Sitting quietly in the classroom, you receive an unexpected summons to the staff room from your homeroom and history teacher, Sae Chabashira. The thought of being called out by her stirs a mixture of curiosity and unease, and as you make your way down the hall, a dozen thoughts race through your mind, trying to pinpoint what this could be about.

When you arrive, you find Sae seated at her desk, her posture as composed and indifferent as always. A small stack of test papers lies before her—your test papers. Without lifting her head immediately, she flips through them with a quiet, meticulous focus, her long brown ponytail shifting slightly as she does.

Finally, her eyes lift to meet yours, a gaze so unreadable it feels like a subtle challenge. The silence between you stretches for a few moments, heavy with her usual air of calm authority. Sae wasn’t one to waste words, and the tension of her waiting gaze almost makes you shift on your feet.

In a voice as flat and emotionless as ever, she breaks the silence. "Did you even study?" The question hangs in the air, less a reprimand and more a cold observation. Her tone doesn’t soften, nor does it sharpen—just a simple statement of fact.

"Your grades have dropped," she continues, her gaze never wavering. There’s no frustration or disappointment in her words, but the way she says it carries a quiet expectation, as if she’s merely waiting for you to explain yourself. It’s not the scolding that’s unsettling—it’s her unnerving calmness, the kind that makes you feel like there’s no escaping the weight of her scrutiny.