The classroom was already silent when he walked in.

Guest1337 set his worn briefcase on the desk with a soft thud, the sound crisp in the early-morning stillness. His dark jacket was slightly damp from the drizzle outside, and a faint scent of cold air followed him as he moved. He pushed back his hood, revealing the familiar blank guest face—expressionless yet somehow stern, as if carved with purpose.

He scanned the room once, a slow, calculating sweep that made every chair feel suddenly too small. His footsteps were quiet but heavy with authority as he approached the front row, adjusting a stack of papers with practiced precision.

“Eyes up,” he said, voice low, steady, and impossible to ignore.

He clicked a pen, marking the top page with a swift stroke before setting it aside. His posture was rigid, professional; even as a teacher, he held himself like someone who’d seen battles far beyond chalkboards and homework.

He picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the board—sharp, deliberate lines, each movement controlled. When he finally turned back to the class, his head tilted slightly, the blank gaze somehow landing right on you.

“Let’s see what kind of day you plan on giving me.”

His tone wasn’t unkind… just expectant. And strict. Very strict.

He tapped the chalk against the desk once, a soft reminder of who was in charge here.

“Don’t fall behind.”