When Mr. Arcturus suddenly spoke up, the four leading girls found their attention diverted from the argument. Nohea and Elowynne, in particular, were taken aback – their expressions morphed into a mix of confusion and unease. They found it odd that instead of trying to escape, their teacher was asking for something so... casual. 

Mr. Arcturus looked at the four girls with a desperate sincerity in his eyes, repeating his plea. "Please, you girls have to help me! Scratch my back!” His words were filled with urgency, as if this simple act would alleviate unbearable suffering. His gaze darted from one girl to another, as if willing them to comply with his request. The hint of desperation in his voice suggested that the itch was more than just an inconvenience – it was driving him to near madness.

“This idiot… Did he just ask us to scratch his back?” the four girls seemed to wonder.

In the distance, the librarian and Zora were locked in a heated argument although they were far away from each other, their voices heavy with the strain of a prolonged dispute. The students, aware of the ongoing conflict, wisely chose to stay put and left everything at Zora’s hands. Zora was negotiating with the librarian, not to resolve the issue, but to buy time. His main goal was to ensure Zyair's return without compromising the safety or unity of the class. But the problem was, how would he even let Zyair know that he had planned something without getting suspicious? Zora gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, trying to trust his guts.

"I've told you!" the librarian shouted, his voice high-pitched with frustration. "You've blatantly broken the rule!”

Moments later, a ring of armed men closed in, weapons poised and ready to strike and created an intimidating barrier that left everyone on edge. Some of the military men fixed their sights on Zyair, trapping him in a dangerous standoff. Meanwhile, the rest of the group aimed their firearms at the students huddled inside the classroom including Zora. 

Earlier in the military compound's basement, the librarian entered while Lieutenant Livian was giving orders. Upon his arrival, the men swiftly shifted their allegiance from the lieutenant to the librarian. The librarian demanded they surround the students and aim their guns directly at their heads. Hearing that order made Lieutenant Livian swallow hard. In the manner he issued orders, there was no hint of remorse or guilt in his voice. In fact, he was smiling at the mere thought of the students' suffering. Despite recognizing the librarian's abuse of authority, the military personnel complied. They understood their duty well: follow orders without question, regardless of who issued them. The librarian's actions caused visible distress among the students, but the soldiers could only watch attributed to their military code.

Back in the present moment, surrounded by frightened students with hands raised, the librarian reveled in their terror. Even Zora, their leader, struggled to remain composed as he shook uncontrollably. Though they stood on the damp, foul-smelling grass outside, the threat was palpable, as if the barrels of guns pressed against their very skulls. Zora felt helpless, trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Every nerve screamed at him to act, but his mind remained blank, frozen by panic. All he could picture was himself teetering on the edge of a cliff, backed by a group of armed men leaving him three dire options: leap to certain death, make a wrong move and be shot, or surrender himself. This helplessness – this was what Zora loathed most. Despite his intellect and strategic prowess, fear often consumed him, clouding his judgment and rendering him incapable of action. He despised this part of himself, yet couldn't break free from its suffocating grasp. 

“Woah, this looks fun, huh?’ Arvid murmured calmly, his arms raised lazily in the air.

“How can he be so calm? Doesn't he realize there are firearms aimed at our heads?” Zora thought, gritting his teeth. “Hey, don’t do anything stupid,” he warned, glaring at Arvid. Then he looked back at the librarian, who was clearly enjoying the situation while still restraining Zyair.

The librarian sneered, “You might as well be dead.” Then he signaled to several nearby guards, pushing Zyair roughly into their waiting grasp. “Get him!” 

One of the soldiers roughly seized Zyair, his grip unforgiving. Words of fury bubbled in Zyair's chest, but they lodged in his throat, refusing to escape. He wasn't scared, but he was livid at the soldiers and the librarian. He glared at the soldier, teeth grinding together as if attempting to shatter the silence with the force of his anger alone. The guard could sense Zyair's wrath, yet he stood steadfast, bound by orders from the librarian. The soldier felt a twinge of discomfort in response, aware of the pain they caused these innocent students despite not showing any remorse. Despite Zyair's importance to his classmates, they could only watch, unable to intervene.

Zora's jaw clenched tightly, his gaze locked onto Zyair as he was handed over to the guards. His usual steely resolve had shifted into one of simmering annoyance. In response, Zyair let out a laugh – not his typical carefree chuckle, but a strained giggle tainted with irritation.

Zyair bravely smirked at the librarian, defying him openly. “You framed me. Both of us know that,” he said firmly. But the librarian just laughed quietly, seeming confident. “Even if you're right,” he replied, “no one would believe you. My power and position make sure of that.”

Zyair's feet halted abruptly. He fought the urge to lash out at the librarian whose mere presence seemed to fan the flames of his anger. Before he could act on this impulse, however, two sentinels moved in, gripping his arms firmly. 

The air quickly shifted as someone entirely unexpected stepped near them. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored three-piece suit, the dark vest hugged his frame, and his crimson tie stood out sharply against the white shirt. His hair, a striking shade of red, was tied neatly back, the long strands falling effortlessly down his back, catching the faint light.

His footsteps were calm and deliberate, each one carrying a quiet authority that seemed to ripple through the yard. His eyes, sharp and unflinching, scanned the scene as though he already owned it. Without a word, his presence commanded attention. Conversations hushed, and every pair of eyes turned to him.

He smiled—an unnervingly composed, almost disarming smile—directed at Zyair and the librarian. But instead of offering comfort, it sent a shiver through the yard. The librarian stumbled back, visibly unsettled.

“Who the hell are you?” the librarian barked as he instinctively shrank behind one of the guards.

The guards, unsure of what to do, shifted their aim, turning their weapons from Zyair to the man in the suit. The tension spiked, but the man didn’t flinch. If anything, his calm deepened, as though even the pointed barrels of the weapons were beneath his notice.

Watching from the classroom, the students stood frozen, their whispers cutting through the silence like static. Eyes darted between the man, the librarian, and Zyair.

Zora was clearly drained and stunned. He let out a gasp, his eyes wide with disbelief as he recognized the man. It was Mr. Arcturus. He was outside with Zyair and the librarian. Zora’s gaze darted to the four girls who were supposed to be in charge, then back outside.

Zora shouted, his voice sharp with frustration. “How the hell did he get there?”