「Lunch – 12:09 PM」
The cafeteria corridor looked like a battlefield.
Students sprinted at full speed, bags swinging, trays clattering. Every few seconds someone would crash into someone else—then immediately start yelling as if they were the victim.
The air was filled with overlapping complaints, accusations, and language creative enough to make a veteran mechanic proud.
Honestly, if survival instincts were graded, this school would have a 100% pass rate.
I joined the flow, secured my food, and ate like a man who had already accepted the meaninglessness of life.
Five minutes later, the tray was empty.
Mission complete.
Next destination: the teachers' office.
The main office had a terrible reputation among students.
According to rumors, it was a gloomy, oppressive place where hope went to die.
Personally, I didn't believe it.
Any office that had a pool table and gaming consoles couldn't be that depressing.
Of course, that was from a student's perspective.
For teachers… I had my doubts.
I knocked twice.
"Come in, Sebastian," came the immediate reply.
I stepped inside.
"Afternoon, Teach."
His eyebrows rose.
He didn't look up from the papers.
"I believe I deserve a more respectful greeting, Mr. Sebastian."
Ah. One of those days.
"Good afternoon, Lord Venyer," I said, adding a slight bow with maximum humility.
"I don't like your tone, Mr. Sebastian. Sit."
I sat.
"Do you know the reason for this meeting?"
"Not really," I said. "Punishment?"
His eyebrows rose again.
That seemed to be his primary emotional expression. At this point, I was starting to wonder if the rest of his face was optional.
"Punishment?" he repeated.
"This is not a punishment. Frankly, I see little value in punishing students when a far more painful, self-inflicted consequence is already waiting for them in the future."
I blinked.
That was… brutally honest.
"No," he continued. "I called you here to discuss your future pathways and to understand your current plans. I hope that's acceptable."
"I assume I can't say no?" I asked.
He finally looked up.
I sighed.
"Yes, as you wish."
"Your results are poor," he began."Do you understand the level of difficulty required to enter higher education?"
I didn't respond.
Mostly because I was currently thinking about the movie I planned to watch that evening.
He continued anyway.
"The scoring tiers are structured as follows. Nine hundred eighty to one thousand for top institutions. Nine hundred to nine hundred eighty for second tier. Then each lower tier drops by one hundred points. Six tiers total, with five hundred being the minimum for the lowest."
He paused.
"Anything below that is generally considered an inefficient use of financial resources. Most individuals at that level pursue military or police recruitment. However, even those options now require a minimum score of five hundred, and competition remains strong."
Then he looked directly at me.
"Your score is three hundred and fifty-three."
Pause.
"What do you think about that?"
I looked up.
"Pardon?"
He sighed.
"Mr. Sebastian, the words I would expect are appalling or awful."
I thought for a moment.
"I'm leaning toward… unique."
A pause.
"Yes," I added helpfully. "Unique feels accurate."
His expression didn't change.
"Joke while you can. Reality will become considerably less humorous in the near future."
That sounded threatening.
"There are currently two realistic pathways available to you," he continued. "Unless you have alternatives?"
"Not really."
For a moment, his expression shifted.
Hope.
Then disappointment.
Then something that looked very close to This poor boy is finished.
"Well, Sebastian," he said after a pause."The two options are military service or an apprenticeship. Both will require additional academic improvement."
"Sir—"
"It's not excessive," he continued, cutting me off. "I have already arranged assistance. Your prefect will provide academic coaching."
Of course.
Margaret.
This was personal.
"Yes, I am aware you have… interpersonal difficulties," he added. "However, this is the most efficient way to raise your score to the minimum threshold of five hundred."
His expression brightened slightly.
Probably calculating improved class performance. Possibly also his salary.
"And," he continued, "as a graduating student of this institution, you would then qualify for guaranteed placement."
He paused, then added:
"Alternatively, you may focus on Computer Science and Advanced Engineering. These appear to be your stronger subjects. If you achieve eighty percent or higher in both, you would likely qualify for a technical apprenticeship."
"Sir—"
"You may leave."
I opened my mouth.
He picked up the remote.
The television switched on.
Volume: high.
Conversation: over.
"This guy…" I muttered.
Then I stopped.
Something on the screen caught my attention.
「TV News Broadcast」
"We bring you breaking news from the Uptown District, Ivory Heights, where a disturbing and highly unusual incident has occurred.
Authorities have confirmed the death of Mr. Isaac Elcore — a respected philosopher, educator, and widely published intellectual — whose body was discovered earlier this morning under mysterious circumstances."
The image shifted to a large residence.
"Mr. Elcore, known for his work on human consciousness and existential philosophy, was found deceased at approximately 6:15 AM at his residence on Halbridge Avenue.
Sources close to the investigation have described the scene as 'ritualistic' in nature."
The word lingered.
Ritualistic.
That wasn't something you heard every day.
"The primary suspect has been identified as Ledger Finch, Mr. Elcore's long-time manservant of two years.
Further investigation has revealed that Finch was previously linked to multiple fraud and scam reports.
Authorities also discovered a second body at the scene — currently unidentified, but believed to be one of two accomplices involved. The individual was initially described as a 'shamanic practitioner.'"
The camera cut to a police briefing.
Detective Inspector Ravenshall spoke calmly.
"We have reason to believe Mr. Finch did not act alone. Evidence suggests at least two accomplices were involved prior to the victim's death.
However, it appears that following the incident, Mr. Finch eliminated one of his own associates."
The reporter's voice returned.
"The method has been described by forensic teams as deliberate, calculated, and exceptionally brutal."
"Mr. Finch is currently being held under secure observation. Despite substantial evidence, he maintains that he is not responsible, claiming instead that the actions were carried out by what he described as a 'possessing entity' — or a transcendental spirit."
A pause.
"The investigation remains ongoing."
"This is Mary Tasuh, reporting live from Uptown."
The screen went dark.
"You may leave now, Sebastian," Mr. Venyer repeated.
His eyes were still on the television.
And, as expected—
His eyebrow was raised.
I nodded.
For a moment, I had completely forgotten what I'd originally wanted to argue about.
Then I turned and left the office.