After Teacher Suncrest's class, the children went to report to their assigned tasks.

  Jean ran through the halls, his small legs carrying him swiftly back to the mess hall. But he didn't go to the main hall itself. Instead, he veered toward the back door—the entrance to the kitchen.

  The moment he stepped inside, chaos erupted before his eyes.

  Heat slammed into his face, a complex mixture of smells assaulted his nostrils.

  The air was foggy, unpleasantly, and felt sticky.

  Looking at the scene inside.

  People darted everywhere, some carrying armfuls of ingredients, others lugging heavy pots that looked big enough to fit Jean inside.

  At various stations, cooks were slicing, tasting, and seasoning, their movements a blur of precision and urgency.

  Jean stood frozen, wide-eyed.

  This...

  It wasn't what he expected.

  Each student only worked here for two hours or so before another took their place, according to the schedule.

  But it didn't look like an easy two hours.

  His eyes drifted inside, to the center of the chaotic yet organized scene.

  In the distance, a towering figure loomed. He was green-skinned, tusks protruding from his lower jaw, with rough, pointed ears and long, graying hair.

  Eyes gray with a reddish tint.

  An old orc.

  The orc's booming voice thundered across the kitchen.

  "CAN'T YOU USE A KNIFE PROPERLY?!"

  [Haha, who'd have thought... that guy really became a chef.] Aaron's voice echoed in Jean's mind, amusement lacing his tone. Jean, however, was too stunned to respond, still trying to process the bustling chaos around him.

  Suddenly, the orc's piercing eyes landed on him. With slow, deliberate steps, the massive figure marched forward.

  The kitchen, already stiflingly hot, seemed to grow colder with every step. Jean broke into a cold sweat.

  The orc stood at a couple steb distance, looking down at Jean.

  "Kid," the orc rumbled, his deep voice vibrating the very air. "Are you the new one assigned to the kitchen?"

  Jean, still staring up at him with wide eyes, nodded fast.

  "Do you know how to cook?" The question came sharp and pointed.

  Jean shook his head.

  The orc's gaze narrowed. "Can you use a knife, then?"

  Jean hesitated. His time in the forest flashed in his mind—he'd used a knife plenty there, mostly to cut things he couldn't chew through.

  Tentatively, he nodded.

  A slow, toothy smile spread across the orc's face. It wasn't a reassuring smile—it was the kind predators gave just before pouncing.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Jean shivered involuntarily.

  Without warning, the orc grabbed Jean by the scruff of his collar and hauled him deeper into the kitchen. He was deposited in front of a cutting board, surrounded by many other students frantically chopping vegetables.

  Jean looked down.

  'A knife and... an onion?' They appeared in his hands so suddenly that he didn't even notice how they got there.

  "SHOW ME YOUR KNIFE SKILLS!" the orc bellowed, leaning forward until his tusks were nearly level with Jean's face.

  Panicked, Jean glanced around at the other students. They worked in a frenzy, knives flashing as they chopped with precision. Swallowing hard, he placed the onion on the giant cutting board and began hacking away as fast as he could.

  It took mere seconds before the orc erupted again.

  "DAMMIT, BRAT! NEVER HEARD OF CUTTING AGAINST THE GRAIN? YOU WANT TO RUIN EVERYONE'S TEETH AND WASTE OUR RESOURCES?!"

  Jean froze. 'What's a grain?' he thought frantically.

  All he'd ever done with a knife was chop things in the forest. And that was only because he couldn't bite through them straight away.

  "Teacher Uruk," a voice piped up. Jean turned to see an older student—a human with average height, brown hair and eyes, and an equally unremarkable face.

  "May I explain the process to the newcomer?" He was carrying a giant pot, still steaming hot. The content inside was still bubbling.

  Uruk's sharp gaze shifted to the student. "Brat Olfer, are you challenging my teaching rights?" he growled, baring his teeth.

  "TEACHER, I WOULDN'T DARE!" Olfer yelped, bolting from the room with the speed of a frightened deer—pot and all.

  The orc's attention snapped back to Jean, who stood trembling in place. Uruk leaned in closer, steam almost visibly pouring from his mouth.

  "What... is... your... name?" he asked slowly, each word rumbling like distant thunder.

  "J-JEAN!" he blurted out, barely able to breathe.

  "Brat Jean," Uruk growled. Then, much to Jean's surprise, he began explaining the proper cutting technique, including how to identify the grain in vegetables. Jean nodded repeatedly, doing his best to apply what he had just learned.

  Uruk's grin softened into one of satisfaction. Then, as if on cue, he whipped his head around and barked at another student.

  "DON'T OVERCOOK THE STEW, YOU BRAT! YOU OVERCOOKED IT BY FIVE SECONDS! SHOULD I GRILL YOUR BUTT MEAT FOR FIVE SECONDS?"

  Meanwhile, in the library...

  Mojian had arrived at the library, his element. Unlike Jean, Mojian thrived in the structured environment. The librarian, a blue-haired Oni with a single horn on the center of his forehead, eyes the color of gold.

  He welcomed the children with a light, melodic tone.

  Mojian listened intently to every instruction, his pen flying across the pages as he copied text with precision and speed. His clarity of writing and ability to absorb the material stood out. He was tasked with copying half of a small book but had already completed a second one by the time his shift was nearing its end.

  "Teacher Jin," Mojian said, bowing respectfully, "May this insignificant scholar be enlightened through the wisdom recorded within this heavenly hall of knowledge before leaving? I still have half an hour before my duty ends."

  Jin chuckled. The boy's enthusiasm and passion were rare, and as a teacher, he knew better than to stifle it.

  "Flames need dry wood to keep burning, so does passion..." Jin said.

  "Feel free to read anything on the first floor."

  Delighted, Mojian started darting around the bookshelves...

  In another part of the school...

  Nina and two other children found themselves under the supervision of a disheveled man wielding a broom. His name was Mal, though it was hard to tell if he was a teacher or a wandering beggar.

  Other than his dirty uniform, dust closely clung to his hair and skin.

  Only a pair of average brown eyes were discernable, all his features were full of dust.

  He assigned them to sweep one of the school streets for their two-hour shift.

  Off into the distance, they could see other students tasked with other streets, so they started working readily.

  As for Sia...

  Far to the north, in the fields...

  The northern fields stretched endlessly, brimming with fruits and vegetables. Among the saplings, a serene figure walked—a high elf named Sial. His relaxed demeanor radiated contentment as he tended to the crops.

  After finishing her task, Sia approached him, her tone firm. "Teacher Sial of the High Elves, what exactly are you doing here?"

  Sial's smile deepened. "There is no 'Sial of the High Elves,' only Sial of Badass," he said with a chuckle. "I'm just a war orphan. That title means nothing to me. As for what I'm doing—ever heard of a vacation?"

  Sia bristled, her regal stance stiffening.

  Her tone turned sharp. "Does playing teacher among mixed mongrels and lesser beings look like a vacation to you?" Her voice laced with disdain.

  'What a sharp-tongued brat,' Sial thought, though his smile never faltered.

  His eyes slowly went back to Sia, they narrowed, and a cold glint appeared as he leaned closer.

  "Well, I wonder if you came here to get expelled permanently… for racism."