Chapter 6: Homeroom Class
Noah entered the classroom and made his way toward his seat.
“Yo~ good morning, Noah!”
“Hey, still alive!”
“This dude jumped from the roof last week, you should have seen it.”
“Hey, anyone watched the new TV series?”
“For the love of—”
“That’s my precious silver-coated waifu card—”
“Oi~! Who wrote this on my desk?”
Noah weaved through desks as his classmates chatted, already settling into the routine of Monday morning. Grade 10, Section One was known for its strict seating arrangement, and everyone had their assigned spot. The alphabetical order system put Noah around the middle-rear of the room—a layout that wasn’t exactly ideal. He squinted a little, adjusting his glasses, but it didn’t really help. Sitting that far back was an inconvenience with his eyesight, yet after a few years, he’d learned to make do.
Sliding into his seat, Noah gave a quick glance to his left and right. To his left was Mark, with his unruly dark hair and thick glasses that seemed to have a life of their own. On his right was Thomas, lounging with a relaxed confidence that seemed at odds with the morning's sluggish atmosphere. Having both of them as seatmates for the past few years had sealed their friendship, whether Noah had planned it or not. With their desks always close, they’d naturally ended up talking, laughing, and sharing jokes when things got boring or tense.
Their class had thirty-one students total, creating a lively mix that made it impossible to stay entirely anonymous.
Noah stared down at the glowing interface of his system, his gaze fixed on the neatly arranged stats and the single skill he’d unlocked.
Name: Noah O. Knight
Class: Freedom
Level 2
Stats (0)—
Body: 6
Mind: 10
Soul: 10
Skill: Fly
He wasn’t planning on becoming a hero—that was for sure. The whole hero thing never really sat right with him. He just wanted to fly, to experience that freedom that felt so close, yet was just out of reach. If only there was an easier way to level up.
His dad had once mentioned that leveling up in dungeons was way faster. But, like a lot of things, it came with strings attached. The Superhero Association held tight control over dungeon access. To even step inside one, you needed a license and a recommendation—hoops he couldn’t jump through easily.
The first time he’d heard that dungeons could be controlled and "owned," he thought it had to be a mistake. A “dungeon” was supposed to be some mysterious anomaly—a dangerous place where monsters roamed, not some elite clubhouse. Yet, here he was, in a world where even places like that were regulated, guarded, and monopolized.
Noah recalled the monstrous creatures he’d seen on TV, usually broadcasted in government PSAs meant to remind everyone of the threat lurking just beyond the safety of regulated heroes. To Noah, they weren’t just some distant threat; they represented that barrier, something that could propel him forward if he ever got the chance to face them.
Noah’s musings were abruptly cut short by a jab in the ribs from Thomas.
“You’re staring too much, man,” Thomas muttered, chuckling under his breath. Noah blinked, his gaze refocusing as he realized someone was indeed staring at him… for being stared at…
Hmmm…
Judging by how his system interface was set up and his eyes angled, he looked like he was ogling Althea’s skirt and chest. “Ah, shit…”
Two seats ahead was Althea. Her hair was dyed a bold shade of pink. Althea was glowering, narrowing her eyes as she dragged her seat closer to Noah’s desk. “What are you looking at?” she sneered. “Like what you see?”
With a smirk, she squeezed her chest, clearly aiming to provoke a reaction from him.
Noah rolled his eyes and turned away, unfazed. Althea’s reputation as a “delinquent” had never quite seemed accurate to him. She might have dyed hair and had an attitude, but her grades were solid, she nailed every extracurricular she joined, and she never fell out of the top ten in class. She just... tended to disappear now and then. Maybe that was where her ‘delinquent’ title came from.
Ignoring her, Noah glanced toward the front of the room, where Raven was busy writing on the chalkboard, setting up the daily responsibilities. Today’s date was written neatly at the top, followed by a list of chores with names beside them. Typical public school drill—everybody took turns handling something or other, and Raven, ever the responsible one, made sure no one skipped out.
Mark let out an annoyed sigh as he saw his name next to "Trash Disposal."
“I swear, I was hoping she’d forget I had that today,” he grumbled.
Noah smirked. “It’s Raven. Of course, she has a list. You really think she’d let anyone slip by?”
The buzz of conversation abruptly ceased as Mrs. Haram strode into the classroom. Professional as always, she wore her usual tailored blazer and carried an air of quiet authority that settled the students into their seats without a word.
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“Good morning, class,” she greeted, her tone brisk but warm. She set down her attendance sheet and began the roll call. The students responded in turn, some with enthusiasm, others with indifference until she reached Noah.
“Noah Knight,” she called, her eyes meeting his as he raised his hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. Mrs. Haram paused, looking him over with the faintest hint of concern.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, her voice softening just a touch.
“Yes, I’m doing well,” Noah replied, offering her a polite nod. He took a breath, then added, “Thank you, Mrs. Haram. And thanks to everyone for, uh, putting up with me these past few weeks.”
A few classmates exchanged glances, some barely paying attention. Noah caught muttered remarks from a few seats away— "attention whore," "jumper idiot," "suicidal dumbass." Their words were harsh, but Noah let them slide, keeping his gaze steady on the front. He’d made his bed; his stunt hadn’t exactly painted him as the most “stable” kid in the class. Deep down, he knew his actions had crossed a line for some people, and he didn’t expect them to understand.
Admiringly, they were cutting a lot of slack for him.
Mrs. Haram’s voice filled the room again as she launched into the announcements. “As a reminder, the second quarter exams will begin the week after next week, so please make sure you’re all prepared.”
A collective groan rose from the class, though Noah barely reacted. Inwardly though, he was panicking since he missed a week’s worth of class.
Classes passed in a blur.
Mrs. Haram moved through the first period with her usual efficiency, guiding them through exercises and engaging questions. The next period followed. It was calm and uneventful. Familiar teachers carried on without any surprises. Noah found himself almost relieved by the routine. It was a comforting return to normalcy.
When the bell rang for lunch, he fell in step with his friends, grabbing trays and getting in line at the cafeteria. The bustling crowd of students around them barely registered as he went through the motions, his focus only on the familiar faces of Thomas and Mark. As they picked out their food—chicken stew and rice for Thomas, curry and rice for Mark, and a burger and fries for himself—he couldn’t shake the strange, tense quiet that seemed to cling to them. His friends avoided eye contact, speaking in cautious murmurs, as if they were trying not to disturb him.
They found a table and ate in silence with the usual banter replaced by a heavy awkwardness. Noah sighed, unable to stand it any longer. "Alright, what’s the problem?" he asked, his voice low but firm as he glanced at each of them.
Thomas fidgeted, then finally spoke up, his voice more tentative than Noah had ever heard. "Well… you fell from the roof, right?" Thomas’s gaze dropped to his plate. "There’s been talk that it was an accident, but… there's also this rumor that you jumped on purpose."
Mark glanced around, leaning in as he whispered, "It wasn’t… it wasn’t a suicide attempt, man, right?"
Part of Noah wanted to snap back and shut down the conversation, but he held back. He couldn’t blame them for wondering, especially after the ridiculous stunt he’d pulled. He looked away, trying to find the right words, knowing the truth was just as complicated as their concerns.
Noah wanted to deny it—deny the shameful idea that he’d ever seriously considered ending it all. That wasn’t what had happened, right? The story the school had spread was that it was an accident. That was the easier explanation, the one that didn’t require probing deeper into the mess inside his mind.
What had he been thinking back then, though? He couldn’t really pinpoint it. When he found out he had been chosen by the system and that he had something like the [Fly] skill, it was exhilarating at first. But then… he’d just had this impulse, this wild thought that made no sense. What was the worst way to test the skill? What if he jumped from the roof? He could feel it now—the rush of wanting to fly, to escape everything, to free himself from the weight of it all. And if it failed… he could fall. That sense of liberation, even in death, had felt tempting at the time.
Now, seeing it from this angle, he realized just how messed up that was. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought that way, but at the time, it had felt like the most natural thing to do. Now, it felt wrong.
So, with a deep sigh, Noah made his decision. He would lie.
"It was an accident," he muttered, staring down at his tray. “I slipped and then whoosh~ I fell…”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What made you even think about going up on the roof, then?"
Noah hesitated, thinking something that wouldn’t give him away. "I… I thought I could fly," he said, the words coming out awkwardly, but it was the best he could come up with.
The silence that followed felt heavy and almost uncomfortable. Then, as if the tension had snapped, Thomas and Mark burst out laughing, loud and carefree. Noah, unsure whether to be embarrassed or relieved, forced a smile and let it go.
Thomas and Mark couldn’t stop laughing, their voices carrying across the cafeteria like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Noah’s face flushed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flicking between his two friends, who were practically clutching their sides from laughing so hard.
Thomas wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “You thought you could fly? Man, that’s rich!” he gasped between laughs. "What, were you trying to pull a Hero King? Gonna leap over a building and save the world next?"
Mark chortled, clearly enjoying the moment. “Nah, man, he’s more like a flying squirrel—can’t even stick the landing!” He grabbed his drink, sipping it with exaggerated slowness, as if savoring every moment of their shared amusement. “Gotta say though, that would’ve been one hell of a show if you actually made it.”
Noah just sat there, silently poking at his food, pretending to laugh along with them, but inside, he was seething. The humiliation was too much. He couldn’t help but replay the memory of that impulsive, reckless jump, but instead of flying, he had ended up falling, nearly dying. His friends didn’t know the whole story.
It was indeed… funny…
Noah stifled a laugh, and succeeded in maintaining his poker face,
There was truth to the saying why men tend to die earlier than women.
Mark shot Noah a grin. "Hey, maybe next time you try the whole flying thing, you could start by not jumping off roofs, yeah? Maybe try a trampoline first?" He laughed again, nudging Thomas.
Thomas who still shaking with laughter, leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, dude, maybe save the flying experiments for when you’re not in a school uniform, huh? You’d probably look better in a cape, too—then you could look like a real hero.” He clapped Noah on the back with a bit too much force. “But hey, if it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t mind being your sidekick. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t end up as roadkill.”
Noah’s face was burning now, suffering from embarrassment and frustration.
He forced out a chuckle, trying to keep the mood light. “Yeah, right. If you’re my sidekick, you’d probably end up as the first person to trip me up.” He took a deep breath and quickly added, “But thanks for the ‘support,’ guys.”
Mark and Thomas exchanged a look, both of them grinning like idiots, before turning their attention back to their lunch. The laughter slowly died down, but Noah still felt… miffed.
“Anyway,” Thomas said, between bites of his chicken stew, “next time you wanna try flying, let us know, yeah? We’ll bring the safety net.” He winked.
Mark chimed in, “And maybe a helmet. Just in case the flying squirrel thing doesn’t work out.”
They both laughed again, while Noah just sat back, wishing he could escape to a place where he didn’t have to pretend it didn’t bother him. “You are gonna see, you fools… I am going to fly someday…”