A bird flies accompanied by silver planes. It keeps diving, launching several explosions—but what exactly are they destroying?

  I open my eyes to see the entire base empty—nothing is here, not even Kai’s computer, which is neatly shut down. Only the sound of the spinning fan can be heard. Kai has probably gone to the central or southern territory for something important. But I don’t want to think about that. All that crosses my mind is the clock.

  I raised my hand to check the time—it was still early morning, 6:23 a.m. One hour before school starts. I got up from where I was lying and left the base, walking toward home. The area around my house was open and peaceful, with the gentle breeze of the morning air. On the left side of my house stood a large tree, its branches reaching toward my bedroom window. I often climbed that tree to get into the house without using the front door.

  I opened the window and jumped in, landing near the computer desk. When I looked up, I noticed the whole room was spotless, as if it had just been cleaned. Maybe it was my sister. Maybe she was the one who tidied up my room.

  Without wasting time, I quickly copied down the class schedule and changed into my school uniform. A few times I noticed that the cap I brought yesterday had gone missing—I had no idea where it could’ve gone. But since it wasn’t worth much, I didn’t think it was something to worry about.

  I still remembered what I said to my sister yesterday. Maybe those words were still lingering in her mind. Should I apologize?

  There are many things that weigh heavily on my life. But maybe the words I said yesterday were too much for my sister. The distance between home and school isn’t that far—less than 3 kilometers. I usually walk to school early in the morning. Mondays are the day I dislike the most, and I only truly feel like going once Tuesday arrives.

  At the same time, my mind kept drifting back to the thugs from yesterday... and the money my sister gave them. Where did she get it from?

  I picked up my bag and tossed it down—aiming it onto a black plastic sheet by the wall—then jumped down after it.

  The school where I study isn’t a prestigious one like many others. It’s a public school—a place where anyone can enroll. My classroom is usually on the second floor, near the stairs that lead to the canteen. The furniture in our classroom isn’t made of plastic like in most modern schools. We still use wooden chairs and chalk to write on a blackboard.

  From the window, you can also see the white running track below—a view I often find myself staring at during lessons. I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed straight to my seat, which is in the second-to-last row beside the classroom window.

  I placed my bag under the chair and quietly observed the students running outside. At least it helped clear my mind a little. I knew I could outrun a few of them with my sprint—it would take less than a minute to win.

  Sometimes I find myself lost in thought, completely unaware of the passing time or what's happening around me. Daydreams become my personal television, entertaining me from the start to the end of class. The ticking wall clock signaled the beginning of the lesson, but I drifted into a vivid imagination—of someone who loved sweet things, dressed in white, always smiling. She would take my hand and lead me, again and again, to a place that made her happy.

  I often heard voices calling from behind, telling me to turn around—but I kept getting swept away by that current of dreams.

  My vision blurred slightly, as if something unseen tied my gaze. Imagination still held its grip on me. Inside the desk lay a pen, so I took it out and placed it on the table. Once or twice, I spun it across my fingers. It danced, twirling rapidly with dizzying speed. For a few moments I paused, then continued spinning it again and again until...

  The desk suddenly slipped to the left. The spinning pen tumbled and landed flat on the table just as my hand caught the edge to stop the movement. At the very least, it snapped me out of the illusion I had trapped myself in.

  When the desk finally steadied under my hand, I turned to my right—Siti was standing beside me. She looked at me like someone who didn't know about an important call, her gaze quietly sharp. In a soft voice, I spoke...

  “Oi, idiot, don’t you have any other hobbies?”

  “Idiot, why didn’t you come to school yesterday?”

  “I have anxiety, so I was scared to come.”

  “Anxiety about what?”

  “It’s… something...” Whispers.

  “You know there’s a new teacher who just transferred, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then why didn’t you come?”

  “I already told you, anxiety.”

  “Stop talking nonsense. Are you trying to be a clown or something? Did you finish yesterday’s homework? If not, hurry up and do it...”

  “What are you, my responsible mother or something? Besides, I didn’t even come to school yesterday.”

  “Huh?? So that’s your excuse for not doing it?”

  “Yeah, and please, just don’t bother me...”

  I sat down, dropping my head onto the desk, hoping that Siti would just leave me alone and not acknowledge my presence. The two of us were in the same class, and every time I skipped school, she would scold me like someone who really cared about her classmates. Maybe it was because she was the class monitor, always held in high regard.

  Siti’s appearance was almost like Mika’s, with her hair tied back into a ponytail, but the difference was that she always changed the style of her hair tie depending on the situation and her mood. Her hair wasn’t as long as Mika’s, nor as short as Area’s. It was just the right length to adjust to whichever style she wanted. Siti’s figure was slim, like most girls, but her attitude was a bit rough and quick to anger. She almost reminded me of a lion, fierce and straight-backed, with a posture that demanded attention.

  After pretending to be dead for a moment, I shifted my gaze away from the wooden surface and looked at Siti, then asked a question.

  “By the way, is the new teacher really that fierce?” I asked.

  She stepped back a bit, crossing her arms over her stomach.

  “Not sure, but she looks pretty strong. During the assembly earlier, she kept staring at our row. You didn’t come yesterday, so Adam must have given you a hard time,” she replied.

  “Yeah, yeah, like I care about all that,” I muttered.

  “She’s teaching our class from now on. Adam, did you hear me? Heeiii...”

  I returned to my original position, then switched on my fake radio in my mind, and Siti began scanning me. She seemed to think that the symbol of laziness in the class was right in front of her. She then rolled up a small book and hit me on the head with it.

  “Ow... that hurt, you know,” I groaned. She unrolled the book with a proud look on her face.

  “...Listen here, you chimpanzee brain. If you cause trouble again like you always do, you're going to get expelled. You keep skipping school, and then... hey, are you listening?” she scolded.

  “Sorry, I can’t hear you that well because I’m in a zoo right now.” A few of my classmates jumped in surprise. The class, which had been a bit noisy, quieted down for a moment, before returning to its usual chaotic atmosphere.

  “Ugh, it’s useless trying to deal with you... I don’t get you at all,” she muttered in frustration.

  Siti walked off to the back of the class, to her seat, waiting for the lesson to begin in a few more minutes. I lifted my head slightly between my arms and the table, thoughts drifting as my eyes focused on the clock in front of the class. The seconds ticked by, and then the bell rang.

  I leaned back in my chair, watching the new teacher with half-hearted interest. From the look on his face, he seemed disciplined—but I knew better than to trust first impressions. Almost every new teacher who entered our class had eventually given up. Our class wasn’t ordinary—we knew every trick in the book to make them fold.

  The new teacher began the class with enthusiasm, but for us, it was merely the start of a “resilience test” he was about to face.

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

  “Good morning, everyone. Please take your seats,” he said while placing his books on the desk.

  “My name is Azman—Mr. Azman. I’m your temporary replacement teacher, assigned to handle this class.”

  “Aaa, so annoying…” the whole class muttered in unison.

  “What a waste, we were just about to mess around.”

  “Thought we could chill today.”

  “Exactly, what a waste of energy.”

  The teacher raised his voice firmly, “Alright, quiet down…” The class instantly fell silent, allowing him to continue, “…I’ve heard rumors that this class enjoys messing with replacement teachers assigned here. Is that true?”

  Yes, it was true… More than once, this class had pulled stunts on new teachers—sometimes harmless, sometimes extreme—all for the sole goal of securing a free period. They used every trick imaginable: staged drama, fake illnesses, even coordinated disruptions. Not many teachers lasted long under the pressure. Some walked out mid-lesson, defeated. One even fainted… and ended up in a coma.

  Mr. Azman stared across the room, his gaze steady. He was clearly different—unmoved by murmurs or mocking. Unlike the others, he didn’t look like he was going to flee.

  “...If any of you cause trouble with me, I’ll assign punishment to the whole class. Understood?”

  The room was silent—eerily obedient, like a pack of cubs under the watchful eyes of a lion.

  “Alright, let’s begin the lesson now.” He opened the attendance book on his desk and started calling out names one by one.

  Names were called, and we raised our hands to signal our presence.

  “Here!”

  “Siti?”

  “…Present!” Her hand dropped lazily.

  “Adam?”

  I raised my hand without saying a word, forcing the teacher to scan the room. His eyes landed on me, and strangely… lingered. For a few seconds too long.

  “Alright, next…!”

  Weird, I muttered inwardly.

  It wasn’t much, but there was something in that gaze. A flicker of familiarity? Or suspicion? Maybe just coincidence… but maybe not.

  The classroom atmosphere returned to calm, just like it was the first time I entered. Silent, without even a hint of commotion. Siti twirled the pen in her grip, trying to pull off a trick to make it spin between her fingers.

  Thinking back, Mika was actually in a different class from ours. We were in the third class out of six total, while Mika was in the fourth. Once, after the semester break ended, she mentioned her desire to transfer and join our class. But she had to pass an upcoming exam in order to be accepted—she only needed five passing grades to qualify for our class.

  “Today, we’ll begin our lesson with history. Please turn to page 112, Chapter Five: The Technological Revolution and the Development of Transportation. The topic we’ll be discussing is how the first airplane was created, allowing humans to travel between continents with ease.

  The first airplane was invented by a pair of brothers known as the Wright Brothers. But before they built their aircraft in 1903, people had already studied a process known as aerodynamics—a lift force that determines the airflow pattern around objects. It is divided into...”

  Today's topic—the history of the airplane. I leaned further back in my chair, only half-listening to his lecture about the two brothers who built the first plane. “The first airplane?” What does any of this have to do with our lives?

  I turned my gaze toward the window, tracing the clouds drifting in the sky, my thoughts spiraling into nowhere in particular. In the middle of his lecture, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. What if I stirred things up a little?

  “Sir, I have a question!! Do you know what ‘Punderel’ means?” I raised my hand, my face feigning deep curiosity.

  Mr. Azman froze for a moment, his eyes squinting in confusion. “Punderel?”

  I held back a grin, then continued, “Come on now, you don’t know what Punderel means...? What kind of teacher is this? A proper teacher should know the true meaning of Punderel!” I threw my hands wide open for theatrical flair. The class started chuckling softly, and the atmosphere gradually shifted into playful chaos.

  Some classmates began pointing toward the teacher’s desk. “Sir, try looking it up in the dictionary under the desk!”

  Mr. Azman looked unsure, but eventually walked over, slowly pulling open the drawer.

  Suddenly—POOF! A cloud of chalk dust burst out, engulfing his face in a cloud of white powder. The entire class erupted into cheers and laughter.

  I held back my own laughter, resting my right elbow on the desk and turning my gaze back toward the window, trying to hide my smirk. In the reflection of the glass, I saw Siti staring at me from the back, her face practically shouting, “This has to be your doing, right?”

  The truth? This time… it actually wasn’t me.

  Someone from the back shouted, “Look at the teacher’s face—it’s like a powdered ghost!”

  The class burst into louder laughter. “Yeah, spot on…”

  Mr. Azman tried to compose himself, pulling a small towel from his pocket to wipe his face. He looked disappointed—maybe even angry—but tried to stay calm. Then, another layer of flour slowly trickled down from above, coating his shirt and shoulders once more. This time, we howled with laughter—it was like a flour ambush turned into a custom “welcome gift” just for him.

  Finally, he looked at us with a resigned gaze and said, “Alright. You all win—for now.”

  We erupted in cheers as he left the classroom, abandoning his books behind. The room transformed into a celebration. Everyone was laughing, moving around freely—like a mini festival of chaos.

  Deep down, I gave a smug, silent grin. A temporary win, Mr. Azman? Let’s see how long you last.

  Recess had started, and I made my way to the flower garden, trying to find Siti, who had disappeared earlier. My steps came to a halt when I saw her kneeling on the ground, gathering dry leaves and scattered litter around the flowers.

  “So this is where you are, Siti. I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing?” I asked as I approached her from behind.

  Siti jumped a little at first, but then she quickly turned back to the garden, continuing her task that had been interrupted. “I’m just cleaning the flowers, picking up the trash and leaves around them. You know, the gardening club takes care of all the flower beds in this school,” she replied softly, brushing away some leaves caught in the flower petals. She stood up and turned to face me, her eyes curious. “So, what’s so important that you had to look for me?”

  I took a moment to organize my thoughts. “I have a few things I want to ask you. Can we talk about it in the canteen?”

  Siti seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Sure, I haven’t bought anything yet anyway.”

  We finally arrived at the canteen and found an empty spot to sit. The first topic that came out of Siti's mouth was about our class.

  “That was really bad, how our class treated the new teacher earlier,” she said, stirring her drink, remembering the funny incident that just happened.

  “Yeah, it was pretty harsh on him. But unfortunately, I wasn’t the one who pulled off the prank.”

  “Actually, why did you ask the new teacher that question?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a one-off joke that popped into my mind. By the way, where’s Mika? Doesn’t she want to hang out with us?”

  “Mika’s busy with her athletics club. She said she’ll join our class after the exams. So she has to focus on studying.”

  I nodded, imagining an athlete in black running and jumping over a hurdle. Mika’s class was in the fourth one, unlike ours, which was in the third. Classes below the fourth usually didn’t have much homework, and the subjects taken were fewer. However, in my class, we rarely did homework and just played around during lessons.

  “Is that so?” I asked again. “Do you have time later today?”

  “Later, I have extra classes. I might not be able to go to our usual hangout spot. Why?”

  I focused on the table, feeling conflicted about the question I wanted to ask. “Nothing. I just need to earn a bit of money for this week. Do you know any gang that can help with that?”

  Siti fell silent, then leaned closer to me. In a low voice, she reminded me, “Shh, you know we can’t talk about that during school.”

  Startled, I quickly nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I forgot.”

  She sat back down with a sigh before speaking, “If you need part-time work, I think you should ask Area. She likes to go out of town, right? She probably knows a lot of people who can help you earn some extra money.”

  Then she stood up, lifting her bag, signaling that she had to leave. “For now, I need to go to the club room before class. You can go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Without waiting for a response, Siti walked away, leaving me lost in thought at the canteen, sinking deeper into my own thoughts.

  At our school, the uniform colors were not just for show; they represented the roles and responsibilities of each prefect. Purple for library prefects, yellow for regular prefects, pink for those who guided students, green for sports prefects, and blue for those monitoring student discipline.

  As I slowly opened the classroom door, something unexpected happened—a bucket full of water fell right on my head. In the blink of an eye, I was drenched, and the sound of cheers from my classmates echoed through the room.

  “Yeeaa...” they cheered, but their expressions changed instantly.

  “It’s not him,” one of them sighed.

  I couldn't hold back my anger. “What is this?” I asked, but they seemed indifferent.

  “We thought the new teacher was entering,” one friend explained, giving the reason for the prank.

  “So, we decided to prank him!” another added, in a challenging tone.

  “Yeah, right!” I yelled, furious.

  In an attempt to dry my clothes, I stood up and tried using tissues. A few female students looked at me with curiosity, and I felt awkward. “What?” I asked one of them.

  She just smiled and said, “Stubborn,” before walking away.

  The awkwardness lingered. “What day is it today? My clothes are soaking wet, and I only have one school shirt,” I grumbled to myself, watching as they set up a new trap with a bucket full of chalk water above the door.

  “Alright! I hope this goes better,” one of them said, placing the bucket carefully on the door.

  I just wanted to watch the scene unfold without getting involved. After that, I returned to my seat. Not long after, Siti appeared, shocked to see me drenched. She immediately took a towel out of her pocket and handed it to me, joking, “Aww, I leave you for just a moment, and this happens.”

  “It’s them playing around,” I muttered.

  “Here...” Siti handed me the towel.

  I thanked her and wiped my face and clothes. After that, Siti returned to her seat.

  With her cheerful and humorous personality, Siti often teased me in ways that felt like a romantic comedy. Her smile and the way she looked at me reminded me of characters in classic animations, full of funny situations. 'Damned'—she looked at me like that. Siti smiled...

  “Everyone, the strict teacher is here.”

  “Alright, quickly grab your chalk and paper.”

  The door opened with a creak. The bucket above the door began to lose its balance and fell, spilling water. My classmates thought they had succeeded in pranking our teacher for the second time.

  However...

  The water spill only touched the blue surface without hitting any clothes at all. The entire class fell silent, staring at the front door.

  Mr. Azman spoke calmly, “We should always prepare an umbrella before it rains, right?” His joke made the class still, and some of them lowered their hands. He moved the umbrella before closing it, walking from the door toward the teacher's desk.

  He placed the umbrella beside the desk and continued speaking calmly, “I understand why you're acting this way. You all don't like to be taught in a harsh manner, right? Because you think school is just a place to play.”

  He scolded us as if we were kindergarten kids. It's not that we didn't want to fight back, but who would dare after seeing the knife scar on his left wrist? It looked deep and painful, like having fought with someone dangerous.

  “Alright, I will teach you in a good way, and you all need to cooperate. I will take charge of this class until the end of March. I've also been tasked with taking care of you all until you pass the upcoming exams. You don't need to waste time trying to prank me, and one more thing...”

  He shouted, “Punderel doesn't even mean anything...!!”