on a banana peel—an absurd addition that made the entire class burst into laughter.
The demon, with a big goofy grin, tried to stand up but kept slipping and sliding, leaving a trail of sparkles and giggles behind him.
Mrs. Kurohana's voice echoed softly as she explained, her tone almost amused "Sometimes, even the most terrifying beings have their silly moments. This record is a reminder that chaos isn't always about destruction—sometimes it's about chaos in the form of comic relief. Even demons can have a sense of humor… or at least, that's what this student wanted to show."
Tsuramo crossed his arms, a sly smirk on his face. "Well, I gotta admit… that demon's got style. If I ever meet a clown demon, I'd take that over some dark, brooding monster any day."
Masakiro chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess even monsters need to have fun sometimes. Still… I wouldn't want to be around when that demon falls on my head."
Luna, eyes now black and shimmering faintly in amusement, said flatly "Humor is just a distraction. But… I have to admit, that demon's antics are kinda funny. Not my style, but entertaining."
Virelia, with her hair glowing faintly with an iridescent shimmer, burst into a laugh. Her voice was light and musical, echoing softly in the room "Oh, that was hilarious! I love how he kept slipping—like a slapstick comedy! Maybe chaos isn't always so serious after all."
Other students chimed in with their comments
A tall, muscular student grinned and said, "That's the kind of chaos I can get behind. If demons are this funny, maybe I'd prefer fighting a clown than a nightmare."
Another student, nervously giggling, added, "I dunno… I'd probably just fall over if I tried to do that. That demon's got moves… even if they're all clumsy ones."
A quiet girl with glasses looked at the scene thoughtfully and said, "Maybe chaos can be lighthearted. It's good to remember not everything is about destruction."
Mrs. Kurohana clasped her hands together, a gentle smile playing on her lips, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Even chaos has its moments of levity," she said softly. "Remember, sometimes the most unpredictable beings can surprise us—by being funny, kind, or even foolish. It's all part of understanding the true nature of strength."
The scene faded into a more peaceful image as the class absorbed the lesson in chaos and humor.
The mood in the room had lightened, students exchanging glances of amusement and curiosity.
Masakiro looked at the others, a faint smile breaking through his initial shock. "Well, I guess even monsters have their funny sides," he muttered, more relaxed now.
Virelia's hair shimmered brighter as she giggled softly. "Chaos is chaos, but it's good to have a laugh sometimes, don't you think?"
And so, the lesson continued—an exploration of darkness, chaos, and humor, all wrapped into one strange, unforgettable day.
The screen flickered again, and this time, the images shifted to a different scene—one filled with sadness.
The student's face appeared on the wall, but this time, his expression was pained, his eyes glistening with tears.
As he spoke, the memories played out behind him, flickering like old film footage.
The images showed a young boy playing happily with a close friend. They were laughing, sharing secrets, and enjoying each other's company.
But then, the scene changed—suddenly darker.
The friend was no longer there, and the boy looked lost, calling out for someone who was gone.
The room grew quiet, the students watching in solemn silence.
Some began to wipe tears from their cheeks, others just stared, caught up in the weight of the memories.
Luna and Tsuramo sat still, their expressions more serious than before. They understood that these memories were painful but important.
The sadness in the scene was real—an honest reflection of loss and longing.
Mrs. Kurohana's gentle voice broke the silence "This is a different kind of memory—the kind that makes our hearts ache. The boy is remembering someone he loved deeply—his friend who has gone. These memories are beautiful but also painful because they remind us of what we've lost."
She paused, her eyes soft with empathy.
"Crying when we see such memories is natural. It's our hearts responding to the love and pain we carry inside. These tears show how much someone meant to us, and how deeply we feel their absence. Remember, even in sadness, there is a kind of strength—because it means we truly cared."
The students listened, some nodding through their tears, others simply feeling the weight of the moment.
Mrs. Kurohana's words helped them understand that grief is part of being a demon is natural too—and that sharing these feelings makes us stronger.
As the scene faded, the room remained quiet, but the air was lighter.
As the class finally ended, the room dissolved into noise.
Some demons stretched lazily across their desks, others chatted in clusters, a few already half-asleep with their heads tilted back. Chaos, as usual—but comfortable chaos.
Masakiro stayed where he was.
Head lowered. Shoulders slumped. Quiet.
The lesson replayed itself in his mind—danger, confusion, laughter, fear—and somewhere between all of it, a familiar thought surfaced again.
I'm not like Tsuramo.
A shadow fell over his desk.
Masakiro didn't look up.
"Are you planning to rot there," Tsuramo said calmly, arms crossed, "or are you coming with me?"
Masakiro groaned and lifted his head just enough to glare."Leave me alone, bro… go… go…" He waved his hand weakly, like he was swatting an invisible insect.
Tsuramo didn't even blink.
"I wasn't asking," he said flatly. Then he reached down, grabbed Masakiro by the collar, and hauled him upright. "You're coming."
"HEY—!" Masakiro flailed immediately, feet barely touching the ground. "Let me go! I'm tired! Tsuramo! Tsuramoooo!"
His voice cracked halfway through, high and pitiful, like a very offended kitten.
Tsuramo sighed."Aishh… scaredy-cat."
He dragged Masakiro toward the front of the classroom without effort. "We're just picking up your eyeball. Relax."
"I DON'T LIKE HOW YOU SAY THAT—"
They stopped at the front desk.
Virelia stood there, hands resting lightly on the table. Her golden hair caught the fading classroom light, shimmering softly as she smiled with her eyes closed.
"Oh! Masakiro, Tsuramo," she greeted warmly. "Nice to see you again. You're here for your eyeballs, right?"
Masakiro immediately straightened, posture snapping into place. His cheeks flushed pink as he forced a polite smile.
"Y–Yes," he said quietly. Too quietly.
Tsuramo nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
Virelia reached down and handed them each a small object.
Masakiro's was simple and round—dark, glossy, harmless-looking.
Tsuramo's, however, was… unsettling.
Black and red veins swirled across its surface. The iris was jet-black, the pupil glowing faintly crimson, like a living lens. It blinked once—slowly.
Masakiro recoiled.
"…That thing is gonna record everything, isn't it?" he whispered.
Tsuramo examined his calmly. "Looks like it."
Masakiro swallowed. "…Everything?"
Virelia giggled softly. "Oh yes. Even in the bathroom."
Masakiro froze.
"…Bathroom?"
She nodded sweetly. "It follows you everywhere. But don't worry—only observing, not judging."
Masakiro let out a strangled noise somewhere between a gasp and a whine. His face turned bright red.
Tsuramo bowed slightly. "Thank you very much."
Masakiro stared at the eyeball in his hands like it might betray him at any second.
"…I want to disappear," he muttered.
Tsuramo smirked.