The time for the rotational classes arrived in an instant, leaving no room for delay. Students split off into their assigned groups, dispersing across the school's wings as each class prepared to begin its unique hands-on lecture.
In Room 3-K, Timeo, Marin, and Leo had gathered with the rest of Group F. Several students were already milling around the room, eyeing the rows of displayed training weapons—wooden swords, bamboo spears, and padded staves neatly arranged on the stands.
"Whoa, check this out," one student muttered, picking up a worn bokken and inspecting its weight.
"These things were actually used in samurai drills, right?" another asked, twirling a shinai lightly in his hands.
"I thought this was gonna be some history class, not actual weapons," someone whispered near the back.
Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Leo stood with his arms crossed and his jaw tight. He punched his own palm with a loud smack and stomped once against the wooden floor, tension written across his face.
"Damn it... I still can't believe we got stuck in this bullshit class," he growled. "Just thinkin' about seein' Nishizawa's smug face again makes me wanna deck him."
Marin, standing beside the two boys, glanced over at Leo, clearly confused. "Okay, seriously—what's going on with you guys?" she asked, brows furrowed. "You've been trashing Nishizawa all morning. Why are you so against him? What'd he even do?"
Leo cast her a sharp look, then turned toward Timeo, who remained calm, leaning slightly against the wall with his usual quiet expression. He gave no sign of reacting, but Leo's frustration didn't ease.
"Guess it makes sense you don't know," Leo muttered. "You're new. But he knows." He nodded toward Timeo. "And so do I."
Marin folded her arms and let out a sigh, clearly losing patience.
"Alright, enough with the cryptic nonsense. If something happened, just say it. I'm not gonna play detective while you two act all dramatic."
Leo glanced over at Timeo once more, brows raised in expectation. "Say… should we tell 'er?" he asked, his voice low but edged with sincerity. He wasn't joking this time—he was genuinely asking for permission, as if the weight of the truth belonged to both of them now.
Timeo didn't speak right away. He looked at Marin, who stood in front of them with her arms slowly crossing, her eyes narrowing in a mix of impatience and concern.
"Hurry up," she said. "Spill the beans already. I'm curious, and I'm not gonna stop asking."
Timeo gave a single nod.
Leo saw it. That was all he needed.
He exhaled through his nose, then turned his full attention to Marin. "Alright… but don't go freakin' out on me."
He paused, voice steady but rough.
"Souta Nishizawa ain't who you think he is. Not even close."
Marin blinked, caught off guard by how serious his tone had become.
"You know all that polite, charming, superstar teacher crap? It's a mask. A real pretty one, but fake as hell. Behind it, the guy's a manipulative bastard. He's been beatin' up students for years—real quiet, real clean, nothin' anyone can prove."
He glanced at the doorway to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned in slightly.
"There's more. Some of the girls? They've been forced into crap they didn't ask for. Private lessons, weird favors… stuff you don't talk about in school, got it? And no one ever says shit, 'cause he's famous. He's protected."
Marin's expression shifted immediately. Her confidence faltered, her arms slowly lowering to her sides.
Leo continued. "Last time we crossed paths with him? Me and Timeo—we ended up trapped. Locked in a cell underground. No idea how we got there. We were almost—" he paused, jaw clenched. "Let's just say he didn't plan to let us walk away."
He gave Marin a second to take it all in. She stared at them both, stunned into silence.
"That's why we're pissed, Marin. That's why this class ain't just another lesson to us."
And for a long moment… the room felt colder.
"Underground? A cell? Wh-What are you two even talking about?" Marin asked, her voice rising just a little with disbelief. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and turned her full focus on Timeo, her gaze sharp and unrelenting—like she was trying to pull the truth straight out of him with just a stare.
But behind that intensity was something stronger than suspicion—curiosity. It burned quietly in her expression, flickering beneath the surface, waiting for answers.
Timeo finally took the cue. He straightened slightly and spoke in his usual calm tone.
"It's… a long story."
Before he could say anything more, Marin cut him off, stepping forward.
"So what?" she snapped. "Just tell it. I've got time."
Leo ran a hand down his face with a tired groan. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and for once, he didn't look angry—just weighed down.
"C'mon, Aoyama," he muttered, keeping his voice low. "You really don't need to hear this. It's better if you just let it go. Hell, even we barely believe it, and we lived through it."
There was a trace of hesitation in his voice now—not out of fear, but doubt. Not in her, but in whether the truth would even make sense to someone who hadn't seen it.
Still… deep down, Leo looked like he wanted to say it all anyway.
Marin tapped her foot against the floor, the sound sharp and rhythmic, her patience wearing thin with every passing second. She was desperate for answers—if they didn't give her something soon, she'd explode. She wasn't the type to let things go, and both boys knew it.
Her eyes narrowed, bouncing between Timeo and Leo like a storm waiting to break.
"I'm not dropping this. You will tell me what happened, even if I have to drag it out of you one word at a time."
Leo gritted his teeth, a vein twitching near his temple. He tried to keep calm, but the pressure finally cracked.
"Fine—damn it!" he burst out, throwing his hands up. "You wanna know so bad? Here it is!"
He jabbed a thumb toward Timeo. "This guy—he's got some freaky ability, alright? Something we don't understand yet. He can summon some kind of spirit… ghost… I don't even know what the hell to call it."
The words hit Marin like a brick. She froze for a second, blinking rapidly as if trying to make sense of what she just heard.
"Summon… gh-gh-ghosts?" she echoed, her voice cracking with disbelief. "What is this—some urban legend roleplay? Are you guys pulling this from a horror manga or something?! Like, are you serious right now? Do you hear how insane that sounds?"
She backed a half step away, her tone rising in panic.
"You're telling me he summoned a ghost—a real one?! Not some delusion, not a dream, but an actual full-on spirit thing? This isn't a joke to you?!"
Her breath hitched. She wasn't just confused anymore—she was genuinely shaken. But even then, her eyes stayed locked on them, trembling with fear and curiosity all at once.
"…What exactly did you see?" she whispered.
Timeo waved a hand casually as he began to explain, his tone as calm as ever, even though the subject matter was anything but.
Luckily, Souta still hadn't arrived—he was running late, which gave them a little more breathing room to speak without fear of interruption.
"What Leo meant," Timeo said evenly, "is that I can summon a phantom-like entity. I think it's called an Eidolon. I don't know much about it yet… but from what I've experienced, all I have to do is slice my neck."
His words came out with unsettling clarity, as if he were describing something as casual as tying his shoes. But to Marin, it landed like a punch to the chest.
"Slice your… neck?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face paled slightly, and she blinked rapidly as if trying to process what she'd just heard.
"What…?"
Her eyes widened, and she instinctively took a step back, her mind already conjuring a graphic mental image of Timeo calmly dragging a blade across his throat. The imagined scene made her visibly shudder.
She clutched her bag tighter and muttered under her breath in a flat, horrified whisper:
"…I don't think I'm emotionally equipped for this conversation."
Leo snapped, his patience finally giving out. He didn't soften his tone, even with Marin standing right in front of him.
"You asked for this, damn it!" he barked, his voice sharp and heated. "You wanted to know what happened—well, there it is! He sliced his own neck and summoned some freakin' phantom! That's the truth. That's what went down!"
He stepped back, glaring between her and the classroom door.
"No more dancing around it. No more soft questions. That's what you wanted to hear, right? So now you've got it. End of story."
Just as Leo's words echoed through the room, a heavy silence fell over the group—sharp, tense, and filled with everything Marin didn't know how to respond to.
And then… the classroom door slid open with a soft clack.
Souta Nishizawa entered.
He walked in with perfect posture, dressed in a tailored black jacket that didn't quite match the rest of the school's faculty—too clean, too sharp, too much like a man who didn't belong in a school at all. His hair was neatly styled, his expression calm, composed, and almost too pleasant.
"Good morning, everyone," he said smoothly, his voice carrying easily across the room. "Apologies for the delay. I was finalizing today's equipment list with the supply office. I hope none of you have been waiting too long."
To the rest of the class, he sounded like any other confident teacher. Polite, professional, in control.
But to Timeo and Leo, the air shifted.
The moment he stepped inside, it was as if the room got colder. A subtle pressure crept across Timeo's shoulders, and Leo's fists clenched at his sides. Marin stood still, lips slightly parted, now fully realizing that the man standing before them was the very person they'd been talking about—calm on the surface, but wrong underneath.
Timeo said nothing. He just watched, quietly, his eyes never leaving Souta.
Leo's voice dropped into a mutter. "Speak of the devil…"
Marin instinctively moved closer to them, her unease finally settling in. Something about Souta's presence wasn't just unsettling—it was wrong in a way she couldn't explain.
And yet, he smiled.
"Let's begin, shall we?"
To be continued...