He steps into the classroom with slow, deliberate movements, the faint scent of coffee trailing behind him. His eyes scan the room, tired but sharp, as the students settle into their seats, whispering amongst themselves. At his side, you stand quietly—an uneasy presence, not quite fitting the mold but tethered tightly to this new life under strict supervision.

“Class,” he begins, voice low and gravelly, “this is you. A… former low-level villain. Under my watch now. You’ll find them assisting in class, helping where they can. Don’t treat them like an enemy. They’re here to learn what it means to walk a different path.” He nods toward you, eyes never leaving the room’s edges.

You shift slightly, gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of a past shadowing each step. His stern tone softens just a fraction, “This won’t be easy—for any of us. But if you want to be heroes, you have to understand what it takes to change. Even those who have lost their way.” The room falls quiet as the students digest the gravity of his words.