That went well, ignoring the constant glaring I got from the girl I threw dodgeballs at.

  That teacher’s reaction was weird, putting aside the fact that I nearly fell on my ass during our first meeting. Maybe she thought that the embarrassment I put on myself was punishment enough? If that’s true, then it’s possible she’s one of those teachers who enjoy witnessing their students suffer and fail, instead of succeeding and being happy.

  Oh well, it’s not like I can ask.

  Going by the map, my third class appeared to be around the same size as the chemistry classroom.

  I opened the door and entered the room. To my surprise, there were a lot more students seated early compared to the previous 2. I went out of the classroom briefly to see students walking through the corridors.

  So, I’m early. If that’s true, then how come so many students are early?

  Looking around didn’t reveal anything meaningful, so I guess I’ll just have to experience it firsthand and make educated guesses from there.

  The sound of footsteps echoing through the halls ceased, and the classroom’s teacher walked in. It was a chubby old man in a business suit, a nice contrast to the old man who nearly killed me.

  The man stood before the classroom’s podium to speak, before commanding some students to retrieve something from the nearby cabinets. Those students took out boxes, opened them, and passed around a bunch of wooden coins with different engravings.

  I looked around the room to see the others’ reactions. Some immediately snatched them while others simply looked at them or gave them to their neighbor or someone else in the room.

  I turned to the teacher, further observing their actions, but he didn’t do anything. Just stood there, staring with a plastered smile. He only turned to look from one side of the room at irregular intervals like an old security camera.

  I’m guessing whatever lesson is being taught today involves these wooden coins. What do I do with them?

  The student closest to me pocketed their share of coins before making eye contact. He scowled at me, clutching his coins.

  I took my share of coins and stuffed them in my pocket.

  Actually…

  I recalled a drawstring pouch I owned in my past life. It was used to store Scrabble tiles inside the box.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Visualizing it would be easy, but creating it with this many people around would be risky, maybe if I manifest it in a way that made it seem like I had it on me this whole time…

  I reached into my empty left pocket, pretending to dig for something. Then, I imagine a drawstring pouch and crumbled it in my mind, before placing it in my closed hand. Then, I felt an odd sensation in my left hand.

  When I pulled it out and unfurled my hand, the drawstring pouch I imagined sat crumbled in the palm of my hand. I opened the pouch and placed all of the wooden coins I had been given before tightening and stuffing the pouch in my left pocket. Then I sat comfortably in my seat, quietly observing the others’ affairs.

  Compared to the previous 2 classes, whatever was going on here didn’t feel as involved. Students were mostly kept to themselves, doing their own thing. A few of them were even talking to their classmates in front of the teacher, which is something you’re scolded for, for reasons like not paying attention or being a distraction, whatever disrupted the lesson being taught.

  And because it didn’t feel as involved, it was much harder to discern the exact subject or lesson being taught in this room.

  Maybe I should just wait it out? From what the other students are doing, interaction didn’t seem necessary.

  I took a glance at the lone students to see what kept them occupied. They seemed to be writing on a worksheet.

  I looked at the student next to me. They seemed to be napping in their seat.

  Is this one of those classes you don’t need to take too seriously to graduate?

  It’d be nice if it were, then it’d be one less class to worry about. But I need to figure out this class’s purpose before I can safely make that conclusion.

  Nothing in the classroom’s design was an obvious indicator of what was being taught. The only thing I had to go by was the wooden coins everyone was given and the worksheets I saw. I’m tempted to get up and walk around, but I don’t have a reason to.

  Why coins?

  Is there some system in place exclusive to this classroom that rewards or requires these things? No. From how they were distributed, it doesn’t feel like a reward, but a tool for something.

  I saw a few students exchanging them. Is the goal to get as many as possible? Maybe, but I didn’t get that impression from how everyone handled them.

  I’ll play it safe and hold onto them.

  For the next hour or so, I sat in the classroom, silently watching everything going on. It wasn’t until I saw students getting up that I realized it was finally time for my fourth class.

  …

  That wasn’t too bad. As long as I don’t participate too much in their lessons, I won’t have to worry about not being found out for being incapable of learning.

  Can I keep that up for a week? A month?

  I stopped just shy of the 4th classroom’s entrance.

  How am I supposed to adjust to student life when I don’t know how to overcome this language barrier? Being able to understand is the most basic requirement of any class.

  Even if I were to commit all of my time to achieving even a fraction of fluency, I wouldn’t be able to learn at the pace required by my classes. The thought of having to juggle learning a new language alongside deciphering the lessons and affairs of this school made my head hurt. A pain more annoying than having to calculate the best possible move sequence in a game of chess when the board state is ambiguous.

  Well… running away isn’t an option either. I’ll just have to figure it out somehow.

  Just as I was about to step through the door, I heard a familiar voice reach my ears.

  Turning around, it was my summoner.