Lieutenant Livian cleared his throat and turned to Mr. Arcturus as he spoke. “Excuse our previous behavior, sir, for causing distress to these students. We will make sure to—”

“Hey, you!” the librarian interrupted, his voice trembling with outrage. “Are you just dismissing everything you’ve done? Y-You’re at fault too!”

Despite the wet stain on his pants betraying his fear, he jabbed a shaky finger at the lieutenant, his other hand clutching the damp fabric of his trousers.

Lieutenant Livian’s jaw tightened, but he cleared his throat again, refusing to react. “—Ahem. We will make sure to reflect on what we did,” he finished, shooting a wary glance at the irate, self-absorbed librarian.

Turning back to Mr. Arcturus, the lieutenant raised his stiff hand to his forehead in a crisp salute. “Any orders, sir?”

Mr. Arcturus’s gaze shifted to Zyair. “Release my student first.”

The lieutenant gave a curt nod, stepping toward Zyair, who stood quietly with his wrists bound behind him. Retrieving the key from his belt, he unlocked the cuffs with practiced precision, the metal clicking faintly as it released. 

But before anyone could react, the librarian lunged forward, his fingers snatching at the firearm holstered at the lieutenant’s side.

“Stand down!” Livian barked, his hand darting toward the weapon as the soldiers behind him tensed. Their rifles now aimed squarely at the librarian. 

But the librarian was faster in his manic state. “D-Don’t think you can just dismiss me!” 

He wrenched the gun free and pointed it directly at Livian. The firearm shook unsteady but deadly nonetheless in his hands.

The librarian’s wild eyes darted between Lieutenant Livian and Mr. Arcturus, his trembling hands tightening around the firearm. His voice cracked as he shouted, “You’re all going to listen to me now!”

“...or I swear I’ll pull the trigger!”

The soldiers exchanged tense glances, their grips tightening on their firearms. Every muscle in their bodies was taut and ready to spring into action if the librarian made the wrong move. If he so much as twitched toward the trigger, whether aimed at the lieutenant or Zyair, they would take him down without hesitation. 

Their primary mission was to keep the students alive. It didn’t matter how much torment they endured or how much blood had been spilled along the way, the students were to remain breathing. 

It was ironic, really. Although they weren’t sworn to protect these students (cause their job was just to watch them), they still had played no small part in their suffering. As the librarian spiraled further into madness, even the soldiers couldn’t deny how far this situation had gone off the rails.

Not one of them had ever liked the librarian. His grating arrogance, his petty cruelty, and the way he lorded his authority over everyone—it was enough to make their stomachs churn. Lieutenant Livian had never hidden his distaste for the man, either, though he knew better than to voice it aloud. Asking for a replacement wasn’t an option either.

The soldiers didn’t need to be reminded of the consequences. Complaining to their superiors, asking for a reassignment, it would be career suicide. At best, it would get them shipped off to a more dangerous or degrading post. At worst, they might find themselves stripped of rank, dishonorably discharged, or even worse, quietly "dealt with." Around here, questioning a mission was as futile as asking a storm to change its course. They hated this assignment, but hate wasn’t enough to break the fear and duty that kept them in line.

In the distance, the students in the classroom watched through the large windows. They whispered frantically to one another, some ducking down instinctively though they could only guess at what’s happening on the lawn. 

One student groaned. “What’s that idiot doing now? He’s going to get himself killed!”

“I swear, if he shoots, I’ll find his ugly wife and deal with her too!” another spat.

“That bald moron! He’s got no shame!” 

“I’ll curse him! I’ll curse him!” 

“Good riddance,” another muttered. But even as they spoke, their gazes remained glued to the scene outside.

Mr. Arcturus noticed their panicked state from, like, miles away and subtly gestured with his right hand, holding it low behind his back and palm downward to reassure them without alerting the librarian.

Zora caught the gesture however. His wide eyes flitted toward the others but he remained silent while clutching the window frame. A few others noticed as well, but fear kept them rooted in place. 

Mr. Arcturus stepped forward slightly, positioning himself between the librarian and Zyair. He grabbed Zyair’s wrist gently but firmly, pulling him behind his own body as if to shield him from this librarian. His voice dropped to a low whisper, meant only for Zyair’s ears. 

“Go back to the class,” he murmured. 

Zyair’s heart pounded in his chest, his breathing shallow and rapid. He hesitated at first, before nodding slightly and starting to shift. 

But the librarian’s wild eyes snapped to him and the gun followed. Its barrel now aimed directly at the boy. 

“Don’t you dare move, boy.”

Zyair froze and turned slowly. His wide, tear-filled eyes met the librarian’s manic gaze. The librarian’s pupils were dilated, his teeth bared like an animal cornered. 

“You’re gonna follow me,” His breath came in ragged gasps and his grip on the gun was unnervingly firm despite his shaking hands. “Remember the things I’ve done to you? To your classmates?”

“Y-You…” Zyair froze, a bunch of unsettling emotions and memories flooded in his head. 

He remembered the time the librarian had smuggled a box of cockroaches into the classroom, dumping them onto Zyair’s desk and forcing him to sit still as the insects crawled over his arms and face. The memory made his skin crawl anew. His heart raced as though it were happening again. He remembered the sharp sting of the spiked belt made specifically for their punishment. The librarian had wielded it with sadistic glee and struck Zyair and his classmates without mercy. 

If anyone dared to raise their voice in defiance, even to plead for mercy, the soldiers would press the cold steel of their firearms against their heads. The librarian would sneer, his voice dripping with malice. 

“One more word, and you’ll learn what true silence means,” he’d say, laughing as tears streamed down their faces.

Another memory surged forward, this one just as harrowing. The librarian had forced them to kneel on push pins scattered across the classroom floor. The sharp points bit into their knees, drawing blood as they tried desperately to stay still despite the agony. Any attempt to shift or rise was met with threats—or worse.

Torture like this had been routine during the librarian’s visits, which came without warning. 

For two long years, they endured his cruelty and the ever-present threat of the soldiers.

The memory made Zyair’s legs buckle slightly, his body trembling as the librarian’s unhinged expression bore down on him in the present. He looked every bit as mad as he had in those torturous days.

“Do you remember those days? When you’re helpless?” the librarian sneered. “You’ve always been weak—just like the rest of your pathetic classmates. And now, you’ll listen to me. All of you will.” He shifted the gun at everyone present.

Before the librarian could say anything more, Mr. Arcturus moved. Quick and deliberate, his hand snapped out and grabbed the librarian’s wrist, twisting it behind his back in one fluid motion. 

The librarian let out a strangled cry, and the gun clattered to the ground.

Everyone froze including Zyair. The students who were watching from the window gasped while the soldiers on the lawn stiffened, their hands hovering near their weapons but none dared intervene.

With a sharp kick, Mr. Arcturus sent the gun skidding across the lawn, well out of reach. 

“Agh! Let me go!” He struggled like a trapped animal, twisting and thrashing, but Mr. Arcturus held firm, his grip unyielding.

“What? Are you about to wet your pants again?” Mr. Arcturus looked down at where his hand gripped the librarian’s. An idea came to his mind and smirked.