7:01 AM.
Jiro was still catching his breath as he passed through the open doorway of Room 406. His chest heaved, the adrenaline of the jeepney chase and the stair sprint slowly fading into a dull ache in his legs.
Inside, the room was already alive. The early birds were busy chatting, their voices filling the space while they waited for the professor who might—or might not—appear.
The atmosphere was... warm. And not in a cozy way.
The early morning sun was already angry, piercing through the windows. The glare was dampened slightly by the curtains, but they were still the old cyan blue ones.
So much for the Green Curtain agenda, Jiro thought, wiping sweat from his forehead. The officers haven't replaced them yet. Expected.
He scanned the layout. Unlike the looted Room 404, this room had a complete set of furniture—about 39 armchairs arranged in rows.
Jiro navigated to his designated spot.
Second Row.Fifth Chair (Aisle Side).Window-Hallway View Section.
He dropped his body into the wooden chair. To his left sat Princess Cleria, the class VP, who was currently deep in conversation with her friend, Windy Viyago.
The Elite Block.
Jiro pulled his heavy "Hulk" bag off his shoulders and placed it on the chair. It was time for the unpacking ritual.
Zip.
First, he fished out the red earphone pouch. Essential.
Next, he pulled out a rectangular object wrapped meticulously in a blue towel. He unfolded it to reveal his phone.
Safety first. No scratches. No moisture.
Finally, he heaved out the heavy artillery—his 22oz insulated tumbler. He placed it on the concrete floor directly in front of him, just behind the back legs of the chair in the first row.
Reserved for Hidy Medona.
With his loadout deployed, Jiro finally sat back properly.
"Uy, Jiro," Princess greeted him, pausing her chat with Windy. "Good morning. You look tired ah."
"Morning," Jiro exhaled. "The commute was... intense."
They chatted for a bit—just standard checking in—until Jiro remembered his new gear.
He reached into his bag one last time and pulled out a small, portable device attached to a lanyard.
A mini fan.
He bought it last Thursday specifically for this heat, but in his rush yesterday, he had forgotten it. Today, he was prepared. He wore the lanyard around his neck and turned it on.
Whirrrrr.
A gentle breeze hit his chin. Salvation.
Princess stopped talking. Her eyes zeroed in on the spinning blades. She looked at Jiro with an expression of pure, feigned innocence.
"Uy..." Princess smiled, leaning closer. "You have a fan already? Nice!"
She batted her eyelashes playfully. "Can I borrow? Hehe."
Jiro looked at her. He looked at his fan. He looked at the sweat on his own neck.
I turned this on just three seconds ago.
He sighed—a long, resigned sound.
"Sure," he muttered, taking the lanyard off his neck. "Here."
"Yay! Thanks, Jiro!" Princess chirped, grabbing the fan and directing the wind toward her own face.
Charity work starts early.
The environment settled into a familiar, stagnant waiting game.
7:30 AM.
Still no professor. The room was oddly sparse; there were only about twelve BEEd 1-A students currently occupying the seats. Most of them were probably still stuck in traffic or taking their sweet time, assuming it was another ghost class.
Jiro took a look at the other side of the room—the section of chairs near the backyard window view, where the morning sun was aggressively trying to penetrate the cyan blue curtains.
A new group of classmates arrived, breaking the quiet murmur of the early birds. It was a circle of four girls, and they immediately brought the vibes into the classroom. They were a bit loud, laughing, and playfully shouting at each other as they claimed their seats. They looked like a genuinely fun group to interact with.
Jiro just kept sitting at a distance, watching them like a wildlife documentarian. He let out a soft sigh.
Too much energy for 7:30 AM.
He squinted, looking at their faces. One of them seemed familiar.
Ah.
It was Nica Rosa. He remembered her from Wednesday—the brief, awkward interaction near the stairways right after he threw his trash in the hallway bin. She was smiling brightly now, completely in her element with her friends.
Good for them, Jiro thought, turning his head back to the front.
He focused on his own business. He unlocked his phone and started scrolling through some fresh feeds, waiting for either a miracle or a dismissal.
7:45 AM.
Footsteps echoed from the stairways. Not the shuffling of a late student, but the steady, deliberate pace of authority.
Finally, a professional figure appeared and stepped through the open doorway.
Welcome, Mr. Jeypi Shono.
Jiro paused his scrolling and observed. Mr. Shono looked like a chill guy. He wore the official professional attire—a crisp, blue school teacher uniform. His height was somewhat average, maybe exactly the same as Jiro's.
He carried a standard, minimalist backpack—the kind that definitely housed a laptop—worn properly over both shoulders. In his other hand, he carried a small paper bag. Jiro's eyes immediately caught the shape of a heavy insulated tumbler inside it.
Ah. A fellow hydration warrior.
"Good morning, everyone," Mr. Shono greeted, his voice calm and approachable as he walked toward the teacher's table at the front.
"Good morning, Sir," the twelve students murmured back, sitting up a little straighter.
He took a seat behind the desk. Unlike Dr. Manazaki's flashy, idol-like entrance, Mr. Shono was all about quiet efficiency. He laid his minimalist backpack flat on the table.
Zziiip.
He opened the zipper, reaching inside to grab his laptop. It was an unpacking ritual Jiro understood perfectly.
Mr. Shono opened the laptop lid, waking the screen up. He looked up at the sparsely populated room, adjusting his posture.
"Okay, good morning again, everyone," Mr. Shono said, scanning the few faces looking back at him. "Uh... Are you all complete?"
The sparse BEEd 1-A class froze. Twelve students staring back at a fully equipped professor. They were doomed. It was only 7:45 AM, but the judgment of being incomplete felt real.
We are a ghost town, Sir, Jiro thought.
Beside Jiro, the Vice President finally took the mantle of authority. Princess Cleria sat up straight and raised her hand slightly to catch his attention.
"Ay, good morning, Sir," Princess spoke up, her voice polite but firm. "We are not complete yet po. There are still a lot of students on their way."
Mr. Shono adjusted his laptop screen. "Oh? Where are the others?"
"They got stuck in traffic eh," Princess explained, gesturing vaguely. "Especially those coming from Binangonan. The rush hour there is really bad right now, Sir."
Mr. Shono nodded slowly, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. "Ah, I see. Traffic. Okay, let's just wait for a bit then."
While the verbal negotiations were successfully buying them time at the front, a digital panic was erupting at the back.
Sitting at the very end of the room—specifically the back row near the window with the backyard view—was Reo Bairo. Luckily, her phone was already in her hands. Her thumbs flew across the keyboard like a rapid-fire machine gun.
Ping. Ping.
Jiro saw popping notifications from his phone resting on his desk. He glanced down at the screen, tapping the notification. The KSU Taytay BEED 1-A main group chat was blowing up.
Reo Bairo: "We have a prof now beeeee!"
The response was instantaneous.
Deanne Parina: "Omgg."
Reo didn't stop there. She aggressively tagged her specific circle to sound the alarm bells for the officers.
Reo Bairo: "@Hurd Onasa @Hidy Medona"
Seconds later, Deanne sent another message, the panic evident in her rapid text.
Deanne Parina: "Hala, I'm still inside the jeep eh! Wait, isn't the start time 8:30?"
Reo delivered the cold, hard truth with a single tap.
Reo Bairo: "8 po."
The chaos continued to scroll rapidly across Jiro's screen.
Deanne Parina: "Hala, does Sir still accept latecomers?"
Reo Bairo: "Ay, there are only a few of us here in the room right now. Sir just arrived early, so."
Deanne Parina: "Hala, this person is about to cry."
Deanne immediately reacted to her own message with a laughing emoji. It was the classic digital coping mechanism for pure, unadulterated panic.
Shortly after, her buddy jumped into the fray.
Anila Bakuda: "See? Just keep sleeping."
Deanne instantly reacted with a pleading face emoji on Anila's message.
Then, a new bubble popped up. It was from Jiro's own Circle of Friends.
Mona Patori: "Uy, wait. Are we in room 407?"
Reo Bairo: "406."
Anila Bakuda: "I told you not to come to school anymore, Deanne."
Another late classmate joined the pity party, seeking solidarity in their shared doom.
Sayra Bresa: (Replying to Deanne's crying message) "Ay, you are not the only one."
Deanne Parina: "I am already on a tricycle eh!"
Sayra Bresa: "Weh? I hope… I am too"
While the group chat was having a full-blown meltdown over attendance and transport lies, the newly arrived instructor was just... chilling.
Jiro looked up from his screen. Mr. Shono was sitting comfortably at the front desk, focused on his laptop. He was probably checking his files, setting up his attendance sheet, or preparing his presentation.
He stood up and walked toward the wall.
"Okay, let's set this up," Mr. Shono muttered, looking at the Smart TV mounted above the board.
He reached behind the screen, grabbed the thick black power cord, and pulled it down toward the wall socket located near the floorboard.
He pulled. He stretched it as far as it could go.
Uh-oh...
The cord dangled helplessly in the air, a good two feet away from the socket. It simply didn't reach.
Mr. Shono stared at the cord. Then he looked at the socket. Then back at the cord.
It needed an extension cord. And looking at the blank, lifeless screen of the Smart TV, it also definitely needed a remote control to actually turn it on.
Mr. Shono looked around the teacher's table. He checked the empty drawers. He looked at the dusty blackboard ledge.
Nothing.
There was no remote or extension cord anywhere in the room.
The high-tech Smart TV was officially just an expensive, unplugged wall decoration.
Mr. Shono just... doomed inside. He let out a long, defeated sigh, dropping the useless black cord back against the wall.
"Ay, who can get a remote and an extension cord on the second floor?" he asked the room, looking at the sparsely populated rows with a pleading expression.
Almost instantly, a hand shot up. It was Jesper Arufe. He was sitting at the front row, the second chair from the doorway—prime real estate for running sudden errands.
"Sir, I'll get it," Jesper volunteered, standing up quickly from his wooden armchair. "Just wait a bit po."
"Ah, thank you," Mr. Shono nodded, visibly relieved that he didn't have to navigate the campus himself just to turn on a screen.
Jesper stepped out into the hallway and headed straight for the DOWN ONLY stairs.
He descended to the second floor and immediately walked toward the extreme left wing of the building. He navigated the corridor, bypassing the familiar administrative doors: the CON Dean's Office (College of Nursing), and then the CBA and Utility Office (for Business Ad, Uniforms, and IDs).
Finally, he reached his destination—the Storage Room, situated just right before another Girls' Restroom at the very end of the second floor.
Knock. Knock.
Jesper opened the door and stepped inside. He greeted the staff man sitting behind a cluttered table. The transaction was purely business; no time for small talk when a professor was waiting in a hot room.
"Extension cord and remote po," Jesper requested politely.
The staff man didn't look up immediately from his desk. "Which room?"
"406 po."
The man nodded and told Jesper. "Okay, just sign in on the logbook here."
He stood up and walked over to a large, open cardboard box sitting on the floor and rummaged through it, pulling out a tangled extension cord. Then, he moved back to his table, opened a drawer, and fished out a universal TV remote.
While the staff was gathering the loot, Jesper was already busy at the counter. He grabbed the pen and started signing in on the logbook.
Date. Time. Tools borrowed. Room number. Name.
He filled out every column meticulously, but when he reached the last one, he stopped. He deliberately left the signature column blank. It was the golden rule of borrowing school equipment: you only put your signature when you actually return the items, effectively clearing your name from the accountability list.
To seal the deal, Jesper reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and surrendered his Senior High School I.D. to the staff man. Collateral. The ultimate hostage to ensure the safe return of the precious electronics.
The process was done.
"Thanks po," Jesper said, collecting the cord and the remote from the table.
He opened the door, closed it firmly behind him, and began the trek back to the stairs, ready to ascend to Room 406 and save the day.
When Jesper rushed back into Room 406, he didn't waste a second. He kindly plugged the extension cord into the distant wall socket, pulling it close enough so the TV cord could finally reach.
Click.
He plugged the thick black cord in. Finally! It worked.
The TV screen hummed to life, the brand logo flashing brightly before turning into a blue screen with a bold message: HDMI 1 - NO SIGNAL.
Now, it was time to connect it.
Mr. Shono looked at the screen, then at his savior. "Ay, Mr. Jeypi... I mean, Jesper. Did you get an HDMI cord?"
Jesper froze, his eyes widening slightly. "Oof... I forgot po."
Mr. Shono sighed gently, waving a hand. "Ahh, that's fine. Just set it to the smart TV wireless connection so I can connect the presentation on my laptop to the TV."
Using the remote, Jesper carefully navigated the clunky menu, pressing buttons until he finally found the Screencast wireless option.
"It's set now," Jesper announced, stepping back.
Mr. Shono tried to connect it through his laptop. He clicked.
Failed.
He adjusted some settings and tried it again.
Failed again.
Jiro watched the technical difficulties from his seat.
Technology 2, Teachers 0.
Mr. Shono took a breath and gave it one last try.
Connecting... Connected!
"Finally!" Mr. Shono exclaimed, relieved.
His presentation about Diskurso sa Filipino 1 finally showed up brightly on the lively Smart TV screen.
While the tech setup was concluding, late students were gradually trickling into the room, filling the empty armchairs one by one. The sparse class was finally looking like a proper section.
Mr. Shono stood in front of the TV and cleared his throat.
"Okay, so good morning everyone," he smiled, addressing the room. "I am Mr. Jeypi Shono, your instructor in Filipino 1 and Art 1 for this semester."
He walked over to the side of the blackboard, grabbed a broken piece of chalk from the ledge, and wrote his name. Jiro watched in surprise as the instructor used a sweeping, elegant cursive script.
As he wrote, he continued speaking. "I am a part-time instructor here. It means I am also teaching high school in another school right now. So... expect that there will be times when I might be busy or I won't be around the campus."
Part-timer, Jiro noted internally. Ghosting probability is officially justified. Nice.
Mr. Shono dusted the chalk off his hands and noticed the influx of breathless students still arriving. He addressed them directly.
"So class, for our classroom rules... next meeting, please arrive early. I still accept latecomers, although that would be deducted from your grades. So next time, be punctual. Especially since you are all future educators, be professional at all times."
He scanned the room, making eye contact.
"If you know it's traffic, leave early so you won't be late for class, understand?"
"Yes, Sir!" the BEEd 1-A class agreed in unison.
Jiro pulled out his phone to check the time. 8:03 AM.
He casually turned his head to inspect the back rows for his Circle of Friends. He scanned the seats, but he only saw Niewi and Cicille sitting together.
He looked around again.
Mona... Mira... Cosma... Ivyn...
Nowhere to be seen.
Ah, they're probably still caught in the raging road right now, Jiro thought, suppressing a smirk. The struggle is real.
Mr. Shono clapped his hands once, drawing everyone's attention back to the front.
"Okay!" Mr. Shono announced cheerfully. "Let's start by introducing yourselves here in front."
Jiro's blood ran cold.
Oh no.
The ultimate freshman curse. The Ritual Speech.
END OF THE RITUAL SPEECH