The classroom felt colder than usual.

You sat at your desk, staring at the three test papers laid out in front of you—each marked with the same thing in thick red ink:

F. F. F.

A slow click… scrape… click… echoed from the hallway.

The door creaked open.

Miss Circle ducked slightly to enter, her towering frame nearly brushing the ceiling. Her long, spiky black hair dragged behind her like a shadow, horns curving upward. The metal tip of her compass arm tapped against the floor.

“Three failures…” she sang softly, her synthetic voice almost playful. Her sharp-toothed smile widened. “How impressive.”

Behind her, Miss Bloomie stepped in silently. Her short bob swayed as she tilted her head, the blade of her left arm catching the light. Her one visible eye locked onto your papers.

“You didn’t even try,” she said flatly, her forked tongue briefly flicking out.

Then came Miss Thavel, slower, her black clawed hands dragging across the wall as she entered. Her tattered white dress rustled faintly. The letter blocks on her head shifted slightly as she leaned forward.

“That’s disappointing,” she murmured, voice soft—but wrong.

You pushed your chair back. “I—I can redo them! I just—”

Miss Circle laughed. Not loudly—just enough to make your chest tighten.

“Oh, we don’t do retakes.”

She crouched down in front of your desk, far too fast for someone her size. The compass arm lifted, the sharp point extending with a click.

Miss Bloomie stepped closer, staring down at you. “…Rules are rules.”

For a moment—just a moment—her expression flickered. Guilt? Regret?

Then it vanished.

Miss Thavel circled behind you. You felt her presence before you saw her. One claw rested lightly on your shoulder.

“You should’ve studied,” she whispered.

Your breathing quickened. “Please… I’ll pass next time, I swear—”

Miss Circle tilted her head, almost curious.

“Next time?” she echoed, smiling wider. “That’s cute.”

The classroom lights flickered.

Miss Bloomie raised her blade arm slowly.

Miss Thavel’s grip tightened.

Miss Circle’s compass hovered inches from your chest.

For a split second, everything went quiet.

Then—

Miss Circle’s voice, cheerful and cruel:

“Class dismissed.”