Lionel doesn’t know what kind of being from above or force decided to help him, but he’’l take it. And by “help”, help as in meeting Evangeline Belmont. If it weren’t for her, then Lionel would be completely lost since nobody else seemed to be willing to explain things to him. Lionel considers this a luck and also a blessing. It matches her name in a way as her name meant being the “Bearer of Good News.”

From day until the afternoon, Evangeline was there to aid him in every break, giving him important pointers about each class. However, she was too helpful. Too helpful to the point that Lionel couldn’t help but think she had ulterior motives. It made him question his surroundings and the people around him.

Everyone else isn’t willing to help him, they aren’t even willing to help each other. But here we have Evangeline Belmont who was different from the rest. Lionel tries his best to not ask for too much help, but the girl does so anyway even without him asking. Needless to say, everything she said was useful.

Useful to the point where he was able to signal an answer in.

“The properties of sound in physics are amplitude, period, frequency and wavelength.”

Mr. Mauntell, their Natural and Physical Science Teacher, nodded solemnly at Lionel.

“Well done, Wesholm.” And once Lionel settled back down, he continued his lesson. “Sound is very important. It influences our daily lives, especially in communication. It helps us to identify our surroundings and evoke emotions from us.”

With a subtle sway of his left hand and like Mrs. Dewitt,papers fluttered from the teacher’s desk drawer, drifting like leaves caught in a soft breeze before landing softly on each student’s desk.

“Keep your ears open at all times. In silence, find a sound. Any sound.” Mr. Mauntell was the oddest teacher Lionel had met so far. It almost seemed like he was out of his world in a way. He spoke slowly, raised his voice a couple of times like he was performing on stage instead of teaching a class.

“I wish you all the best, everyone.”

And that was their final class for the day. Once Lionel was out of the classroom, he exhaled in relief. It was five in the afternoon and the sun had already begun to set. At this point, Lionel was ready to collapse from exhaustion. He could barely keep up with the discussion.

“You managed to keep up well!” He heard a familiar voice from behind praise. “I’m being honest, you catch up quick!”

“Thanks, but honestly you helped out a lot.”

“Aww, it’s no big deal. As classmates, we gotta help each other out.” Then Eva admits with a sheepish smile, “Actually, I also feel bad for you. F-Class isn’t easy, I’ve been there.”

“Oh?” Lionel’s eyes widened at her.

“Yup, so let’s get you out of F-Class as soon as we can.” She explains, “I have an idea on how to do it actually, but let’s do it tomorrow.”

“Okay then.”

This was the last conversation Lionel had for the day. He went back to his dormitory, had dinner and went straight to his room as he did not want to interact with anybody. Before going to bed, he makes sure to write up a draft for his Mana Biology Essay. With the day over with, Lionel lets his back sink into the soft mattress, eyes fixed at the ceiling as he becomes lost in silent contemplation of his first day of class.

The signals, tight deadlines for assignments, training and performances, strange teachers, the ranking system, the reward and punishment system, and Evangeline Belmont. He managed to adapt through silent observation today, but inside, he was engulfed in confusion, unraveling at the seams yet grasping to manage the day with whatever fragile resolve he could muster.

His head is pounding in a way that doesn't feel painful, but enough to make him feel dizzy and out of loop. It was like some worm was knocking at his skull, slithering in and out of brain, keeping him awake yet compelling him to surrender to slumber.

Other than the confusion he feels today, a nagging sense lingered—he felt as though something crucial was slipping his mind, but the persistent worm in his mind whispers to him, urging him to rest, to leave it all to another day.

In the blink of an eye, exhaustion overtook him and sleep claimed him.

…

…

…

Hasn’t he seen this before?

Mrs. Dewitt raises her palm and a flame is lit. “There are different levels of output. This is the insufficient level one.”

The flame grows, matching the size of a human head. “This is level two, the moderate one.”

Once more, it grows as large as the table and the students in the front could feel its heat. “This is level three.”

“And finally…”

A roaring flame erupted from the teacher's palm, wild and fierce, like a beast unleashed. He shut his eyes in startled disbelief, and when he opened them again, he found himself in a dim, stone-walled chamber. A single torch flickered on the wall before him, casting eerie shadows across the room.

“Where…am I?” Lionel questions.

Without warning, the sound of sobbing pierced the air, relentless and thunderous, like a storm crashing in the distance. It was deafening, the raw, guttural cries grating on his senses. The anguish vibrated through his bones and there was nothing he could do.

He couldn’t even find it.

“Who—”

A sharp panic gripped him as he realized he could no longer breathe. His head bowed instinctively, the collar around his neck invisible to his gaze but unmistakably present as its weight crushes his air. His hand shot to his neck, fingers scraping at the narrow space between collar and skin, and he yanked with all his strength, desperate to tear it off.

TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF—

Suddenly, faint chanting can be heard, bouncing off the walls and penetrating his ears. They were singing, singing like little happy children cheering for his impending demise.

His heart hammered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat fueled by the fear spiraling and writhing in his gut. His thoughts began to splinter, slipping away as his head swirled in a dizzying haze.

He could feel it—death closing in on him with brutal clarity. Helplessness washed over him and all he could do was endure the suffocating grip of panic and fear, each breath a struggle as his heart seemed on the verge of threatening to tear itself apart in his ribcage.

I’M DEAD!

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I’M DEAD!

I’M DEAD!

The words choked out of him, silent and strangled. The serpent around his neck tightened mercilessly, its cold coils pressing down deeper with each passing second. His face grows paler and paler and paler and paler—

Suddenly, he jerked awake, his heart pounding as the darkness of what he had believed to be his grave faded.

Lionel is alive.

I’m alive.

His hands fly to the collar around his neck, a frantic instinct taking over as he tries to tear it off. But no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn’t budge. A sharp, searing pain shot through him as he wrenched at it, and it was only then that he snapped back to reality, the brutal pressure on his throat reminding him of the secure lock.

“Fuck…what the fuck…” Lionel whispers, breath ragged, his words fractured by fading panic. His body was slick with sweat, every muscle trembling from the shock and the effort to break free from the fear that still clung onto him.

“What the hell was that?” Lionel slowly sat up and massaged his temples.

This time, he calmly poked at the choker.

He sighs, trying not to think too deeply about the whole thing. He can vaguely recall his dream. He remembers being in class then being teleported to some stone room. He remembers that someone was crying then his collar was suddenly choking him to death.

Vaguely? More like he could recall the exact order of events, but not as visually clear as he would like. And he concludes that it is better that way. Maybe the school was really getting into his head.

The strange classes and suffocating system—it was distorting his thoughts, transforming them into something straight out of a horror novel or some village ghost story.

He would really love the time to collect and gather his thoughts about everything, but life was going too fast. He had to catch up to classes, reach C-Class somehow and he feels like there’s more but he can’t put a name to it.

He gets up, refreshes himself with a quick bath, then makes his way downstairs for breakfast.

Nestled in the school’s dormitories, a large newsboard is placed strategically by the staircase and dorm rooms, designed to ensure that every student will be greeted with recent events or latest updates each morning. With hunger gnawing at him and his dream still lingering in his mind, he craved for food, yet curiosity tugged at him to examine the board.

He glanced over the board to find any noteworthy headlines or announcements, but a single photo pinned to the board caught his eyes more than the rest.

A part of him regretted not choosing to go for breakfast first over this, but he knew he would eventually come across this news down the line. What difference would it make? He found himself asking. And he knew he would throw up the contents of his stomach if he found out immediately or some time after breakfast.

His eyebrows knitted together and his nose creased. He is instinctively compelled to cover his mouth as an unsettling churn rises in his stomach. The feeling escalated relentlessly, leaving him uncertain if he desired food at all.

What the hell did he just see?

What is that disgusting message and humiliating photo?

He stood motionless, breath hitching in his throat, a tremor that rippled through his arms as his eyes darkened, betraying a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Now, Lionel knew exactly what Jonathan Astor meant when he told Jane Addawick to keep her door unlocked.

Lionel could describe Jonathan’s actions with so many words.

Sick, revolting, vile, inhumane, deeply disturbing—This is but a fraction of the depravity of his actions.

How is this even allowed in school? Why aren’t the teachers and staff doing anything to take action against this loathsome act?

The message consisted,

[Thanks for the picture Taylor, Georgia. Jane Addawick, are you cold, darling? - Jonathan]

Lionel couldn’t look anymore. He almost stumbles as he turns and briskly makes his way to the dining hall.

And Lionel doesn’t even want to recall or describe the picture. It was just too humiliating and disrespectful towards Jane Addawick. From what Lionel can deduce from the message, Taylor and Georgia took the picture of Jane in her room. Since the boys aren’t allowed in the girls dormitory, Jonathan probably asked Taylor and Georgia to take the picture instead and send it to him, so he could post his victory all over the board. This was also most probably posted in the girls dormitory as well.

Were they even human? How could they mortify and assault Jane like this and take everything from her? She already felt humiliated by the fact she lost to Jonathan, why worsen it further by exposing every bit of flesh and what was left of her dignity? They’re sick in the head, sick in the head! Lionel thought over and over.

“The school, it’s…the people, they—”

Though Kaius wasn’t able to finish what he had to say that day, Lionel knew exactly how to complete his sentence.

Now, Lionel understood what he had gotten himself into. Why Kaius told him it was a mistake. It was because of this. And Lionel can barely imagine what other horrible things the others have gone through or done.

He breathed heavily, each inhale sharp and ragged, not knowing what to do at the moment after everything dawned on him. In an instant, the collar on his neck became all too real, its weight a suffocating truth. He was consumed by the overwhelming urge to tear it off, slice it open, no matter the cost. Let his nails, hands, neck or what bleed, he wants and needs it off.

There was still this part of him that was struggling to believe, but it wouldn’t do anything to help at all. He could only focus on calming his racing heart, slowly coming to terms with the unsettling truth: this school was a place where morality had long since ceased to exist.

I have to get out. Lionel thought. There has to be a way.

When Lionel reaches the dining hall, he freezes at the sight and sound.

They were laughing.

How the fuck could they laugh at the situation like this?

And Lionel felt the weight of their laughter directed at her; Jane’s name left their lips carelessly, the description of the photo drifting through the air, and their comments on her looks—Lionel couldn’t bear to listen any longer. He yearned for a chance to erase it all, to run, unsure of where he might end up, but he just needed to run from this place, from them, from this school and from everything.

Taking long strides, he leaves the dormitory and steps into the courtyard, only to find them once more. A group of figures shrouded in white veils moved with a somber cadence. As the wind billowed, their veils stirred and parted, revealing a somber expression etched upon their faces. One face stood out all too well to him, one that challenged the boundaries of Lionel’s moral resolve.

Jonathan Astor.

“...”

He’s at a loss for words, both mind and mouth.

Something is boiling in the pot and the worm knocks again.

Beneath the serene facade lurked a grotesque beast buried deep within the flesh. An insatiable urge stirred to scorch the immaculate white and the very earth under their feet.

So what if the Goddess condemns those whose tongues savored the demise of her children—Lionel jolts back to reality when a fellow student accidentally collides with his shoulder. That’s right; he needed to get to class. He swallowed hard, and like a ghost, traveled through the halls as if he haunted them.

Jane Addawick’s picture is the school’s hot topic.

Nearly everyone he encountered in the hallway was hurling spiteful and unsettling remarks.

Lionel suddenly felt like he was in a static state. He began to sweat and tremble, and he was lost to the world. He couldn’t hear anything at this point, their spiteful words turned to loud static and A sense of peril enveloped Lionel. Every step was like a step towards inferno and he just wanted to get out.

He wanted to do something to fix this, anything, but he felt powerless.

He intuitively felt like he was against the entire school and had no one to trust. Every corner and turn led him to another bitter person.

“Lionel.” A familiar name call snaps him out of his ruins.

Eva.

“Eva…Good morning.”

Eva didn’t look good. She was pale and her voice sounded strange, like it came from being used too much. She looked completely different from the cheerful person she was yesterday. She looks devastated now and when she comes closer, Lionel finally notices the redness of her eyes.

“You must’ve seen it…”

“...I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t either.” Eva says, moving to Lionel’s side so they could walk to the classroom together. “I just…how could he do this to her…?”

“...”

Eva inhales sharply and rubs her eyes. “I wasn’t close with her, but she wasn’t a bad person.”

“...I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t want to come to class now.” Lionel says, frown growing bigger.

“She can’t come to class.” Eva sniffles.

“Why?”

Eva was silent for a moment before she stopped walking. Lionel pauses with her and he looks at his surroundings. On either side of them was a door and a hall. The one on the left leads to the Janitor’s office while the one on the right leads to a long dark hallway.

Eva finally speaks.

“The dungeon has done its job.”

“What do you…?”

“Jane Addawick is dead.”