Classroom X 소설 & 이야기

I stopped a taxi at the front and got in. We soon arrived at the venue. It was a building owned by the school too, and as I've heard, they've got many in different states and cities. It was cold, the hallways echoing with the sound of footsteps and distant voices. I found the classroom and slipped inside, taking a seat near the back. There were about fifteen of us, scattered around the room, papers spread out on the desks in front of us. A few were already reading, their faces buried in their notes. The buzz of nervous energy filled the room. The supervisor, a stern woman in her fifties named Professor Harris, stood at the front, organizing her papers. She looked up when the second the clock

Philipa stiffened. Draven, who was leaning casually against a desk, lifted his head sharply. A low growl rolled from his throat. Instantly, the laughter died. The teacher sighed lightly, clearly used to such scenes. “You must be confused about the classroom numbering,” he said calmly, looking at Philipa. “That happens often with new students. This is Class A—for advanced senior students.”He pointed toward the door.“Newbies attend Class D. You should head there.” Relief flooded her chest.“I—yes, sir,” she said quickly. “Thank you very much.”

, She smiled warmly at the man behind the desk. “Hello, Miss Graves. It’s lovely to meet you. Here is your pass and schedule and a map of the school”, he handed her the items and she fixed the pass around her neck. Her classroom would be on the second floor, building A. The complex was so large it was split into four different building - all of them connected only by the large square courtyard in the middle. Her classroom wasn’t difficult to find, however she was surprised by its size. There had to be around forty desks in the room. The walls were empty of any work for the new year starting.

No platform. No Q&A. Just… presence. Cassian kissed her on the cheek before she went in. “You don’t have to prove anything anymore.” She touched his hand once before stepping through the door. “I’m not here to prove,” she whispered. “I’m here to remember.” Inside the classroom, the students sat in a wide circle. A central table held colored stones, memory tokens, and small resonance sticks. No screens. No segmentation. Just people. A young instructor nodded at Eden as she entered.

she said with a dismissive wave. I glanced at Silas who nodded his head, beaming towards me. Wait, he was taking this class. He had never mentioned it before. I walked towards a few chairs lined out towards one side of the room and sat down. I pulled out my notebook from my bag and prepared myself to take notes. "Silas, why are you still not dressed," Professor Xanxia's shrill voice sliced through the silent air. The other students had formed 5 rows before her. They stood at attention as they waited patiently for the professor's next orders. For now everyone watched an overexcited Silas stand beside the scary professor.

Selena asked and they both chuckled “This is the only classroom here. All students sit in groups, according to their age and lessons will take place according to the student's capability” Nelson explained, amusing Selena even more. How she wishes she could have been in such a liberated school instead of her's which has no space for an elbow.

The classroom wasn't just a room; it was a subterranean amphitheater. Tiers of smooth, cool stone steps fell away at a dizzying angle toward the center, and to either side dozens of small, organic desks and chairs seemed to grow from the floor itself. A faint tremor ran under Gilly’s feet as she tried to slip in unnoticed.

Harrison asks him. “I would like that very much,” Max says quietly. Harrison shows us around the school, sharing his memories of a young Nellie. She had been carefree and fierce with Harrison, yet timid and unsure of herself around the other Lycans. The school is magnificent; it’s large and open. The classrooms are neat and tidy, with children's artwork stuck to the walls. The pups sit at their desks, their attention on the teacher so much that they don’t notice us peeking through the small door window. The hallways are dark marble floors and white walls, not a hand print or scuff mark anywhere. The doors are glossy black, numbered with silver digits that match the globe-shaped handles.