INTRACTABLE

The class was silent, too silent to believe it was the same class from before the teacher came. He swept his gaze around, wondering what had caused this unnatural stillness.

Was the teacher friendly and his subject seem interesting enough to command all their attention?

Then, the teacher turned to the blackboard and wrote a single word "Mathematics."

Christan dismissed his earlier thoughts. No way the interest silenced them.

Was the teacher too scary that no one dared make a sound?

"I left you a question for homework," the teacher announced, his voice calm yet carrying a weight that pressed on the room. "It was about differentiation. I'll pass around and see how you've done."

The classroom's temperature dropped further. A quiet rustle filled the room as students hesitantly opened their books.

Christan exhaled, relieved. It was his first day, so wouldn't be his problem. He glanced at his seatmate, who had already opened his notebook and was now staring out the window, waiting patiently for the teacher.

The teacher moved from desk to desk, scanning their work. He corrected mistakes, answered questions, and even gave compliments.

When he reached Christan's desk, he paused. "You haven't opened your book," the teacher asked.

"I'm a new student," Christan said, his voice trembling than he expected. "I arrived today."

The teacher nodded and moved on. Christan let out a breath. That was easy.

The teacher passed him and walked to his seatmate. He looked at his work and nodded with satisfaction.

Then, he moved to the other row to a student in the back seat.

"Where is your homework?" the teacher calmly asked.

The boy, who had a build far larger than his age, nonchalantly replied, "This is my first day. I had no idea about homework."

Unlike Christan, the teacher didn't move on. Instead, he stood there, his gaze intently toward the boy.

Most first-year students didn't have name tags, and even those who did weren't always believed—many had a habit of using fake tags to avoid punishment. As a result, teachers relied on other methods to mark them.

"What's your name?" the teacher asked the student.

The boy raised an eyebrow slightly but replied, "Humphrey."

Only after the words left his lips, as no one expected it, something heavy stretched and landed on the boy's face.

The stillness of the class was broken by the slam, turning it into silence and shivers. Everyone looked to see what had happened.

Christan, who had been watching everything, froze as his breath caught and his eyes widened in disbelief. His heart beat rather faster.

The teacher had just landed a heavy punch on the Humphrey's face, aiming for his nose. Blood splattered onto the desk, and his nose was covered with blood.

Humphrey remained frozen for a moment before his body collapsed from the chair.

The boy had already reported to the school three days ago. However, this was the first time he attended classes. The teacher was aware of that.

For a second, no one moved. Then, Christan's eyes darted around, expecting to see expressions of shock—but instead, he caught a couple of smirks.

His stomach twisted. Why were they smirking?

The teacher wiped his knuckles with a handkerchief, his face unreadable. "Class representative."

A student in the front row immediately stood.

"Assign some students to get a stretcher and carry Humphrey to the infirmary. And remember to mark his attendance."

The matter was settled just like that. The teacher turned back to the blackboard as if nothing had happened.

That was what new students weren't aware of until they experienced it. As many students tended to violence and caused trouble, the teacher used the same way to fix them. The only rule protecting them in these situations was "Never kill nor cause critical physical damage."

Christan couldn't understand. He had no homework either, and he had used the same excuse of it being his first day; however, he didn't receive the same punishment. His heartbeat raced. Would he be next?

Christan was the only one unsettled by what had just happened, his fingers trembling.

Not long after, a few students came with a stretcher, placed Humphrey on it, and carried him out.

This wasn't a school. If it was, Christan was sure there weren't any student rights. And if there were, they didn't take them seriously.

Was this the school he had to endure for three years? Just the thought made his heart pound louder.

For the rest of the lesson, he couldn't understand a single thing as he imagined his days ahead.

When class finally ended, the other students walked outside. Christan remained in his seat. He lowered his pen and wrote a single word 'Survive'

It was the only thing he could do.

A voice broke his thoughts. "What are you doing? It's almost time for lunch."

Christan looked up to see Vivek standing over him. For some reason, his anxiety lessened slightly.

As they walked out together, Christan muttered, "Who was that mathematics teacher?"

Vivek glanced at him, amused. "What teacher? Oh, you mean Master?"

Christan stopped walking. "Your Master?"

Vivek grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward. "Not my master. We just called him that. Only a few people know his real name."

Christan widened his eyes at him. "You can't be serious."

Vivek scoffed. "Compared to the other teachers, he's easygoing."

Christan stared at him in disbelief. Easygoing?!

Vivek continued, "There are way stranger things about this school. Don't let small incidents get to you."

Christan frowned. "That was a small incident?"

Vivek met his eyes and sighed. "Listen, what's really scary about this school isn't the teachers or the students—it's the punishments." He crossed his arms. "At least, that's what scares me."

A chill ran down Christan's spine.

"As long as you never break any rules, you'll be fine," Vivek said. "Honestly, you might even come to like this place."

Hah. He couldn't believe it. Come to think about it, Vivek seemed unbothered by anything. Was as if he had a good time in the school.

"Come on, Chris, you haven't even met your roommates yet. That's what you should be worried about."

When Vivek said that, it clicked. Indeed, he was stressing over a teacher he would see a few times a week when he had yet to meet the ones he'd have to live with every day.

Soon, the two of them stood in front of the door to Room 1.

Vivek stopped at the door. "Alright, see you later—"

Christan grabbed his wrist.

Vivek blinked in surprise.

"Where are you going? Shouldn't you come with me? That's what you did all the time," Christan asked.

Vivek scoffed, grinning. "You say that like I enjoyed it."

"You didn't?"

"Hey," Vivek gritted his teeth. "This… is for you to fight." He patted his hand, then freed it. "Fighting!" He rushed to his room.

Christan looked at him, not trying to believe he left at the time he thought he would be useful. He turned to his door and took a deep breath. Then he pushed the door open.