Within a high school classroom, a lesson was underway.
The teacher stood at the front with an indifferent, expressionless face, his voice a calm monotone that neither rose nor fell. He explained the material with mechanical clarity, and not a single student dared to break the rigid stillness that always accompanied his presence.
Then—
Ding—!
The bell rang sharply, cracking the silence.
Chairs shifted as students prepared to leave, but before anyone could rise completely, the teacher spoke—without changing expression, tone, or pace.
"Submit your homework to the class representative."
His voice cut cleanly through the room.
A girl with a cute face hesitated before standing. She clutched her notebook with trembling fingers as she approached the front.
"I–I'm sorry, teacher… I couldn't finish the homework because my sister's health got worse, so I had to visit her in the hospital."
The teacher regarded her quietly.
His eyes moved with clinical precision—from her earrings, to her accessories, to her neatly styled hair. After a moment that stretched uncomfortably long for her, he spoke again.
"Your earrings are different from yesterday. And you're wearing new accessories on your left hand."
His tone remained flat, almost bored.
"Let me guess—you either went shopping or to an amusement park. Likely with friends."
She froze.
Guilt flickered across her face, but she tried to steady her breathing.
"Yes… I did go shopping," she admitted. "But I returned home on time. I only went to the hospital afterward."
The teacher showed no reaction—not even a blink.
"I'll speak to your guardian about this."
Just then, a boy with a handsome face and a bright, easy smile stepped forward. He approached with the confidence of someone certain his charm could dissolve tension.
"Come on, teacher," he said lightly. "She's always diligent. Her grades are great. I'm sure she's telling the truth."
The teacher turned his head toward him.
Their eyes met.
The boy's smile died instantly. His posture stiffened, and the relaxed confidence drained from his expression under the weight of the teacher's silent, unblinking stare.
A few seconds passed—quiet, heavy.
Then the teacher turned away without a word and walked out of the classroom, leaving the silence behind him as easily as he had entered it.
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Daniel's POV
As I stepped out of the classroom, the students' voices drifted after me.
"Ugh, would it kill him to act a bit nicer?"
"He's always so stiff… like he swallowed a metal rod."
"I seriously wish we had a different teacher."
Their complaints floated in the air like background noise.
I had heard similar things countless times before; by now, they barely grazed the edge of my awareness. No irritation. No disappointment. No reaction at all.
'They say the same things every year.'
I continued walking down the quiet hallway until I stopped in front of the faculty office.
'That was the last lesson for today. I should be able to go home now.'
I stepped inside the faculty office and walked toward my desk, gathering my belongings with practiced efficiency. Just as I picked up my bag, another teacher called out to me.
"Good afternoon, Daniel. Heading home already?"
I turned toward him, stretching my lips just enough to form a polite, minimal smile.
"Good afternoon to you as well, sir. Yes, I've finished all my classes for today."
Hearing my formal tone, he clicked his tongue and let out a small sigh.
"It's been two years since you joined us, and you still talk like that. All that politeness makes us feel distant, you know?"
'Because I have no desire to be any closer to you.'
The smile remained on my face, and my tone—if anything—became even more courteous.
"You are all my seniors here. Anything less than this would be disrespectful."
He shut his mouth, realizing there was no opening in that response.
After a short pause, he tried again.
"Well… since you're done for the day, why don't you help me check those test papers?" He gestured to a messy pile beside his desk. "They've been stacking up for weeks, and I need to finish grading them today. It's too much to do alone."
'And whose fault is that? Why should I fix a problem you created? And don't pretend we're close. I'm not interested.'
I softened my expression into something regretful—artificial, but convincing—and spoke in the gentlest tone I had used all day.
"I'm truly sorry, sir. But I already have arrangements for today, and I can't afford to delay any further. Otherwise, I would've been more than happy to help."
My colleague blinked, then nodded with an understanding smile.
"I see. Well, everyone's busy these days."
"Yes," I replied politely.
With nothing more to add, I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder, left the faculty office, and walked out of the school building.
The cool air outside met me as I began my usual quiet walk toward my apartment.
As I walked along the road, familiar thoughts drifted through my mind—ideas I'd repeated so many times they no longer felt like thoughts, but truths etched into the back of my mind.
'The essence of this world is competition.'
A vast, inescapable struggle where every living being—human or animal—competes for something.
People compete to become something, to obtain something, to achieve something.
Love. Honor. Wealth. Recognition. Existence itself.
Those who achieve something compete to climb even higher.
Those who obtain anything chase something greater.
Those who become something strive to become something more.
The competition never ends.
'But I refuse to take part in that race.'
To me, life isn't about how high you climb, but whether you can be satisfied with the life you already have. Only then does happiness feel real.
And I am satisfied.
I desire nothing more—no new friends, no love, no wealth, no fame.
My small, ordinary life is enough.
Out of habit, I took a coin from my pocket and began rolling it between my fingers.
As I walked, I glanced up at the sky—murky, fogged with pollution, the sun nothing more than a pale blur behind a grey curtain.
The sight soured my mood a little.
'People work so hard to leave something of themselves behind in this world, but… does it matter?
After all, the world itself is dying.'
Humans build monuments, write legacies, create things to prove they existed—or to help future generations. But in a world collapsing under the weight of its own greed and 'advancement,' is there any point in carving your name onto a surface that might not last?
My thoughts wandered, quiet and steady, as I continued walking alone through the fading light.
After walking for a while, I reached my apartment. Opening the door, the familiar small space welcomed me with its usual, comfortable silence.
This quiet apartment was the only place where nothing was expected of me.
I changed out of my formal clothes and sat on my bed, turning on my phone to look for new web comics. After scrolling for several minutes, I exhaled quietly.
'Another story about defeating the demon king with cheats… It's getting old.'
Losing interest, I set the phone aside and moved to my PC.
I turned it on and played games for several hours, letting time slip past without much thought.
Before I realized it, the clock on my monitor was brushing close to midnight.
I shut down the PC, grabbed a light meal, and ate without hurry.
Then I lay down on my bed, pulling the blanket over myself.
'I should sleep early. I have more lessons tomorrow.'
I closed my eyes expecting another ordinary morning—without realizing I'd never see that world again.