Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

look, two and a half hours writing, one hour reviewing and another translating, all tonight, this fanfic has no future, there are literally no plans, I'm simply going to write what I want with the excuse of the circles

Do you want something? Just tell me, obviously with Abbie as the focus, believe me, randomness really is random.

His remains, stained with blood, lay scattered on the floor. If he could remember the names of the organs, he was sure he could point them out, even the ones that had been bitten. The blood, a vibrant red, broke the monotony of colors, trickling through his organs, bones, and the strange mucus of his exploded body. Abbie had never been the brightest, and as he processed all of this half-heartedly, he was certain that this was why he found himself in this situation.

But he knew that no living being should be able to survive with an eye hanging from a shattered skull, overpowered by a three-meter-tall cannibalistic teacher. If he truly felt he was going to die, Abbie had the chance to reflect on nothingness. His screams never made it out, the fear stopped, and the pain ceased when his nervous system likely went out of place, severed from his flesh.

But he didn’t misinterpret it. There was a spark of pain in his soul. He could still see the body of his new friend, torn apart, a few meters away from him. She had probably been luckier, dying faster, more definitively. Although, perhaps “luck” wasn’t the right word to describe her encounter with the three-meter-tall teacher with her insatiable cannibalistic appetite.

Little by little, his vision darkened, like a cruel joke from God or any being unfortunate enough to be the one to do this. A small detail that no one else would ever learn, but that he—only he—would witness as this misfortune unfolded.

Abbie could finally rest, maybe meet Lana in the end… That thought was the last comfort he had before fading away.

...

The sound of birds chirping through the windows broke the silence. Sunlight filtered through a curtain shaped like apples. Small spasms ran through Abbie's body for a second, until, calmly, he sat up in bed. He blinked suddenly, and an acidic smell filled the room.

Any thought that had been in his mind sank into a sob of fear and deep shame.

Apparently, he hadn't died. Or maybe he had; nightmares weren’t unfamiliar to him. But admitting that what he’d experienced was a nightmare might make his classmates mock him with justification, and if the only horror movie he’d ever seen in his life had taught him anything, it was that stupid people die in equally stupid ways.

Abbie stood before the washing machine, spinning in cycles with what appeared to be a sheet and pajamas. He stared at his reflection: a new outfit fresh from his closet, red eyes from crying, dark circles under greasy hair that reached his shoulders. If he hadn’t died... maybe he would’ve been concerned about the birds’ singing, the tardiness that might get him scolded, his parents’ calls, or even the hunger he felt.

But he couldn’t ignore the obvious. He had died.

Abbie collapsed, instinctively retreating against the wall, letting out a choked sob. “I died... I- I died, Lana…” His voice trembled as the searing memories stayed in his head, sharper than a dream he wished he could forget.

He stayed there, staring into the void, while the sound of the washing machine and the birds’ songs continued their course. Abbie didn’t move, until finally, he was forced to get up and take out the clothes, as if it were an automatic mechanism.

“If I try to call them…” Abbie shook his head. Calling his parents and telling them this would only land him in a psychiatric ward or force him into homeschooling. He already knew how that would affect his social life.

“Social life?” he muttered, incredulous at his thoughts, with the clothes in his hands. Maybe if he was as stupid as they said...

Now calmer, perhaps from disbelief or a sense of confusion, he began to think about his options. His parents? No. Reporting it to the authorities? He didn’t remember seeing any missing person posters. That would only make him seem insane. Or maybe the teacher would simply… kill them all? Abbie chuckled softly, wanting to cry once more, but holding it in.

Confronting the teacher?

“Seriously?” he murmured, as if mocking himself. Miss Circle, a teacher more than two meters tall, almost three, with hair that resembled a demon’s horn and a retractable compass as large as his own body. No, she could handle any cop or security. What the hell was he going to do?

Abbie sighed tiredly. As if all his torment wasn’t enough, he saw the time. It would only be a matter of minutes before he’d be late again. And, when he looked at the date, he realized it was still the same as always.

And, against all his instincts, he prepared himself again. Once more in the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror, splashed cold water on his face, and told himself he could do it, with the courage his parents had always instilled in him.

…

The bus shook him with every bounce, causing some classmates to laugh out loud. Abbie could only wish the ground would swallow the vehicle and end his suffering.

Arriving late had become a kind of physical sport for him. He knew he wasn’t the best at math (in fact, he hated it), and even less so at timing. His routine consisted of walking at half-speed for a few meters, then hearing a crack in his back, and finally, running as if there were no tomorrow. The cycle repeated endlessly, but all he could feel was the sweat running down his face and the discomfort caused by his classmates' stares.

However, he didn’t pay much attention. He turned his gaze towards the entrance to the "paper school." It was like crossing an energy field that transported him to another world. He took a step forward, but this time he didn’t feel the excitement he had experienced the first time he arrived there. Instead, something in his stomach twisted, and the school, which had once seemed so big and promising, now felt unsettling.

He whispered to himself, as if it were a mantra: “I can do this,” as he walked down the hall. The lockers were lined up along the hallway, and students passed him by. He didn’t know the names of most, except for Lana’s, but he didn’t really care; he was too distracted thinking about what had just happened. As he walked by a group of the three troublemakers, one of them gave him a challenging look, but Abbie didn’t flinch; the essence of dying seemed to work for once. The scene felt as absurd as always, just like the dozens of people with television heads or the teachers who all looked like exact copies of each other, with glasses and dark hair. In addition to different individuals with more than... curious proportions.

But then he saw her. A few meters away, Miss Circle was chatting calmly with another teacher. He couldn’t help but stare at her. He knew that if he looked at her too long, he would attract her attention. Still, he did it. The teacher gave him a glance and waved her hand, as if offering a friendly greeting. Abbie felt like his brain short-circuited immediately. Instead of facing that gaze, he turned around and robotically headed to the bathroom, slipping into the last stall. There, he sat on the toilet seat and hugged his legs, seeking comfort in the silence that surrounded him.

The day continued, but Abbie wasn’t fully present. A beep from his phone snapped him out of his trance. He blinked, left the stall, and went straight to the mirror, only to discover that his face was covered in drool. He nervously laughed, but he couldn’t care about that right now. All he could think about was that if he failed a pop quiz on the first day, he would literally be killed. What could happen to those hiding in the bathrooms?

With a sigh, he ran toward the exit, hoping it wasn’t too late. The hallway was empty, except for a few students scattered here and there. Abbie tried to remember where his classroom was, but his legs betrayed him, cutting off his breath with every step. His poor physical state was starting to take its toll, and his heart was beating so hard it felt like it might explode. As he approached the classroom door, everything felt more real than ever.

A few meters from the door, his speed didn’t slow down, until he heard a shout behind him. But Abbie only thought about getting to the classroom, even if it meant arriving at the end of the lesson. But just when he thought he had made it, he stumbled. His body, unable to keep up, dropped him, but somehow, he managed to jump toward the door.

And suddenly, he was back in his bed.

Abbie didn’t sit up. He remained lying down, staring at the ceiling of his room, lit only by the flickering morning light. He didn’t hug his pillow as he usually did. Instead, a strange feeling washed over him, mixed with the acid he felt in the air. “Why?” he whispered quietly, but the sound only left him more confused.

He took his time getting up, looked at his reflection in the mirror, and sighed. At least this time, he didn’t feel like he had been brutally punished. Maybe, he thought, the teacher had seen him jump through the classroom door and decided it would be a good idea to end him once and for all. Abbie thought that was a fairly sensible option, considering how embarrassing the situation was.

He blushed, though it wasn’t because of changing clothes. Finally, he allowed himself a shower. The hot water calmed him, and the steam surrounded him, just like his flushed cheeks. Strangely, he felt grateful that none of it had been real. Maybe he had hit his head and died or something like that. In fact, his heart had almost exploded in the process, so he wasn’t entirely sure about everything.

He decided not to think about death for a while and got out of the shower, feeling calmer than he had expected. He looked at his thin body, thinking that if it weren’t for his intelligence, his physique could also be a potential cause of death. What the hell was he going to do in gym class? Would his teacher kill him with dodgeballs when he failed?

He laughed at the thought. But then he stopped when he realized that it might be a real possibility. He stopped feeding his anxiety for a moment, grabbed the dirty sheets and pajamas, and pushed them away from him in disgust as he left the room.

The empty hallways welcomed him. He didn’t bother to be quiet, despite the hour. He knew he wouldn’t wake anyone up if there was no one to wake. He walked calmly,observing every corner of the structure that he called home. He went downstairs to the first floor and reached the laundry room, where he placed his things in the washing machine, just like he had done many times before.

With a soft melodic noise indicating that the cycle had started, this time Abbie didn’t collapse onto the floor. Instead, he sat down slowly, took his phone out of his pocket, and looked at the contact list. In the short list, it didn’t take long for him to find two photos, one under the other. In both, he appeared with someone else, like profile pictures.

Abbie smiled and dialed his mother’s number. The phone rang for a few seconds before his mother answered. He thought for a moment about the time difference but quickly dismissed the thought when he heard his mother’s melodic voice. He couldn’t help but compare it to Miss Circle’s voice, and a light laugh escaped his lips at the stark contrast.

“Apple pie!” his mother screamed, and Abbie pulled the phone away a few inches, still smiling, though his eyes were slowly getting misty, without him wanting it.

“Mom!” he said firmly, trying to hide the fact that he was on the verge of tears.

“How have you been? Your dad and I wanted to call you during breakfast, but we thought it was too early. We didn’t want to take away even a minute of your sleep” her voice was full of love, everything Abbie needed at that moment.

“Did something happen?” she asked, now with a worried tone, which was expected if he was calling at this hour.

“No! I just…” Abbie couldn’t find the words, looking around for a way to define how he felt, fear, dread, he didn’t even know how to describe it.

“Nervous?” his mother suggested, and Abbie, with a sigh, nodded to himself.

“Yes…” he replied, his voice tinged with sadness. The best way to describe what he felt was with that word, it could almost be his second name, although an uncontrollable terror ran through his body every time he thought of his situation, so it worked too.

“Well, it’s not time to back down, sweetheart. You wanted this! Don’t let a few feelings stop you from what you really want,” his mother said cheerfully, infecting Abbie with her energy. Abbie could hear her get up and leave the room while talking.

“I know…” Abbie didn’t sound convinced, let alone determined, but not stammering was enough for his mother to notice.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry, you’ll see everything will be fine. I’m sure you know more than your teachers! Those books we bought you are the best and easiest ones we could find.”

“Yes…” Abbie murmured, his mind barely processing the words. To his mother, it probably sounded unsure, but to Abbie, all he could do was scream in his head, remembering how he had lied about reading all those books piled up in a corner of the house. Fortunately, his mother didn’t insist on a video call, otherwise, he would have shown the most incriminating face in the whole family.

“Oh! Your dad’s in the bathroom. Do you want to do a video call to surprise him when he gets back?” his mother asked cheerfully. Abbie almost shouted a "no" in response, but stopped himself just in time, trying to calm down.

“I’m a little tired. It’s too early, I’m going to sleep a bit before school. Make sure to say hi to dad for me.”

His mother laughed on the other end of the phone, as if she knew something Abbie didn’t. Still, she said goodbye before ending the call.

Abbie sighed in relief and returned to the living room. There, he found a couch facing a giant TV. Under it, what he was looking for: a dusty pile of books. Next to it, as a cruel joke, was his game console, so white and shiny it seemed to have been recently cleaned.

It’s not like the spray bottle next to it meant anything.

“This is life or death, and this time it really is…” he told himself, giving himself a hit on the head. he took the pile of books and placed it on a glass table in front of the sofa. he spread them out, and recalling a tip he had seen on the internet, he searched for the most complicated math book, convinced that if he understood even one of the topics, everything would be easier.

Carefully, Abbie placed the book on the table, smiled, ready to do what he had to do for weeks. he opened the first page, but immediately closed it. he set the book aside silently and looked for the easiest one. he opened the page, stared at it for a few seconds, and then closed it again.
he leaned back on the couch, curled up on his side, hugging his legs like a child, and let a couple of sobs escape.

“No... I know I have to do this somehow…” Abbie murmured, suddenly jumping, breathing heavily under the pressure. he looked at the books scattered across the table, the key to not failing.

To hell with failing in the academic field, he would fail in the survival field.

And he promised himself that, somehow, he would get through this. First, though, he would eat something. It wasn’t a joke that the last time he ate was... two washes ago.

Now, he sat in front of the books, his face smeared with food remnants. he took the simplest math book and forced himself to read and reread the pages until he understood or memorized the content, using Google and every bit of his brain until he felt his mind was exhausted.

As if by a miracle, the last page of the book detached from the cover, with a thank you or a credit, something that only existed to remind him he had read one more page… even though in the end he skipped it. But he finished it. Almost crying with emotion, he closed the book. Maybe it was a short book, and he only remembered like 15%, but his dark circles were worth it.

Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe it was the lesson of learning to really try, to find the motivation to do what he never did. To realize that everything was easier than he thought. And that moment… that moment would be the turning point in his life.

Abbie took his phone, trembling, about to take a picture of the scattered books to send to his parents, but before he could, he stopped to check the time.
Two hours had passed since he started his first class. As if that wasn’t enough, his eyelids gave in, and he collapsed on the couch, surrendering to exhaustion.

The birds’ song woke him up again.

Slowly, and with some fear, Abbie threw the blankets off in one swift motion, checking that, this time, there were no accidents. At least, he could allow himself that small victory.

The tears that gathered in his eyes weren’t enough to break him. he could see the bright side: this time, he did it.

He took his phone and checked the time: 4 A.M. he no longer knew if it was the same time he always woke up, but he didn’t care. In fact, he felt relieved. he remembered everything he studied perfectly (that valuable 15%). he hesitated for a moment to review the material one more time, but decided that, this time, he would allow himself to rest.

If it weren’t for his stupidity, sleep would kill him.

he thanked being alive, thanked any deity who had gotten him into this mess, because he knew that, once he woke up, he would go to that school and show that cannibal teacher what he was capable of.

Or that’s what he thought as he rushed to the bathroom, just in case, before going to sleep.

He really didn’t want any more accidents.

Chapter Text

There were no dreams or nightmares this time.

No doubts, either.

Abbie opened his eyes. The cold ceiling greeted him. "Well, this is an improvement," he muttered with a hint of dry irony. No stained bed, no dark circles etched beneath his eyes—and he had even studied. With a swift motion, he grabbed his phone and silenced the alarm just as it began to blare. Before he could fully register it, he was already heading down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to leave.

He allowed himself a moment of pride for feeling so determined. If dying had anything to do with it, he wasn’t about to question it. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he loaded up his books and headed to school. He didn’t want to think about anything other than math. Burning those cursed numbers into his brain felt far better than reliving everything he had been through. His mother’s words echoed in his mind: Don’t let some stupid feelings hold you back from what you want.

And Abbie swore he really wanted to live.

Walking slowly, he flipped through his math book, jotting down a few notes as he went. He kept his head up just enough to avoid bumping into anyone. Stoically, he endured the bus ride, the jolts on the uneven road, and the creaking of its joints. Though some noises startled him, he managed to suppress any major reactions, keeping himself composed.

In short, he didn’t seem like a scared animal.

Finally, he arrived at the school gates. Immense and imposing as ever. He walked through without acknowledging the stares from his fellow students.

The hallways hadn’t changed. The same faces, the same patterns. He avoided the teachers, still unable to trust any of them. While he doubted the entire school was made up of murderers, he wasn’t willing to dismiss the possibility entirely. He refused to glare at everyone with suspicion, but if he were honest, half the people here struck him as complete sociopaths.

That’s why he decided to approach the least threatening figure he could find: a tall teacher with cream-colored hair tied into a ponytail. She wore a modestly cut blouse and shorts. Despite the large scissors she carried in her hands, Abbie exhaled in relief when she pointed him in the right direction with a warm smile. She seemed about to say something but hurriedly excused herself to chase after a group of rowdy students.

“Well, at least not everyone is the same,” Abbie thought. He dropped half his books into his locker and took out his math materials. As he did, he wondered if that teacher would be in any of his classes. Between her and Lana, he was starting to feel a little more secure.

But the fragile hope he had painstakingly built crumbled when a hook appeared out of nowhere.

A scream tore from his throat, drawing the attention of the nearby students. Most, however, quickly resumed their business upon spotting the culprit.

With a hook embedded in the locker door and a hand resting on his hip, the intruder stared at him intently. Abbie barely registered the figure’s bicolored hair, poncho, and tail draped over his waist. He had no idea how to react.

“Heeeeeello!” the stranger sang, drawing out the greeting into an awkward silence while locking eyes with Abbie.

“H-hi” Abbie stammered.

“Hi!”

“You alrea—?”

“Nice locker! Mind if I mark it so you never lose it?” the stranger asked, his voice brimming with overconfidence. Abbie blinked, glancing between the locker number and his surroundings.

“N-no! That’s not necessary. We don’t want to damage school property, right?” he tried to reason, but his words fell on deaf ears. The stranger drove the hook deeper, dragging it down the locker door with a screeching noise that set Abbie’s teeth on edge.

“S-stop!” Abbie clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the awful sound reverberating through the hallway.

“Done! Now you’ll never lose it again. Whenever you need your stuff, just look for the X” the stranger declared proudly.

“Uh… thanks?” Abbie mumbled, unsure of how to respond.

“That’ll be $100!” The stranger held out his hand expectantly.

“Oh, wait—$100 per line, so $200. No, hang on… it’s the first day, so let’s add $500 to replace the locker, plus $100 for the inconvenience. That’s $800 total. Pay up, or I’ll report you to the advocacy committee” he added, grinning ear to ear, his hand opening and closing as if genuinely expecting nearly $1,000.

The school had an advocacy committee? Why so much money for a locker door?—Why on earth would he be the one paying for this?!

“Well… if you refuse to pay, I’ll have to call Miss Circle to see what you’ve done” the stranger continued, chuckling under his breath.

Panic surged through Abbie like a tidal wave. His bladder screamed for release. He stood frozen, barely breathing. His skin, growing paler by the second, seemed to lose all traces of life.

That day, Abbie could have easily died of a heart attack.

A firm hand grabbed the hook embedded in the locker and, effortlessly, returned it precisely to the hand waiting for payment. Abbie stared in awe at their unexpected savior, a young man dressed in overalls and leg warmers, exuding the aura of a heroic figure.

“Zip, why don’t you leave the new kid alone, huh? I’m sure your buddies are looking for you. Haven’t you done enough already?” The savior’s voice was steady, as firm as his posture. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an unmistakable gesture of exhaustion, as though this scene was routine for him, while directing his gaze back to the so-called "Zip," if that was even his real name.

“Ugh, buzzkill. See ya!” Zip rolled his eyes before walking off as if nothing had happened.

Abbie let out a breath, turning his attention to the locker. It was torn from end to end in the shape of a giant X.

“Th-thank you, I really appreciate it,” he said with a mix of nerves and sincerity, though his tone didn’t quite capture how deeply he meant it.

His savior simply offered a sheepish smile.

“It’s fine. This kind of thing happens a lot. Troublemakers like him are pretty common around here, but not all of us are like that. My name’s Engel. Oh, and this is Claire! She’s new too, just like you.” Engel stepped aside, introducing a girl with a bow adorning her bob-cut hair, which covered one eye.

“Hi,” Claire greeted with a small smile, extending her hand.

Abbie awkwardly accepted the gesture, feeling that even after reliving the same day some times, being rescued like this was still embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about the locker” Engel interrupted, gently tapping his knuckles against the metal surface. “It’s pretty common for lockers to end up like this—or worse. But if you want, I can ask if they’ll replace it. Though it’ll cost you. Not 500 bucks, though” he added, mocking Zip’s exaggerated demand, which managed to elicit a small smile from Abbie.

“Classes are about to start. I think we’re in the same one. I remember seeing you on a tour—or am I wrong? Want to join us?” Engel asked with a casualness that made the answer obvious.

“Sure” Abbie replied, trying to sound calm as he joined them. He walked behind Engel and Claire, who seemed like lifelong friends despite having just met that morning. However, they didn’t leave him out, occasionally including him in their conversation.

Abbie felt genuinely grateful for this warm welcome.

Once in the classroom, his new friends offered him a seat next to them, but Abbie politely declined with a smile. His attention turned to the room full of lively students, searching for a familiar face. Finally, a girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail, sitting at the back, caught his eye. She was talking to two puppets, making her his immediate destination.

However, before he could reach her, a boot appeared in his path, causing him to trip and fall flat on the floor. He let out a tired sigh as he got up, only to find Engel already intervening, confronting Zip, who denied any wrongdoing.

“Class is starting, Engel. Thanks, but I’m fine. And Zip... go to hell, will you?”

Engel slowly nodded at his first words but widened his eyes in shock at the latter. Zip, on the other hand, ignored him with a mocking gesture before walking off.

This was utter nonsense, especially compared to simply being able to see the cheerful girl again and not... dismembered.

Abbie continued toward his goal. Despite the empty space around her, it seemed no other student sat near her. Lana, the puppet girl, didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she just didn’t care.

Carefully, he placed his things on the desk beside hers, unable to avoid overhearing part of her conversation with her puppets.

“I’m telling you, we should have studied more for the start of classes!” the puppet in her left hand protested firmly.

“Nah, it’s the beginning of the year. Nothing ever happens at the start” the right one replied, its carefree voice accompanied by a dismissive gesture.

Despite the scene drawing curious glances, Abbie only smiled. Then, the left puppet seemed to notice him, nudging the right one to point him out. Finally, both puppets directed their gaze at him, drawing Lana’s attention.

Embarrassed at being caught, Abbie waved awkwardly.

“Uh... my name’s Abbie. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi! My name’s Lana!” she replied enthusiastically before the left puppet interjected:

“Abbie... that’s a nice name, but it’s a bit—” The right puppet interrupted:

“I’ll call you Apple! Because you’ve got an apple stem on your head.”

Abbie chuckled at the remark. This first meeting was almost identical to one he had already experienced, except this time, he wasn’t as nervous. Lana observed him for a few seconds, seemingly waiting for a different reaction, then smiled to herself. The teacher entered the room at that moment, capturing everyone’s attention—even the puppets, which fell silent.

The teacher, with a deliberately peculiar accent, began the class. Her intimidating figure—over two meters tall, clad in heavy boots, and wielding a giant compass—commanded respect. However, her calm tone and clear explanations contrasted sharply with her appearance. She was, surprisingly, a good teacher... or so it seemed.

The first time, Abbie had thought the same, before she inevitably killed him and sent him back into this endless loop.

Hmm.

Abbie gradually stopped paying attention to the teacher. Maybe it had always been this way. Perhaps this was the first time he died... or at least the first time he remembered it.

Making eye contact with Miss Circle was enough to snap him out of his thoughts. He immediately straightened his back, trying to ignore the soft laughter from Lana, who seemed far calmer than he was.

After several minutes of introductions—in which he surprisingly managed not to seem like a total social misfit—the teacher announced her brilliant idea for breaking the ice on the first day of class, her tone brimming with peculiar energy.

“A pop quiz!” she cheered, raising her compass in the air like a trophy.

Groans filled the room, but even the loudest complaints ceased under a simple smile from Miss Circle. With an almost cruel calm, she began handing out paper after paper.

Abbie watched as his classmates stared at the sheets like they were staring at a death sentence. And, in a way, they were... though they didn’t fully understand it yet.

When the teacher placed the paper on his desk, Abbie realized his fixed gaze must have caught her attention because she flashed him a sidelong smile before moving on. He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to the quiz.

Thank God for memorizing these answers, he thought, recalling how he’d reviewed them at home the night before... or maybe in the "circle" before. Whatever that meant.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he began writing down the answers he remembered. The classroom fell into silence, broken only by the sound of pencils scratching paper and the occasional anxious whisper.

Out of the corner of his eye, Abbie noticed something strange. One of Lana’s puppets—the one on the right—was motionless over her paper, as if sniffing it. just to hear a faint "damn", that couldn’t have been from Lana, who looked worried while her other puppet recited what sounded like math results.

Abbie frowned. What the hell was going on? Even Miss Circle raised an eyebrow at the spectacle but said nothing as she continued walking between desks.

Focus, Abbie. Finish this already.

To his amazement, he managed to complete most of the quiz with what he’d studied and remembered. Still, he knew he’d do anything to keep a good grade, even if it meant being a little dishonest. Survival was his priority.

Finally, he flipped the page and finished the back. A sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips, drawing some classmates’ attention. Even Lana glanced at him, unaware that her new friend was, in fact, a cheater.

But Abbie was certain of one thing: today, he wouldn’t die.

And then it hit him: he wouldn’t die... but someone else would.

The thought struck him like a blow. His mind began to spiral between terror and responsibility. He scanned his classmates: from the girl with bubble-shaped hair, who seemed surprisingly calm, to Claire, who was trembling at her desk. Though he didn’t know Claire, he instinctively knew she didn’t deserve to die, not even zip deserved it.

Time was running out, and Abbie improvised a plan that, incredibly, wouldn’t put him in direct danger. He eyed Claire’s desk at the end of the row, between Engel and a boy with black hair and glasses. Carefully, he let his completed quiz slip from his hand, ensuring Lana could see and get anything she needed.

When Miss Circle approached Claire’s desk, Abbie stood up, holding a few sheets in his hands—the quiz and some loose calculus notes.

“E-excuse me, miss, but I have a question” he stammered, feeling the predator-like gaze she cast down at him.

As he spoke, he slowly moved until Claire was behind him and discreetly let his finished quiz drop to her feet, praying she would notice. The classroom fell silent, and the teacher’s eyes fixed on him, expectant.

Not having lost his throat, he went to step two.

Abbie began bombarding her with questions, none of which were related to the quiz. He knew he was wasting the little time left, but every second he gained could be crucial for Claire. As he talked, the questions grew more absurd, almost like nonsensical statements, exact formulas unrelated to the current topic—anything his math book could conjure up in his adrenaline-fueled mind.

Finally, when he had nothing left to say, he fell silent, waiting for Miss Circle’s reaction.

He looked like he might collapse from all the talking. Even he would’ve been frustrated in Miss Circle’s place, but she merely raised an eyebrow and smiled curiously at his performance. Finally, she asked the question:

“What are you asking?”

…

“I... realized it while speaking. I can turn in the test... Please?” he feigned hesitance as he let a second sheet fall to the ground. Quickly, he crouched to pick it up. He grabbed both sheets, snatched them off the floor, and ran toward Miss Circle's desk.

“Sorry! I dropped my test. I’ll place it on your desk right now” he shouted as he dashed across the room.

Slowing his pace to a walk, unsure of how effective his outburst had been, a small detail caught his attention:

There were shoe marks on one of the sheets, as if someone had stepped on it. Not only that, the back, where the easiest part of the test was located, was dirty, as if it had been dragged.

Abbie carefully cleaned the sheets and smiled victoriously as he returned to his desk, his test successfully submitted.

Too bad the whole class was watching him like he was some kind of oddity, even though he hadn’t been the first to turn in the test. In fact, more than half the class had already done so.

That’s why he doubted he’d arouse much suspicion.

As if a savior, the first bell of the day rang. Groans filled the room as students left their tests on the teacher’s desk.

Abbie glanced at Lana as she returned to her seat after turning in her test.

“And... how did it go? I think I did... okay” he said nervously, staring at his desk.

This time, it was Lana’s turn to look at him like he was a lunatic before bursting into laughter.

“You really do have a loose tongue, huh?” said her left puppet in a light yet condescending tone.

Then her right puppet grabbed him by the neck and threw him into a hug he didn’t know how to interpret. Lana had literally wrapped him in a friendly gesture, though her left puppet didn’t seem entirely pleased, settling for patting his head.

“Thanks” Lana said finally, this time sincerely.

Abbie didn’t bother feeling embarrassed and smiled back.

Both stood up from their desks and left the classroom. As they walked through the hallways, Abbie watched Lana’s puppets debate the test topics. In an absurd way, her left puppet seemed genuinely intelligent, while the right was more straightforward.

‘Even though they’re literally just her hands...’ thought Abbie, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to delve into that thought. He already had enough to deal with being undead.

Hurried footsteps behind them caught his attention. Turning around, he found Claire and Engel’s faces visibly startled.

“Thank you!” they said in unison.

Engel was panting from the run, while Claire, much calmer, kept repeating her thanks.

Abbie felt compelled to interrupt.

“I-It’s fine! You don’t have to thank me. I was just returning a favor, right?”

Now they were looking at him like he was some kind of savior.

He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but it filled Abbie with euphoria, inflating his self-esteem to the clouds.

Still, he glanced curiously at Engel, who had been seated in front of him and shouldn’t have seen anything.

“Uh... let’s just say I passed it to him,” Claire admitted.

“And then I gave it back” Engel continued.

“Although, in reality, it went through several desks before it made its way back to me. You know, I don’t understand why they didn’t turn us in” said Claire, looking at Engel who was sighing an apology.

Abbie was simply glad to have helped them, even if it involved cheating.

“By the way, Miss Circle wants to see you. I don’t think it’s about the test...” Engel tried to soften it. “It wasn’t even your fault that you dropped it, but maybe talking so much made you seem a little...”

“Idiotic” the right puppet interrupted, eyeing the group one by one. Even Lana looked at it disapprovingly.

“More like... somewhat egotistical, you could say. Jumping in with questions and then asserting yourself isn’t the most pleasant thing” the left puppet translated, further confusing Claire and Engel with its sudden shift in dialect.

“Great...” thought Abbie, his anxiety growing. He had offended his teacher, and now she was calling him.

He felt fortunate to remember the way to the exit this time. He said his goodbyes with a distant look and began walking toward his fate.

The others watched him curiously as he left, leaving the group reduced to three... or rather, five.

“So... quite a challenging test, huh?” commented the left puppet.

Claire and Engel nodded uncertainly before surrendering to the absurd dynamics of the school and chatting with Lana’s “hands” as if it were the most normal thing in the world."

Chapter Text

The black-and-white-toned hallways resembled a prison.

Abbie lowered his head, clasped his hands together in a prayer, and accompanied his slow steps as if they were leading him straight to the gallows.

He literally felt as though he’d been sentenced to death.

Quickly, he shook his head, trying to stop being so paranoid. It wasn’t that he had no reason to be terrified—it’s just that he wasn’t going to die. Not definitely, at least. His terror turned into frustration faster than he expected, as if the chemistry of his brain had been altered. Now, he was more annoyed with himself than afraid. How could he have ever thought this was going to work?

He vowed never to face a situation like this again. But the worst part was imagining something like what had happened to Lana. The image of her body… it would never leave him in peace.

He stopped in front of the math classroom door. The seconds he spent staring at it offered a small oasis of calm, filled with speculation. At the very least, his classmates would return from recess, and he doubted the teacher would be so direct as to kill him right then and there. Last time, she’d waited until the classroom was empty.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and saw her. Seated at her desk, Miss Circle had dropped her compass-hand to the floor and was idly twirling a pen in her remaining hand while grading papers.

Abbie thought about bolting, but the cycle of events he’d already endured held him back. He knew that if he ran, he’d just end up back here one way or another, forced to face something even worse without the fleeting confidence he had this time.

He coughed into his hand and walked slowly toward the desk, stopping in front of the teacher. Even seated, her presence was still intimidating. She felt like a forest of blackened trees, her eyes shadows that pierced through everything—even his soul. When she looked up and gave him a small smile, Abbie forced himself to focus. The sight of her horns was a welcome distraction, one of which bore a small ornament on the left.

“H-Hello, Miss Circle. You called for me?” he stammered, hiding his sweaty hands behind his back.

Miss Circle curled her lips in disdain.

“Are my lessons boring? So much so that you finish your test in five minutes and then come here to waste my time?”

She rose from her chair slowly, and her presence seemed to grow with every word. Circle's initially annoyed expression transformed into something as exotic as it was menacing. The compass in her hand remained still, its tip retracted, but Abbie felt like he was standing on the edge of his own grave.

He had, most likely, offended the most dangerous being he had ever met. And, as a result, he almost shit himself.

Not literally. It had been brilliant of him to come to school on an empty stomach.

Just as he was on the verge of fainting, the dreaded compass didn’t come for him. Instead, a stack of papers landed on the desk in front of him. Miss Circle calmly dropped the exams before pushing them toward him. Abbie glanced at the top page. His name was there, next to an A+.

For a moment, he thought he might cry tears of joy. But he didn’t, because:

1. He had cheated.

2. He knew he wasn’t out of danger yet.

“Grade them,” Miss Circle ordered, sitting back down.

If Abbie had time to think, he might have questioned why a student should grade exams, let alone the validity of such a task. But he didn’t. He picked up the papers and sat in the nearest empty desk in front of her. Conveniently (or perhaps wisely), no one had chosen to sit there during class.

How was he supposed to grade something he had no clue about? The answer was simple: he would mark as incorrect any answers that didn’t match his own exam. Fortunately, he had it next to him and could peek at it now and then.

Maybe he wasn’t going to die today.

At least for now, this was his victory. He wouldn’t perish at the hands of his math teacher. Though the same couldn’t be said for his nerves, which were fraying at the seams.

However, there was one detail he couldn’t shake from his mind: the two other teachers who had announced surprise exams were still planning to proceed with their tests later that day. Under normal circumstances, this would have set off every alarm in his brain... if not for the fact that this particular teacher had already “killed” him. Priorities change when you’re facing something like that.

That was the seed of desperation and anxiety that Miss Circle deliberately planted in his mind. Without realizing it, his brain began working faster. The sheets flew through his hands as he marked, corrected, and worked frantically, driven by the adrenaline coursing through him. His imagination punished him with scenarios of brutal death while he struggled to finish on time.

Miss Circle watched him with a mixture of fascination and amusement at the energy her student poured into such a simple and tedious task. She couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be losing his breath, as if desperate to finish. He clung to his seat while she casually flipped through the stack of papers he’d already corrected. It wasn’t perfect—not even close—but it served its purpose: a grade. Not that it was going to be the final score anyway.

"I'm good at this" she told herself, smiling faintly. She had to admit it—getting a student to react like that during class was an accomplishment. Sometimes, she forgot just how exceptional she was at teaching. After all, anyone who graduated from this school left with mastery over math, from the basics to the advanced.

Or they didn’t leave at all.

With her part of the work done, she placed her retractable compass on the desk, rose from her seat with a movement of her shoulder, and headed out of the classroom in search of something to eat. She regretted not having access to a buffet, but at least she didn’t have to handle the physical labor that was now her student’s responsibility.

Before stepping out, she cast one last glance back into the room. Seeing Abbie struggling so much with the exams brought a smirk to her face.

When he finally finished, Abbie collapsed into his seat, his pencil scratching the desk as if it were ablaze from his frantic pace. Breathing heavily, he looked up, sweaty but victorious.

"Miss! I finished, I—"

He stopped short as his gaze lifted. The classroom was empty.

He glanced around, confused, but found no trace of Miss Circle. Resigned, he left the stack of papers on her desk and got up to leave before she returned.

However, something caught his attention: a phone vibrating nearby, flooded with notifications. Curiosity got the better of him, and he sneaked a peek at the screen, discovering a recent message from a group chat titled "New Dinner."

He knew he shouldn’t, but his impulse took over. Before he realized it, he’d unlocked the device (it didn’t have a password) and started reading.

What he saw froze him in place. He had expected something mundane—maybe even boring considering Miss Circle’s personality—but instead, he stumbled upon a conversation overflowing with macabre references. The teachers in the group—Miss Circle, Miss Thavel, and Miss Bloomie—were discussing something he could only describe as cannibalism.

Confused and horrified, he checked the group’s member list and shared files. Among hundreds of images of deer and Oreos, three documents stood out, all titled "Exam"

He hesitated, but survival instinct won out. Opening the files, he absorbed so much information that he felt as if he could vomit chemical formulas or start speaking in unknown languages.

Fumbling, he closed the apps and returned the phone to its place. That’s when he noticed the animated wallpaper—a never-ending cascade of Oreos. Even the phone case was shaped like one.

Exhaling slowly, he tried to process what he had just discovered. But his thoughts were interrupted by another oddity: a second phone tucked beneath the desk. Abbie stared at it in silence, unable to handle any more surprises.

Just then, the classroom bell rang, snapping him back to reality like a punch to the gut.

Abbie didn’t complain. In fact, this opportunity felt far better than the alternative disasters he had imagined. He glanced at the compass one last time and murmured as he walked back to his seat:

"Why does something so dangerous look so cool?"

He couldn’t deny it—a giant retractable compass was objectively impressive.

Still, the fact that he admired the very weapon that might kill him made him feel like a complete idiot.

Miss Circle was the first to return, noticing the stack of corrected exams on her desk. She gave Abbie a thumbs-up, though it did little to ease his exhaustion.

Gradually, the students trickled back into the room. Engel and Claire motioned for him from their seats. Claire made a series of hand gestures as if trying to communicate something, but Engel stopped her and gave Abbie a thumbs-up followed by a thumbs-down.

Abbie replied with a thumbs-up, and the two settled back into their seats. Lana was among the last to return, flanked by her two puppets.

"I see it wasn’t too bad, though... your state suggests otherwise," commented the puppet on her left, nodding sympathetically.

"She made me correct all the exams…" Abbie admitted, defeated.

Lana’s eyes widened in surprise, while the puppet on her right seemed about to respond before the teacher interrupted the room.

Miss Circle left without distributing the exams, leaving the students to gather in groups as they waited for the next teacher.

"I’m going to Claire and Engel," Abbie said as he got up, intending to share his discovery. "Coming?"

Lana considered his words before smiling and joining him. The two approached their friends, who were deep in conversation and near the back of the line. Only one other student—a black-haired boy—stood behind them, engrossed in his notes.

"So! How’d it go? Any crazy situations? Want us to confess something for you?" Engel joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Claire flinched at his words but said nothing.

"No, she just… made me correct some exams. I guess that was her way of punishing me for my behavior," Abbie replied calmly. While he understood the punishment, it didn’t make him any less annoyed to have gone through it for nothing in return.

"Sorry… but thank you anyway," Claire apologized, but Abbie shook her head with a smile. She wasn’t going to let anyone fail today, after all.

"So, how did we do?" Engel asked, voicing the question everyone was wondering. Immediately, Abbie caught the group's attention, even that of the boy sitting behind Claire, who glanced at her sideways.

Abbie withstood the social pressure long enough to recall the tests she had graded and those she saw on Miss Circle’s desk.

"Well… Lana got a B. Engel, you got a B-, and Claire…" he paused to accurately remember her friend’s grade while Claire trembled slightly in her seat. "I think it was a C+."

Claire slumped back in her chair with a victorious smile, raising her arms as if she’d won something. Engel sighed in relief, while Lana’s right puppet bragged, and the left one gave it a playful slap.

Abbie glanced at the boy with black hair sitting behind them for a few seconds, knowing he was listening. The boy returned her gaze and spoke for the first time:

"My name is Kevin."

Abbie thought for a moment, recalling his grade. "You got an A."

Kevin nodded, satisfied, but quickly followed up with another question:

"Do you know the grade of a girl named Bubble?"

"Well, Bubble got an -A, Why do you ask?"

Abbie noticed a faint smile on Kevin's face as he began packing up his books. Quickly adjusting his glasses, he said a polite thank you before leaving his seat.

Abbie, seeing they were alone, hurried to sit in the cubicle and gestured for Lana to join him. He looked around, paranoid, ensuring no one else was close enough to hear. Then, leaning toward the group, he whispered:

"I got into Miss Circle’s phone when she stepped away. I saw that teachers Thavel and Bloomie are planning surprise tests too. Want some answers for the Science and languages exams?"

His softly spoken words made everyone stare at him for a few seconds, as if the image of the nervous, well-behaved student was disintegrating before their eyes.

Abbie felt a pang of shame for snooping, but he still couldn’t figure out how to explain what he’d seen in that chat.

"Abbie! That’s not right," Engel said, at least in a scolding tone. Claire, on the other hand, simply looked at him before nodding with resignation, as if she had no other choice.

Under the pressure of time, Abbie detailed everything he could remember while the group jotted it down. They had just finished when a student burst into the room shouting that the teacher was coming. Without wasting time, Abbie nodded to the group and ran with Lana to their desks.

The next to enter was another woman. If memory served, it was Miss Thavel. She wore a white buttoned dress with an elegant air that contrasted with her unsettling presence. Her dark hair, styled into a sharp way, seemed capable of cutting through anything. Tall, though not as much as Miss Circle, she shared that predatory look but without the playful edge. Hers was cold and expectant.

She definitely had the vibe of a cannibal.

With authority, she welcomed them to the Languages class, introduced herself, and, as if sharing a single brain with Miss Circle, had the same brilliant idea to start the lesson.

She tapped the desk with her nails, which might as well have been claws. Her head tilted slightly, like a radar, scanning every face in the room. The students seemed to have a small realization of what was coming. Finally, she spoke in a harsh, razor-sharp tone:

"A surprise test."

The cycle repeated. Students groaned. A sharp glare silenced them. Claire, Engel, and even Lana looked at Abbie for several seconds without saying anything.

Abbie glanced at the paper with resignation. If he was terrible at math, languages weren’t any better. Fortunately, he had the answers. Without them, this might genuinely kill him a second time.

Without overthinking it, he quickly copied all the answers. This time, however, he decided to learn from his mistakes and pretended to keep writing even after he’d finished.

The class unfolded the same as the previous one. The students handed in their papers, and within minutes, Miss Thavel left after giving a brief overview of the syllabus. The indignation among the class was evident. Even if he weren’t literally dying, today would suck way too much.

There was no break. The next teacher arrived immediately after, with neatly styled black hair, a professional suit, and an even more intimidating presence. Instead of one of her hands, she seemed to have a box cutter as her tool of choice, and her single eye pierced through the classroom as if dissecting each student. It was Miss Bloomie.

Miss Bloomie began introducing herself with a rigid but calculated voice as she read from a notebook. Everyone in the class expected the worst, but she continued explaining her subject with unsettling precision. It seemed like, maybe this time, they would be spared… until the trap was sprung.

"A qualification exam" Miss Bloomie announced monotonously, crossing her arms. She gave a reasonable explanation to justify it, but Abbie knew the real purpose behind it.

Finally, Miss Bloomie handed out the exam sheets. Abbie was the only one who noticed the sadistic smile on her face as she returned to her desk, seemingly patient, as if she were waiting for the hunt to begin.

He sighed, exhausted. He was fed up with the teachers, the day, and those damned paper planes Zip kept launching at him with surgical precision without the teacher noticing. With no other choice, Abbie copied the answers onto his sheet, repeating a process that now felt mechanical. He used the remaining minutes to wonder what the hell was wrong with this school... and with himself. Coming back from the dead wasn’t exactly something you could call normal, not even in this cursed place.

He shrugged, trying to ignore the teacher’s unwavering gaze as she scrutinized each paper with an almost imperceptible smile.

Finally, the lunch bell rang, and the exams were turned in. The students shuffled out of the classroom like zombies, dragging their feet. Even Zip, usually carefree, seemed drained as he left the room, throwing one last furtive glance at Abbie before disappearing down the hallway.

Claire, Engel, and Lana suggested heading straight to the cafeteria, but Abbie decided to take a detour to the bathroom. The stress was getting to him, and his face was drenched in sweat. He needed a moment to calm down.

After wandering through the seemingly endless hallways, he finally found the bathroom. He locked himself in for less than a minute, but when he stepped out, a chill ran up his spine, crawling like something cold and slimy was climbing over him.

The hallway was utterly silent. Not a single soul in sight. No matter where he looked, everything was empty.

It was exactly like... horribly like that time with Miss Circle.

The emptiness, the non-existent voices, even the faint wind slipping through some unseen crack. If there had been windows, he would’ve jumped through one. His legs trembled.

Then he heard it.

First, barely audible whispers. Then, footsteps. Firm, unsettling. The click of heels echoing on the floor.

Abbie didn’t wait to find out more. He started running.

He ran blindly, with no clear direction. The echoes of the noises offered no sense of orientation until he collided with someone.

The impact knocked him to the ground. He mumbled hurried apologies without daring to look up. But when he finally did, his heart stopped.

Standing before him was Miss Bloomie. Her single eye pierced through him like a blade, sharp and merciless. In her hand, she held a real blade, reflecting the dim light of the hallway.

'Act calm. Act calm. Act calm and run!'

He took a deep breath, feigning composure. He got up awkwardly, muttered another apology, and started walking past her, as if nothing had happened, praying nothing would.

But he had barely taken a few steps when he felt it.

An indescribable pain shot through him, from his back to his chest.

The crunch was horrifying. The blade had pierced his spine and punctured his ribcage, emerging from the front—or so every sickening sound seemed to suggest.

He looked down in disbelief, raising a trembling hand to touch the tip of the blade as if trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. But the blood dripping to the floor told him otherwise.

The pain hit him like a freight train. His nervous system finally registered the damage, and Abbie screamed with all his might.

His cries echoed down the empty hallway. No one came. No one heard.

He collapsed to the floor, his body trembling as he tried to turn over. In front of him, Bloomie raised the bloodied blade, running a finger along its edge before bringing it to her lips, savoring the blood.

"Did you really think you could cheat in my class?" she said, smiling as she slowly advanced toward him.

Abbie couldn’t comprehend it. How had she found out? Had someone told her? Was this really such a serious offense that it warranted death?

He crawled backward as best he could, dragging himself through his own blood, his mind in chaos. He didn’t want to die. Even if he had to live with this hole in his chest, he wouldn’t care—surely an exam wasn’t worth all this, right?!

Through tears and sobs, he begged:

"Please... I’m sorry. I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to. I don’t deserve this..."

Bloomie paused for a moment, studying him with an unreadable expression. Abbie, desperate, thought she might be reconsidering.

"It’ll be quick."

Those were the last words he heard before the blade came toward his face. And then, there was only a crunch... And darkness.

She lied.

Chapter Text

His expression was blank, a canvas waiting to take shape without him realizing it.  

“Abbie!, Are you all right?!” Engel touched his shoulder gently.  

Abbie finally reacted, as if emerging from a trance. The worried looks of his friends blended with those of the classmates leaving the room. His body froze; he didn’t scream, didn’t cry—he just stared at his friend with wide-open eyes as his hands trembled uncontrollably.  

“Yes” he replied dryly. “I’m going to the bathroom.”  

Without another word, he turned and walked away briskly, leaving behind the questions and anxious stares of his social circle. As soon as he rounded the next hallway, he broke into a desperate run, stumbling clumsily over his own steps.  

It was then that his mind began to react.  

Tears welled up in his eyes as he pushed past and bumped into other students, ignoring them completely. Some tried to stop him, called out his name, or grabbed his arm, but none succeeded. His skin burned with a ghostly pain, as if something invisible was tearing at his chest, while an unbearable pounding drilled into his head. That sensation only drove him to run faster through the narrow corridors.  

He wasn’t going to the bathroom. His only goal was to get out, to escape no matter what. He didn’t care if he had to restart the day; just showing up at this place instead of staying in bed was punishment enough. He knew they were looking for him. He also knew that the bathroom was in the opposite direction of the exit, which, in theory, gave him an advantage over Bloomie.  

Anything was better than facing that blade again.  

As he ran, his mind began to organize his thoughts. Even if they caught him, at least this time it wouldn’t be like that. He could scream, he could cry as much as he wanted, but it didn’t matter, because he had already spotted his target: the door. Bright red, as vibrant as his own blood, with a bold and authoritative sign that proclaimed his freedom.  

He skidded to a halt at the corner. All four directions were clear. Then he resumed his sprint, feeling as if every meter stretched into eternity. Each step was a monumental challenge, as if he were running a marathon through quicksand.  

Oddly, he smiled. His hand reached out, stretching toward the door, the salvation he so desperately craved.  

But all it found was a black claw emerging from nowhere, grabbing him firmly.  

Everything fell apart.  

The impact flung him against a locker with a metallic crash. His back cracked upon impact, and a trickle of blood began to slide down his head. Abbie, however, barely registered what had happened. He stared at the floor with empty eyes as his vision blurred.  

A white, wrecked dress appeared in his field of vision, ethereal and as distant as the stars. With great effort, he looked up, expecting the cold steel of a blade to pierce his skull.  

But what he saw was worse.  

His stomach sank as he recognized Thavel’s gaze. He wanted to speak, but the words choked in his throat, and Thavel took the opportunity.  

“Cheating isn’t right, you know?” she whispered in a cold, malicious tone.  

Abbie tried to retreat, but the creature pinned him between the lockers and its imposing presence.  

Bloomie had said it would be quick.  

She was right. She was absolutely right when he compared them.  

His body froze lifeless as his limbs collapsed. He couldn’t feel his legs or his arms; no part of his body would respond. Sounds faded away, leaving only the distant echo of Thavel’s spit and her muttered complaint:  

“Ugh, why did it have to be now?”  

The world began to darken. Abbie’s head rolled to a stop near the door, but he didn’t even have the grace to glimpse his escape. It was as if the universe were reminding him that there was no way out, not here, nor at the end of the tunnel.  

And then, everything vanished.  

Abbie blinked.  

A weary sigh escaped his lips, and when he came to, his eyes were wet. Without caring who might be watching, he let the tears fall freely.  

His friends approached him immediately.  

“Are you okay?” Engel asked, clearly worried. His hands rested on Abbie’s shoulders as the rest of the group tried to shield him from the curious gazes of other students.  

Abbie took a while to answer.  

“No…”  

“Does anything hurt? How do you feel? Do you want us to take you to the nurse’s office?” Engel kept insisting, his worry evident.

Abbie shook his head. His body ached, but not in a physical way.

“Maybe you should talk to the principal.” Claire’s shaky voice broke the moment. Nervously, she added, “I’m sure she could call someone if you don’t want to go to the nurse.”

Lana and the rest of the group nodded in agreement, supporting the suggestion.

Abbie wiped his tears, gathering the courage he thought he’d lost. If the teachers were as he suspected, maybe the principal could keep them under control.

“You’re right” he finally murmured.

His friends offered to go with him, but Abbie refused again and again. He knew what would happen if they were found with him, and he would never let his friends share his fate.

Even if he had to face death, he wouldn’t let them pay for it.

He assured them he’d be fine. Engel pointed him in the direction of the office, and Abbie started running, feeling his lost energy gradually return. He knew it wasn’t far. He knew he still had a chance.

As he ran, his mind wandered, questioning what had gone so wrong in his life to deserve this. What sins had he committed? He couldn’t recall insulting any god or doing anything terrible enough to end up in this situation. His legs wavered, and his arms started to ache.

He was giving up. At least his friends were safe—or so he wanted to believe. But what was the point of it all? Even if he made it to the principal, he’d be putting someone else’s life at risk. Someone who, despite their cold demeanor, had promised him he wouldn’t be alone at this school. All because of his own stupidity.

Maybe he should just die.

Abbie stopped, halting his escape.

At that moment, a claw swiped past his face, missing by mere inches. The force of Thavel’s entire body slammed into the lockers nearby, creating a deafening crash as dust and various items scattered across the floor. Abbie stared at the scene, stunned, feeling a searing sting on his forehead.

The claw had reached him after all. A small cut now adorned his face, but the sting burned as if a thousand blades were slashing him. The sensation of blood trickling down his skin awakened something within him.

He lied. He didn’t want to die.

With that realization ignited, Abbie sprinted away as if his life depended on it. He turned down the first hallway he saw, veering away from the direction of the principal’s office. His mind processed his movements faster than his eyes, dodging obstacles as he heard Thavel closing in, faster and faster.

Hallway after hallway, door after door, Abbie kept running until he found a library with a pit in the center. Without hesitation, he hid under a table, waiting.

Thavel’s entrance was thunderous. She stumbled, rolling to the edge of the pit, gripping it with a growl that sounded more beastly than human. Abbie didn’t waste time—he bolted once more.

Every step put more distance between him and immediate danger, but his body was beginning to betray him. His legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, and his mind barely clung to the adrenaline frenzy keeping him upright.

A metallic flash was his only warning before a blade grazed his face. Abbie dodged instinctively without looking back, but he knew exactly who had found him: Bloomie. The screeching sound of metal scraping the floor as she landed confirmed his fears.

The second cut on his forehead joined the first, warm blood streaming down his face as his body reacted faster than his thoughts. The world distorted before his eyes, and his consciousness teetered on the brink of exhaustion and fear.

Then he collided.

His face slammed into a solid abdomen. Abbie tumbled to the floor, rolling several feet before coming to a stop. Every fiber of his being burned, his chest compressed, and he struggled to breathe. He barely managed to lift his gaze, only to meet Miss Circle’s expressionless face as she arched a brow at him.

She didn’t seem angry. Her compass lightly scraped the ground while her other hand rested on her hip. Abbie, confused and breathless, couldn’t process what was happening. It all felt like an illusion, and he thought this might be the end.

Thavel and Bloomie didn’t take long to arrive, their attacks slicing through the air as they lunged at him. Abbie shut his eyes, resigned to his fate.

But then he felt something pulling at his clothes. When he opened his eyes, he found himself several feet off the ground, held up by Circle’s compass, which kept him out of the other two teachers’ reach.

The ringing in his head was deafening, his shattered mind barely able to comprehend the scene. Abbie’s legs buckled as he hugged himself, trembling.

It took him a few seconds to regain his senses, and as the teachers argued amongst themselves, Circle spoke in a casual tone: 

“What are you doing?”

“He’s a cheater!” Thavel and Bloomie yelled in unison, their faces twisted with rage.

Circle looked at the boy with an almost amused expression.

“This?” she said, gesturing toward him with her black hand.

The other two teachers demanded she put him down, but Circle simply smiled, pondering for a moment before replying:

“Nope.”

...

The teachers started arguing, their voices rising, while Miss Circle’s compass-hand remained unwaveringly high. Abbie, trapped in this strange kind of penance, could barely process the sole reason he hadn’t been thrown to the wolves: Circle had intervened. But his overloaded mind couldn’t fully grasp it.

Fragments of their argument reached his ears from a distance. Words flew back and forth as Abbie focused solely on the glimmer of doubt growing on Miss Circle’s face. She hesitated, torn between "protecting" her student and siding with her colleagues.

Abbie wanted to scream. He wanted to beg. But no sound came out. Words piled up in his throat like a dam about to burst, uncertain which might grant him a few more moments of life.

What could he offer these beasts? Money was absurd. He wouldn’t sacrifice anyone else for this. He knew cheating was wrong, but he could prove he didn’t deserve to die!

He could prove it...

Finally, he mustered enough breath to shout:

“I can prove it!”

The teachers stopped their argument, turning to him with expectant expressions. Abbie seized the brief moment of attention.

“Tomorrow...” he gasped, struggling for air. “Tomorrow you can give me another test! You can monitor me, check my pockets, anything! You can hook me up to a lie detector, broadcast it to the whole school, to the entire world, just... just...”

His voice cracked. The effort was consuming him. But if he could have continued, he would’ve said what weighed heaviest on his heart:

‘Just don’t kill me.’

Bloomie was the first to break the silence.

“Why should we?”

That simple question landed like a dagger. Abbie stood stunned, speechless.

‘Why should I die?’ he thought. The pressure in his chest grew unbearable. He no longer cared so much about the possibility of dying, but the absurd cruelty of the school that had brought him to this point, the fact that he had to plead for his life while pressed against the ceiling of the hallway, sent a chill down his spine.

“What’s the point?” he whimpered through tears. “Are you just going to kill me? What’s the purpose of failing a test, then? Why didn’t you kill me from the start? Testing me, chasing me! You should’ve put a sign on me that said ‘slaughterhouse-bound’ the moment I entered this school!”

His throat burned with every word, but his shouts echoed in the heavy air of the room. For the first time, no one interrupted him.

The compass holding him let go, dropping him to the floor. But Abbie didn’t back down. The mix of fear, pain, and anger he felt kept him steady. For a fleeting moment, the scared, submissive boy transformed into someone capable of raising his voice for himself.

Even if only for a damn single instant.

Thavel and Bloomie exchanged glances, while Circle smiled with an expression that was both terrifying and captivating. She lowered her arm, resting her black claws on Abbie’s head as if toying with him, her strength enough to crush his skull like an egg.

“Tomorrow he’ll stay after class,” she said finally. “He’ll take the tests. If he fails... you know what happens, right?”

Her words seemed directed more at her colleagues than at Abbie. He nodded weakly while the other teachers looked at Circle with obvious confusion.

The bell rang, and the teachers dispersed without further comment, leaving Circle and Abbie alone for a few seconds.

“Brush up on your numbers!” she said before turning to leave.

“Wait,” Abbie called out, confused. “Why are you helping me? And why do I also have to take the math test?!”

Circle stopped, turning slowly back to him. She walked toward him like a predator approaching its prey.

“Because I want to” she replied with a sharp smile.

She raised her black claw and slid a bloodied finger across Abbie’s forehead. Then she sucked it off slowly, sending a shiver down his spine.

Without saying another word, she left, leaving the boy stunned.

As the hallway filled with hurried students, Abbie could barely process what had just happened. Forced to choose between holding it in or being late for the bathroom, he opted for the first option, hoping that no other teacher turned out to be a cannibal.

He knew very well what would happen every time he went against this damn educational system.

After emptying the somehow contents of his stomach into the nearest trash bin, he headed to class.

The noise in his classroom indicated that the teacher hadn’t arrived yet. Fortunately, his friends greeted him as he entered, though their expressions shifted when they saw his state.

Abbie dropped into his seat, ignoring the murmurs around him. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. His clothes were dusty, his knees scraped, and a cut on his forehead still bled slightly.

That day, more than ever, he felt he was on the edge.

Claire, Engel, and Lana quickly approached him, accompanied by a girl whose hair seemed to be made of bubbles, probably carrying a name that matched her peculiar hair.

Abbie had to cover his ears when the group practically jumped on him, raising a hand to ask for calm before nodding to greet them. Noticing the Bubble girl’s presence, he gave her a polite greeting, receiving a kind smile in return.

“Are you okay?” Lana asked, while her puppets stayed surprisingly still. Abbie couldn’t count how many times he’d been asked that question today.

“Just a little cut...” he replied with a tired smile to reassure them. Bubble, as he now identified her, rushed to clean the cut on his face without waiting for him to ask, pulling what she needed from her overalls pocket. Though he wanted to object, he ended up whispering a thank you, which she accepted with an understanding gesture.

“Miss Bloomie and Miss Thavel accused me of cheating... Miss Circle stopped them before it went too far” Abbie confessed, exhausted from trying to come up with excuses. Everyone in the group looked at him with understanding, as if what he had just said was perfectly normal.

“Wait, did you already know that the teachers were like this?” Abbie asked incredulously. Even Bubble looked away uncomfortably. Engel was the first to break the silence.

“It’s... complicated. It’s not a secret, but it’s not something people talk about much either. You just... get used to it.”

Abbie blinked several times, deciding to drop that line of thought before it sent him straight to the madhouse. Meanwhile, Bubble stood up to look for something, signaling him to wait.

“At least they didn’t catch you guys... I don’t know how they figured me out” Abbie sighed.

Claire thought for a moment before answering: “Well, I knew a few things, so I didn’t use all the answers.”

“I did the same” Engel admitted.

Lana’s left puppet chimed in with a monotone voice: “I changed the words of all the answers.”

The group looked at Abbie’s face, which clearly showed that he had copied every answer from start to finish.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” Engel joked, while the right puppet nodded.

Bubble returned at that moment, holding some things, and began cleaning the cut on his forehead with a gauze.

“Who said I was smart!?” Abbie exclaimed, trying to defend himself. However, he couldn’t admit that, for a moment, he had really believed himself to be smarter than he was.

“You seemed to know a lot about math!” Bubble said, trying to cheer him up without knowing how bad things were, returning to the previous conversation. Abbie gave up as she continued to treat his wound.

Murmurs began to spread through the classroom, signaling that the next class was about to start. Abbie thanked Bubble for her help and said goodbye to Claire and Engel before Lana returned to her seat.

The wait wasn’t long. To his relief, the next teacher seemed genuinely nice. Her voice was bubbly, her curly hair tied in two pigtails, and she wore a long black skirt with white dots. She spoke energetically, explaining the history topics they would cover in the coming weeks.

The class passed quietly, even fun, with small games between the students and the teacher. Abbie, however, didn’t manage to get any of them right, but he didn’t mind too much.

The rest of the day went by relatively calmly, with several teachers introducing themselves and showing genuine interest in their new students. From physical education to optatives like music and art, Abbie noticed that, at least, those teachers didn’t seem dangerous.

When the day finally ended, Abbie practically ran out of the school, wanting nothing more than to get home. Upon entering, he collapsed onto the couch, relishing the silence that welcomed him.

Hunger soon forced him to get up. He attacked the fridge, making a sandwich that could have come straight out of a cartoon. He sat at the dining table, turning on his phone to catch up on what he felt he had missed over the years.

The reflection of his face on the screen showed the marks of the day. His forehead had two cuts crossing each other to form an X. But those cuts were the least of his worries. What really concerned him were the three exams he had to take the next day.

Sighing, he picked up his phone and was about to dial his mother’s number. He wanted to thank her, tell her that her support kept him going... only to remember that hadn't happened.

Not that day.

Not directly.

He gripped the phone tightly before finally accepting the reality. This wasn’t the life he had wanted, but it was the one he had. If he was stupid, slowly, the memories he might form with friends and family would cease to exist.

His finger trembled for a moment before pressing the icon that called his mother.

The response was immediate, as if she had been waiting for his call, starting with a scream that caught his father’s attention, followed by a complete cascade of questions without giving him a chance to breathe.

“Hi, Mom! My first day of school was great!” said Abbie, as he placed his plate in the sink and moved toward his books, still scattered from the night before.

Chapter Text

Abbie woke up early, stifling a yawn as he got out of bed. It was 5 in the morning. He dragged the sheets with a groan and took a glance at the messy bed. He knew he had a long day ahead. After leaving his room, he noticed that all the lights in the house were still on, just as he'd left them the night before. He hadn’t bothered to turn them off.

He went down the stairs, and the first thing he saw was the dining table covered with books arranged in rows, organized by subject and difficulty. He remembered having sorted them out just before going to sleep so everything would be ready, no matter how many times he’d 'go around' in circles.

He sighed, grabbed a science book, and started reading. He wrote down notes mechanically, as if it were a habit, knowing that, by the time the morning ended, he’d "wake up" again.

He had accepted this new routine. No matter how long it took, a single morning would never be enough to study everything required to replicate his supposed 'perfect' grades. However, he trusted that time was not a problem.

As he read line by line, something caught his attention. He looked at the TV, where a screensaver of apples, downloaded by his parents, silently glowed. Beneath it, the console rested, turned off, collecting dust. It pained him to see it like that, forgotten. The joystick, placed to the side, seemed to call out to him.

Without thinking much, he grabbed the joystick, pushed the books aside, and turned on the console. He was just a teenager, tired and stressed, who hadn’t had a moment to enjoy himself in a long time!. Anyway, he’d come back, he thought. He can study after he distract himself a little with that catalog that was preinstalled.

“This isn’t so bad,” he muttered with a smile as time flew by. Minutes turned into hours, trapped by the controls, the cutscenes, and an unexpected plot twist he was eager to see resolved.

And suddenly, he opened his eyes again in his bed.

‘What…? I was playing!’ he thought. He shot up, still in pajamas, and ran downstairs. He turned the console on in desperation, hoping to pick up where he left off, finish what he had started, and then study! But when loading the game, he found his progress was gone.

Abbie collapsed onto the couch, frustrated. It was annoying, though not that serious. He turned off the console, resisting the voice in his head telling him he could finish it if he tried again. Reluctantly, he grabbed a language book and resumed studying.

The ticking of the wall clock pierced his concentration. It’s not fair that i can’t play anything, he thought. Eventually, he set the books aside and turned on the TV. He found some random show on a streaming service.

The black screen enveloped him as he turned off the lights for a 'cinematic' effect, and the plot, something about drugs, caught him immediately. So much so that, without realizing it, hours passed by in the blink of an eye. Until he woke up again in his bed.

Abbie stared at the ceiling, his expression turning into a grimace of resignation. At least he could keep watching whatever he wanted. He got up, wrapped the sheets around his body, and returned to the couch. He found the exact episode where he left off and played it.

This repeated over and over again. He finished episodes, seasons, even movies, only to return to bed. Sometimes he played short video games. Little by little, his routine began to crumble.

The house turned into chaos. Books were scattered everywhere, the couch collected food remnants, and Abbie sank deeper into apathy. He had a board game in his hands, but after taking out the pieces, he set it aside.

The world darkened as he tried to set up the board.

"Here we go again" he murmured with a dry throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten or enjoyed something at this point. He had all the time in the world, but all he wanted was to rest.

So he slept.

And woke up.

So he slept again.

Each time he opened his eyes, he decided it was better to keep sleeping. The passage of time lost meaning. He no longer knew how many days or weeks had passed, whether a cycle was echoing in his life, or if he had just overslept. His phone remained in eternal silence, and the TV no longer interested him.

He just wanted to sleep.

And so he did, until one day, he didn’t wake up anymore.

He felt his body heavy, as though something was holding him underwater. The surface seemed just inches from his face, but he couldn’t move. He knew he could take a breath if he wanted to. It was impossible to drown.

He remained still, his limbs numb, the red apple that controlled everything in his head remained motionless, waiting for his eventual exit. A whisper reached his ear. He didn’t recognize the voice or understand what it was saying, but he was sure of one thing: it wasn’t strong enough.

‘What do I want?’

Abbie asked himself this question as his chest rose from a crystalline emptiness toward nothingness. There was no north or south, only him. He looked at his hands: they were water, pure and simple. Around him, the night was eternal. With a slight touch, the watery surface distorted, forming circles that expanded slowly. In the reflection of the water, he saw himself: stripped of clothes, body, and soul. Only his eyes remained, two dark circles watching him from the other side.

He didn’t want to sleep. But he could. And then, what else was there to do?

Talking to his parents made no sense; they would forget him. Going to school was a death sentence, though he knew he could study anytime. What reason did he have to try?

"What could be worse than dying?"

His body shot up suddenly, the nails of his right hand digging into his heart. A dead silence surrounded him. He began to sweat as his eyes nervously explored every corner of the room. The edge of his bed terrified him, as if something could emerge from nowhere and drag him away.

"How long…?" he whispered, catching his breath. "How long have I been asleep?!" he screamed, looking around, unable to recognize the place. His room seemed like an exact copy of itself, but it felt different.

‘Is it a copy?!’

He tried to remember, struggling to recall names: Claire, Engel, Lana... Even Bubble slowly appeared in his mind. But their silhouettes were blurry, their faces hazy, and the memories of them felt empty, incomplete.

Abbie had almost forgotten them, almost forgotten his friends.

He awkwardly got out of bed. The distance between the mattress and the floor felt like an infinite abyss. Looking down gave him the feeling that the world could collapse beneath his feet. He held onto the walls until he reached the door, stepping out with unsteady steps. The house in front of him felt like a dream: familiar, yet different.

He looked at the stairs, the console, the TV, the books downstairs. He shook his head and headed to his parents’ room. The place seemed modest: a double bed, a shared wardrobe, and a specific area for each family member.

He sat on the bed. The mattress was so different from his own that it seemed to belong to another world, a softness he didn’t recognize invaded him. He lay back, letting out a sigh as he tried to evoke memories. The trips, the laughter, even the arguments. Slowly, the memories returned, enveloping him like a warm embrace.

He closed his eyes, but didn’t sleep.

He remembered.

He got up and went downstairs. He settled on the couch, grabbed a book he had left unfinished, and resumed reading. The words flowed in his mind with a clarity he had never experienced before. Page after page, he moved forward without pause. Hours vanished. He looked at the clock; he still had time before the reset. He decided to use it for something useful.

He picked another book, this time about languages, and devoured it with the same voracity.

His bed called him once more.

He stared at his hands intently.

“Alright” he whispered.

Everything felt different. The vague notions of TV shows, movies, and games were now irrelevant echoes compared to the sharper memories of simple things, like scientific formulas. Words, discussions, and scenarios began to take shape in his mind: Lana's puppets, Engel's feathers in his hair, Claire's bow, the rubber duck that always rested on Bubble’s head.

Those memories were comforting. He felt like he was reconnecting with something lost.

Abbie went down the stairs and grabbed the next book from the pile, one on languages. He immersed himself in it, focusing with determination until he finished it. Looking at the clock, he realized the time and decided to take a break.

He observed his surroundings attentively. Then, he took a notebook and began jotting down notes: the shapes of the house, every detail he could remember. His words seemed to capture the space, as if by writing he could ensure he would never forget anything again.

Finally, he went to the bathroom intending to shower, but as the warm water touched his skin, he had the strange sensation of not recognizing it. It was as though the feel of the temperature was alien to him, almost unbearable. On impulse, he let out a muffled scream, one that would have been mocked had anyone heard it. The warmth merged with his skin, but his head ached more and more as he tried to process what had been happening in his mind over the last few hours.

Or rather, what had almost happened.

The water slowly began to feel as it should feel during a warm shower on a morning.

After showering, Abbie brushed his teeth. The X on his forehead caught his attention. For a moment, he had completely forgotten about that mark.

He looked at his phone. Ten minutes were left until the time when the reset usually occurred.

He sank into the couch, patted his thighs as if waiting for something to happen. He leaned back, and a thought crossed his mind, something unexpected.

Calmly, he climbed the stairs. He entered his mother’s room and took a lipstick from its usual place. He rolled up his sleeve, and with a steady hand, wrote a number on his wrist.

02

He sat on his parents’ bed and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was back in his bed.

He wrote a number on his arm again, with a pen in his hand and a sheet he took from his desk. On it, he started listing the topics he remembered studying up to that point. Though he would cease to exist, that list would serve as a tangible support for what was to come.

03

Abbie returned to his bed as if he had never gotten up. Yesterday, he had decided to focus on a math topic, and he could still remember the numbers clearly.

04

This day started with a shower, brushing his teeth, and music in his headphones. He went down late for breakfast, but made good use of the time eating fruit while reviewing some concepts.

05

He played with his pencil on the couch, his legs resting on the back while holding a book upside down. He only stopped his peculiar posture when he felt the blood accumulating in his head. He decided not to repeat it.

06

...

09

The books he had finished were reviewed while cooking a fish he had found in the fridge. Someone had probably left it there at his parents’ request.

11

Finally, he closed the last book, completing the initial topics he needed to master. The house, which once seemed strange to him, now felt completely his. Its essence was in every corner: the scents of his mother’s perfume and his father’s cologne surrounded him like living memories.

He smiled imagining his parents’ reactions if they discovered what he was doing. Maybe they would have laughed at him for always refusing to buy something like that, and now he was stealing theirs... He lay back on the couch, closing his eyes for a moment.

And he got up from his bed once more.

This time, he decided to start the day earlier. After stretching, he showered as usual, and when he looked in the mirror, he tried to smile and make a pistol gesture with his hands. The strange shape of his wet hair made him blush with embarrassment. He grabbed a comb quickly, wishing he hadn’t made that gesture.

Once changed, he grabbed a permanent marker from his desk and wrote something on his wrist, gigling at a joke only he could understand.

√196

While cooking eggs in the pan, he held a bottle of water in one hand and a math book in the other. He felt an unusual confidence, maybe unjustified, but impossible to ignore. He wrote down several topics he still needed to fully master, even though they weren't mandatory. It would be good to have them ready before the afternoon.

When the time came, he said goodbye to his house and started walking toward the school. The journey was peaceful, with no incidents. He got off the bus with several classmates, though he didn’t talk to them. It didn’t bother him.

As he neared the school, something struck his feet.

A small crown was in the ground. It wasn’t made of cardboard, but of a rigid material, handmade. When he inspected it, he noticed an inscription: a large "L" inside. He looked around and saw, in the distance, two girls desperately searching for something. They were so desperate they might have started digging a hole in the ground, as if that would help.

One of them had a peculiar appearance: long, fluffy rabbit ears, combined with white fur under her black shirt. The most striking feature was a crown similar to the one she was holding, seemingly turning around her feet, searching for something in her surroundings.

The other wore a black dress, with her hair tied up and two horns protruding from her head. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her hands were dirty from all the searching. Abbie recognized her after a few seconds; he had seen her in his last class, although she had been wearing a crown then.

He connected the dots and ran toward them.

He greeted them, but the girls, preoccupied, barely paid attention to him. It was clear they expected him to leave. A small laugh escaped him, and that drew the bunny girl's attention, who took it as mockery.

“Hey! What are you laughing at? This is a serious situation!” she exclaimed, standing in front of him with her arms crossed.

Abbie raised the crown as a peace gesture. Both girls stopped, surprised, while recalculating the situation.

The girl with the horns reacted first. She took the crown and pressed it against her face, thanking him repeatedly. Her reaction bewildered Abbie, but it was clear the crown held great value to them.

The bunny girl sighed in relief, as though a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She stretched, cracking her neck and letting out a feeling of accumulated tension, finally noticing with an apologetic glance.

Abbie inwardly regretted not having been quicker in helping.

"Thank you... and sorry!. We didn’t realize that Lizzy's crown had fallen off during the trip. We were afraid we lost it forever. Oh, and my name is Petunia!" she said, extending her hand for a shake.

Abbie took it with a smile, about to introduce himself, but Lizzy interrupted with enthusiasm.

"Thanks! I can’t believe I almost lost this. I’m Lizzy, we’re in the same class, right?"

Abbie nodded, a bit surprised that they had noticed. He then recalled the… unconventional interactions he had had in his class since he arrived.

"It’s fine!. we’re in the same class" he replied calmly.

"By the way... don’t you look a little like Miss Circle? are you part of her family??" Abbie asked, narrowing his eyes with curiosity, feeling a slight chill as he connected the thought. Before he could respond, Lizzy shook her head.

"I get told that all the time," she murmured, more to herself than to them.

Abbie allowed himself a sigh of relief. He couldn’t imagine where things would go if a direct relative of Circle were in his classes.

"Well, I’ve got things to do. See you later! And please, don’t be as tough as Miss Circle" he joked with a wink before hurrying off.

When he glanced back, he saw both girls watching him motionless, perhaps confused by his rush. For a moment, he felt a bit guilty for his sudden departure, but he didn’t want any setbacks that day.

The world seemed to transform as he crossed the school doors. He greeted several classmates along the way, who looked at him with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. However, when he reached his locker, he noticed something strange: it wasn’t his.

He was in the right place, three hallways from the entrance, right below the signs for the karate and dance clubs, but the number... didn’t exist.

He looked around, confused, waiting for someone to play a prank. The memories seemed distorted, he thought. He… had gone through something, his memory was probably a bit off. He walked a little, looking for someone to ask, but that’s when he saw it at the corner of his vision: a locker marked with two large crossed lines in the shape of an X.

Abbie fixed his gaze on the locker. Without thinking too much, he walked up to it and opened it using the code he still remembered. His things were intact, as if nothing had changed.

He gently tapped his forehead against the locker, letting out a tired sigh. "Zip... at least it was useful" he muttered.

As he lamented his troubles, a thought began to form in his mind. The hit had awakened something. For the first time in weeks, he lost the smile he usually kept. The security he felt vanished like smoke, and his arms dropped limply.

He realized something unsettling: he had spoken to two complete strangers. He had joked, acted naturally, even hinted that Lizzy looked like Miss Circle’s relative, without considering the possible personal implications.

Something clicked in his head, as if a spark had ignited everything at once. The apple pie filling started to darken, as if it were burning. Then, a voice echoed in his mind: ‘I hope you’re not as difficult as Miss Circle.’

"I’m an idiot," he declared aloud.

As if in response to his call, Engel appeared at his side, holding a couple of books. Abbie’s poker face didn’t go unnoticed by him.

"Hey? Everything okay?" Engel waved his hand in front of his friend’s face.

"No" Abbie repeated as he began walking toward his Science class, books in hand.

"What happened? Did Zip bother you again? Did the teachers do something?" Engel seemed genuinely worried.

Abbie blushed as he admitted what he had done. Engel paused for a moment, but to his credit, he hid his laughter quite well.

"I didn’t know you had that in you" he muttered under his breath.

Abbie grumbled to himself, trying to hide how much he enjoyed experiencing those situations once more.

"Well… it’s not that bad" Engel said, trying to comfort him.

Abbie stared at him without saying a word, sighing tiredly, walking faster to the classroom.

"H-hey! Listen, Miss Circle is our math teacher. She’s tough! You just said something that could be misinterpreted a bit. They probably didn’t notice!" Engel added, patting him on the back.

Before they could continue, Claire, Lana, and Bubble approached, slowly forming the group that Abbie remembered so well.

With a smile, Abbie let the warmth of familiarity envelop him. No matter how much time had passed, he preferred this a thousand times over.

"And… who knows? Maybe she-" Engel tried to add something, but Abbie cut him off with a sharp look.

"Engel, please" he said while greeting his friends.

With some luck, Engel wouldn’t mention the conversation. After a while, everyone ended up in the classroom, and the first class of the day began.

Miss Bloomie had entered the scene.

And Abbie was ready. Anything that helped him ignore this eternal morning was welcome in his life.

Chapter Text

The classes were just as Abbie had expected: relatively normal. The explanations of the topics were clear, even simple for someone who had already studied them. Perhaps it was because the teacher was Bloomie, whose personality and appearance were stricter than the rest. Everyone remained quiet, focused on the lesson, except for a group of three students who whispered among themselves and laughed, trying to avoid the teacher's gaze.

They were in the science classroom, a place that, being Abbie's first time seeing it, seemed quite interesting. The room was full of scientific equipment: test tubes and a dozen other instruments he recognized only from his recent studies. The thematic decorations and the layout of the space sent a clear message: this was a science room. And yet, to Abbie, it felt more like a mouse trap.

The laboratory tables were divided for two students each. Abbie tapped his fingers on the surface of his table, while an open notebook filled with important notes rested in front of him. Lana, sitting beside him, watched him out of the corner of her eye.

While he tried to focus, Abbie couldn’t help but think about how absurd it was to have a life-or-death exam on the first day of classes. It stopped feeling like a student’s excuse and aligned more with something cannibalistic if he thought about it. Even the idea of having to retake a test for cheating seemed stupid. If that first test hadn’t existed, he could swear these teachers would be completely normal.

His thoughts were interrupted by a beep that caught his attention. Looking to the side, he noticed Bloomie writing something on the board. However, what truly captured his interest was Lana’s right puppet, moving beneath her seat. Discreetly, Lana was scooting her chair closer to Abbie’s. He hid a smile, realizing that Bloomie, too absorbed in the lesson, didn’t notice anything happening at the back of the room.

“Hey, Apple! You okay? You look… different” whispered the right puppet, using the nickname Lana always called him.

Abbie nodded slowly before responding in a low voice, “Yeah… Just a bit nervous about the exams I have to retake, even though I studied all night!.” He half-lied. He hadn’t studied all night, but he had spent the last fourteen mornings doing so. That detail made him feel almost egotistical.

Lana seemed to accept the answer without question. Meanwhile, her puppet, moving almost comically, rose a bit higher, positioning itself right in front of Abbie’s face. The puppet’s ridiculous expression made it hard for him to stay serious. He tried to suppress his laughter, but a cough escaped him when the puppet playfully bit his cheek.

It was then that Bloomie seemed to notice something and, in a quick motion, turned toward them. The entire classroom fell silent. Lana, however, had already lowered the puppet. Bloomie stared at them, as if trying to determine whether the unusual closeness of their chairs had always been there. Finally, she let it go and continued with the lesson, while Lana and Abbie shared a knowing smile.

Beyond that, nothing particularly interesting happened during the class. Abbie took a few notes on the points Bloomie emphasized, thinking they might appear on future chemistry tests. Before he knew it, the bell marking the end of class rang.

Everyone began to rise from their seats, preparing to head to the next subject: Languages. This particular class wasn’t Abbie’s favorite, especially because of Thavel, the teacher, who unsettled him more.

Abbie closed his notebook and sighed, already tired of the day ahead. Just as he finished packing his things, two hands slammed against his desk. The sudden noise made him jump in his seat, nearly falling over. He looked at the furry hands and then up to see Petunia’s stern face. Immediately, he felt his heart sink into his chest. For a moment, he considered the possibility of being killed by a teacher and having to restart the day.

Petunia, however, wasn’t going to let him off so easily. She stared at him intently and, in a hollow, direct voice, said,
“What would happen if Lizzy were more complicated than Miss Circle? What would happen if I were more complicated than Miss Circle?”

The tone was so intimidating that it took Abbie a few seconds to fully grasp her words. Those seconds felt like years. He looked around, noticing how some classmates silently watched the conflict from their seats. Luckily for him, Lana was already outside the classroom, doing who knows what.

But that didn’t stop Abbie from wishing he could disappear into the ground and never see daylight again. His mind went blank. He focused on Petunia’s breathing, the way she looked at him with that unnerving confidence, as if the answer were already written and she was simply waiting for him to confirm it. That gaze went beyond him, beyond the impossible fact of having come back from the dead. He could restart his day a thousand times, study each cycle over and over, and still not know what to say.

Were his flushed cheeks giving away something? Denying it would probably earn him a kick to the face?. Abbie could only open his mouth, desperate to say anything to get out of that situation.

Before he could speak, Lizzy burst into the classroom, running toward them. She grabbed Petunia by the ears and, amidst a flurry of apologies, escorted her out of the room, with a slight and almost imperceptible blush on her cheeks.

The classroom returned to normal as if nothing had happened. Abbie, for his part, decided he would never trust himself again.

The only thing that snapped him out of his trance was seeing Bloomie packing up her things while glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. That reminded him of his plan and made him jump out of his seat to stand in front of the teacher.

“Miss Bloomie… Can I take the exam now?” he asked nervously.

Bloomie looked at him wearily and replied, her voice sharp and carrying the same energy as the knife she had for a hand:
“You… are pushing your luck.”

Abbie swallowed hard, reflecting for a moment. He knew he only had three opportunities to take the exams: during the fifteen-minute break, the forty-five-minute lunch, or after classes. Although the last option gave him more time, the idea of facing all three teachers together terrified him. Lunch, with Thavel and Bloomie present, also seemed risky. So, in the end, he decided to take his chances now, dealing with her alone.

That led Bloomie to begrudgingly pull an exam sheet from her bag and place it in front of him. Abbie quickly sat down at one of the empty tables, taking out his phone to check the time. Although the wait felt like an eternity, only a minute had passed, leaving him 14 more, or perhaps 30 if Thavel was late to the classroom.

Noticing Bloomie’s gaze, which seemed to pierce through his head like a knife, he placed the phone face down on the table and began writing his answers as quickly as he could.

Honestly? It wasn’t difficult. He would’ve gotten a D+ if he had taken it earlier without preparation, but now, after literally weeks of condensed study, the answers flowed almost automatically. It was better than any cheat sheet he could imagine. Every question led to a natural response, no matter the nature of the science behind it. Questions like “What happens if you mix hydrochloric acid with sodium hydroxide?” or “Why does ice float on water?” were things he never thought he’d be able to answer.

He wondered what the world would be like if he had studied a bit more from the beginning, instead of wasting time.

In 12 minutes, he finished the test. He spent two more reviewing it, put away his pencil without even touching the phone with the bitten-apple case, and stood up to hand it to the teacher. Bloomie watched him like a strange specimen throughout the entire process.

Without wasting time, she began grading it. Abbie felt a bitter taste in his mouth—not because he feared the result, but because of the way Bloomie looked at him: with a mixture of exasperation and something else he couldn’t quite identify. A bizarre, unsettling expression. At that moment, he wished he hadn’t gotten himself into this mess—perhaps then he wouldn’t be at odds with a teacher.

Finally, she handed the test back to him begrudgingly, not even bothering to mark it. Her expression said it all: it wasn’t the look of a proud teacher with a brilliant student, but the exact opposite.

“Leave” she said curtly.

Abbie obeyed, leaving the classroom just as the bell rang. He knew where his next class was and wasn’t going to be late. Still holding the crumpled exam sheet in one hand and his books in the other, he headed into the hallway. As he walked, he glanced at the crumpled paper in his hand.

“I died for this” he whispered, tossing the sheet into the trash without looking back, unaware of Bloomie’s gaze fixed on his back.

Sitting in the classroom, waiting for his next teacher, was a cathartic experience. He had passed a difficult exam, but it didn’t feel particularly good. It wasn’t pity for Bloomie; it was something harder to describe.

Now, sitting in the far-right corner of the classroom, he didn’t notice when they ambushed him. Petunia plopped down in the seat across from him, whistling nonchalantly but with clear intentions. Beside her was Lizzy, who tried not to look at him, and Ruby—whose existence he only acknowledged because she colored the words and outlines on Circle’s tests—was seated diagonally from him.

Abbie’s stomach clenched. Noticing the looks Petunia was giving Lizzy, he braced himself for the worst, but all he got was a tired sigh from Lizzy.

“Listen, I apologize if this idiot here told you…” Petunia tried to interrupt, but Lizzy silenced her with a sharp look. “As I was saying, Engel—your friend, I assume—explained the situation to me. Petunia thought it was just a lie to cover up your feelings for one of us, which is obviously not the case, right?”

Lizzy alternated her gaze between Abbie and Petunia, who finally cut in:
“It’s obvious he’s completely in love with us. He’s smart! Who wouldn’t be? Plus, look at him! With those red cheeks, he looks like an apple.”

Embarrassed, Abbie covered his face with his hands, leaving only his eyes visible through the gaps in his fingers, uncomfortable with the whole situation. Petunia seemed to have a sudden epiphany and murmured softly but meaningfully:
“Ohhh.”

“You’re one of those, aren’t you?” Petunia asked, not looking directly at him, her face almost regretful. Lizzy shook her head.

Abbie didn’t exactly know what she meant by ‘one of those’ but his mind filled the blank with options: introverted, antisocial, a guy who’d once trembled like jelly the first time he’d talked to a classmate… Details the cycle of deaths had made him forget, but that still haunted him.

He tried to clear things up:
“I-It’s fine. I guess this kind of thing happens to you often… But it’s not like I think you’re ugly. I just—”

Lizzy and Petunia both gave him a sharp ‘stop right there’ look, cutting him off before he could say anything worse.

The awkward silence lasted a few seconds before the topic shifted to something more trivial. In the end, he managed to befriend them. They turned out to be quite pleasant, and even Ruby joined the conversation about the weirdest students at school—though she put herself in that category as a joke.

Finally, the language teacher, Thavel, entered the classroom. Everyone fell silent at the sound of her firm footsteps. She was humming a melody that could have been a Russian lullaby, given how bizarre it sounded. She reached her desk, set down her things, and smiled at every face before beginning the lesson.

It was straightforward. This time, there were no interruptions during the whole period, allowing Abbie to focus on the lesson about culture, the origins of language, and even the pronunciation of various words in different tongues.

Thavel’s personality softened as the class progressed, making her seem more like an eccentric teacher than a cannibal-wendigo. However, the predatory glances she occasionally shot his way -And which no one else seemed to notice- reminded him that things weren’t as normal as they appeared.

The class ended in the blink of an eye. His new half-group said their goodbyes, and Abbie chatted briefly with his original friends, who used the opportunity to ask where he’d been during the last break and whether he’d be having lunch with them. He gave them a brief explanation of his plans before saying goodbye.

The classroom emptied, leaving the small stacks of language books on the shelves, the themed posters, and the chalkboards covered in notes Abbie hadn’t had time to read.

He stood his ground against the monster that was Thavel. Though she was less strict than Bloomie, he could easily attribute that same strictness as the reason she followed Circle’s rules and hadn’t slit his throat. Now, leaning against the desk with one hand, the other on her hip, and her head slightly tilted to the side, she wore a wide smile.

“Here you go” she said simply, sliding an exam sheet toward him, fully aware of what he was there for.

Abbie was about to find a seat, but Thavel offered him her chair. He nodded awkwardly at the offer and took the seat. He noticed her presence practically breathing down his neck. Setting his phone aside, he pulled out his supplies, trying not to overthink it.

As he wrote, his heart began to beat faster than usual, and he knew exactly why. It was her breath close by, the impatient tapping of her black claws on the desk, and that constant humming that echoed in his head. It was all a game to rattle him.

And it worked. But not enough to make him mess up. He finished the exam, stood up, and pushed the chair back without worrying too much about Thavel’s proximity. He handed her the sheet, fully aware that what came next wouldn’t be pleasant.

Thavel’s gaze fell on his exam, and her smile faded as she reviewed it. Abbie remained standing, staring at his own feet, expecting the worst. Sure, she could have ripped his head off then and there, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. Not here, not under the established rules. He might fear Circle, but she knew how to keep her friends in check.

However, everything changed when she decided to flip the script.

Abbie kept looking down, this time trying to avoid exposing more than necessary because of gravity, while Thavel carefully examined him. As she did, he reflected on how absurd the situation was. He doubted the legality of it all but then remembered that, the day before, he had been brutally killed multiple times.

Finally, Thavel finished reviewing. She found nothing wrong, as he knew she wouldn’t. Sighing in defeat, she corrected the exam in search of something, then handed it back to him. Her previously playful face now seemed bored. She rested her head on one hand while tapping the desk with the other.

She seemed to be waiting for him to leave. Abbie glanced at the exam and saw the expected A+. For a moment, he considered asking her why she’d killed him earlier under the excuse of cheating, yet now there wasn’t even an apology. But he knew any answer would be unsatisfactory. She’d probably say something like “because I was hungry,” “because I wanted to,” or worse, “because I had no reason.”

He stayed silent, arranged all his clothes, packed his things, and left the classroom, the exam rolled up in his hand. On his way to his locker, he threw it into the trash without a second thought.

“Two down, one to go” he murmured as he sat on the stairs leading to the second floor.

He rarely spent time in that area, but with everyone in the cafeteria, the stairs were a quiet place. Though he regretted not being with his friends, he knew eating something now would be a mistake. He wasn’t ready to face the absolute embarrassment of a full stomach in gym class, especially considering that his gym teacher might be worse than all the others combined.

He observed the lockers, the colorful decorations on the walls, and everything within reach. Occasionally, he heard distant footsteps, maybe from another student or a teacher.

Finally, he decided to lie down on the stairs. The position was uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. He was exhausted—not just physically but mentally, tired of the constant uncertainty.

He wondered if anyone would notice if he fell asleep there.

Heavy footsteps caught his attention. He opened his eyes and saw Miss Circle standing on a step above him. She stood there with her arms crossed, her face hidden by the lighting and height, like an imposing statue.

The sight might have stirred mixed emotions in him, if not for the fact that he remembered she was a cannibal first and a woman second.

He stood up more out of respect than fear, facing the enormous figure that seemed to double his size, especially from his disadvantageous position. Miss Circle maintained her usual amused smile, loaded with something he could never quite decipher.

“Hello, Miss” Abbie greeted her with little energy, the exhaustion of weeks hitting him all at once. He raised his hand in a cordial wave while stepping down to her level, unsure if he was blocking her path or not.

“You passed with Bloomie and Thavel” she remarked, rolling her arm as if the thought excited her. “Want to try your last exam?” she added in a cheerful tone.

His body reacted in an unexpected way. He didn’t feel fear in the situation, not even in the face of Miss Circle’s imposing figure. Abbie simply nodded, a gleam in his eyes, pulled out a pencil and a sheet of paper, and sat on the steps. He checked his phone and set a timer for 25 minutes.

Miss Circle, apparently surprised by his attitude, clicked her tongue with slight disbelief. However, she quickly adopted her usual composure, placing her hands behind her back and beginning to pace slowly, as if patrolling familiar territory.

In a firm voice, she began dictating the questions. Abbie answered them as best he could, benefiting from hearing them spoken aloud while writing his answers on the paper. Thanks to this, he managed to maintain a good rhythm. The questions were varied; some seemed more like jokes than anything else, while others, though confusing, could be solved with clues offered by subsequent questions.

At no point did he think about death. To him, this was simply a math test with a teacher. Maybe he got a little too excited, because soon he found himself writing, answering, and reacting more and more quickly. Every small mistake he made was evident from Miss Circle’s barely suppressed laughter. Though she didn’t say anything directly, her attitude made it clear when something was off.

And, against all odds, Abbie was having fun.

The timer reached its end, signaling that there were only five minutes left until lunch was over. Suddenly, a cold sweat ran down his back, and his hands began to tremble, though his smile stayed fixed on his face. Miss Circle took the papers from his hands and began to review them carefully.

In her peculiar voice, she started critiquing every mistake and pointing out the sloppiness in some of his answers. Her tone was almost mocking, but instead of feeling humiliated, Abbie remained silent, trying to commit every word to memory so he could jot them down later.

Finally, Miss Circle handed the papers back to him with a big A+ in the center, accompanied by a perfect 100/100. Abbie couldn’t help but smile as he saw the grade, carefully tucking the test among his papers.

“You won’t be so lucky next time” Miss Circle said with a self-satisfied laugh before turning and walking away.

With the extra minutes he had left, Abbie quickly wrote down the important observations while organizing his things and heading to his locker to prepare for gym class.

A short while later, he found himself sitting on the bleachers in the gym, watching his classmates divided into groups, each busy with different activities. He supposed that, being the first day, this was normal.

However, Abbie wasn’t happy anymore.

He had studied, learned from his mistakes on the test, and Miss Circle had been meticulous in pointing each one out. She was incredibly organized, with an almost admirable teaching approach. For a moment, Abbie thought that this was what he had hoped to find at this school: real teachers, passionate about teaching. But he couldn’t ignore the truth.

She was a cannibal before she was a teacher.

The frustration showed in his eyes as he remained seated on the bleachers, pondering what to do next. He had managed to survive for now, but the uncertainty of what was to come wore him down.

Lost in thought, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see an adult man, broad-shouldered and stern-faced. At first glance, he seemed like the biggest monster Abbie had encountered in this school.

But appearances can be deceiving.

“Rough first week of classes?” His P.E teacher asked as he sat beside him. His voice, softer than his physique suggested, carried an almost friendly tone. “It can be like that sometimes. Reminds me of…”

Without warning, the man began talking about his own life, recounting anecdotes that, in some way, seemed to draw a parallel between the two of them. Abbie smiled, listening attentively, not wanting to be rude. This seemed to be his peculiarity.

The man ended his story with a simple but meaningful reflection.

“So, has it always been like this at this school?” Abbie asked, purposefully setting a trap to encourage the teacher to keep talking. He didn’t mind. It was a way to pass the time.

The teacher laughed with a joviality that seemed genuine, accepting Abbie’s invitation to continue the conversation. He began recounting how things used to be, back when he was young, while Abbie listened intently.

“Well… I (34) M, have been at Paper School since…”

Chapter Text

Abbie harbored a peculiar fascination with the events of his last days—a clear but probably harmful attraction, the kind one sees in TV series or video games.

At first, it had been unimaginable horror. Feeling his body torn apart over and over again was an experience that did not deserve to be repeated, and much less when he knew that, in some stupid way, he would end up dying again.

The problem began when he became aware of the fact of “not dying” and of the roots that that possibility began to bury in his imagination—a strange ability to survive in that school which, it seemed, even God himself had decided to condemn to get lost among its corridors.

However, the situation was not the same with his classmates.

That is why he had spent an entire afternoon—and by the way, the weather was perfect for sleeping—scribbling notes about all those subjects that, in his mind, were part of the “death zone.” Basically, he found himself meticulously examining even the janitors, in an attempt to discover whether he would die for chewing gum—which he was pretty sure he would.

He sat on the wide couch, the same spot where he used to fall asleep alternating between that place and his mattress, which was comfortable enough to allow for those ramblings.

The scattered sheets on the table formed a puzzle that only he could decipher. He felt he was losing something with all these recent events—something serious, although he couldn’t identify which part of him it was. But, simply… he did not have the time to stop and think about it.

Abbie suppressed a yawn while watching the windows of his house, which looked out onto a cloudy night. It wasn’t so late yet as to succumb to sleep, but he had too much on his mind. He felt unreal; he could pretend that his days were normal, even that nothing had ever happened, but now and then, the more inactive he became, his mind began to tear apart its very foundations, as if its sole purpose were to confront his sorrows.

He looked at the sheets and thought again about what he was going to do. When your life depends on how much you know, you start planning obsessively. It was a lesson Abbie had learned quickly.

That is why he made sure that none of his classmates died at any moment. He couldn’t be monitoring them 24/7; besides, the very idea made his mind recoil at the thought of becoming a pervert. One thing was dying, and another entirely was for his fantasy of starting at a new high school to turn him into the odd one out of the group, to the point where even Lana wouldn’t come near him.

“I… feel bad for having thought that” he murmured, shaking his head as he continued gathering papers.

He knew that even without that thought, it wasn’t right; he had to help them. They knew the dangers of the school, and, being as stupid as he was, they kept attending classes knowing full well what those red and white walls were hiding for some reason—perhaps due to ignorance, although he wasn’t sure.

He even hesitated for a moment about leaving, calling his parents, and changing everything. They would drop whatever they were doing and appear in front of him in less than an hour… But, unwittingly, the fear of seeing his parents face-to-face with his teachers made him think of the worst possible outcome. He did not know if his parents’ terror in facing the situation might make things worse, or what he would do if something happened to them.

Moreover, he didn’t understand the implications of simply going in circles: if he skipped a class, he would surely return; but what if he changed schools? It was something he couldn’t even imagine and did not wish to find out.

And… he couldn’t leave them in that place when he had the possibility of making them pass those three classes. Maybe not the whole school, maybe not everyone, but he would do everything possible for each one of them, even if he didn’t know them. The mere idea that they were so brilliant, pleasant, and good people—deserving of life—and then having to suffer the same as Lana was enough to make his blood boil.

That is why he prepared himself that way. Abbie pushed aside the aggression from his face, readjusted his apple-adorned pajamas, and jumped up from his seat. He took a few sheets separated from the pile and headed to his parents’ office, passing by a family photo.

His father loved old things; many times he requested photos with some special reference. With his mother’s taste for having memories in every corner of the house, that image eventually came to be captured.

In the photograph, the three of them posed against a dark background: his mother wore a blood-red dress, adorned with small embroidered apples at the edges, and a skirt with patterns that made her look like a pie; his father, wrapped in a sophisticated green suit, wore solid black glasses and held a dark wooden cane whose handle was shaped like a golden apple.

Abbie, Himself, wore a classic dark brown suit, his face slightly tilted in an arrogant pose. A silk handkerchief, with discreet embroidered apples, rested in his pocket, and the buttons on his jacket boasted almost imperceptible engravings of apple branches. Their expressions were stoic, rigid, almost depressive.

Unless someone came close. Then you could notice the subtle upturn of their lips, the excited gleam in his father’s eyes, and the firm pressure of his mother’s hands on his shoulder, ensuring that he stayed upright to follow his dad’s game. A persistent red blush lingered on their cheeks, even until that day.

Abbie remembered that little fortune in bribes his parents had offered him to pose that way.

He smiled, eager for the day he would see them again, excited to think about how they would react to seeing how much he had grown.

In his hands, the sheets contained all the information about the exam topics, plus an extra he had studied: languages, chemistry, and mathematics. Everything he knew up to that moment was captured on those pages, which, once he arrived at the office—filled with hundreds of books on the walls, titles that terrified him even to look at—he set about photocopying.

In a matter of minutes, Abbie had begun the tedious process, reclining in the chair his father used to occupy.

Was this enough? Blinking at the twinkling lights on the ceiling was his only answer. But he couldn’t force anyone to live in a certain way, even if it was a matter of survival. He was still a teenager, not a messiah.

The best he could do was this, even if no one took into account that he had lost a valuable afternoon doing it.

The sheets multiplied in a matter of minutes and were stored in dozens of folders, which would be sent directly to his backpack. Abbie believed that the next day would be calm. He got up, closed the office, and collapsed into his couch; the sheets wrapped around him and his pillow received his face, ready for whatever was to come.

Until a thunderclap reverberated throughout the house, the lights went off and flickered on intermittently, while the rain pounded the roof in torrents. Abbie found himself surrounded solely by the sound of appliances turning back on.

“Maybe today I can sleep in my own bed!” he thought as a torrential downpour cut off the entrance to his house. The night, for the most part, had been calm if one ignored the storm and the inherent fear of living alone in a huge house. First thing in the morning, as usual, he got up, checked that there were no water leaks, and looked out the window of the front door.
There, he only saw how the streets were slowly turning into rivers.

With determination, he took a yellow raincoat with a red apple in the center—something childish for his taste, but charming for his parents—and stared fixedly at his backpack full of papers.

“I’ll take a taxi” he murmured, as the sky lit up with thunder that made him flinch.

Honestly, he preferred getting used to using the same transports and methods as his classmates, feeling like a real student. But on this occasion, it would be silly to pretend to travel that way when he could simply call a taxi, get dropped off at the school, and voila!

The taxi arrived at his door and, after a brief chat with the driver—a very elderly man who seemed interested only in turning up the volume on the radio—Abbie watched the wet streets through the window and gave a strange smile as he contemplated landscapes that, otherwise, he would have never noticed, since these days he was used to staying indoors.

From the rivers forming in the drains to the wind that seemed to tear the trees away, it wasn’t another world; but Abbie took a photo, convinced that his parents would love to see it.

While he move through trees and lights, he thought, for a moment, that he saw the Grim Reaper. 

Or rather, a classmate: he was wearing a black raincoat, with a pair of wings and a tail protruding from his back, always maintaining a dark aesthetic. A pair of horns rose from his hood, contrasting with his outfit. For a few seconds, Abbie hesitated, but then he dared to ask the taxi driver if he could pick up a friend. After receiving a nod, the taxi pulled over, and Abbie opened the door. There he found his classmate, huddled like a frightened cat. Abbie tried to call him, but his name escaped him.

“D-do you want to get in?!” he shouted over the roar of the rain. The taxi driver, alert, tapped his rearview mirror while the water seeped in through the door. In response to a thunderclap that startled the driver, his classmate almost stayed on the sidewalk due to his indecision until he finally leapt into the taxi.

The journey passed in silence. Abbie offered a small greeting which was reciprocated. The only part of his raincoat visible was his expressionless face. They exchanged few words until they arrived at the school; although halfway through, He pulled out his cell phone and seemed to relax, while his tail fluttered inches from his lap. Once at the school, both got out.

The wind hit Abbie’s face hard, to the point that Skell—his classmate’s name—held him to prevent him from being swept away. It seemed he was searching for something in his raincoat while Abbie shouted at the storm to get inside the school. While paying the taxi driver, the boy ignored his words and waited until, together, they began to run under the rain.

Even though the storm was lashing out, a lot of people seemed to be in the school at this point; not that they had any other option, considering the consequences of skipping. Abbie allowed himself to put away his raincoat, making sure it wasn’t damaged. The strong winds forced him to “upgrade” and show up in what more closely resembled a suit than anything else, even though he already knew his clothes were not the most appropriate for that school.

He found Skell staring at him for a few seconds.

“Thank you. I have some money in my locker, if—” Skell said in a monotone, yet deep tone.

Abbie shook his head, setting aside the matter, as he pulled out a sheet with notes to hand over. Skell skimmed it for a few seconds and, understanding what it contained, did not ask further questions and simply thanked him.

“See you later in class!” Abbie called out as he walked away, wondering what to do next.

Surprisingly, the taxi arrived almost an hour earlier than expected at the school. Wandering through the corridors, Abbie felt happy to have interacted with another classmate; perhaps he wouldn’t become a new friend, but at least he was an acquaintance, he thought with a smile.

Shortly after, he met Lana, dressed in her usual style. Her two puppets were wearing raincoats: one yellow and the other transparent, and…

“APPLE!” shouted the puppet on the right from the hallway, accompanied by a gesture. Abbie and Lana exchanged a glance before he raised his hand, replying with a smile that she quickly returned.

“Hey, Lana!” Abbie almost shouted, frustrated because his attempt to start a conversation was cut short by Lana’s long, wet hair, which fell below her shoulders in the open air, an obvious incisive dagger in his pubescent adolescent stomach.

“And…” Abbie continued, looking at the puppets “s-sorry, but would you be willing to tell me your names if you don’t mind my lack of consideration?”

The puppet on the left stared at him for a few seconds and replied, “Our psychologist recommended that we have no names”

The puppet on the right interrupted to silence her: “My name is Pip; his is Pop—almost like ‘poop,’ because he has a shitty attitude!”

Abbie opened his mouth in uncertainty as Lana hushed the puppet. She set that comment aside and began to walk alongside him through the corridors.

“So… is everything alright? Lately I see you sad. Do you want to talk about something? Here you go—three pairs of ears ready to listen!” Lana said, while her puppets leaned to one side. She smiled tenderly as she spoke.

“Yeah… well, My life is a mess!. I had to retake three exams! Three, even math—and I didn’t even cheat on that one!” Abbie exclaimed in frustration, receiving some affectionate pats on the back from Lana. Abbie’s eyes widened as he continued:
“By the way! I have this… Some notes I made, in case you’re interested.”

Abbie pulled out a sheet and handed it to Lana, who held it and examined it silently as their eyes met. Abbie lowered his head, embarrassed by the prolonged contact and his own fears.

Lana unfolded the notes and read them in astonishment, as a smile spread across her face while she scanned the titles.

“Th-thank you, I…I’ll keep them,” she said, beaming from ear to ear, still staring at the sheets in her hand. Her socks, tight as if they were about to disappear, tangled with the atmosphere while, on impulse, she hugged him. Abbie wondered how important those simple notes could be, but the shame of being shorter than Lana at that precise moment overwhelmed him, almost suffocating him with the feeling of her long hair tangling in his head.

“It’s nothing!” Abbie shouted as he walked away, trying to regain his composure. “I heard they’re handing out hot chocolate in the cafeteria! W-wanna go?”

Lana nodded, and together they headed toward the cafeteria without exchanging any more words. Abbie had heard the rumor from some teachers, but, upon arriving, they noticed that the tables were almost deserted, except for a few groups of friends and a boy who, looking like a little kid (perhaps from the school’s preschool roots), was endearing: he was sitting with his arms crossed under his suit, his eyes half-closed with sleep, sporting a curious fish hat and with three cups of hot chocolate arranged on the table.

They also ran into Skell, absorbed in his cell phone and holding his own cup. Exchanging glances and nods naturally, Abbie felt an unexpected warmth. Is this what it feels like to have acquaintances? he thought with an intoxicating smile at the simplicity of a greeting.

Finally, Abbie and Lana ordered their drinks and settled in a corner, watching the storm through the window while the hot chocolate warmed their hands.

Lana offered a smile as she felt the comforting heat of the coffee combined with that of her puppet. Between sips, from time to time, she looked at Abbie, who soon noticed several details: the small apple stem that adorned his head, his drooping eyelids in a calm smile, and the clothing, which amid the stormy weather looked more like a school uniform with touches of apples—in black and white, with cuts reminiscent of that same aesthetic.

Lana looked at the notes on the table and couldn’t help but smile even more. “It’s nice… He never complains about my puppets or when I can’t pay attention in class” she thought aloud, adding, “He even tries to help me, even though we only just met and without asking for anything in return.” To her, Abbie represented the first true friend—or at least that’s how she felt; it wasn’t about anything material… it was simply nice to have him by her side.

She moved closer, gently resting her head on Abbie’s stem, while sighing and closing her eyes, the few hours of sleep making her feel almost ethereal.

A slight movement pulled her from her reverie. Lana slowly sat up, sleepy and on the verge of nodding off, and noticed that Abbie’s eyes were glassy, lost in nothingness. Almost stumbling, she hurried to help him regain his composure.

“Are you okay?” asked Pop, with evident concern, biting Abbie’s arm gently to keep him in place.

“Y-yes, it’s just that hot chocolate never sits well with me… I’m going to the bathroom!” Abbie replied, getting up clumsily. His body, nervous from the tension of the moment, moved quickly as he looked around. He forced himself to calm down upon seeing Lana’s worried look, offering her a small smile.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Stay with my choco,” he added, leaving the cup on the table without worrying about gathering his things except his backpack, with the firm intention of returning soon.

Once Abbie set out to resolve his new problem—a burning, ghostly sensation dominating him— the long corridor transformed into an almost dreamlike vision. The rain, which seemed to slash at his view as it fell into the void, turned the fragments of glass into unique twinkling stars, until a sharp pain ran through him again and the comforting warmth of the chocolate returned his energy.

Abbie, despite being “well-behaved,” also had his limits.

“Shit” he murmured aloud without taking his eyes off the corridor, knowing that they could appear at any moment. Thavel and Bloomie, somewhere in the institution, were looking for him. At least, that’s what had just happened before he returned with Lana. At first, he thought it was for revenge, but after hearing them, he realized they only wanted him to become their “class assistant”—perhaps inspired by the little game he had played with Miss Circle.

However, that didn’t stop Abbie from running away from his assassins. Until he tripped over a window and fell from the second floor; the world went black as the fall registered. Yet, the wet hair of Lana, entangled with his, managed to bring him back to the land of the living, leaving him in awe that, despite everything, he hadn’t died.

“Perfect!” he thought. Now he knows that if he wants to travel through time, he just has to jump out of the window. Although, of course, that knowledge won’t reduce his mental health in the slightest…

His throat tightened as he reached an intersection with three directions. He halted and perceived two rhythms of footsteps: one light but as cutting as blades, and another, more imposing, resembling the tread of a beast. Without any apparent order, two figures moved through the corridor in opposite directions.

His heart pounded, nearly bursting from his chest—the situation was about to repeat itself, even much sooner than he expected. “Maybe they’re just some students, or perhaps it could be Miss Circle!” he howled mentally with hope, but no…

There they were: to the east, Bloomie, with a myriad of papers that seemed to merge with his knife and eyes that spun around his neck; and, on the other side, Thavel, with his right back, sleepy horns as the only sign of calm, his clothes already in shambles and a playful smile betraying that he had started the day with a certain irreverence, while his sanity faded among a disordered alphabet in his mind.

And there was Abbie, clinging to the comforting warmth of the chocolate, which was the only thing keeping him from freezing. Both groups made almost imperceptible eye contact; in that moment, a tacit agreement was forged as they moved. Abbie spotted a window to the south and a deserted corridor to the north.

Without thinking, he ran like never before. His two “teachers” did not take long to react and followed him. Fierce shouts invaded the corridor, entering one ear and leaving the other, as if his brain had mercilessly expelled them.

Perhaps some philosopher once said: suffering can be far more terrifying than dying. Abbie would soon learn that psychological torment can be as devastating as any other kind of agony.

Chapter Text

Physical endurance, and therefore his “ability” -yes, ability, because for Abbie, it wasn't a natural gift- always proved lacking when he thought about it. Not that he thought about it that much; private lessons meant little physical activity, and there were other, more deadly concerns.

Of course, he knew from video games that breathing, precision, and coordination could work even for a body that wasn’t exactly in top shape. Or at least, that’s what those addictive pixels told him. Taking the right route, staying calm, and other strategic details were good starting points when you were physically challenged.

Well.

He looked like a damn Madman running down the hallways.

His breathing was ragged, his brain was starved for oxygen, and his sympathetic nervous system—he didn’t even know what that was a week ago!!!—had completely taken over. He swore he was seeing in 2D. The only reason he wasn’t caught was because, conveniently, Miss Circle appeared right in front of his teachers as they were at his ass, stopping them for... who knows what kind of weird cannibal thing.

But it was only seconds—SECONDS! He’d been killed by milliseconds of these things before! He might never get a gaming skill to run faster, but he’d developed the ability to bite his nails while running. And he was sure the Killers’ physiques were always magically superior to that of the poor victim running in terror, twisting his ankle, and dying. If movies taught him anything, it was that.

Abbie turned into the hallway. There were few students, mostly wet or wearing rain gear they carried with them. He tried to keep running, but the constant dripping turned the hallways into a death trap and, unintentionally...

His ankle buckled.

‘NO! Not like this!’ Abbie mentally screamed as he slid several feet across the water, making everything worse. But that seemed to affect him only, because the sound of footsteps still echoed behind him, oblivious to his slip-up.

Ignoring the possible cold, his attempts to stand only made him slip even more and stain his clothes. Almost in tears from frustration, he struggled to his knees when something grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the shadows. The light blurred, and only a small slit remained visible in front of him, as if the punishment of his life had taken a backseat.

He couldn’t see, but he could hear.

“Where is he?” asked a calm voice, followed by a sharp footstep. It sounded... concerned? Probably Bloomie's.

A boy, whose voice sounded familiar, replied dryly:

“I don’t know.”

There were no more words. Just the click of a tongue, the last thing that echoed before the sound seemed to join the light in its inevitable fading, leaving him in oblivion.

Abbie froze. His blood pressure dropped in minutes, but anxiety began to creep in. He tried to move closer to see what was going on, but whoever it was opened the locker door, and Abbie fell face-first onto the floor.

He scrambled up in fear, surveying the area to make sure none of the teachers were around. To his luck, the hallway was nearly empty. Except for two people.

A boy with a book on his head and glasses.

And... whatever a cat was, whose chest looked like a mix of a book and a pencil sharpener.

He stared at Kevin, unsure of what to say as he tried to clean the soaked, dust-covered clothes. His eyes darted back and forth between the two like a Kit-Kat clock.

“You don’t have to thank me” Kevin said.

His voice didn’t have that typical “nasal” quality one might expect from someone like him. Instead, he spoke with a youthful calmness, even with a slightly lower tone than Abbie’s.

Abbie blinked, responding with embarrassment:

“T-thank you... but why did you help me?”

Kevin snorted, and the cat tilted its head. His words didn’t sound ironic; he really didn’t seem interested in that ‘thank you.’

“I’ll be clear. I hate cheaters. And, apparently, you aced all three pop quizzes. You also ‘accidentally’ dropped your sheet under Claire's desk in math... These clothes aren’t just for show, even if they don't look like it.”

Kevin crossed his arms. Abbie swallowed nervously.

“But I appreciate intelligence much more... Now, Cubbie, give it to me.”

The now-named Cubbie—Abbie still didn’t understand the body structure, shorter than Kevintoo—slid two crumpled sheets toward him without saying a word. Abbie greeted him and received a meow in return. It sounded like a “hello” or so he thought.

“Cubbie found this in the trash yesterday. And no, he’s not hungry. It’s also not against school rules or a psychological issue to dig through there. It’s just a harmless habit that sticks with him a bit longer than it should for his age” Kevin said, holding up a finger as he listed the reasons.

Cubbie folded his arms and nodded with each statement.

“Putting that aside...” Kevin spread out the sheets, revealing two familiar tests that obscured his view. “You had to take them again, with much less time, and still managed to answer everything correctly. Besides, you weren’t exactly quiet with Miss Circle... and I’ve never heard her so excited since the principal allowed her to take action against a man who got too close to students on a field trip”.

Abbie opened his mouth, but the last part didn't even register in his mind. It felt like he was being scolded for being smart.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward unconsciously. He couldn’t help but smile awkwardly, which made Duo raise an eyebrow.

“I misjudged you. This is solely my apology, and I hope we can continue to be intelligence partners in this school with ‘interesting’ alignments and predictably un-“witty” decisions.”

Abbie and Kevin shook hands. In the back of his mind, the thought rumbled that Kevin seemed to treat the whole school like idiots... and a part of him honestly agreed, deep down.

He shook Cubbie’s hand, or rather, the claw. He wasn’t sure, but it felt spongy to him, with the same claw traction as a cat’s.

Oxytocin flowed through his body, and in an instant, he remembered what he had in his backpack (which, thank God, hadn’t gotten soaked).

Abbie paused for a moment, a few leaves half hanging out of his backpack, staring blankly into space. ‘Studying too much is messing with my head...’

He returned to what he was doing.

“T-Take this! You shouldn’t be empty-handed, you really saved me.”

he pulled out two sheets of paper and extended them toward them. he knew Kevin was smart and that Cubbie’s notes were usually almost identical to his, so he didn’t see much of a reason to share them, even though he should have been the one asking for notes.

Still, they both accepted them gladly, as if he were an NPC handing out useless rewards.

Kevin raised an eyebrow as he pulled all the sheets out of the folder and made them dance through his fingers like spider webs. He didn’t seem displeased with the notes; he hummed lightly, his eyebrow occasionally raising in curiosity. He didn’t dissolve into embarrassment but began pointing out a few things he didn't fully understood, which Abbie answered enthusiastically.

He seemed somehow satisfied with all the contents, and in Abbie's eyes, he was a complete scholar.

Cubbie, for his part, didn’t even bother to take his out. He watched Kevin’s over his shoulder, meowing from time to time, turning his sounds into questions he shared with his friend.

After a while, Abbie felt like he had stayed in one place too long and decided to leave. he waved goodbye as he ran, this time making sure to dodge the puddles on the ground.

“Smart and nice... Hmm, maybe we should invite him to—” Kevin spoke without taking his eyes off the notes, reaffirming Abbie’s intelligence.

But his thought was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of plastic being ripped.

“Cubbie, no! Get out of the trash can before some teacher gets here! We’ve already gotten two warnings. The third will be a penalty! We talked about this! We can’t have something like this on our record!”

He shouted as he discovered Cubbie with half his body slumped in the dumpster. It took effort comparable to pulling a widow from her husband's grave to pry him out of there.

“How on earth can you be so animalistic and intelligent at the same time?” he grumbled to himself, grabbing the cat-boy by the legs and stretching him out of the dumpster.

Meanwhile, Abbie, now calmer and heedless of the commotion born of his departure, paced the halls. His head felt like a Pac-Man level, making sure to dodge the footsteps that evidently belonged to his teachers. He peered around the edge of the hallways and moved as if he were in a minefield.

After a few minutes, he came across something interesting...

“Is that my locker!” he exclaimed indignantly. The X-shaped mark was identical to the one he had on his locker... the problem was that it was on the complete opposite side of the school this time!.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Still, the combination code was exactly what he remembered. Defeated, he opened the locker door, finding everything just as he had left it.

So a hollow sound echoed, followed by a thud on the floor and a tiny “ouch”.

Abbie froze. The locker seemed to weigh ten tons as he closed it, and when he turned around, he found the last thing he would ever want to see in his life.

A girl with absurdly short limbs lay on the floor, smiling at the ceiling as she laughed. She sat up, watching him with an expression so wide and disturbing it would make anyone flee.

But Abbie fought his instincts and grabbed her shoulder, helping her up almost immediately.

“Are you all right?” he almost cried. His mind filled with horror. What if he had caused brain damage to a fellow student? Should he jump out the window and redeem himself?

“Yes! This is just a pebble in the road of my life. Nothing compared to when I got shot.”

Abbie blinked. He didn’t really know how to respond.

“And I survived!, and It burned so much…” Riley finished, laughing at the last part.

Abbie wondered if maybe just walking through the front door would have had the same effect as jumping out a window.

“Jeez, this is why they say we're the weirdos in the class, Riley!”.

A boy appeared beside her without warning. Without another word, he grabbed Riley's jaw with one hand and checked her forehead with the other, as if he were inspecting a malfunctioning engine.

Then, he sighed, looking weary.

“Excuse me for her... I-it's usually like that, but not exactly like that!. You’ll understand eventually. I’m Robbie” he introduced himself, giving Abbie a small nod.

Abbie sighed, feeling a little bad about how relieved he was that he hadn't been the cause of his classmate's psychological problems.

“I’m Abbie. Nice to meet you... And I don’t mind at all. It was probably my fault for not noticing what i was doing” he added, feeling a bit bad for not having paid closer attention.

Abbie glanced between the two, noting the resemblance between them. They looked similar enough, but their personalities were clearly different.

Robbie raised a hand, offering a warm smile from beneath his propeller hat. Abbie quickly shook his hand, grateful for the gesture.

“Again, I’m sorry for hitting you with my locker door” Abbie apologized sheepishly.

Riley rolled her eyes, waving off his apology with a casual flick of her hand, as though she were physically dismissing the matter. Then, with that same strange smile, she waved him off again with a lighter gesture.

Abbie took the opportunity to hand over the notes he had. Robbie’s eyes widened in surprise as he glanced at Riley before smiling at Abbie.

Riley barely paid attention but still called out, “Thanks!” as if it were an afterthought.

They talked briefly, but Riley suddenly grabbed Robbie’s shirt with both hands, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Did you hear that, Robbie!? They’re giving out chocolate in the cafeteria! We have to get there before it disappears!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.

Abbie blinked in confusion. Nobody had mentioned anything about chocolate, and the school cafeteria hadn’t even come up in conversation. Still, Robbie smiled without complaint, looking more than happy to follow Riley’s lead after parting ways.

Abbie sighed, deciding not to ask any questions about the chocolate frenzy and turned to go on his way, feeling his social energy bottom out. At least he’d already turned in half the folios for the case.

To his luck, he spotted a familiar group ahead, one he didn’t need to exert too much energy with.

“Guys!” he shouted, his smile growing as he ran toward them.

Engel, Claire, and Bubble stopped talking as they saw him. They initially greeted him with friendly nods, but within seconds, their expressions shifted to concern.

Abbie blinked and looked down, then remembered that he was definitely not in the best condition. Since leaving his house, things had been… complicated. Sweat clung to the back of his neck, and his breathing was heavy, not doing him any favors.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” Engel asked, his voice filled with concern, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of fast footsteps coming their way.

Abbie panicked and, without warning, asked his friends to help him hide from the teachers.

Claire acted faster than the others, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him into a narrow space between a column and the lockers. Then, like a master at Tetris, she shifted Engel and Bubble into place to cover their hiding spot.

The sound of rushing footsteps thundered across the floor, like a freight train passing beneath them. Abbie sighed in relief. But then, just as quickly, something soft and furry strongly collided with his face.

“What…?”

He blinked in confusion and rubbed the spot where he’d been hit while standing up.

“Sorry about that…” Engel coughed, scratching the back of his neck. Then he grabbed Abbie by the shoulders, squeezing him with exaggerated concern. “But seriously, what is it with you and the teachers? Every time you show up, you’re either dirty, hurt, or being chased!”

His voice rang out loudly, and Abbie could’ve sworn Bloomie and Thavel heard it from across the hall.

Abbie opened his mouth, ready to make some kind of excuse, but in the end, he decided to keep quiet.

He lowered his gaze and simply muttered an apology.

Sometimes, he forgot that if he saw his friends in the same situation, he’d probably be just as horrified, asking for answers. In fact, that was exactly why he was in this mess in the first place.

He felt like a hypocrite.

Engel noticed his expression, and his own face turned guilty.

“I... I'm sorry. I know school is dangerous, but I didn’t think it was this bad” he said, pinching his brow.

His gaze shifted from Abbie to Claire, who suddenly looked away without saying anything, but kept an embarrassed face. The atmosphere became uncomfortable in an instant.

Abbie wanted to say something to ease the tension, but before he could, Bubble handed him a towel.

She said nothing, but her gesture spoke volumes, raising her eyes in a smile.

Abbie took it gratefully, drying off as the weather outside seemed to mirror the tension between them.

“Sorry, again” he murmured.

Engel frowned, unable to meet his gaze.

Abbie shook his head.

“And thank you, for everything.”

He took a deep breath, straightening up a bit before continuing.

“Lana’s waiting for me in the cafeteria. D-did you know they’re giving out hot chocolate?” He turned his head, pointing in that direction. “W-want to go?”

His friends were quick to agree. The most animated was Claire; it wasn’t surprising to see her eyes suddenly sparkle like stars.

He handed the towel back to Bubble, and with a brighter smile, managed to ease the group's concerns. Together, they headed to the cafeteria. On the way, Abbie took the opportunity to hand out more notes, which were enthusiastically received by Engel and Claire, while Bubble seemed to accept it as a form of compromise.

When they arrived, Lana was still sitting, her two puppets in her lap, with her head resting on the table. It didn’t take long for them to disturb her peace, and she greeted them with an ear-to-ear smile, not saying a word.

However, as the minutes passed, Lana became more talkative than Abbie had ever seen her. Even Pip and Pop took a back seat for a moment.

The rain continued to pound against the glass, but their voices filled everything for him.

Time was running out. The first period was about to begin.

But that didn’t make the atmosphere any less lively.

Once in class, Abbie took the opportunity to turn in the remaining notes.

“Ruby’s in the infirmary,” Lizzy and Petunia informed him. “A little water damaged her circuitry, but we’ll get the notes to her when we can.”

Abbie nodded, glancing at the sheets still in his hand. He had three left.

He counted the number of students to determine how many photocopies were needed...

But not the students themselves.

He squinted and looked up.

At the back of the classroom, three troublemakers were causing a scene.

They were jumping on tables, disturbing the others, and not pausing for a second to consider their actions, making a racket that could rival a dozen students.

“Yep... They’ll be fine,” Abbie muttered, slowly putting his notes down on the table and setting them aside without blinking.

When Miss Circle entered the classroom, there was no time for distractions. Within minutes, math problems began to fill the blackboard as the syllabus was explained. Once his mind adjusted to the material, he found himself strangely, almost absurdly, entertained.

However, he refrained from participating in class. Not because he lacked interest, but because of the silhouette that loomed ominously at the edge of the window.

Literally, he was the only one who could see Thavel peering through the glass. Her nearly six-foot frame would intimidate anyone, but apparently, her approach to the class was more subtle than he had imagined.

He thought he’d gotten away with it. But it seemed like they were still watching him.

The class continued. Lana asked him several times if he was okay, pointing out that he was sweating more than usual.

Abbie deflected her concerns with excuses about Miss Circle, claiming she was keeping an eye on them. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely true either—if it wasn’t obvious how her eyes dilated when they focused on Abbie specifically.

He was completely unaware of how the day would unfold from that point on. But when class ended - after five yawns-, he had time to think about his next steps. He steeled himself, knowing he couldn’t let his days continue like this for the rest of the year.

He was ready to face the beasts known as his former assassins.

He walked straight down the halls, his fists clenched under his clothes -almost resembling a school uniform-. Somehow, it made him look like someone serious.

He imagined his father walked like that when he was about to confront some executive. They have power, he thought, but no solid reason to do anything to me.

He turned into a hallway and stopped abruptly, realizing he didn't know where he was going. He looked around doubtfully.

He was about to turn back and ask Miss Circle for her friends, only to hear footsteps running in his direction. In slow motion, he saw a white blur moving toward him.

“Yeah... No, no thanks,” he muttered faintly as he turned down another hallway.

He remembered a time when his father had taken him hunting with some buddies. A four-legged beast, a bear, had chased them. To this day, his father still apologized for the fear those heavy footfalls had caused him.

Well... now that fear had transferred to what would probably sound like a freaking T-Rex.

Ready to run, the wet hallways finally played against someone who wasn't him.

Thavel reached the end of the hallway and prepared to head in his direction. They managed a fleeting eye contact before her anchors disengaged. As if watching a slow-motion video, Abbie watched as Thavel slowly glided toward the window.

Her naturally fierce features widened into an expression of pure realization.

Her shoulder hit the glass. Then, her body shot out with a scream that truly sounded like a non-extinct animal.

This really was an ironic world, huh?

Except she hadn't fallen. Unlike him.

Thavel had somehow maneuvered to hold onto the window. From his good twenty meters away, Abbie imagined that she could very well get out of there. If he remembered correctly, those claws had crashed and ripped him to shreds once. Strong they must have been, right?

Abbie slowly turned to leave.

But the screams—not of help, but of an animal—made his gesture twist with discomfort.

Now, ten meters away, he imagined that, because of the type of weather and winds, it wasn’t really that simple.

The question was on the table.

Why help his language teacher?

He was sure that if he no longer had that subject, his life would not change. He doubted he would have to speak any other language than English in his life. And as a bonus, he wouldn’t die!.

And It’s not like they were on the second floor.

Thavel gave one last scream, this time more human than animal.

Abbie's heart sank beyond recognition.

“She could die.”

He hated it. Hated her.

But a lifeless body was still a lifeless body.

He ran and quickly grabbed Thavel's completely black arm.

It weighed more than a woman of her age and size should. He imagined that having beast-like arms and superhuman strength had to come from somewhere.

Still, he reacted.

Both of Abbie’s hands failed to fully encompass hers. Still, as if she had suddenly regained energy, Thavel dug her claws into his arm such as of the a cat that plummeted from a bed to the floor.

It wasn’t meant to hurt or anything. But damn, it hurt like hell.

Abbie pulled back with all his might, not knowing how much longer he could keep it there. He took a deep breath and kept applying pressure.

But it wasn’t enough.

For a moment, he contemplated throwing himself out the window with her and ending this some other way...

he didn't need to do it.

Bloomie, who had probably arrived after hearing the commotion, ran to his side, grabbed Thavel's other hand, and pushed her up with a worried expression, almost oblivious to him.

Despite her size, Bloomie was incredibly strong. Adding her strength to Abbie's, it was as if suddenly ten versions of him were pulling at once. Thavel began to move slowly, and in a matter of seconds, they managed to pull her out of the window.

Abbie fell backwards, inches from the broken glass. The world seemed to spin again. His ears popped. The blizzard outside filled the silence, and raindrops came through the broken window, hitting his face.

He took a deep breath and sat up. Before him, Bloomie and Thavel watched him silently.

Bloomie's hands were torn, perhaps from the struggle. Thavel, on the other hand, looked worse: her clothes were in tatters, her horns exposed, the alphabet was missing the 'A'. Her drooping shoulder was shivering from the cold, and with her animalistic features, it wasn't hard to imagine that she also had an aversion to water.

Abbie inhaled with difficulty.

“Can I...?” he managed to say between gasps. “Have a grace time, please?”

He propped himself up on his knees, sucking in air as if his body were a broken-down vacuum cleaner. His hands ached to the bone, his entire body trembling from the effort.

To his surprise, the two teachers looked... embarrassed.

Abbie sighed.

“Please, Listen to me... I know you just want me to become your classroom assistant.”

“How do you know that—” Bloomie arched an eyebrow.

“I’m talking here!”

His shout made them both jump. Abbie covered his mouth with his hands, expecting anything but to find them docile, staring at him silently.

He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to question whether this was real or not.

“As I was saying... I...”

He lost his train of thought for a moment, but quickly regained it.

“Look, please don’t chase me around the school. Under no circumstances—it's scary! Very scary! you're scary, probably the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life!!”

The teachers exchanged glances, full of mixed feelings. Abbie did too. It felt cathartic to say so. The board had changed places. And for the first time, he felt no fear. Not even in the face of a beast that outnumbered him by several heads... or a razor that measured the same.

“I'm sorry...” Bloomie lowered her head, gently tapping Thavel’s shoulder to do the same. “Uhm, a-a teacher shouldn’t force a student to do something they don’t want to, right?”

Even she sounded unsure.

It was ridiculous.

They were cannibals, Critters from the community who don't know how to relate personally unless they are a predator, to the point where they couldn't even ask a simple question. And that’s why they had rules.

Rules that, for the first time, seemed to come into play.

“Thank you” Thavel murmured, in her characteristic erratic accent. She glanced at Bloomie, hoping for help in saying something else, but received only a shrug and a look that said 'You’re the language teacher!'

Abbie grew dizzy. His mind was too busy processing what had just happened.

Were they really sorry?

Bloomie pulled out her cell phone and sent a one-handed text. Probably reporting the broken window.

But Abbie still hadn't answered the question.

Could he be their assistant?

No.

He'd like to say so.

And he could say it! To have the option was a blessing in itself.

But that choice, precisely, made him hesitate.

He thought about what one is capable of doing to survive.

He had friends. Loved ones. Even good teachers. Miss Circle had awakened in him an interest he had never felt before. Not with video games, not with personal tutors. Something chemical, impossible to explain.

Could he replicate it?

From this moment on, his relationship with these two teachers would be awkward. He knew it. From the time he entered the classroom until he left, there would be tension.

But he needed a head start.

He needed to get ahead of the topics. To have clues to the pop quizzes. Things he couldn’t just guess at.

And if he got to them first...

He rested his hand on his chin, deep in thought.

The sounds of the clerks didn’t bring him out of his trance, muttering among themselves as they inspected him and the teachers, even asking for a testimonial from him, which he redirected to his teachers.

He could break through that awkwardness.

He could get ahead of everyone.

And, somehow, regain the connection he had with Miss Circle, but with all his teachers!

Maybe... could he repeat his year like that?

Good friends. Good teachers. What more could he want?

If something went wrong, at least he'd avoid future problems.

And it would only be a few weeks!.

He could stop whenever he wanted!.

Abbie pounded his fist against his palm, looking determined.

He looked up and spoke:

“I can be your assistant. But, only if you promise not to do what you did today again. Or anything like it!”

He crossed his arms.

Bloomie and Thavel looked at each other, not expecting that reaction.

Finally, they nodded doubtfully.

Before they could continue, the administrative staff interrupted, taking them away somewhere.

But what had been said had already been said.

Abbie sighed in satisfaction.

And then, his chest caved in. His spirits deflated. All the courage he had felt seconds before evaporated, and doubt assailed him with a vengeance.

What a stupid decision.

The world around him distorted.

Before he could react, someone lifted him off the ground with a single hand.

“Hello~” crooned a familiar voice.

Abbie turned his face and found Miss Circle.

“Hey...” he replied with a nervous reflex.

“The rector asked me to take you to the infirmary~”

And without warning, she began to drag him down the halls with a hum.

Abbie gave up. He didn’t have the energy or the will to fight.

“Oh, and I heard you became Thavel and Bloomie's assistant!. Do you know what that means?” she sounded dangerously animated.

Abbie swallowed hard.

“S-sure...”

He sighed, defeated.

Being an aide to a couple of female teachers.

It couldn’t be that complicated, could it?

...

Oh, boy.