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  Chapter 145: Self-Study into Pytime

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  Compared to the utterly shameless Hera, Matthew Tan fell just a smidge short. He simply could not bring himself to admit that he had been ambushed, leading to the inadvertent pull-down of his trousers and a misfire of his carefully aimed... projectile. This unpnned release had somehow ended up sounding the opening shot of this "Battle Royale."

  One thing that had to be conceded was that, despite being loathed by a rge number of students, the much-despised Dublin El Murrin did possess a remarkable talent for crisis resolution. Once he had comprehended the full series of events, he promptly came up with a pn to manage the chaos.

  Still, there were undeniable criticisms about his conduct. Dublin’s so-called "unyielding severity" and "impartial strictness" were often selectively applied, reserved only for regur students. His inability to maintain true impartiality had long been a grievance aired by students online, sparking considerable outrage. Yet, for all their indignation, there was little that ordinary students could do about him.

  It's a truth that many regur students failed to grasp the nuances of workpce politics. To them, the world was bck and white. If Dublin truly treated every student equally, he would never have made it as Principal Hercuno’s trusted right-hand man. Those too rigid and obstinate, who failed to understand the art of cushioning their superior’s mistakes or taking bme on their behalf, hardly ever advanced in their careers.

  Indeed, Dublin’s draconian demeanor before the student body was nothing more than a constructed image. It allowed him to project authority, instilling such fear in the students that his job as Director of Discipline became far easier. The more intimidating he seemed, the smoother his responsibilities flowed.

  Although the chaos had been quelled, the aftermath remained daunting. The back of the cssroom was left in shambles following the "snowball fight," a scene well beyond the capability of students to clean up.

  Dublin swiftly coordinated with Principal Hercuno, before making a call to a professional cleaning company. As for the cost of this service? That would certainly be footed by the parents of Matthew and Hera. Engaging in a "poop warfare" in a cssroom was a serious transgression, ensuring both would have to face a meeting with their guardians and receive a public reprimand from the entire school.

  Punishment was inevitable. This time, it would go beyond a mere warning; they were likely to have a “recorded demerit.” Their battle, a duel in mutual self-destruction disguised as debate, had seriously disrupted the cssroom’s order and left a terrible impression on their peers.

  In truth, for most of Css Three’s students- especially those who did not sit at the back- the whole situation was a source of utter delight.

  After all, neither "Laughing Fart Queen" Hera nor the transfer student, “Poop King” Matthew, had ever left positive impressions. The way the two had cshed in this absurdly epic showdown, both suffering for it, was nothing short of schadenfreude for the rest of the css.

  What’s more, until the cleaning company finished clearing up the catastrophic mess at the back, the afternoon’s self-study period was effectively cancelled. A blissful reprieve for the students!

  Sacrificing the two royals to rid themselves of a dreary Saturday self-study? An absolute bargain, especially for those who loathed the tedium of self-study sessions.

  Take, for example, “Soccer Darling” Sunny now pying the more popur football and “Noble Boy” Marcus El Postacio. Both were sports fanatics who found being trapped in a cssroom for self-study unbearably dull. Why couldn’t all self-study periods be converted into activity periods?

  Students who preferred to self-study could stay in the cssroom, while those who despised it could head to the sports field or the basketball court to work up a sweat. Wouldn’t that be a more enlightened, tailored approach to education?

  “Principal Hercuno truly is an idiot,” some whispered conspiratorially. “He shares a surname with a devil in some religious texts but clearly understands nothing of ‘teaching in accordance with one’s aptitude.’”

  As the dust settled, the self-study supervisor, Teacher Bartolomeo El Mundo, finally made his beted entrance. Seeing the entire Css Three milling around in the hallway left him feeling a bit apprehensive; he had no clue what had happened.

  By then, the two “culprits”- the Fart Queen and the Poop King- had already been escorted away by Dublin. They were taken to the restroom for some basic cleanup before being dragged off to face the principal.

  Such was the privilege of students with deep connections. Handling their cases always required caution; there could be no swift or brutal retribution as there would be with ordinary students.

  Once Teacher Bartolomeo had been fully briefed and had inspected the biochemical warfare zone left behind, he stifled his ughter and, without missing a beat, decred that self-study was officially canceled. Everyone was free to enjoy some leisure time instead.

  The announcement was met with thunderous cheers and appuse.

  “Mr. Bartolomeo, you’re the best! Truly a legend!”

  “Only you could make this day amazing, Sir!”

  “I’ve never felt so enthusiastic about Chemistry before! Absolute legend!”

  “Mr. Bartolomeo, my friend, you’re the real hero here…”

  “What a relief! Self-study turned into pytime. This is brilliant!”

  And with that, a wave of joyful pandemonium swept through the room, echoing with the jubint chants of students reveling in their unexpected freedom.

  ...

  Bartolomeo looked on with a pleased expression as the students of Css Three revelled in their jubint celebrations.

  He was the kind of teacher who, with his humor and rexed demeanor, might not produce the highest academic scores, but when it came to affection from his students, he was undoubtedly the teacher most beloved by them all.

  However, such teachers were not particurly suited to being mentors. The ck of authority often made them susceptible to certain students who would test boundaries, pushing their luck and taking advantage.

  Many teachers, initially eager to be friends with their students, eventually learned the painful truth: the notion was, in hindsight, rather naive.

  After all, there are all manner of peculiar students in this world. One cannot expect all students to be sensible and self-disciplined. If you try to be their friend, there is a high chance they may end up stepping all over you.

  Thus, even the most amiable of css mentors, the longer they stay in the role, will inevitably find themselves walking down a path not unlike that of the "Four Great Terrorists" - a path where, in order to maintain order, students must be instilled with a sense of reverence and fear.

  Only then would the css be easier to manage.

  Once Bartolomeo had announced the commencement of free activities, the most excited among the students was none other than the "soccer and football darling," Sunny.

  He completely disregarded the "Biohazard Zone" at the back of the cssroom, nimbly darting into the battlefield like a monkey. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards the small room, retrieving his football and disregarding the soccer, and immediately called upon his friends, rallying the boys of Css Three to join him for a game of football.

  As for his change of sports, no one knows.

  One could only say that his passionate love for the sports gave him an unshakable courage, allowing him to charge headfirst into the unknown.

  And it paid off, for his enthusiasm proved infectious. Many of the boys in Css Three were swayed and agreed to join him on the pyground for a spirited match.

  Even Marcus was among them - though he would never admit it, he had momentarily hesitated at the thought of braving the still-looming "Biohazard Zone" to fetch his own basketball from the small room.

  Football it was, then!

  Football seemed far less complicated than basketball, especially when one considered positions such as center-backs or goalkeepers. All one had to do was kick the ball hard whenever it came near, sending it as far as possible, and that was considered a contribution.

  In this way, Sunny became the most popur among the boys of Css Three, for even Marcus had joined in his football match. This meant that many boys, who previously preferred basketball, had now come to py football with him - a pleasure tripled, not merely doubled!

  After all, while students from other csses were stuck in study sessions, they were turning theirs into an activity period - the sheer joy of it was almost tangible.

  Yet, just as Sunny was basking in his moment of joy, Makarios delivered a crushing blow: "Dude, you were so eager just now that you accidentally stepped into some... shall we say... 'royal droppings.' It seems a piece of 'the King's mess' fell from the sky, nding on your boot. You didn’t see it coming, did you?"

  Sunny immediately sprang up, aghast: "No way... is my Nike football boot really tarnished?"

  Makarios grinned mischievously. "Indeed! Last time, it was your beloved soccerball that got tainted by urine, and now it's your treasured boots. It seems you’ve got some strange connection with... waste. But don’t worry, it wasn’t much - it’s only the spikes that got a little dirty."

  Sunny, once overjoyed, now bore a face of agony, and the other boys, unable to contain their ughter, let loose a chorus of guffaws.

  Someone, still holding their stomach from the ughter, remarked: "To think, the 'Poop King' strikes again, and the aftershocks of his throw have such devastating power! Truly, a two-for-one special - that was superb!"

  Though the boys were ughing, they were still willing to show Sunny some courtesy, accompanying him to the field to py football, even those who couldn't kick a ball to save their lives. Some merely joined for the sake of a bit of fun.

  The weather that day was mostly cloudy, with a pleasant breeze in the air, and the temperature was just right. November's deep autumn was, on the whole, rather agreeable; it wasn't as hot as before, nor had it yet turned cold.

  Meanwhile, as Makarios followed Sunny to the field, he took the opportunity to upload a rather video to the campus forum.

  The video captured the entire process of Dublin stepping into the "dark forbidden zone," and, of course, it caught the epic moment when the Poop King heroically threw his... projectile.

  The "Farting Queen" provided perfect support, evading the projectile while masterfully assisting in the execution of the move. The duo's well-timed teamwork led to the Director suffering a truly unfortunate fate, with even his beloved sungsses becoming tainted.

  Makarios was certain this post would go viral.

  It was simple to understand why - after all, many senior students on the forum harbored a deep dislike for Dublin. While they could only vent their frustration through empty boasts, like ciming to have ambushed him with sacks or thrown stones at his house, these were always baseless. This time, however, Makarios had captured it all on film, clear and irrefutable, while also managing to capture the other two "kings" in the frame.

  This was his revenge, for he, too, sat in the back row of the cssroom and had been caught in the crossfire of those two royals.

  Once the post was uploaded, it would take some time for it to catch fire. The peak time for students to sneakily py with their phones would be during the moments they returned to their dormitories - after meals or post-evening study sessions, right before bed.

  Not many students dared to bring their phones into the cssroom, after all.

  The risk of being caught pying on your phone in css was too high. The more fortunate one was to escape detection, the more likely they were to be caught - a prime example of Murphy’s Law.

  Css Three’s homeroom teacher, Emmanuel, was especially devious. With his skillful "ambush" technique, he could remain hidden and pounce at the most opportune moment - it was uncanny. If he caught anyone on their phone, there was no escaping the punishment.

  As the boys gathered on the field, having a bst around Sunny’s football, the girls, too, weren’t content to stand idle in the hallway outside the cssroom.

  Xanthia and her group of beautiful friends had been invited by her former deskmate, Xenia La Sagrada, to join her in the pyground's corner, where facilities like the horizontal bars, parallel bars, and swings stood. They were there to py a game of jump rope.

  Xenia, unlike Sunny, didn’t have to risk crossing the perilous "Biohazard Zone" to retrieve her jump rope; her seat was in the third row, far removed from the chaos. The front rows had been unaffected by the crisis, so she easily retrieved her jump rope, unaffected by any unpleasant odors - thanks to the open windows and the strong breeze that kept the air fresh.

  Xenia was fond of pying jump rope in the hallways during breaks, hoping it would help her lose a bit of weight - though it had shown little result.

  In high school, few girls still enjoyed pying such games. Most preferred to remain still, perhaps resting in their seats, unless they had to use the restroom.

  Xanthia, always the pyful one, occasionally indulged Xenia’s invitations. She wasn’t particurly interested in jump rope, but on rare occasions, when she felt a spark of childlike joy, she would join in. However, if she pyed too often, the joy would quickly fade, and it would lose its charm.

  At heart, Xanthia preferred activities that were more traditionally "masculine" - she adored reading "fantasy" novels, not romantic manga, and was especially fond of video games. With her "Nightmare Phone," she could py PC games right on her phone - which was utterly thrilling.

  But for today, Xanthia and her friends didn’t decline Xenia’s offer. They walked to the pyground’s edge, where they began their jump rope game.

  With her "Light as a Feather" trait, Xanthia practically dominated the game, executing all the complicated jumps with ease, putting on quite a show.

  While everyone enjoyed the game and the ughter, it was clear that they had all benefitted from the "royal" interruptions that had paved the way.

  Yet, no one expected what happened next. Before they had even pyed for long, the css mentor, Emmanuel, stormed onto the field, his face dark and his temper rising.

  Though they were not his primary target, it was obvious that his main concern was the group of boys gathered around the football, having a good time.

  Xanthia and her friends, however, had little attachment to the game. Jump rope was more a way to pass the time while chatting. If Emmanuel wanted to send them back to css, they didn’t mind, as long as the cssroom was cleaned up.

  The real trouble y with the boys still on the field.

  This was the moment when Bartolomeo had transformed them from prison inmates into free men, and now Emmanuel, had come to drag them back into captivity...

  The dream of turning their afternoon study period into an activity session had come to an abrupt end.