Dammit, all.

Glancing at the floor, I notice a thin black object. 17cm long approximately. Naturally, supposing it to be an object of interest, I bend over and pick it up. Which, upon doing so, makes me understand it’s a pencil. And that someone in this room threw it at me as an attack.

Frantically, I dart my head from side to side, looking for who did it. To the best of my knowledge, there are three possible assailants. That delinquent elf, some dude with unkempt black hair, and a girl currently looking in my direction.

“OI, WHICH ONE OF YOU THREW THIS PENCIL AT ME?” I yell loud enough to surround the whole hall. “I’M CALLING THE POLICE. DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS IS ASSAULT?!”

The elf boy's eyes widen in surprise. “It was her,” he states, casually pointing at the girl across.

She smiles at me and points to the elf. “It was him, actually”.

He shakes his head vigorously. “Nuh-uh, that’s a lie!”

“Unlike you forest dwellers, we gods do not lie.”

“I saw you do it!”

At the same time, the boy with dishevelled black hair looks around. Visibly calm, he gives off the impression that he’s just looking for a way to quiet things down.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, blinking long and hard.

The girl, wide-eyed, rests her chin on her hand. “Yes”. She replies almost gleefully. “Everything is quite fine. Our local knife-eared forest dweller decided to assault someone, but besides that, all is well.”

Monotone, the boy mumbles a quick, “I see.” Then, turning back to face his desk, promptly exits the conversation.

In other words, nothing has changed. The students here are far from cooperative, and no doubt one of them is full of colloquial garbage. It’s like trying to negotiate with monkeys. Only worse, because monkeys at least understand the concept of ‘transactions’ and can be bribed with bananas.

“Fine,” I say, rubbing the side of my head.

If they won’t help, then I’ll figure this out by myself.

I inhale a deep breath.

Logically, with the angle that the pencil struck me, the attack must’ve come from the right of where I’m sitting. However, the only students located from that angle are Morgana, the delinquent elf, and the dishevelled boy, thereby discounting the other girl.

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Now, to tally off the remaining students.

1. It’s unlikely to be the dishevelled boy due to his impassive tone and the fact that no one accused him.

2. It’s unlikely to be Morgana because she’s not dumb enough to do something like this.

3. Therefore, chances are, it’s the dumbass delinquent elf who did this. An point bolstered further by his leather armour and sword, thereby hinting at some degree of physicality and hence the ability to throw a pencil with increased accuracy.

Now the question is what I do with this information. And besides holding a lasting grudge, probably nothing. I’m not that vengeful. I spent all this time wanting to know who did it just to feel better about myself. That and placing some warranted distrust and distance between the delinquent and me for future reference.

I tuck the pencil in my pocket and sigh. Staring wearily at my desk, I wait for the time to pass, only to suddenly hear a door slam.

“Good morning, students!”

Glancing at the same door I entered through, I catch sight of a person—a man. Perhaps around 183cm in height. They appear to be wearing a purple jacket, white waistcoat, patterned black trousers and cravat. And on another note, they also happen to have some sort of outdated bowl cut. With bangs running to their eyebrows and some sort of quaint hair accessory adorned with it.

I scratch my chin in amusement. Admittedly, my knowledge of fashion outside Alpha-One is rudimentary at best. Still, it is a tad hard for me to imagine that man’s clothing as being customary. However, it may just be a culture shock. So, withholding further judgement, I turn my attention to the man’s movements.

Doing his job, the man (or assumed to be teacher) descends down the stairs, strutting all the while. In doing so, he throws several pieces of paper in all directions, making it land in a perfect pile on each student's desk. I pause and take the stack of papers. Reading the front, I notice the words ‘examination’ and proceed to count the number of pages. Twenty in total.

“Remember, no cheating!”

Upon distributing the papers, the same teacher ascends the stairs and, without pause, kicks the same door open and leaves. This leads me to groan half-heartedly at the display. Not in assumed frustration at the exam to come, but rather the idea that everyone here might just be a lunatic.

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Sixty-seven minutes have passed since the start of the exam. Since then, I’ve managed to complete all of the questions with the expected efficiency. All in all, it proved to be quite easy. Subjects like math and the sciences were my forte, and I managed to complete even the hardest questions. Anything else was also done to a good degree, with me falling perhaps just slightly short of perfection in history and geography.

Though, to be honest, it’s nothing to really be proud about. It turns out that the questions here are catered to a low uni-level at best. Compared to stuff like linear algebra and perfectoid spaces, it really is elementary.

I sigh, staring into empty space, then at the ceiling, then at the lines on my hands. In the end, my boredom gets the better of me, and curious as to what’s happening, I turn to watch Morgana.

It comes as no surprise that she’s also finished. Looking in my direction, we exchange a bout of stares before she eventually sighs. Trying to understand her is difficult at times. There are around two minutes left before the end, so I decide to spend it pondering over my circumstances.

Eventually, the time comes. The door to the hall, kicked open once again, presents the same teacher from before. Saying nothing, he descends the stairs, heading in my general direction.

He takes my paper, winks, and proceeds to seize the others.

By the end, all of the tests have been collected, and the teacher, waiting at the door, beckons us with an open hand. We follow. Gathering in a semi-circle, all of us students look at one another.