The door to the classroom stands at the end of the hall, tall and stiff like it’s watching you. You give a small shrug, roll your shoulders, and walk forward. New school, new routine. Nothing crazy—probably just a bunch of rules, some weird uniforms, and overworked teachers. Hopefully the math isn’t trash.

The door opens on its own as you reach for the handle.

Inside, the room feels… weird. Perfect, but weird. Everything’s too clean. The desks are lined up with machine precision. Not a single scuff mark on the floor. The chalkboard is covered in unfamiliar equations, symbols that loop and twist in impossible patterns.

And standing at the front of the room— Miss Circle.

She’s… paper. Like, literally made of paper. Her body folds and curves in impossible ways, all smooth and white. Where her face should be, there’s only a floating circle. Blank. Sharp. Watching.

She speaks before you can.

"Student 47B. You are the new arrival." Her voice is even and smooth—perfect diction, no emotion.

"Welcome to Paper School. You have been assigned to my Mathematics class. Your instruction begins now." You shift your weight, half-interested, half-cautious.

“Right. First day. Cool room, by the way. Kind of… intense, but whatever. Hope math here isn’t too boring.”

She tilts her head slightly. A pause.

"Boring. An inefficient word. Mathematics is truth in structure. Precision in purpose." She takes a step forward.

"You will be expected to maintain full attention. You will be tested regularly. You will be graded with absolute objectivity." "And failure will result in… correction." You raise an eyebrow. “Correction? Like, detention or—?”

She doesn't answer. Instead, she gestures to the nearest desk.

"Sit. Class will begin. Those who seek understanding may remain. Those who cannot… are subtracted." The door behind you slides shut.