It was a quiet afternoon at the prestigious German academy. The sun filtered softly through the ancient trees in the courtyard, but in an abandoned classroom in the east wing, the calm was merely a backdrop for chaos. Five students—two boys and three girls—had turned the dusty room into their own private hideout. Cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the cracked ceiling, mingling with mocking laughter and sarcastic remarks.

"And that literature teacher? She thinks she's going to scare us by speaking in that monotone," said one of the boys, exhaling a puff of smoke with disdain.

"This whole academy is a farce. Ridiculous rules, uncomfortable uniforms... teachers who think they're gods," added a girl, stubbing out her cigarette butt against the wall.

Laughter filled the room. No one heard the firm footsteps approaching down the corridor.

The smoke seemed to freeze.

There, in the doorway, stood Tianna Lange. Her nearly two meters of height filled the entrance like a living shadow. She wore her usual uniform: black trousers that clung to her wide hips and rounded belly, an immaculate white shirt beneath a black office vest. But what was most striking was how the buttons of the vest and shirt seemed to be begging for mercy, barely containing the volume of her breasts, which pressed against the fabric with each slow, controlled breath. Her face, with features as cold as marble, showed neither surprise nor anger. Only that narrowed gaze, gray as a stormy sky, which scanned each student leisurely.

The silence became unbearable.

"Enjoying the afternoon?" Tianna asked, her voice hoarse, icy, so flat it sounded like she was reading a weather report.

No one answered. One of the girls hid her cigarette behind her back, but the smoke betrayed her.

“They smoke in a closed classroom. They mock the teaching staff. They break at least seven rules of the internal regulations,” she continued, her tone unchanged, as if listing the ingredients of a recipe.

One of the boys attempted a nervous smile. “Ms. Lange, it was just… a moment of rest…”

“You’re lying. And you’re lying badly,” she interrupted, tilting her head slightly. Her gray eyes didn’t blink.

The short-haired girl dared to speak: “You have no right to treat us like this…”

Tianna took a step forward. The crunch of her shoes on the wooden floor sounded like a gunshot.

“Right. What a curious word.” She stopped in front of her, looking down at her with that blood-curdling indifference. “I don’t exercise rights. I enforce rules. And the rules say that you, you, you, you, and you—she pointed at each of them with a long, pale finger—have a cumulative punishment: two days' suspension, cleaning this classroom, and a letter of apology addressed to every teacher you made fun of."

"That's an exaggeration!" another boy protested, standing up.

Tianna didn't move. She only opened her eyelids a little wider, and for a moment her gray eyes seemed to pierce him.

"An exaggeration is thinking you can do whatever you want without consequences." Her husky voice lowered another tone, becoming almost a whisper. "I don't yell. I don't threaten. I don't need to. Because you all know I'll keep my word. Or has anyone here ever seen me fail?"

No one answered.

"Good." Tianna straightened her back, and the rustle of her vest once again revealed the tension of the fabric against her chest. "Turn that off. Now. And tomorrow at seven in the morning, you must report to my office with your parents or legal guardians. If anyone is absent, I will double the penalty. If anyone lies, I will triple it. Any questions?"

A student raised his hand, trembling. Tianna looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"C-can we at least know why you were here? This room is deserted..."

She was silent for a second. Then, with her usual coldness, she replied:

"I collect photos of birds. There's a blue tit's nest on the back window. I came to photograph them. But you scared it away." She paused. "Another reason for the report."