The afternoon class started at 1:45 PM. Checking his phone, Empty City sighed as he reached his classroom door.

Next, he had to lead the students to the battle room. Though not their main instructor, he had to be there as the responsible person. Plus... he’d face an unexpected duel there.

The moment Empty City stepped inside, the noisy classroom fell silent—not out of respect, but pure dissatisfaction. Seeing their resentful glares, he felt drained.

"Um... Teacher..."

The speaker was Estia, a Dairy Maiden—a being society despised. Earlier events had caused a misunderstanding between him and Night Zero, yet that same incident had accelerated their relationship.

"What is it?" Empty City asked, his expression now gentle and patient—unlike that morning. This wasn’t just for Estia; it was to fix his earlier mistakes.

"Is it true you’re dueling Teacher Hamlet?"

"Of course. During your training session later."

"Ah-ha, so even a teacher like you gets justice?"

"Teacher Ida was way better."

Though whispered, Empty City heard every word. His softened demeanor hadn’t won them over. The girl who’d questioned him that morning now stared out the window, indifferent.

*What a failure as a teacher.*

Explaining was pointless—they wouldn’t listen. But their provocation annoyed him, even though he knew he’d been wrong.

His gaze landed on the noisiest spot: three male students. The most striking was the Black one—dark-skinned, sunglasses on, muscles bulging like a gangster’s thug. *How’s he a student?* The others were slightly normal: one with a plain black crew cut but a sleazy tone; the last... Empty City recognized him. He narrowed his eyes.

*That guy who fawned over Night Zero this morning.* He hadn’t cared before, but now—after solidifying things with Night Zero—he was sensitive.

Empty City smiled, ignoring the displeased stares. He’d been at fault, and most weren’t spouting off, so he held back. But for the loudmouths—especially *that* guy—he wouldn’t be kind.

He strode straight to them. A sinister, arrogant smile played under his sharp gaze.

"What? Aren’t we right? You ignore students, slack off in class, dodge questions—now what? Taking out your afternoon loss on us?"

"Hey, you look honest, but your words cut deep," Empty City chuckled. He plopped onto the desk before them—it felt more imposing, more threatening.

"Get down. Don’t dirty our young master’s seat."

A dark hand landed on Empty City’s shoulder.

*Young master?* He’d only heard that in novels. Smiling faintly, he stood, facing the trio, then turned to the whole class.

"Everyone, listen up before class."

His loud voice drew reluctant gazes. Seeing their attention locked on him, Empty City suddenly bowed deeply.

"I’m sorry! This morning, personal issues messed with my mood—I treated you poorly. I promise to teach you properly from now on!"

"....."

"Is he joking? What’s happening?"

Whispers erupted. Students stared, baffled by his shift.

*What’s he thinking?* Cheng Zhihui watched suspiciously. She’d yelled at him that morning. First, he was late. Then indifferent. Then he left early... now this sincere apology. A rollercoaster. Still, he was a teacher—and he’d bowed.

*Forgive him? Or wait and see?*

Empty City straightened after a few seconds. Though some murmured acceptance, his real goal wasn’t just an apology. He scanned the room with bold confidence. The young, wary students widened their eyes as he spoke.

"But... an apology is an apology. Now, you’ll answer for your irresponsible words. I don’t care about myself—but I won’t tolerate badmouthing Teacher Night Zero. Right, Maxfield?"

His sharp gaze pinned the student who’d fawned over Night Zero that morning. Maxfield—scion of a powerful local family, a privileged heir. Empty City didn’t know his strength, but he’d memorized key names from the roster.

"So, what’s your plan?" Maxfield smirked, stopping his Black companion from moving. He looked at Empty City like a clown.

"Those unhappy with my teaching—you’ll get a chance to beat me up this afternoon. After my duel with Hamlet, of course."

"A chance? Not just standing there like a punching bag?"

"Of course not! Gang up or take turns—your choice. Leave even a slight scratch on my face, and I’ll do whatever you want at school: teach seriously, let you skip class—your call!"

"But!" His eyes sharpened; a smile curved his lips. "If you fail, you obey me completely. Say one, you won’t say two. Oh, and I’m a retired B Rank Hero."

"Hmph. A B Rank Hero? Just a frontline dropout!" Maxfield’s face twisted, his gaze chilling.

"Fine. Others will hate you too, not just us. Just don’t lose to Hamlet first, then get crushed by us."

As predicted, the students grew restless—his words had ignited their fighting spirit.

"Teacher... will you be okay?" Estia whispered, her eyes dim but worried. Hamlet wasn’t a pushover—a former B Rank Hero who’d nearly reached A-Rank. Cheng Zhihui didn’t care; she only wanted to see the teacher vs. students clash.

"It’s fine."

A gentle, smiling gaze hit Estia. Her face flushed red. She didn’t know how he heard her soft voice, but their eye contact brought back that morning’s memory—she quickly looked away.

"Estia... your face... is so red."

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!!"

And so, the pre-class interlude ended.