Chapter 13 – Turbulent Excursion 2
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“You’re Kim Si-woo’s teacher, right?” 

 

The evening sun glared through the windows of the first-year classroom, its orange streaks illuminating two faces. One was me, and the other was a woman wearing glasses, looking to be in her 40s with brown hair in a bob cut. 

 

“Ms Invidia- or rather, Second Lieutenant Invidia seems to be what you prefer, what do you need from me?” Although her mouth was curved in a smile, her narrowed eyes stared daggers at me. 

 

Jeanne Pucelle. 

 

From what I know, she was a typical civilian hire, a last-minute replacement for homeroom teacher. Not to mention, she was never mentioned in the original story.

 

It was strange. 

 

Did she not know who I was? But she knew my name though...

 

“I heard you rejected my application,” I glared at her plain brown pupils. 

 

“So I did. Are you here to complain?” She replied in a calm tone.

 

I paused for a moment. I didn’t want to be one of those entitled spoiled kids, but I had goals that I needed to achieve. 

 

I won’t let a random civilian teacher destroy my plans. 

 

“Do you know who I am?” I asked, trying to stop myself from the embarrassment of saying it. 

 

“A student, that’s who. If you want to complain, please do it during working hours. I’m not paid enough to deal with entitled brats like you,” with that, she picked up a binder from the table and began to move. 

 

She didn't care!

 

“Wait!” My eyes sparked, and a small flame, like the dim evening sun, prompted me to grab her arms and stop her from leaving. 

 

My pride wouldn’t let me stoop so low, but I needed to do it-

 

“How much?”

 

A silence broke.

 

“Are you seriously bribing a teacher?” Kim Si-woo’s homeroom teacher looked down at me before she clicked her tongue. 

 

“It’s ridiculous they call a child like you, the ‘light’ for this era.” 

 

My grasp loosened at her words.

 

"Kid, go home and play games or something." 

 

Her provocations felt like oil, filling up inside of me. 

 

Why?

 

Normally, I wouldn’t care about something like this. Then again, normal standards no longer apply to me after everything that has happened. 

 

[You should try a more diplomatic approach]

 

The slop’s interruption doused the swelling flame, I shook my head. I held back the rising heat. 

 

[You’re welcome]

 

The voice was right. Why was I being so direct and rude in my approach? Of course, she wouldn't respond kindly to me. 

 

“At least tell me why,” I added as Kim Si-woo’s teacher reached the door. 

 

She paused for a moment and stared, before turning her back on me.  

 

“It should be obvious, shouldn’t it? I don’t get what you see in people in my class, but they're here for a reason.” A flash of darkness appeared in her eyes as she looked back before she left for good. 

 

[She doesn’t trust you to handle him]

 

I understood her concerns. She wasn't an outlier, but rather, it was me. 

 

I couldn't accept it, still. 

 

I pulled out my phone and dialled a particular number, a shadow casting itself over me as the setting sun's presence dimmed in the empty classroom. 

 

“Simpson? I need you to look into someone…” 

 

Surface information alone wasn’t enough. I needed to find everything out about her, then I would utilise it to maximise my advantage against her. 

 

Of course, I could bypass her easily, but such a blatant disregard for the system would create a bad precedent. Not to mention, I had a feeling my father in this world would never approve of it. 

 

For now, I needed to butter up the meat, like how I’d done it with Kim Si-woo. 

 

.

.

.

 

Jeanne Pucelle. 

 

A former Sergeant in the military, now retired into a civilian post at the academy after a mass casualty event 10 years ago. 

 

Why didn’t she utilise her military background to get a higher-paid position in the academy as a military instructor? 

 

Why did she leave the military? 

 

Was it trauma from the mass casualty event?

 

There were many questions that I needed to ask. 

 

“Thank you for the food, Second Lieutenant, but I can’t accept it.” With a kind smile, she rejected the bento I had prepared. 

 

Her casual expression made it seem like our conversation yesterday afternoon never existed. She was a tough, but not impossible, nut to crack.

 

They say that the key to anyone’s heart is through their stomach. 

 

Unfortunately, my tactic failed against Kim Si-woo’s teacher, who was financially stable enough to feed herself instead of relying on student bentos. 

 

I stared at her silently.

 

I had a wealth of information on her after some investigation, but it wasn’t particularly useful yet. Her records were clean.

 

“What do I need to convince you?” I asked directly. 

 

I wasn’t particularly fond of beating around the bush for too long.

 

“Nothing. You can’t convince me,” she replied as she focused on the teacher’s computer in her cubicle, filling out paperwork. 

 

I silently stared at her again.

 

“Why are you so insistent on this?” I asked, breaking the monotonous background chatter of other teachers in the staff room. 

 

“I could say the same about you. It’s not like the world is going to end, so don’t rush into the frontlines trying to prove that you’re a genius,” she promptly replied with a sigh.

 

“I’m not rushing things. This is necessary. Taking things slowly will only lead to more tragedies,” I narrowed my eyes. 

 

I wholly disagreed with her philosophy- talent should be fully developed and exploited to its fullest extent. Rest only exists when risks are completely gone, not diminished. 

 

“We’re in a peaceful era, where we have the leisure to do things at our own pace. Rushing things would only lead to unnecessary casualties.” She stopped typing and turned to me, the reflection in her wide, rounded glasses showing my deadpan face. 

 

Naturally, with the extent of her knowledge, she would be right. It was rare to see someone like her, who would stand her ground whilst also being knowledgeable. 

 

However, her knowledge was based on her belief in the false facade of peace that existed. Hidden forces are moving right now, and the final act of humanity is fast approaching. 

 

The tragedy of the protagonist’s year group. That would be the first symptom of the pending apocalypse. 

 

Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell her that. 

 

I had no proof. 

 

So, I had another plan.

 

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