The teacher stood in the middle of the stage. The soft lights reflected off his neatly styled red hair. He stared at us for a moment after his last sentence, then finally spoke in a deep, confident voice:
"My name is Dairo. I'm the one in charge of you in this program."
"This school, as I said, is not like anything you've seen before. You are now part of a system designed to discover your true potential."
"But before we begin… I want to hear from you."
He pointed toward the front row, all the way to the right.
"We'll start there. Stand up, come to the stage, and introduce yourself. Your name, student number, a little about your family, and your hobbies."
Some students looked at each other nervously. Most didn't expect to be called up like this. The first student stood from the front row. He was average height, and walked quickly and confidently. His hair was green, and his red eyes sparkled with energy. He stepped onto the stage and jumped a little at the end, then turned to face us and raised his hand with excitement.
"Oh, hi! I'm Kozu! Student number 1!"
He waved at the crowd like he was on a live show.
Kozu: "I'm 15. I grew up in a big, noisy family. I have five siblings — and they're all annoying! So I learned to speak louder than them!"
A few students chuckled, some smiled, and even Mr. Dairo raised an eyebrow with interest.
Kozu: "My hobbies? Anything fun! I love dancing, singing, video games — even cooking! Anything that gets me moving or lets me try something new."
He finished with a big smile and made a peace sign with both hands.
Kozu: "I'm happy to be here with you! Let's make these three years super fun!"
Then he jumped off the stage lightly and returned to his seat. Some students whispered in admiration. I watched him carefully… Kozu, number 1. The kind of person everyone likes quickly. The kind the crowd follows. But… sometimes too much energy hides something deeper.
Dairo (calmly): "Next."
The girl sitting beside Kozu stood up. She was wearing the girls' uniform, but the bow on her chest was bright pink. Her pink hair was tied into two side braids, and she had green eyes.
She was hugging a small brown teddy bear tightly — like it was something she couldn't let go of, no matter her age. She walked slowly and nervously toward the stage, then finally stopped in the middle and gave a shy smile.
Girl (quietly): "U-Um… I'm Himari… student number 7…"
She paused for a second, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her smile was a bit stronger.
Himari (more clearly): "I live with my mom in a small family. I love flowers… and drawing… and I love this bear a lot. His name is Momo."
Some students laughed quietly in the back. One of them whispered mockingly:
"A teddy bear? In high school? Are you serious?"
But Himari didn't react. She held the bear tighter and spoke with confidence, even though her cheeks turned red.
"I know it sounds strange, but I feel comfort with him. I don't think age should stop us from keeping something we love… right?"
There was a strange silence for a moment.
Himari: "I hope we can all be friends… or at least… stop making fun of each other."
She gave a quick bow and stepped off the stage with her face still red. She sat back down. A shy girl… hugging a bear and smiling at the air? How sweet. Or maybe… how naïve. But she didn't stutter or fall apart, even with people staring. She seemed weak, but she wasn't a coward.
My thoughts stopped when I heard the next chair slide back. The boy next to her stood up. He was tall, had a blank expression, and dark hair that covered part of his forehead. His steps were heavy, like he hadn't slept in days. He walked slowly onto the stage, never looking at anyone. He stopped in the middle… then sighed and looked at us with cold, empty blue eyes.
Boy (in a cold voice): "My name is Shin. Student number 3. I like video games."
Then silence.
Everyone expected him to say more — maybe something about his family or other hobbies — but he didn't. He stood there for one more second, then quietly stepped off the stage like being in front of everyone meant nothing to him.
He sat down and rested his head on his hand, like he might fall asleep. Whispering began around the room.
"That guy's weird…"
"Why do his eyes look dead?"
"I don't like quiet people."
"His face is creepy."
Creepy? No… just real. People who don't try to impress others are often more honest than the ones who talk too much to be liked. Shin isn't dumb — just uninterested. And that's another kind of strength.
Dairo: "Next."
I stood up calmly. It was my turn now. No need to shout like Kozu, or act mysterious like Shin. I'm not here to entertain, and I'm not suspicious… I'm simply better than them.
I walked to the stage with steady steps. All eyes were on me now. Perfect. I'll start with a clever line — no, not too clever. I don't want to sound arrogant yet. Then later, I'll drop something surprising. Something to make them wonder: who is this guy?
I stepped onto the platform. I looked at the audience with no expression. I just put one hand in my pocket and stared at them with quiet confidence. I took a deep breath… then spoke.
Naros (in a calm, confident voice): "My name is Naros… student number 17. I know you don't really care how many siblings I have… or whether I live with my parents or not."
Some students exchanged looks — like I had just read their thoughts.
Naros (a bit bolder): "As for hobbies? I don't have one specific thing. I like trying everything… and I'm good at most things I try. Especially piano and chess."
Soft whispers spread across the hall. Now… they were curious. Piano? Chess? That means good taste. I smiled slightly, then added:
"I'm glad to be here… at least until I decide whether this program is worth my time."
Then I calmly turned around and walked off the stage with steady steps, not looking at anyone.
My face was now planted in their minds. They'll start asking questions…
Who is he? Why does he talk like that? Is he a genius? Or just arrogant?
And I'll be watching, analyzing. That's my real hobby.
I sat back in my seat. I knew they were looking at me now, trying to remember my face.
But next to me… Irissa didn't move.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed her giving me a quick, neutral glance.
No smile… no words.
Irissa was the type who didn't show emotions easily.
But she wasn't uninterested — that was clear.
Then suddenly… she quietly closed her notebook, stood up, and walked straight to the stage.
She stood confidently in front of everyone and picked up the microphone without hesitation.
Irissa (clearly, confidently, and with rhythm):
"My name is Irissa. Student number 2. I believe that order is the most important thing a person can have. That's why I'm here. I don't like talking about myself too much, but what matters most to me is excellence."
She adjusted the red ribbon on her uniform, like she was fixing it.
Irissa:
"My hobbies are reading, organizing, and solving problems. I believe leadership should go to those who deserve it… not those who ask for it."
Silence followed.
Irissa:
"I'm glad to be here. And I hope everyone is ready to take responsibility."
She gave a short, formal bow, then returned to her seat without looking at anyone.
Beautiful… yes, no denying that. Her neatly tied white hair, her glasses giving her a serious vibe, even her way of speaking was polished. But she was too organized.
She's the kind of person who lives by rules… who believes success is measured by papers and achievements.
The kind who thinks people will love her because she's "perfect."
But the truth? No one likes someone with no cracks in their armor.
People want leaders… not observers.
Irissa will be first in exams… but last in people's hearts.
Boring… shallow… but interesting in her own way.
Some students exchanged glances as they waited for the last student from the front row.
The cheerful blond boy stood up — I still didn't know his name.
He walked lightly onto the stage with a smirk, spun dramatically, and gave the crowd a playful salute.
Blond boy (loud and playful):
"Ooh, is it my turn already? I thought I was just here to make the class look better!"
A few students laughed. Some girls smiled, even if they tried not to.
Blond boy (pretending to bow like in a play):
"I'm Xaivor, number 23 — twenty-five minus two… which makes me the lucky one. My age? Fifteen years of magic, energy, and a little bit of trouble."
He winked at a girl, who quickly looked away, blushing.
Then he kept walking across the stage like it belonged to him.
Xaivor:
"I live with my older brother — he hates me because I'm better looking. My hobbies? Oh… dancing, skating, and maybe breaking a few hearts when I'm bored."
More laughter. Students whispered among themselves.
But Xaivor didn't care — he just wanted to make an impression.
Xaivor (with a dramatic sigh):
"Really glad to be here… especially if someone actually laughs at my jokes."
He gave a light bow and did a finger wave in the air.
Xaivor (as he left the stage):
"Now… let's get this party started, shall we?"
He sat back down, still chewing gum, smiling to himself.
Then a relatively short boy stood from the start of the second row.
His black hair was soft and neatly styled. He wore black-rimmed glasses.
His face was calm, almost without expression, but his violet eyes were focused and sharp.
He quietly stepped up to the stage, stood in the center, and looked at the audience.
Boy (in a calm and steady voice):
"My name is Nolan. Student number 6. I live with my mother. I don't have a specific hobby."
Some students exchanged glances… not because what he said was weird, but because it was so simple.
Still… something about him held attention.
Nolan:
"My reason for joining this program is personal. I don't think anyone here needs to know the details."
He gave a quick, casual bow, and stepped down without looking at anyone.
Hmm… short, quiet, not a fan of explaining.
That kind often seems boring… but they're usually the most dangerous.
After Nolan, students took turns stepping onto the stage, each introducing themselves briefly.
Next was a tall girl with short blue hair and pink eyes.
She said her name was Saya, student number 11. She liked learning new languages.
Then came a slightly chubby boy with dark brown hair and matching eyes.
He had headphones around his neck. His name was Kenta, number 9.
He said he liked movies and drawing, and avoided eye contact the whole time.
After Kenta, a tall, skinny boy stepped up. He had messy orange hair and golden eyes.
His shirt was a little untidy, and he wore round glasses.
Boy (in a quiet voice):
"Number 14… Enzo. I used to live on a remote farm. I read a lot… and I love biology."
He didn't smile, didn't try to charm anyone — but he wasn't cold either.
He seemed like someone with a rich inner world… that he had no interest in explaining.
Then a short girl stepped up. Her chestnut-reddish hair was tied neatly in two braids.
Girl (formally):
"Student number 15. My name is Mia. I love history and politics. I've written in my journal every day since I was eight."
It was clear she was trying to prove herself through seriousness… maybe even a little controlling.
After her came a boy who looked like he came from a military family.
His back was straight, his eyes sharp, and his brown hair was perfectly trimmed.
Boy:
"Nash. Number 20. My father is a soldier, and I'm here to become stronger than him. I like physical training and sports."
He didn't smile or seek approval — but his calm silence drew attention.
Before the second row ended, a good-looking, fit boy stood up.
He ran his hand through his shoulder-length pale blond hair.
His blue eyes sparkled with confidence.
He walked quickly onto the stage and flashed a charming smile before speaking.
Boy (clearly and playfully):
"Oh, finally my turn? I was about to fall asleep from all the seriousness here."
Some students laughed immediately, others smiled without thinking.
Boy:
"My name is Cyan… number 21. But my friends call me 'The Handsome One,' or 'The Cool Guy.' Honestly, I'm fine with either."
Some clapped in the back. A few girls exchanged shy glances.
Cyan:
"I have lots of interests… drawing, dancing, fixing things. Lately? I've been writing a book on how to be attractive without even trying."
Laughter grew louder this time. Cyan stepped down from the stage like a TV star.
He sat cross-legged in his seat, the admiration in the room clearly visible.
Then the third row began.
The first boy wasn't very noticeable — average height, quiet features.
He softly said his name was Ren, number 18.
He liked "listening to music and hanging out with friends."
Next came a slightly taller boy with a boring smile and a desperate attempt to seem friendly.
He said his name was Hiro, number 22.
He liked "fun and teamwork" and came "to make friends."
Hmm… those types usually fade into the background. Followers.
Then suddenly… everyone lifted their heads.
The next student stood. It was Krayne.
No one needed an introduction — his presence was unforgettable from the moment he barged in.
He walked slowly toward the stage, but didn't stop in the middle — he stood off to the side.
He stared at the students for a long, silent moment. Then gave a short, mocking laugh.
Krayne (in a rough, lazy voice):
"Krayne. Number 16. My age? None of your business."
Some laughed nervously. Most stayed silent, waiting.
Krayne (exhaling like he's smoking):
"Hobbies? Smoking, fighting, and dealing with idiots…"
He glanced at Dairo like he was daring him — but Dairo didn't react.
Krayne then looked at the students one by one, his eyes filled with disgust.
Krayne (cold and sarcastic):
"And right now, I'm trying to figure out… which of you is worth even one minute of my time. The answer? None of you."
Some giggles and annoyed sighs filled the room. Krayne didn't care. He kept going with a cruel smile.
Krayne:
"Honestly? Coming to this pathetic school… is still better than staying with those trash bags I used to call family."
He tilted his head slightly, like remembering something disgusting, then added:
Krayne:
"My dad? A nobody who only knows how to hit and yell. My mom?… Nah, not even worth mentioning. So don't expect me to be polite or thankful."
The tension in the room rose.
Faces changed — confusion, disgust, and fear.
Some students looked at Dairo, who remained silent, arms crossed, not interfering.
Krayne (now louder, full of rage):
"I'm not here to make friends. I don't care about knowing any of you. You're just another crowd of fake smiles and sickening social masks."
Then he spit on the floor — on purpose.
Many students flinched in their seats.
Krayne (with terrifying calm):
"If this introduction is meant to help me 'blend in' with the rest of you… let me say this clearly — I'm not part of your flock."
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and lit it without hesitation.
A deadly silence filled the room. No one interrupted him.
Smoke rose from his lips as he slowly walked off the stage.
He sat back in his seat, leaned back, and closed his eyes as if nothing had happened.
Then — just as the smoke left his lips — a sharp voice cut through the hall.
Irissa (firm, but controlled):
"That was unacceptable."
She stood up suddenly. Her face was tense, her eyebrows furrowed behind her glasses, and her voice was sharp.
Some students turned toward her in surprise. Others raised their eyebrows — not expecting someone like her to break her calm that strongly.
Irissa (speaking clearly to Krayne):
"If you think your sick behavior makes you special or cool, you're wrong. Rudeness isn't bravery. Spitting isn't strength. What we saw wasn't rebellion… it was just pathetic."
Krayne didn't reply. His eyes were wide open, watching her with quiet amusement. He gave her a half-smile, but Irissa didn't give him a chance to speak.
Irissa (turning to Dairo):
"And you, Mr. Dairo… is this the system you spoke about? Letting a student insult others in public, and smoke in a closed room without anyone stopping him?"
She looked at Dairo — a mix of challenge and disappointment in her eyes.
Irissa (in a sharp, low voice):
"I understand this school is different, but if it lacks the most basic level of respect, then I won't be part of this chaos."
The tension hit its peak. Some students began whispering. Others watched in heavy silence.
Dairo (calm and deep):
"Are you finished, Irissa?"
Irissa (firmly):
"Yes. I said what needed to be said."
Dairo gave a faint smile.
Dairo:
"Good. Because what you just saw… is also part of the program."
Irissa froze for a moment.
Dairo (looking at everyone):
"You're here to learn how to deal with every type of person — the chaotic, the selfish, the weak, the arrogant, and even those who think rules alone can control the world."
Irissa's expression froze for a moment after that. Meanwhile, Krayne had been watching her the whole time with a deep, mocking smile.
Krayne (blowing smoke, sarcastically):
"Wow… and that's supposed to be a leader? A girl who explodes just because someone didn't say 'good morning'?"
He then turned to Dairo with a smirk.
Krayne:
"And you, sir… it seems your 'brilliant program' lets me spit, smoke, and insult people? Perfect. I think I'm gonna love it here after all."
He laughed his rough laugh, then looked back at the students.
Krayne:
"Listen up, little herd. I'm not gonna be your friend. I won't be sharing lunch tables or silly childhood dreams. And if anyone comes near me, they'll leave with a few teeth missing."
Irissa:
"Stop acting like an animal."
Irissa's body moved. She stormed toward the third row, her steps filled with anger.
Krayne (challenging):
"Oh? Gonna hit me with your notebook?"
Her face lost its usual calm. Shoulders tense. Fist clenched. She marched toward him quickly, and then — something I didn't expect happened. She raised her hand. She was just one step away, arm lifted, about to strike his face.
This was my chance — to make my mark in front of everyone.
Not with strength… but with control.
I stood from my seat calmly, then stepped in quickly, placing myself between Irissa and Krayne at the perfect moment.
I gently but firmly grabbed her wrist.
Her hand was shaking from anger, but my grip held steady.
Naros (low, confident voice):
"This isn't like you, Irissa."
She froze.
Our eyes met.
Naros (strategically calm):
"If you respond, it means you're upset. If you're angry, it means he won. Don't give him that."
Krayne watched me with a smug grin, thinking I was jumping in out of morality.
But inside, I was smiling for another reason.
Krayne was just noise.
Irissa… a potential leader.
The rest? Just an audience waiting for someone to light the fire.
Naros (raising my voice slightly):
"Believe me — what bothers people like him the most is being ignored. They only survive off reactions."
I glanced quickly at Dairo, then turned to the students with a calm, polite smile.
Naros (with leadership in my tone):
"If we're really in a school that teaches life skills… then this is lesson one: knowing who deserves a response… and who doesn't even deserve a look."
Soft whispers rose from the back. The idea started to settle in.
I slowly let go of Irissa's wrist.
Naros (quietly, just for her):
"Always be smarter than him."
She lowered her gaze and turned back to her seat quickly without a word.
But I saw the spark in her eyes.
Respect.
I sat back down with even more confidence.
I didn't want to look like a hero…
I wanted to look like a leader.
And I succeeded.
Dairo (calmly):
"Continue. Next."
His voice was as cold as ever.
No comments, no warnings, no advice.
Just moving on — like what happened was just part of the show.
The rest of the third row began stepping up, one by one.
Normal names, rehearsed lines, nervous eyes looking for approval… then sitting back down.
I watched silently, analyzing every movement, every tone, every desperate attempt to be seen…
Then he stood up.
The silver-haired boy who had been shrinking in his seat since the start.
His violet eyes had been anxious the entire time.
Now, he stood — as if forced.
His steps were slow, dragging himself to the stage.
He climbed with hesitation, then stood in the center… staring at the floor.
Boy (voice trembling):
"M… my name is Loul— I mean, Lowen. Student number… number?"
He paused, then looked at his shaking hand — where he had written his number in black ink.
Lowen:
"Yeah… number 13."
Someone chuckled quietly from the back row.
Lowen (trying to keep going):
"I… I live with my aunt. My mom… died when I was little."
Silence for a moment — then someone in the third row said mockingly:
"Yeah, that explains your face."
Two boys next to him laughed.
No one stepped in.
Lowen (face turning red):
"My hobbies… I like… I mean, sometimes I draw… not always… just when I feel like it…"
Louder laughter this time.
A boy in the back shouted sarcastically:
"What do you mean you draw 'when you feel like it'? Do you breathe only after asking your aunt's permission?"
The laughing spread.
Some of it wasn't even cruel — just thoughtless.
But to the poor boy, it was like being slapped again and again.
I didn't laugh.
I just watched.
Lowen tried to smile, but couldn't.
His lips trembled, and he said quietly:
"I'm sorry… I'm not good at speaking."
Then he bowed quickly and rushed back to his seat.
A strange silence filled the room.
Then came the whispers:
"He's so weak."
"Why is he even here?"
"He's probably gonna cry in the bathroom."
I slowly turned my head toward them.
Teenagers.
Nothing had changed.
The weak are always the first to be targeted.
Lowen was painfully fragile.
And yet…
He didn't run.
He didn't stutter completely.
He didn't collapse.
He tried — even if everything was against him.
He sat down, head lowered, trying to disappear.
His hands trembled as he hugged himself.
But the voices around him wouldn't stop.
"Did you see his face?"
"He almost cried on stage. That's embarrassing."
"I feel bad for him… wait, no I don't."
Every sentence.
Every giggle.
Was like a slow knife to his already broken heart.
He didn't need to look to know they were talking about him.
And suddenly… a tear fell down his cheek.
He wiped it fast, tried to swallow the rest… but he couldn't.
His breathing turned shaky.
His eyebrows quivered.
He pressed his lips tightly to hold back any sound.
His crying was silent…
But clear.
"He's actually crying…"
"Wow… so embarrassing."
And when he felt the stares on him, he looked up for a second.
His eyes were full of tears.
His face pale.
His bottom lip trembling.
He stared blankly…
Then suddenly stood up.
He hit the edge of the desk in front of him but didn't stop.
He rushed toward the door, covering his face with a shaky hand — and left.
The room went silent.
Still.
Then someone mumbled with a laugh:
"Well… we've got our first dropout."
Dairo (sternly):
"Next."
And so… the introductions continued.
But… no one after that caught my interest.
Finally, when the last student returned to their seat, and the room had quieted down, Dairo raised his hand once more.
Dairo (calmly):
"Good. That's enough for today."
A simple introduction…
But enough to form a first impression.
Exactly what I was looking for.
"Now, return to your rooms."
He turned and walked off the stage through the side door, leaving everyone in a state of confusion… or thought.
Some stood up right away.
Others exchanged short looks.
Some started whispering about who they liked, or who seemed weird.
As for me…
I stood slowly.
Placed my hands behind my back.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But I was ready.
To be continued…