September 9 (Monday)
8:20 PM
Hours after she and her Circle of Friends—Jiro Sanata, Niewi Voeliè, Cicille Masha, and Mona Patori (Mira Palida had already gone home early)—ate together in a fast-food chain restaurant around 4:30 PM for another quick chicken, rice, and fries session, Cosma Ibana was back to the grind.
She was currently heading to Ortigas, Pasig to continue her night shift as a working student. Around 8:54 PM, she arrived at the office. The environment was a sharp contrast to the humid, noisy classrooms of KSU Taytay. It was cold, sterile, and aggressively tech-focused.
By 9:30 PM, she was fully locked into her shift. She sat at her designated cubicle, staring intently at her desktop monitor while wearing her heavy call center headset, navigating through the continuous stream of customer service requests.
When she finally earned a short break, she pulled out her phone to check in with her party members. At exactly 9:33 PM, she snapped a quick picture of her workstation and sent it to their COF - BEEd 1A group chat for a status update.
Mona Patori, another working student who knew the strict protocols of the nocturnal grind, immediately saw the image and asked: "Are you allowed to use cp on your work?"
Before Cosma could reply, Jiro Sanata jumped into the chat. He wasn't focused on the rules, his Apex Strategist mind had instantly analyzed the details in her photo and detected a highly obvious pattern.
Jiro Sanata: "Why are the PC Models inside BPO always old? I mean, not all hahahaha."
Cosma stared at the screen and burst into laughter. Mona quickly followed up with laughing emojis. Jiro had spotted it immediately—displayed proudly on her office monitor was the iconic, incredibly outdated Windows 7 interface.
Cosma replied to Mona first, explaining that she was just on a quick break, before acknowledging Jiro's tech observation with another laugh. But the break was short-lived. She locked her phone and dived right back into the grueling reality of her shift.
Meanwhile, back in the digital realm of the BEEd 1-A cohort, a new administrative maneuver was taking place.
Because crucial announcements were constantly getting buried by the chaotic, random banter and panicked messages in their main KSU TAYTAY BEED 1-A group chat, the Commander took decisive action. Hidy Medona created an entirely new, restricted group chat meant exclusively for official announcements: BEED 1 UPDATES. She dropped the invite link, and the class gradually filtered into the new, strictly moderated channel.
The next day came and went in relative peace. It was Tuesday—their designated rest day under the sacred T/TH immunity schedule. No classes. No physical commutes. Just a quiet pause before the system demanded their presence again.
September 11 (Wednesday)
12:37 PM
The two absolute early birds of BEEd 1-A arrived at the fourth floor and stepped into the empty expanse of Room 406.
Cicille Masha and Ivyn Giron were the very first students of the cohort to enter the room, completely bypassing the afternoon rush hour while the rest of the class was still hopelessly battling the Raging Road. As soon as they entered, they initiated the standard environmental protocol: they pushed open the casement windows, propped open the back door for cross-ventilation, and switched on the two ceiling fans.
They secured their designated seats in the fourth row. While waiting for the rest of the class to arrive, the two of them simply enjoyed the rare, quiet moment before the storm, muttering to each other rapidly in Bisaya as usual, laughing at their own inside jokes.
Then, their COF - BEEd 1A group chat pinged. Niewi Voeliè was checking the perimeter.
Niewi Voeliè: "Is Jiro already there?"
She needed him because Group Falcon was officially assigned as the cleaners for the day, and they needed photographic evidence of the room's 'Before' state to secure their accountability.
Ivyn Giron: "Not yet."
Niewi Voeliè: "Take a pic of our room."
But Ivyn, perhaps distracted by her conversation with Cicille, completely missed the logistical intent of the request.
Ivyn Giron: "Beh room 406."
Niewi sighed on the other end of the screen and quickly clarified the instructions.
Niewi Voeliè: "I mean, take a pic of our room, full one please, because we are the cleaners today eh."
Ivyn finally understood the tactical request. She stood up, framed the shot, and took some early, pristine pictures of Room 406 before the incoming disaster of thirty-five sweaty freshmen ruined the layout.
As the minutes passed, the room steadily filled up. The quiet ambiance was completely shattered, replaced by the deafening, overlapping chatter of the cohort as they waited for their class adviser, the Elite Educator, Mr. Jimmy Brackin, to arrive for Readings in Philippine History (RPH).
While they waited, the Commander's radar activated. Hidy Medona stood at the front of the class.
"Oi, guys, please pass your reaction papers to me now so I can just give them to Sir," Hidy announced loudly, demanding the submission of their 500-word offline requirement.
The room instantly went frantic. Students scrambled to pull their yellow pad papers from their bags, rushing toward Hidy to surrender their written outputs.
Once the initial wave of submissions subsided, Hidy called out again. "Is this all, guys? No one else catching up?"
Panic immediately struck the third row.
Just behind Jiro's usual spot, Jiyah Guil—the solo Muslim student in the class and a hardworking Taytay Tiangge merchant—froze. She had somehow completely forgotten the task.
"Wait, Pres! Wait for me!" Jiyah called out desperately, diving into her bag for a fresh yellow pad. Hidy nodded patiently.
While Jiyah was frantically writing her reaction paper in real-time, her seatmate, Brittany Bausta, offered a high-efficiency survival tactic.
"Just use AI to make it fast beh," Brittany whispered urgently, leaning over. "Gow, you can still catch up, you can do it."
"Okay, okay," Jiyah muttered, her thumbs flying across her smartphone screen to generate the text. She paused, looking up in pure panic. "Wait, what was the activity again?"
"Beh, the one about Brain hacks," Brittany replied instantly.
With the topic secured, Jiyah aggressively transcribed the AI-generated text onto her yellow paper. Through sheer adrenaline and frantic penmanship, she miraculously finished on time and handed her paper to Hidy.
Around 2:15 PM, the professor finally arrived.
Mr. Jimmy Brackin stepped into the room, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.
"Uh, it's really so tiring to get up here hehehe," Mr. Brackin greeted the class with his usual chill, approachable smile. "Anyway, uhh, good afternoon BEEd. I apologize that I didn't..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Hidy Medona, who was seated in the first row right by the aisle, stood up and handed the thick stack of yellow reaction papers directly to him.
Mr. Brackin paused, momentarily interrupted. "...I didn't... attend, okay thank you, these are the reaction papers, right?"
Hidy nodded politely.
"Okay, uhh," Mr. Brackin continued smoothly, setting the papers down. "I didn't attend last Monday because I was busy in the office that time, I wasn't able to announce it, anyway..."
While the professor settled in, Jesper Arufe had already executed his pre-class technical ritual. He had sprinted down to the storage room, surrendered his ID, grabbed the remote and extension cord, and successfully powered up the Smart TV.
Mr. Brackin grabbed the remote, tapped his tablet, and effortlessly connected his device via screencast. His presentation instantly flashed onto the screen.
Before diving into the lecture, he dropped a crucial administrative note. He announced that he had already uploaded a module for RPH on their academic portal, Google Classroom. He casually mentioned that there were mini-quizzes embedded in the module, which they could try answering as a review.
With the patch notes delivered, the lesson unfolded.
He introduced the deep history of the Philippines, bridging the timeline from the pre-colonial era all the way to contemporary society. As the historical facts flowed, the true intellectual battlefield of BEEd 1-A activated.
The recitation masters took the floor. Reo Bairo, Gracie Masado, Cristel Basha, Princess Cleria, and Jiro Sanata practically dominated the airspace. They were the most active students, constantly raising their hands, delivering high-quality answers, and fiercely competing for their participation grades.
Princess Cleria, in particular, was famous for her deep-dive, unprompted citations.
"Uhh, I just wanna share something po," Princess said, confidently raising her hand. "I just read this on Wikipedia, so it says..."
Despite the intense academic crossfire happening at the front, the heavy, humid afternoon air was taking its toll. The class felt incredibly sleepy. Jiro, despite actively participating, kept yawning discreetly while staring at Mr. Brackin.
Why is History always in the afternoon? Jiro's internal monologue grumbled, fighting the heavy urge to close his eyes.
At 3:55 PM, Mr. Brackin shifted to the next slide, announcing a new required output.
Activity 1: Historical Analysis
The mechanics were displayed clearly: 1. Formulate your title (interesting part of history) and 3 research questions (What, Why, and How).2. Include your opinion while answering each question and formulate your own general opinion.
But then, the class noticed a glaring chronological error on the third bullet point.
Write your answer in a short bond paper and submit it before August 25, 2022...
Mr. Brackin stared at the screen, then laughed at his own mistake. "Hehehe, ay sorry. I forgot to change, uhh, the deadline. It would be next meeting, are you okay with that?"
"Yes po," the class agreed in unison.
Before Mr. Brackin could press the next slide, several students—including Reo Bairo, Jachie Marello, and Jiro—immediately raised their phones to capture the exact parameters of the task.
The presentation clicked to the next slide. 4. Either in English or Filipino.5. Arial, 12, double spaced.
Jiro stopped taking photos. He had already seen both Reo and Jachie capturing the screen. Energy Conservation. He knew they would inevitably send the complete mechanics to the group chat later, saving him the storage space.
The final mechanics scrolled past: 6. Format Flow: I. Title, II. Introduction, III. Questions & Answer, IV. General Opinion.7. Use footnotes in citing your reference.8. You will be graded based on the rubrics.
While Mr. Brackin was explaining the formatting rules, Jiro was already mapping out his execution strategy. Hmm.... interesting part of history... maybe a typhoon? He paused, his tactical mind linking two massive historical events. Ohh, wait uhh, Mount Pinatubo eruption and coinciding with Typhoon Yunya of 1991! That is much more interesting...
Just before dismissing the class, Mr. Brackin dropped a massive, optional academic hurdle.
"I have an important announcement, this is for your finals," Mr. Brackin said, leaning against his desk. "But this is just optional for you, so you can be exempted from the finals exam. Go to Intramuros, and also consider traveling to our National Museum of Fine Arts, and Rizal Park. Just kindly trip around there and take pictures and then show them to me."
The prospect of skipping a final exam instantly energized the room.
Aprille Bolente cheerfully raised her hand, asking the most crucial question for a college road trip. "Can we bring our boyfriends/girlfriends po, sir? Hahahaah!"
Mr. Brackin laughed, shaking his head. "Sana all. And yes, you can bring anyone with you, even your family. But then again, ah, I didn't say it's required ah, it's just optional. Understand?"
"Yes po, Sir!" the BEEd 1-A cohort agreed.
The class officially dismissed. The afternoon grind was over.
Immediately, Group Falcon clocked in for their mandatory cleaning duty.
While the rest of the class packed up, Lindsey Soliko established her toll booth at the front of the room, loudly begging the escaping students to pay their P10 class fund for the week before they left. Jesper Arufe grabbed the extension cord and remote, rushing downstairs to return them to the storage room.
Jiro went straight to work. To maximize efficiency, he immediately started lifting the heavy wooden armchairs, attempting to align them perfectly into neat rows.
Lindsey Soliko, Nica Rosa, and Windy Viyago watched him work with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
Nica approached him, shaking her head. "Beh, you're arranging them too much, we haven't even swept the floor yet eh!"
Jiro stopped, looking at the dust still lingering under the chairs. "Ay, hahaha. Sorry sorry!"
The perfectly aligned armchairs were immediately misaligned again as the girls aggressively swept the dirt out from under them. Once the floor was finally clean and the chairs properly restored, the documentation phase began.
"Beh, you just take the picture first ah," Lindsey told Jiro, tossing him the responsibility.
"Okie okie," Jiro nodded.
He stood at the front of the room, raising his phone to capture the clean, organized state of Room 406 to secure their accountability.
With the cleaning operation officially cleared, Group Falcon stepped out of the classroom. Waiting patiently for them in the hallway, right beside Room 407 and the Girls' Restroom, was the rest of Jiro's COF (Mira Palida, Cicille Masha, and Mona Patori.)
They all walked down the DOWN ONLY stairs together. As they exited the building, the late afternoon sun cast a beautiful, golden hour glow over the entire campus and the chaotic streets of Taytay.
They didn't rush home. They walked together, taking a slow, relaxing detour through the bustling Taytay Tiangge, finally calling it a successful day.
September 12 (Thursday)
2:11 PM
It was another designated rest day, but for some, the grind simply continued in a different format.
Jiro was already in the final stages of his historical analysis activity. At the same time, his dual-core processing was dedicated to preparing a personalized presentation for his weekly LTS geography lesson. He needed visual aids for his four-year-old student, and his laptop screen was cluttered with maps and bullet points.
His laptop pinged. The COF - BEEd 1A group chat was active.
Niewi had replied to a picture of the activity presentation guidelines that Ivyn Giron had forwarded earlier.
Niewi Voeliè: "What would be your topic here? I mean who? HHABAHAHBA"
Ivyn Giron: "Tehh, I still don't have one, juskooo, I still have a lot of laundry"
Niewi Voeliè: "Same HWBWHAHAHAHAB"
Jiro leaned back in wall while sitting on a mattress, taking a momentary break from his geography slides to type a reply.
Jiro Sanata: "I am almost done eh."
Ivyn Giron: "Wow, I wish it too 🥺"
Jiro Sanata: "My topic is Mount Pinatubo."
And then, it seemed the fast-paced, competitive nature of the cohort transferred over to their topic selections.
Ivyn Giron: "Oh, for me, Mount Canlaon. Because it is currently erupting HAHAHAHA eme."
Jiro stared at the screen, a dry smile crossing his face. Stole my concept, just changed the volcano.
Jiro Sanata: "Ay... that's it, I already gave an idea, emz"
They laughed it off in the chat, clearly joking around to lighten the mood. But beneath the banter, a heavier obligation was looming over all of them. They had to review for their upcoming quizzes tomorrow in MMW and NSTP 1.
But Jiro Sanata didn't even bother to create a reviewer or initiate a study session. Ehh... presentations and computation papers are already here... no more need to waste resources, he rationalized, opting for pure energy conservation. He was confident in his math skills.
However, the NSTP requirement was an entirely different beast. It was still an absolute nightmare that they had to review 225 slides of institutional and historical data. It was so overwhelming that even Jiro, the Apex Strategist, opted to ignore it entirely, focusing his limited remaining energy solely on MMW.
Around 6:26 PM, the weather mechanics shifted dramatically. It began raining heavily throughout the town. Instantly, many in the cohort began hoping for another suspension tomorrow, a convenient way to skip the impending quizzes.
Back in the COF group chat, Niewi dropped a warning about a newly forming weather system.
And then, Mira Palida entered the chat with a terrifying, apocalyptic update.
Mira Palida: "Typhoon Gener would be 5x larger than Enteng. Then, they will interact with the currently active Typhoon Ferdie. For sure, this will bring so much devastation in the Philippines."
The circle immediately went into empathetic panic mode, expressing their hopes that such a catastrophic event wouldn't happen. To back up her claim, Mira sent a screen-recorded clip from TikTok. The video proudly displayed over 670k likes. Bold text flashed across the screen: Super Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) is back??? It showed a wildly exaggerated forecast wind map swirling around the Philippines, accompanied by dramatic, intense background music. The wind field was depicted as incredibly huge and impossibly strong.
Jiro immediately watched the video. He didn't panic. He didn't gasp. He just laughed.
It was too obviously over-exaggerated. The atmosphere simply couldn't produce a storm of that specific, continuous magnitude in that visual format. It was a glaringly AI-generated clickbait video.
He quickly typed out a reality check.
Jiro Sanata: "Beh, this is misleading hahahaa. I do not even see anything like that from the forecast models."
What they didn't know was that Jiro wasn't just guessing. He was actually highly knowledgeable in the field of meteorology. He regularly tracked global weather patterns, reviewing complex data from different reliable models like the ECMWF and GFS, while also cross-referencing local agency reports. And based on actual data, the TikTok video was entirely false.
This is why I don't have TikTok, Jiro grumbled in his internal monologue, feeling a sudden surge of intellectual exhaustion. I am not into stupid, low-quality, and trash stuff. It's just a full echo chamber of stupidity and fake news.
7:09 PM
While Jiro was debunking meteorological fake news, a very real, physical crisis was occurring on the slick pavement of the Manila East Road.
The heavy rains had created raging and slippery conditions. Cosma and her partner, Sam, were currently navigating the treacherous route on Sam's motorcycle. Suddenly, a passing vehicle slightly bumped them. The impact was enough to break their traction on the wet road, and they tripped off, crashing onto the asphalt.
They were both injured in the accident. Luckily, they only sustained minor injuries, but the shock of the collision was real. Sam immediately pulled out her phone to call for emergency assistance, while Cosma, operating on pure adrenaline and college student instinct, took a picture of her wounded leg.
She sent the graphic evidence straight to the COF - BEEd 1A group chat.
The chat instantly erupted into genuine worry. Ivyn, Cicille, and Niewi bombarded the chat with questions, frantically asking what had happened. Cosma quickly typed out an explanation, detailing the minor accident and assuring them that they were getting help.
The tension was high, but the attention span of a college group chat is incredibly volatile.
Just minutes later, the focus of the conversation shifted violently away from the accident.
Mira, seemingly oblivious to the lingering concern for Cosma, sent a sudden, completely unrelated message directed at Ivyn.
Mira Palida: "What does it mean 2 hearts from Cristel?"
Ivyn was instantly, completely distracted. Her "crush," Cristel Basha, had apparently just reacted to her story with two hearts. The romantic implication immediately overrode everything else. The group chat dissolved into chaotic teasing and excitement, totally abandoning Cosma's suffering in favor of analyzing the digital romance.
September 13 (Friday)
And now the Friday marathon began.
It was a hazy and sunny morning, slightly offset by an overcast sky. Because their class in MMW with the red-haired idol professor, Dr. Ricky Manazaki, was strictly scheduled at 8:00 AM, many of the BEEd 1-A cohort had traveled to the campus as early as 6:30 AM. The impending weight of the heavy quizzes had effectively destroyed their sleep schedules.
When they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, they were met with a blatant administrative displacement. Room 406 was already occupied by BSED English 3. There was no memo, no warning. The system had simply handed their base over to the upperclassmen.
They were forced to migrate to Room 407 at 7:18 AM.
The class quickly arranged the armchairs, adhering to the strict, assigned seating arrangement previously mandated by the professor. Jiro navigated through the wooden chairs and secured his spot in the fourth row, settling into his designated territory alongside Group Falcon.
While they waited in the humid air, his seatmate, Nica Rosa, leaned over.
"Uy, Jiro, let me take a peek at your answers for our worded problem assignment ah," Nica asked, adjusting her bag.
Jiro didn't complain. He unzipped his "Hulk" bag, pulled out his yellow pad paper containing the complex mixture and geometry solutions, and placed it on his desk. They placed their papers side-by-side, scanning the formulas and final answers.
Nica simply nodded, satisfied with the comparison. "Owh, we have the same answers."
Jiro let out a dry, knowing laugh. "Well, because Mekayla sent a complete solution for the alcohol problem eh hahahaha."
Sitting directly on Jiro's other side, Mekayla heard the exposure of her academic contribution. She burst into laughter, even while remaining heavily focused on reviewing her thick notebook for the upcoming quiz.
The minutes ticked by. The anxiety in the room thickened.
Then, at around 8:41 AM—more than forty minutes past the official start time—a figure appeared at the open doorway. The red-haired idol professor had finally arrived.
Dr. Manazaki strode to the teacher's table, carrying his usual intimidating aura. He immediately opened his box bag, retrieved his smartphone, and pulled out exactly four whiteboard markers.
"Oh, good morning 1 BEEd," Dr. Manazaki greeted the room, a chill, almost teasing tone in his voice. "Are you all ready to check your assignment? Eyyy hehehe."
Without wasting a second, he opened his phone to copy the first assignment problem onto the whiteboard. Since the first item was the intricate geometry problem involving the lengths of two specific line segments, the translation process required extensive detailing.
Dr. Manazaki began to compute it manually on the board. He wrote out the variables, mapped out the equations, and executed the solution line by line.
Voila.
The solution was so massively long that the entire square whiteboard was completely occupied by just a single problem. The board was an absolute maze of dry-erase ink.
"Okay, let's begin checking your papers," Dr. Manazaki announced.
Jiro squinted from his seat in the fourth row. Between the distance, the glare of the hazy morning sun through the windows, and the sheer density of the numbers crammed onto the board, he could barely read the solution.
Energy Conservation rule activated.
Instead of straining his eyes or frantically copying the entire board onto a scratch paper, Jiro pulled his smartphone from his armchair desk. He casually stood up from his armchair, approached the front of the room, and simply captured a high-resolution picture of the entire whiteboard solution.
Finally, almost everyone got the correct answer for that first problem. Ten points guaranteed!
Without wasting a breath, Dr. Manazaki erased the ink-heavy whiteboard and manually wrote down the second hurdle: the alcohol mixture problem. Line by line, variable by variable, he solved it on the board. The final mathematical output was an exact, flawless match to the solution Mekayla had pulled from the internet last week.
Another ten points guaranteed!
They bagged twenty points in total. Jiro stared at his paper, a quiet smirk playing on his lips. A perfect score. Energy conservation at its absolute finest.
With the assignment cleared, Dr. Manazaki decided to shift to visual aids. He moved toward the Smart TV at the front. Luckily, the logistical foundation was already laid out—the extension cord and remote were properly set up. He turned on the screen and attempted to connect his tablet via screencast.
Connecting...
Connection failed.
He tapped the screen again. Failed.
The technological infrastructure of the classroom boldly refused to cooperate. After a few more attempts at bridging the connection, Dr. Manazaki just sighed, dropping his hands to his sides.
"Eyyy, it won't connect hahaha," he chuckled, completely unbothered by the institutional glitch. "Okay... lemme just write this on the board."
He picked up his whiteboard markers once again. He began introducing an entirely new set of confusing, heavy worded math challenges: Money problems and Arithmetic sequence problems. But the idol professor didn't just leave them to drown in the complex logic, he introduced his own customized technique. The secret formula. A highly specific, shortcut method to derive the answers much faster without getting lost in the paragraphs.
The entire BEEd 1-A cohort went into a frantic transcription mode. Pens were flying across yellow pad papers and binder notebooks.
Over in the second row of the window-side section, Jesper Arufe was furiously scribbling down the equations. From the outside, he looked like a deeply focused, highly diligent student. But inside, his internal monologue was screaming.
Ah... just keep writing to make me look like a future educator, Jesper laughed nervously in his head, staring blankly at the numbers. But I really don't understand everything hahaha.
It was the universal reality of the room. Even though almost everyone was now equipped with their non-programmable scientific calculators, the devices were entirely useless. The machine couldn't save them from reading comprehension.
While Dr. Manazaki was heavily focused on writing his complex solution on the whiteboard, he suddenly paused. The squeak of the marker stopped. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the sea of exhausted students, until his eyes locked onto a specific target in the fifth row, window-side.
It was Sherline Reyna. She was indoors wearing tinted shade glasses with her blonde-golden-brown hair, and she was quietly laughing at something with her seatmates.
Dr. Manazaki slowly turned around. He raised a hand, slightly adjusting his own indoor shades. The chill, approachable aura he had carried all morning instantly evaporated, replaced by a suffocating, heavy tension.
"Uhh, miss," Dr. Manazaki called out, his voice dangerously low and sharp. "You, wearing shades. What is your name?"
The entire room froze. Pens stopped scratching against yellow pad papers. Sherline's laughter died in her throat. She went completely silent, staring at the professor in shock.
"Uhmm... Sherline Reyna po," she answered, her voice trembling.
Dr. Manazaki didn't just stand at the front. He stepped away from the teacher's table and began walking slowly down the aisle. The sound of his polished oxford shoes hitting the concrete floor echoed in the dead silent classroom. Every single student in the BEEd 1-A cohort held their breath, their eyes wide, tracking his movements.
When he reached the fifth row, stopping right behind Sherline, the psychological weight in the room became unbearable. Jiro, sitting in the fourth row just across the aisle, kept his posture perfectly rigid, not daring to make a sound. The idol professor had completely transformed into an absolute terror.
"Uhh, miss. Why are you laughing?" Dr. Manazaki asked, his tone dripping with cold authority. "Is there anything funny? Huh?"
Sherline's hands shook as she clutched her notebook. Her heart was hammering violently against her chest. "Uhh, Doc... sorry po."
"Do you know what this is? Ha?" Dr. Manazaki scolded, his voice rising, cutting through the humid air like a knife. "You keep laughing! You are not listening! If you do not want me here, okay, fine, you can drop this subject. If you are not interested, do not attend, or I will just give you a 5.0 right now! You are supposed to be a future educator, but you do not even have respect for your professor teaching in front? And you are just laughing at me? How dare you."
The sheer aggression of the reprimand was paralyzing. Sherline quickly removed her tinted indoor glasses with shaking hands. She looked down at her desk, her face turning a painful, deep shade of red as tears began to stream down her cheeks. She began to cry silently, completely humiliated in front of the entire section.
Dr. Manazaki stared down at her for a long, agonizing second.
"You are rude, miss," he added coldly. "Plus you are wearing shades indoors. And look, you are crying right now."
He turned his back on her and walked smoothly back to the front of the room, picking up his marker as if he hadn't just emotionally destroyed a student.
At the back of the room, Sherline's seatmates, Jerline Rama and Deanne Parina, immediately leaned over. They quietly patted her back and rubbed her shoulders, desperately trying to comfort her while keeping their heads down. The trauma was deeply implanted. The class had just witnessed the absolute, terrifying reality of college authority.
At exactly 11:15 AM, the morning MMW torture finally reached its conclusion. But before the class could even breathe a sigh of relief, Dr. Manazaki leaned against the table and dropped an absolute academic bomb.
"Alright ah, BEEd 1-A," Dr. Manazaki announced casually. "We will have a quiz in MMW later at 1:00 PM ah. Instead of NSTP 1, since we don't have classes for that subject today, we will use that time for our MMW quiz, okay? Hehehe."
The class froze. The exhaustion instantly doubled. A quiz? Today? Right after lunch?
Before the panic could fully materialize, the Class Treasurer stepped up to negotiate the terms of their survival.
"Doc, beke nemen po... Open notes hahahaha," Lindsey Soliko pleaded, stretching out the vowels in the classic Filipino tone of desperate bargaining.
The courage was contagious. Instantly, a chorus of voices from the front and back rows echoed her plea.
"Open notes, Doc!"
"Yes po, please Doc!"
Dr. Manazaki paused. He looked at the exhausted faces of his students, the indoor shades hiding his eyes, and a slow smirk formed on his face. He let out a light laugh.
"Kay... kay... fine fine. Open notes, eyyy," Dr. Manazaki agreed, waving his hand playfully. "It is not even hard, you can do it!"
With the final, terrifying condition set, he grabbed his bag and smoothly exited the room.
The entire cohort was left sitting in the sweltering heat of Room 407, completely in shock. The morning was over, but the afternoon promised another round of MMW torture. The mathematical nightmare was far from finished.
END OF THE SECRET FORMULA