Chapter 22: Unwritten Pages
The following morning, the energy in Classroom K4 was different.
The ethical dilemmas and betrayal games had left their mark. Students glanced at one another with a new kind of curiosity — not suspicion exactly, but awareness. The kind of awareness that only comes after a mirror has been held too close to the soul.
I walked in five minutes early, as always. No notes. No materials. Just me and a blank screen behind.
Some were already seated. A few were whispering. When I took my place at the center, I didn't say a word.
Juno was the first to break the silence.
"Can we ask you something personal?"
I tilted my head. "You may try."
Haruto leaned forward. "What did you do before this? Before the academy?"
The others nodded.
"What's your job?"
"Where did you come from?"
"Why can't we find any record of you?"
I smiled slightly. "I've had many roles. Some I chose. Others I didn't."
Tamir folded his arms. "That's not an answer."
"Exactly," I said.
Laughter rippled through the room, but it faded quickly.
Eva, the girl with the cool eyes, asked, "Are you dangerous?"
That made the others pause.
I considered it.
"Yes," I said simply. "To those who break their promises."
That stirred something. A flicker of unease. A boy near the back raised his hand.
"You're not here just to teach, are you?"
"No," I said. "I'm here to prepare you. For the world. For choices. And to remind you that even the smartest minds fail if they lack purpose."
"Have you ever failed?" Juno asked.
I didn't answer immediately. I walked toward the chalkboard, drew a single line through its center.
"I have lived longer than all your family trees combined. And yes. I have failed. Often. But the trick is not in avoiding failure. It's in learning which failures teach you, and which haunt you."
Silence again.
Cyrus had told me not to overwhelm them.
But if they wanted answers — even half-truths — I would give them something to think about.
"I grant favors," I said. "And I collect on them. Eventually."
"What does that mean?" Tamir asked, eyes narrowing.
"It means people ask for things they believe will solve their lives. And later, I remind them that every shortcut leaves a scar."
Eva whispered, "That sounds… biblical."
"It's older than any scripture," I said.
Haruto frowned. "And you've been doing this how long?"
"Longer than your maps can trace," I said. "Long enough to forget what boredom feels like."
Someone near the front muttered, "Is that why you're so calm? Like nothing surprises you?"
"It's not that I'm never surprised," I said. "It's that I've seen the patterns. And most people? They repeat them. Over and over."
They didn't look afraid. Just… intrigued.
To them, I was a puzzle wrapped in legend. And maybe that was fine.
I stepped back.
"For today," I said, "we won't study a text. We'll study each other."
I pointed to the whiteboard and wrote:
"What do you want most — and what would you trade to get it?"
Gasps. Murmurs. But they were already reaching for their notebooks.
I didn't need to explain further.
They were ready.