Classroom Of The Elite Volume 0 Novels & Stories

26. It was on the second floor on extreme corner of the left wing of the building of the college. It took me minutes to find it. It was the only class without room number board on it. I saw few girls giggling outside the class. One of them was standing by the door of the class so I rushed over to her and ask " is this Lr.26?" She was a plum girl with fair skin and long brown wavy hairs tied into a low pony tail. By her appearance she looked kind.

I really can't concentrate on chemistry class so I start dozing off. Suddenly the doors of the classroom opens and our class teacher Ms Mathew, who is an elegant but stingy lady comes with a boy who is wearing the same school uniform, as ours, following her right behind. All the girls were mesmerized by his spendiferousness and were staring at him like a pack of wolves staring at its prey. The boys were just looking at him with envious eyes. They might really be taking him as an another competitor.All have different expressions on their faces, excluding me and Ren. When I looked at Ren, he was just checking his notes and not giving a damn about his surrounding.

He let her know and Za nodded. Sum stepped aside so that both the snow-haired man and Za could make their way into the classroom. Elijah went straight to his desk noticing how the others had their gaze fixed, dare he say intent, on the girl in front of them. They didn't even notice if he walked in or not. They just watched him, even the girls did. The boys looked like they were about to spill saliva and the girls looked at him enviously and at the same time, they began to analyse each other.

--- Meanwhile, in the back wing of the estate, Cassian sat alone in the study-flipping through a folder that didn't belong to him. The red seal on the front read: ZEPHYR – Eyes Only. He scanned the pages, his expression unreadable. A formula. A name. A blurred photograph of a girl with wires trailing from her temples. A note in Elijah's handwriting: > Subject 03 shows remarkable adaptation. If this works, we redefine consciousness itself. Cassian closed the folder and looked out the window. "I didn't come here for blood," he whispered. "But I might stay for fire."

He held a leather folio containing his metrics. Ms. Alvarez, a warm woman in her forties with kind eyes, greeted us. "Mr. Vance, Ms. Richards, come in!" The classroom was a cheerful chaos of low tables, construction paper, and the faint smell of clay and graham crackers. Luther’s eyes swept the room, instantly cataloging exits, potential safety hazards (a slightly wobbly bookshelf), and educational resources. He sat in a small chair at Keila’s table, his knees nearly at his chest, his posture rigid.

**“Janna, drop it. Seriously.” Janna held up her hands in mock surrender. **“Alright, fine. But I still think you like him.”** Elie’s quickened her pace, desperate to end the conversation. They finally reached their classroom and slipped into their seats just as the bell rang. --- **Later That Day – After Class** The school day dragged on painfully slow. Elie’s tried focusing on her lessons, but her mind kept drifting back to Damien and Bianca. The scene in the cafeteria replayed over and over, much to her frustration.

I sat at my desk in the back row of Ms. Elara Voss's empty classroom, the late afternoon sun slanting through the blinds like golden bars trapping me here. The clock on the wall ticked past 5 PM, and the school halls outside had gone quiet, echoing with the ghosts of slammed lockers and laughter from earlier. Ms. Voss was strict—everyone knew that. Her sharp green eyes could pin you in place during lectures on literature, her voice cutting through bullshit like a knife.

She sat up slowly, her expression dazed, sated. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Detention's over. But this lesson... this is just getting started." _____ The university library was a cathedral of silence and old knowledge. The advanced literature class moved in a hushed cluster through the stacks, a week after the detention incident. Tension hummed between teacher and student like a live wire. Stolen glances in the hallway, the brush of a hand when passing papers, each touch was electric, addictive. Mr. James Throne watched Elena from across the Rare Manuscripts room. She was pretending to examine a first edition of Frankenstein, but her eyes kept drifting to him. She wore a simp

Jefferson. "Let's have a contest. We'll both do this test at the same time. If I win, you will resign. I'll be the one taking over the podium, and you can go home and retire. "But if I lose, I'll do whatever you want. Get on my knees and beg and grovel for forgiveness, or spend the rest of my time in detention, or drop out and get lost from your sight—your pick. Wanna bet?" The classroom was so quiet I could only hear my own breathing.

All the sensory glass doors, space elevators and sterilized steel labs, just to name a few, make the Ultara interior feel like a NASA station. Later we got to our very first class. We settled in our seats for World History and waited for the teacher to call the roll. Cammie came back and took a seat with me and Alyssa. The smirk on her face grew even more smirky as I stared at her and shook my head. Then the girl she went with earlier appeared with a flushed face. Her hazel eyes almost looked glassy as if she was high on crack. "Seriously?" I said. "Already on the first day of school?"