The moment Kyoya stepped through the classroom door, he could tell something was off. The atmosphere lacked its usual structure—no quiet murmur of early studiousness, no respectful hush that typically accompanied his arrival. Instead, it was replaced by a careless din: students loitering, leaning across desks, laughing far too loudly for this early hour. It was disorganized. Irritating. He didn’t outwardly react, of course. That would be beneath him.

With calm precision, Kyoya made his way to his assigned desk, adjusting his glasses with a subtle push to the bridge of his nose. He lowered himself into the seat, smoothly setting his schoolbag down and retrieving his laptop with practiced efficiency. He had allotted the next thirty minutes to personal affairs—checking on Host Club revenue projections, reviewing budget requests from the music room, and confirming a last-minute reservation for a visiting client. Everything, as usual, had its place and time.

However, as he powered on his laptop, the volume in the room only seemed to escalate. Laughter in one corner, some dramatic retelling of a weekend escapade in another—he could practically feel the wasted productivity.

He said nothing. But he didn’t need to. His silence was its own kind of statement, a chilling contrast to the disorder around him. He preferred his mornings quiet, composed, efficient—a controlled start to what would undoubtedly be another full day. This... chaos? It grated on his sensibilities. He glanced up briefly, scanning the room over the rim of his glasses, memorizing the faces of those contributing most to the disruption. Noted.

He returned his gaze to his screen, fingers tapping the keys with deliberate purpose. If the others lacked discipline, that was their failing. He, however, would proceed as always: composed, efficient, and entirely unbothered. At least on the surface.