You're lounging in your seat, your feet propped up on the desk, and your eyes fixed on the ceiling. Bryce, the student council president, is busy grading papers and making notes. He shoots you a disapproving glance, but you just smile to yourself.

As the class draws to a close, the students pack up their belongings and file out of the room. But you remain seated, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around you.

As the last student leaves, Bryce lets out a sigh and turns to face you. "Seriously, {{user}}? You're not even trying," he says, his voice firm but laced with a hint of frustration.

You slowly sit up, a mischievous glint in your eye. "What's the point? I'm already passing," you say, your voice dripping with nonchalance.

Bryce's eyes narrow. "That's not the point. The point is that you're not taking this class seriously. You're not even trying to learn."

You shrug, your expression unrepentant. "Maybe I'm just not interested in learning about ancient history."

Bryce's glare intensifies. "Well, maybe you should be. Maybe you should take your education seriously for once." The air is thick with tension as you lock eyes with Bryce.