The school bell chimed signaling all of the Bihira International High students to assemble inside the auditorium for a morning activity.

"This school looks so prestigious and noble," said Calix as he observed the environment after they've reached their destination. "Sadly, that's how progenitors and greedy people perceive it."

His driver took the effort to get the two huge bags. "Sir Calix, I will bring these. I shall accom---"

"Stay inside the car, Monsieur William. I will bring the bags and go there by myself. I shall see Nicholas with my own eyes," Calix insisted, grabbing the bags and hurriedly exiting the car.

"B-But... Sir Calix..." As the driver, known by his name William, watched Calix going all the way up to the front gate, he got concerned even more, "...did Master know the way up there? I might get fired from this if I don't follow him. My dear creator, he's so stubborn."

And just like that, Calix vanished in his eyes. He had just locked his gaze on him and now he's entirely gone. How obstinate might Calix be?

Stubborn and determined are both negative and positive adjectives for the same thing. Yet Calix is the type of person who wants to achieve everything in his own way... even if people around him might perceive himself as a stubborn, arrogant, and annoying person. 

After a few moments of strolling inside the school, Calix realized he had no idea where Class 11-5 was located. He came to a halt as he noticed a large group of students all heading in the same way, talking and chit-chatting as they gazed at him. 

An audible whisper. "Is he new here? He's cute." 

"I don't know... he's not wearing our uniform though. But yeah, I agree with you. He has the face."

"And what are those bags? Is he camping here?" and they laughed.

Meanwhile, Calix got pissed off... but he stayed his cool. It was a way to meet peace.

When two girls passed by beside him, he called them and gazed at them as if he was gazing through their souls.

"What do you want?" the brunette girl asked, feeling irritated.

Just as the way she looked at him, Calix was even more annoyed... but he kept calm still. "Do you know where's Class 11-5?" 

The other girl laughed, "Class 11-5? That prison-like classroom?" she sighed, "Why? Do you want to be in that jail too? People in there are a bunch of psychos. Sorry, but you need to kill people first before you enter there, kind of a---"

"Excuse me..." Calix's eyes were flaring, the girl then stopped talking and got irritated. "Why are you in this school anyway? To mock the students in there? Sorry, but is it a rare thing that you need to change your attitude first before attending a school? I don't think so," he added.

They both got quiet and looked at each other.

"You really have the right to talk back to us? Did you not know us, huh? I guess not 'cause you look like a hobo. And why are you defending that dirty-ass classroom anyway? You have sugar mommy in there?" the other one chuckled, the other one chuckled too and they both high-fived afterward. They could feel the victory in their palms already.

"Sorry that a slut like you got so concerned. I'd rather be a hobo than a millionaire who would shower you with money. And why am I defending that class, you asked? Is it not a thing to defend in here? Oh? I guess not? 'Cause all of you here look like a walking hotdog to me. It means you are all nothing into my eyes. And what is your prejudice to that classroom? You've got sugar daddy in there leaving you?"

After hearing that, both felt anger and just left without a word. They even rolled their eyes at him before they walked out.

It was a total defeat. How outrageous.

After he watched them walking away, Calix just sighed while thinking about the attitude of everyone in here. If those two's attitudes are worse, then there might be even worst in here. Well, couldn't be helped but to just defend and stand up from them. It's a piece of cake.

After a while, another guy and his friends went after him. They all wore the same clothes---their basketball jersey uniforms. One, or perhaps the leader, spun the ball around his finger and looked at Calix with a delightful expression.

"Good job, kiddo. You got those girls real good. What's your name?" the guy with the name "Cassano" in his jersey asked while friendly putting his arm around Calix's neck.

"Don't touch me," he took off his arm, almost about to throw a jab on him. Keeping calm, he backed away and coldly asked, "Where is this Class 11-5?" He's now really annoyed.

The guy, Cassano, also stepped backward, removing his arm, since Calix told him so. "Okay, okay. Chill." 

When they heard him mentioning the word "Class 11-5", they looked at each other and gazed back at him. They were just staring at Calix closely since he's so familiar yet new to them. They had no idea that such a person asking for a certain classroom would come to their school looking like this. How absurd and funny at the same time.

"A guy not wearing his school uniform... carrying huge bags... asking for a classroom that is very forbidden... "

As they tried connecting the dots, they perceived a certain thing.

"A-Are those bombs?" one of Cassano's companions said, pointing to one of the bags Calix was holding. He practically rushed away in fear. He was too terrorized.

Calix casually nodded as his answer. 

After that unexpected response, Cassano's team all looked at him... so terrified.

"J-Just go to the last building..." the other one with "Gonzales" on his jersey stuttered, trembling all over his body from terror, "A-At the bottom right of t-that building, t-there's a prohibited classroom in there... t-that's the C-Cla---"

"Thanks."

"Eek!" they were being defensive after Calix nimbly sprinted in the direction that the Gonzales guy had informed. They had no idea... they were so terrified that the way he ran away made them be so wary.

The Cassano guy just stared at Calix going all the way in the direction. "Hmm..." He found the Class 11-5 interesting now.

After Calix found the building, he immediately went to the very corner of the classroom, and there, he found a huge glass that covered two rooms; a storage room and a wasted-looking classroom.

Some of the students saw him trying to open the glass barrier, they warned him not to get any closer yet he didn't listen. After all, his aim was to deliver the money in the bags, not to listen to these students.

On his way up to this building, the students he bumped into all said the same thing; Class 11-5 is a dangerous class. You might get killed in an instant since the majority of them have already terminated a lot of people. And aside from that, they've committed lots of heinous crimes. That classroom is a room for prisoners.

It didn't matter to him... this world is already evil anyway.

When he was already one step away from the door, he glimpsed at the window and suddenly he saw a familiar guy being beaten up by a student. It was Mr. Travis. He was jabbed by the face. 

Not only that, after Mr. Travis lost his balance, the student then released another punch and promptly spat on Mr. Travis's face. He also caught him clenching Mr. Travis's collar.

After seeing them, Calix's blood was boiling up. He was so outraged that he wanted to kill the bastard who did that to Mr. Travis. He then quickly went for the door, but the thing was... a pale and a mop were obstructing there. So then, he kicked them away and furiously opened the door. 

"Bastard!'

•••••••••••••••••••

A moment ago...

"What the heck!"

Peter, the student who likes playing card games, hastily stood up and banged the table so hard in his wrath that the impact spread through his skin. The cards on top were practically leaping away as a result of his exertion. 

The classmates who were watching him since earlier were astounded. "I-It's a tie again!" They turned to look at Mr. Travis... he was just smiling while clasping his hands.

"They've been doing this for like...six times already, right?"

"Yeah... and Peter lost four times now..."

"They got tied two times too, you know... count this one in."

"Shut up!" Peter lived his rage almost cartoonishly, so engrossed in the present and the anguish his head was in. His classmates would see it first in his eyes, then in his muscles, and eventually in his inability to think coherently. 

"How could this be?" Peter said, his eyes blazing with rage. "Let's go for another round!" He was beyond enraged, pointing at Mr. Travis.

The rational Peter was out of the room, and the primitive Peter, who had reverted to his old behaviors, was present. Suddenly, his liberal views vanished, as did his talent for complexity and emotional kindness. His hands remained securely at his sides, but his words inflicted far more harm than they could.

"My dear Peter. You said this is our final last. We're playing 3 cards for the past rounds and that itself is the easiest. And you told me to be honest upon placing my cards, right? That's what I just did... and yet why are you furious?"

"Maybe I just miscounted! Let's play another round!" he demanded, "But this time... twelve cards!" 

Anger is despair in battle mode. He couldn't accept his defeat.

"Yes! I will play another round with you. But I'm guessing... your friends wanted to play cards as well, right?" he looked at Terfinn, Brent, and the silent guy, Liam. The four, including Peter, are always the gang for card games. They have different abilities, yet playing with each other would be a terrific bonding experience.

Their classmates looked so delighted but at the same time, they're cautious about their teacher, they still hate him. But they couldn't change the fact that some of them wanted to play.

"Y-Yeah, you're not correct, but you're not wrong also," said Terfinn, looking away.

Mr. Travis chuckled, standing up, "You guys can play," the students were overjoyed, "... but play UNO cards instead," the teacher added, which made the students down with disappointment.

He took the cards that were strewn about the desk and re-shuffled them into the deck. Mr. Travis had a pack of UNO cards under his suit, which he placed on the table for his students to play.

Brent couldn't help himself. The cards were tempting him yet he hesitated while looking at them. "I-It's better than nothing, right? And I'm bored too so---"

"Shut the fuck up!" It was a full-fledged yell. Peter was still distraught. "I and this asshole will play until I win! So all of you! Get the hell outta my way!"

As Terfinn scowled and was catching his breath, his teacher smiled at him sincerely. "You know... that's not how a friend treats his friends..."

Peter assaulted Mr. Travis without hesitation, hitting him hard on the left cheek. The teacher lost his footing and so he took a step back, clutching his cheek. The enraged student was not satisfied, so he thumped his teacher again, this time on the right cheek.

"What the fuck!" he clenched Mr. Travis's collar and spat on his face, "Who told you to talk back to me, huh? Are you a saint or something?"

In the loss, the seven stages of grief come as a road of shards that can only be traversed with bare soles. 

When the part of the brain is not provided with a good setting to develop self-control, a violent temper might ensue. Without excellent role models and coping methods, Peter might become a victim of his own inner disasters.

Many people witnessed it, but none of them cared about their teacher getting beaten up. Some yawned, some returned to their seats, and some continued to converse with one another. As Mr. Travis' nose was bleeding, everyone just stared at him without an expression on their faces. They were seeing the most wonderful spectacle in the world. 

Clara, Victor, and Greg were the only students who were concerned for their teacher... but they froze in their spots. They couldn't move an inch nor they could help him. Peter was terrifying. After all, this is his first time being upset over losing.

Meanwhile, Mr. Travis's skin was stinging all the way down to his bones because of the punch's force. As Peter grasped his teacher's freshly ironed suit, they made eye contact with one another. This made Peter slightly calm down, he felt patience and kindness inside his eyes. But he couldn't be bothered. He still held his teacher. 

After a few seconds, Mr. Travis reached out into his pocket for his handkerchief. He gently wiped the spit off his face and folded the kerchief again to put it back in his pocket. 

Despite all this, Mr. Travis still smiled. 

A calm voice from their teacher. "Now, now. Calm down, my dear Peter. I told you I'd play again, right? Now, now. Sit down, my gracious Pete---"

"Bastard!" Another shout came from the front door.

Dropping to the ground the two bags he was carrying, a young guy dressed casually burst irrationally into the classroom. He went after Peter and mercilessly pummeled him over and over as he was also outraged.

"How dare you do that to my uncle!"