Powdery dusting of flour, followed by a scorching sand had hit his defenseless figure by five students before settling on his hair and clothes. As the students were ganging up on him, he stood still there, hadn’t moved — just being an open target to them. His eyes and ears bore the brunt of the damage from the sudden onslaught of water and sand. Some of the sand had even found its way into his ears and that caused intense pain. All he could hear were the students’ laughter and screams. He longed to open his eyes, but feared it would only invite another attack.

Before he had a chance to catch his breath, another group of five students pelted him with eggs again. The gooey, sticky texture of the eggs was something he had found particularly repulsive, a fact well-known to the students. The food coloring they had used splattered his clothes. His attempts to shield himself with the portfolio proved futile and he felt trapped just by being surrounded by them.

The stude­nts chuckled loudly as they kept torme­nting their target. They thre­w more sticky powder, sme­ared frosting, and even place­d a candle on his head when they were done messing with him, all while singing a distorte­d version of a birthday song. 

"🎶Welcome to the class, teacher!🎶 🎶Welcome to the class, teacher!🎶"

The students clapped and sang. They all wore big, fake smiles on their faces as if they’ve never felt happiness for once in their whole lives. The teacher, who was all smiley a while ago, now looked soaked and disgusted by himself. He hung his head low as water trickled down from his drenched hair. He just stood there, flabbergasted and unable to say anything.

He examined himself and was overcome with a sense of grime. He despised every particle that had adhered to his skin and clothes. He was aware he was sensitive to filthy things. The realization that he had become what he detested filled him with an urge to flee. He wanted this filthy feeling to go away. His hands had balled into fists. And that’s what the students wanted to see, that face of his — full of anger, despair, a thirst for vengeance, and unable to do anything. It’s as if the students were projecting their long-suppressed emotions even though this was the first time they had seen him. They wanted revenge, and so they took it out to this new guy.

The students were filled with anticipation as they watched him standing there, devastated. They believed they had won. After all, no teacher relished the task of managing such a rowdy group. The objective was simply to ostracize him, to compel him to leave. They had been devising numerous strategies to expel any newcomer who would insist on entering their classroom. Now that the moment had arrived, it was inconceivable that this new guy would choose to stay, especially considering their actions towards him.

“He’s going to quit. That’s it,” thought a male student, holding a steel pipe over his shoulder.

“How awful. He’s going to cry and wet himself, just like the other teachers,” thought a female student on her seat as she put away the eyeliner makeup she had used.

Every student shared the same expectation — him on the verge of leaving at any moment. Previous teachers who faced similar situations were also dismissed, albeit through various methods.

On the other hand, the spectators on lookout felt let down because it concluded abruptly. Their amusement from watching didn’t last as long as they had hoped. The soldier with binoculars sighed. “Another body to take care of, I guess.” He turned to his companion and asked him to take care of the new guy. “Aim for his head or whatever. Just shoot him once he’d make it to the gate exit.”

Given that this location remained hidden from public view, any teacher contemplating escape or resignation was met with a fatal end, unbeknownst to the students. If the students were aware of their victims’ demise, the thrill would be lost. To add a twist, it would be intriguing if a licensed teacher seeking employment at this institution met their end upon failure. That’s the grim rule of the school. They didn’t seek to hire additional staff, but rather, these teachers were placed in this class without them knowing. As much as the school wanted to keep this place concealed, a surefire way to ensure that was to eliminate the teachers who didn’t make the cut.

“How many have we killed?” The other soldier asked, staring at the new teacher through his lenses.

“Nah, I’ve lost count. It started four years ago anyway,” the other answered. “Perhaps eleven?”

“So this makes this guy the luckiest twelfth then.” 

They were accustomed to handling corpses. After shooting a teacher for being a failure to manage this class, they would wrap the body in plastic, place it in a machine filled with carbon dioxide ice to keep it fresh, and transport it to a secret underground facility in the city. That’s what they were ordered to do. The soldiers had no idea what was inside the facility. They only knew that the bodies imparted there would be properly dealt with with people more capable than them. And to even cover it up, they would categorize them as missing people until the news spread to the public, appearing in magazines, newspapers, and headlines. The school’s name naturally remained unmentioned given its longstanding reputation for peace. This was their way of erasing any trace of their actions. 

Over time, the soldiers had become deeply adapted to the responsibilities and demands that came with their roles. Their primary duty, the one they were trained and prepared for, was to serve the citizens of their nation. It was never part of their job to harm these very citizens, let alone take their lives over matters of little significance. Unfortunately, their actions led to a tragic outcome. They found themselves accountable for the loss of numerous innocent lives. The actions they undertook were not merely misguided or erroneous. They were completely and utterly inexcusable. These soldiers were rigorously trained for warfare, for combat and defense. Their ultimate purpose was to serve the Elnealin government, to protect their country and its people, not to become pathetic murderers. However, with the higher-ups intent on maintaining secrecy, they divided the military’s responsibilities. Some were assigned to monitor this location, others to serve the government, and the rest to serve the citizens. They operated on a rotating schedule, but the final decision always rested with the country’s president.

“Sigh. What a boring day.” The outlookers had given up scrutinizing over the new guy and returned to their own affairs. They were convinced he would soon be the next corpse, so they had seen no point in wasting energy observing their prey. They’d decided it would be more efficient to wait for him to exit the gate before they pull out their trigger. 

Meanwhile, the teacher felt as though his soul had been ripped apart by the brutal gift his ruthless students had given him. Not that he was mad at them, nor did he feel any remorse for his decision. In fact, he hadn’t felt any intense antagonistic emotion towards them. It’s just that when he had loosened his grip on the portfolio, letting it fall to the ground, he had witnessed the students’ tears of happiness streaming down their faces from immense pride and relief.

As if defeated, he turned to the door and readied himself to leave, hoping his departure would please them. But as he slipped out of the classroom in silence, the students wasted no time pelting him with eggs and garbage. The soldiers had picked up on their raucous screams and wails. Hearing this, they also started to get ready. It was clearly an indication that it’s their turn to dispose of the leaving teacher already, except they have to take his life. 

“Seen the target yet?” radioed one soldier with another companion as they liquefied some carbon dioxide, preparing to inject it in the refrigeration bed within their base. 

“Negative, Sergeant,” one soldier responded as he used the lenses of his firearm upon observing the exit of the gate. 

“Just keep guarding. He’d come out sooner.” Instructed the other while preparing the gigantic plastic wrap.

“Copy,” the one on lookout responded.

The students, at the moment, were still filled with an infectious energy and joy. They went to grab Idris (the one student who splashed a bucket of nasty water on the teacher’s face) and praised him for his important role in the planned attack. What he did was a go signal for them to start the assault. Some were jumping up and down while others who were unable to contain their enthusiasm hugged their friends, especially the female ones. Idris, on the other hand, was all red as a beetroot from all the praises he had received from his classmates, though he knew all he did was simply give them the opportunity to take the bull by the horns. In the end, it turned out to be successful anyway.