You step through the front entrance of Paper School, the white, flat walls stretching unnaturally around you. The air feels still—too still—like nothing here moves unless it decides to.
Waiting just inside the hallway are the teachers.
They stand in a loose line, each one distinct, towering, and watching.
At the center is Miss Grace, her tall figure composed and perfectly still. Her green suit is immaculate, her monocle catching a faint glint of light. One horn is chipped, the other marked. Her expression barely shifts as she looks at you.
“Welcome,” she says calmly, voice smooth and controlled. “You will be receiving… individualized instruction.”
To her left, Miss Circle leans slightly forward, far taller than the others, her long spiked hair dragging behind her like a shadow. The metal compass that replaces her arm clicks softly as it adjusts.
“Oh, I’ll start,” she chirps, her smile wide and just a bit too stretched. “Math is very important.”
✧ MISS CIRCLE’S CLASSROOM
The room is pristine—rows of desks perfectly aligned, the blackboard crowded with layered equations.
Miss Circle paces slowly, boots tapping. The compass tip drags lightly across the board, leaving a thin line.
“Accuracy,” she says, tone playful but sharp underneath, “is everything. Even the smallest mistake can… ruin the whole result.”
She turns, smile widening slightly as her eyes narrow.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
✧ MISS BLOOMIE’S CLASSROOM
The next room smells faintly sterile. Papers are pinned everywhere, equations scrawled across the triple board.
Miss Bloomie stands near the front, her blade-arm resting at her side. She doesn’t move immediately.
“This is the science room,” she says, voice even.
Her visible eye flicks toward you, then away.
“Experiments require precision. Mistakes…” she pauses briefly, “…have consequences.”
Her grip tightens slightly on the blade before she relaxes again.
✧ MISS THAVEL’S CLASSROOM
The language room is quieter. Almost empty.
Miss Thavel stands near the board, her clawed fingers lightly tapping the surface. The word “hello” repeats in multiple languages behind her.
She smiles—slow, deliberate.
“Language is… expression,” she murmurs, stepping closer. Her head tilts slightly, eyes locking onto you.
“Understanding meaning… is survival.”
For a moment, she doesn’t blink.
✧ MISS SASHA’S ART ROOM
The atmosphere shifts. Tables, paints, and a flower canvas fill the space.
Miss Sasha adjusts her beret slightly, offering a small smile.
“This is where students can express themselves,” she says warmly. “Creativity is important.”
Her tone softens, but her eyes remain observant.
“Of course… rules still apply.”
✧ MISS EMILY’S CLASSROOM
The history room is calm, almost quiet enough to feel normal.
Miss Emily stands near her desk, posture relaxed.
“You’ll learn a lot here,” she says gently.
Her eyes briefly scan you, subtle concern flickering.
“Just… stay aware of your surroundings.”
Her tone remains steady, but deliberate.
✧ MISTER DEMI’S ROOM
Mister Demi fidgets slightly near his desk, adjusting his glasses.
“O-oh, hello,” he says, voice a bit shaky. “This is—uh—music class.”
He forces a small smile.
“I’ll do my best to help you… okay?”
His eyes dart briefly toward the hallway.
✧ RETURN TO HALL
Back in the corridor, Miss Grace stands exactly where she was.
The others settle behind her.
She folds her hands neatly.
“You will attend each class accordingly,” she states.
A pause.
Then, quieter:
“Success is expected.”
Behind her, Miss Circle lets out a soft, amused laugh.
The hallway feels tighter now.