After the competition, the attention on the Heart Class only grew stronger. The stares that followed them had a certain heat to them now, enough that even the usually carefree Heart Class members were starting to feel a little uneasy.
The other teachers only encouraged it. Some even went so far as to bring their students to stand outside the Heart Class, openly observing what they did differently from the other card classes.
Right now, it was Q&A session, and Yuna had another plan to help her classmates improve. She'd prepared a new set of profile portfolios for them to fill in—focused on their current abilities, the things they wanted to learn more about, and where they felt stuck in their understanding. And especially on how to improve their endurance!
At Evigheden Academy, no matter how a teacher might appear—lazy, aloof, or eccentric—they were all the best of the best. Their knowledge was far beyond the average, and their skill unquestionable. Even the laid-back Club Class teacher had more depth than he let on. Yuna was certain: no one became a teacher here unless they were capable of guiding students.
Of course, guidance here didn't mean spoon-feeding. The teachers wouldn't hand over answers without reason—the students had to seek them out and make the effort to absorb what they offered.
If this had been Yuna's previous life, she would have been far too nervous to approach a teacher, never asking questions even if she didn't understand something. But here? That fear simply didn't exist. Maybe it was because the questions weren't about math or mundane subjects, but about supernatural abilities—so it didn't feel like "studying" in the same way. You understand what she means right? Right?
Professor Veyne, ever professional, looked over the profile sheet Yuna placed on his desk. Without hesitation, he began recommending specific books that could help guide each student through their difficulties. The ease with which he connected their problems to the right resources only deepened Yuna's quiet admiration.
When class ended, Dane—who had been standing outside—approached her.
"Making good use of the teacher," he commented, half smiling.
Yuna only shrugged and said coolly.
"What's the point of attending an academy if we don't take in everything the teachers have to offer? All the knowledge they've gathered?"
She turned and walked away feeling very chic, looking calm. Inside, she was quietly pleased at how composed she sounded.
What a pretentious answer. In her old world, she never would have dared to speak to a teacher like that. Back then, she avoided them entirely, doing everything possible not to be noticed. Approaching them willingly had never even been in her vocabulary. LOL,
And just like that, once the students saw for themselves how the Heart Class was improving, those from other card classes began making their own profiles—many outright copying the Heart Class's method.
The Heart Class had unintentionally become a trendsetter.
The other teachers were pleased to see their students actively seeking them out and working to improve… well, all except the Club Class teacher. With the largest student population in Evigheden Academy, the constant stream of questions was nothing short of a nightmare for him. Lazy to the core, he found the sudden flood of eager students more of a bother than a blessing.
Especially Dane who, after hearing Yuna 'chicly' response about absorbing information, he felt triggered and wants to get all the information the teacher have. After all. He was the one who understand best how important information is. Aside from his own matters, he ask question about his classmates according to information he got from enhancing their abilities, studying them more in depth.
To many students, Yuna was undoubtedly a good leader—always looking out for her classmates' growth and pushing them to improve.
A beautiful misunderstanding.
Her actual intention had never been to "help" them out of pure goodwill. No, Yuna's logic was simple: the stronger her classmates were, the fewer problems she'd have to deal with in the future. If trouble came their way, a capable team meant those "teacher-given challenges" would be far easier to handle. That's just common sense… at least in the kind of worlds she'd been in, anyway.
Life at the academy soon settled back into a steady rhythm, the days passing as usual. Yuna also began focusing more on her water ability. Without a direct water source, using it effectively became much harder, so she needed a method to "source" water whenever and wherever necessary.
She had a rough idea.
Moisture.
The water molecules already present in the air—if she could gather and concentrate them, it wouldn't be much, but it was better than nothing. In emergencies, that little could be enough. Practicing on foggy mornings would help, especially now that the air was getting thicker with mist. And with the rainy season approaching, she'd have plenty of chances to train.
Yuna thought she might enjoy a short stretch of stability… but the principal of Evigheden Academy clearly had other plans.
The following week, Professor Veyne dropped a new headache on her desk.
"Each academy used to run activities for the public—making items or crafting artifacts to sell outside," he explained. "This time, each card class will prepare their own activity. Aside from competing among yourselves to see who can earn the most, all the academies within the Lalrem Empire will also be competing. You have one month to prepare. Class Rep,"—his eyes flicked to her with obvious meaning—"please guide your classmates toward a good result."
Yuna could practically feel the black lines forming on her forehead. That pointed look from Professor Veyne…
Bruh.
Bitch.
Fuck.
The academy and their ridiculous activitiessssssss!!!
See?! This was exactly why she hated leading. Group project leader? No, thank you.
She took a slow, deep breath, resisting the urge to curse aloud, then simply slumped forward onto her desk, going completely limp. She would like to be declared deceased immediately.
…..
For an entire week, Yuna refused to use her brain. Sure, they had only a month to prepare, but she was burnt out. She wasn't exactly the type of leader to charge ahead with competitive spirit—but she also couldn't just be a careless slob, even if she wanted to avoid thinking altogether.
So she tossed the responsibility to the group.
"You guys think of what would be interesting for the public activity. We'll discuss it in a week."
Yep. That was responsible enough. Teamwork. Collaboration. Not her unilaterally deciding everything. Exactly—this had been her plan all along!
…Then the week passed, and the Heart Class…
Well… yeah…
Disappointment!!!
"I think a weapon is good, like… exploding things! It'll be a hit!"
"I thought hard this week—how about a self-repairing chair? You break it, it fixes itself instantly. Saves money and fun to watch."
"What about a giant slingshot? We could launch people into the air. For entertainment purposes!"
"Let's sell a perfume that makes people temporarily invisible. Imagine the pranks!"
"I say we make a teapot that never runs out of tea… except the tea tastes different every time you pour. Mystery tea!"
"Or, or—how about a talking broom that sweeps for you? You can even chat with it while it works."
Yuna stared at them, deadpan. This was what a week of brainstorming had produced.
It wasn't good to crush the kids' enthusiasm but… but… but… look—Yuna knew them too well. If their ideas failed them, they'd end up feeling down, sad, and quietly miserable.
They might smile, laugh, and act like nothing bothered them, but she knew they were far more sensitive than they let on.
Gahhh… this was exactly what happened when you were the only adult in a group of kids.
You ended up being the emotional stabilizer or something. And when you looked around, wanting to find an actual adult to hand the responsibility to, you realized… you were the adult in the room.
The horror.
"Give me a day… I'll find some way to cram your ideas in," Yuna said, voice heavy with exhaustion as her mouth twitched like she was holding back a sigh.