After breakfast, Alina found a quiet moment to sit down in the staffroom. It was still ten minutes before her next class started, and she wanted to catch her breath. Her legs ached just a little from running around earlier, and the scene in the flooded dining room still played behind her eyes like a slow replay.
She sipped the last of her coffee, letting the warmth settle in her chest. The staffroom was peaceful, almost too quiet.
But what really caught her attention was how empty the room was.
Not a single other teacher had come to sit, talk, or even ask her how she managed the crisis this morning. No one questioned the water, the panic, or how the babies were now resting after changing their soaked clothes. It was almost as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
She leaned back in the chair, letting her head rest for a moment.
"Do they not care…?" she whispered to herself, eyes drifting toward the quiet door. "Or maybe... this is just normal for them?"
Back in the human world, if a kindergarten class had flooded, the school would have gone into complete emergency mode. Parents would've been called. The news might've spread like wildfire in the community. And here? Not even a whisper.
She sighed quietly and crossed her arms.
"Don't overthink it, Alina," she mumbled, pressing her lips into a small pout. "They're supernatural creatures. Their customs, their values... even their idea of danger…it's all different. Maybe this is just… their version of a normal Tuesday."
She chuckled softly at her own sarcasm and leaned forward, looking at the ticking golden clock on the wall. Eight more minutes. Her class would begin soon.
"I need to stop acting like a human teacher in a human school," she whispered to herself. "This is Little Fang Kindergarten. Half my students can fly, bite, or breathe fire."
"Hey, Lina."
Alina turned her head just as the staffroom door creaked open and Gabriel walked in, his blond hair slightly messy, soft curls brushing over his forehead, and his glowing angelic features looking a little dulled with fatigue. Even then, he was unfairly handsome—his flawless skin and soft aura made him look like someone who'd just walked out of a fantasy painting. She couldn't help but smile.
"Hey," she greeted softly. "You look tired."
Gabriel dropped into the seat across from her, letting out a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned his arm on the table, his eyes still distant.
"Yeah," he muttered, "kids have been a handful today… really prankful. I had to scold them twice, and even then, one tried to turn my chair into a pudding."
Alina let out a small laugh, imagining it. "Pudding?"
"Strawberry pudding, to be precise." Gabriel lifted a brow, his tone dry. "Sticky. Sweet. A chair was harmed."
She giggled softly and shook her head. It was still hard for her to imagine what the other classes were like.
She had only seen Class D—her babies, as she liked to secretly call them now. She had gotten used to their quirks, tantrums, their tiny horns and wings, and even their silent stares within only two long days. But she had never once gone upstairs. Everything she did stayed on the ground floor, which was exclusively for Class D.
This kindergarten building had five tall floors, each with their own mystery. The fifth floor was meant for Class A–the oldest kids, some even nearing teenage years. Class B came below them, slightly younger kids, strong but still learning control.
Class C had been created just recently when the number of students shot up, and they had to divide B into smaller sections. Each floor had its own staff, its own routines, and its own… chaos.
"I've never seen the other kids," she said, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at Gabriel.
"That's probably a good thing," Gabriel replied with a tired grin. "Class D is enough for one person. You're handling it well, though. Most teachers don't last more than a week."
"What about Miss Clara?" she asked, curiosity pulling at her voice. Something had been bothering her about the way the kids reacted to learning, especially during Literature class. They had looked bored resigned, even as if lessons weren't something they expected to enjoy.
And they looked bored until she told them the story…
Gabriel tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes warm but his smile just a little ironic. "She was fired," he said simply, letting the truth rest for a second before continuing. "She lasted three months. Do you know how?" He leaned in a little, lowering his voice as if sharing a schoolyard secret. "Because she only took two classes a day. The rest of the time, she slept in the staffroom or sometimes even in the music room. She left the kids alone, said they were quiet and wouldn't cause trouble."
Alina's mouth parted slightly. "Seriously?"
He nodded as he chuckled. "Yep. No one noticed at first, since Class D kids are… well, quiet. Some of them are new admissions, and a few like Rocky and Sable barely speak unless necessary. So when she gave them a worksheet or told them to 'draw something,' they just did their own thing. No one complained."
Alina's brows furrowed. "Then how did they find out?"
Gabriel's expression turned thoughtful. "One of the Class D parents, don't know who..asked their kid about what they were learning. The child couldn't even name a single alphabet letter. Nothing. That parent came storming to Principal Nightshade. You can imagine how that went."
Alina could. Just thinking about that dark, imposing man, and how angry he must have been, made her spine straighten. "What did he do?"
Gabriel gave her a knowing smile. "He personally checked the entire month's report logs and attendance. Found that she hadn't taught even the basics. She was dismissed the next morning."
Alina glanced down at her cup, her chest feeling heavy.
"Some of the kids were actually happy about it," Gabriel added after a pause. "Not because they liked her, but because they weren't being forced to learn. You know how some kids are—they've got instincts, abilities. If you don't guide them early, they just rely on that. And when they don't get proper attention, they withdraw."