I stood in front of the tall iron gate, my bag in hand, and the air was still. No students. No teachers. No noise. Just me… and my father's decision, which I still didn't understand.
He said, "This is the next stage of your life, Naros. This school will turn you into a man."
"A man?"
I laughed quietly to myself. I was the one who corrected my teachers in class and solved the school's problems with a few words. Still… I didn't say no. Not because I agreed, but because I can adapt to anything I try. I reached for the gate… pushed it slowly, then walked inside.
The first hallway appeared. It was quiet. There were cameras, numbers on the walls, numbered dorm rooms, and a wide mirror on the wall. I looked at my reflection—my gray eyes checked to make sure my soft black hair was perfectly styled. Then I adjusted my tie. I smiled slightly. My appearance and first impression mattered more than anything today.
At that moment, a side door opened with a mechanical sound. A tall man stepped out. He had dark brown hair, wore glasses that hid his green eyes, and dressed in a teacher's uniform. He stood in front of me firmly, without greeting or smiling.
Teacher (in a flat voice): "Name?"
I slowly turned to him, didn't answer right away. I took one step forward, looked him straight in the eye… and calmly said:
"Naros."
He was silent for a moment, then wrote something on the tablet he held.
Teacher (without looking up): "You'll stay in Room 17."
I nodded slowly and kept walking down the hallway. I stopped in front of a small gray door. The number 17 was carved into a black metal plate above it. I put my hand on the handle and opened the door.
The room was very simple. One bed, a closet, a desk, and a small shelf with only one book:
"Student Guide – Level One."
I closed the door behind me. I walked to the bed, placed my bag on it, and started arranging my things. I hung my clothes in the closet, put my notebook on the corner of the desk, and finally sat on the chair, resting my face on my hands.
Suddenly, the screen on the wall lit up, showing the words:
"Welcome to Primera Elite High School."
Moments later, the screen changed. The school logo faded, replaced by a black background with a single white eye blinking slowly. Then, a robotic voice spoke:
Voice: "Hello, Naros. Thank you for arriving on time."
I raised an eyebrow as I watched the screen. There was no visible camera, but clearly, they could see me.
Voice: "We're happy to welcome you to the first stage of the Primera education program. You'll have two hours to settle in before your first official step. All students will gather in the main hall at exactly 6:00 PM."
The screen turned off suddenly. Silence returned. I looked at the digital clock on the wall — it was 4:05.
I smiled a little, pushed the chair back, stood up, and walked to the shelf. I picked up the book
"Student Guide – Level One"
and opened the first page.
"Discipline, Excellence, Obedience."
Short words… but they reminded me of something more familiar than I liked to admit. I set the book aside and was about to lie down, but a faint sound broke the silence — footsteps, whispers, then the sound of suitcase wheels dragging on the floor.
I quickly got up and went to the gray door. I looked through the small peephole.
The hallway was no longer empty. Students were arriving. Their faces looked tired and tense. One girl had long pink hair tied with a white ribbon. She was hugging a small doll even though she looked like a teenager. A tall boy was laughing loudly as he pushed his suitcase with his foot instead of his hand.
Then someone caught my attention — a boy entered from the main door, walking confidently. His hair was blonde with orange streaks, styled in a wild, messy way. His eyes were bright turquoise. Under his right eye, there was a tattoo of three black stars. He moved as if the school was his playground. He threw his bag on the floor carelessly, spun in a circle while admiring the tall walls and decorated ceiling, then whistled a cheerful tune.
He greeted everyone he passed with casual finger signs, as if he knew them for years. He walked up to a camera, winked at it, raised his eyebrows, and laughed loudly, not caring who heard him. I stared at him for a few seconds, then let out a small breath. Annoying type… but interesting to watch.
That blonde guy… fast, spontaneous, bold without a care. His body moved like his brain wasn't planning anything. He just acted. He'll definitely be one of the most popular students. People like him attract others easily. But he's dangerous… the charming troublemaker. He'll steal attention, cause chaos from nothing, and make others rebel just by being himself.
Then I noticed another one… a thin boy with silver hair and violet eyes. He was walking while staring nervously at the floor, shoulders slouched, hands shaking. That's him. Every group has one like this — the weak student, easy to control, to break, to use. He'll follow whoever gives him a sense of safety… and might collapse early if no one does.
Another boy walked by, talking to himself like he was memorizing a speech. Next to him, a girl walked in perfect steps, no emotion on her face, holding a small notebook and writing in it.
After a while, the footsteps faded, and the whispers stopped. It seemed like everyone had found their room. But then… something caught my eye.
I looked again through the peephole — above the main school door was a small digital screen I hadn't noticed before. It glowed faint red and showed a number that changed almost every minute:
[ 21 / 25 ]
Probably the number of students who had arrived. I kept watching.
[ 22 / 25 ]
[ 23 / 25 ]
One student arrived every minute. Then…
[ 24 / 25 ]
And it stopped. One minute passed… then two… five. No one came. Who was this late student? Strange. The school seemed strict and exact — how could someone be late? Is he careless? A rebel? Or just… doesn't care?
Whoever it was… arriving late to a place like this is foolish. I walked back to the center of the room and sat down again, this time keeping my eyes on the door. I wanted to see this last student with my own eyes.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps again. The same teacher who greeted me stepped out from the side room, walking beside a woman in glasses who looked more nervous than him.
Female teacher: "He's the only one left, Student Number 16… Krayne."
Male teacher (coldly): "He's over 30 minutes late. That's unacceptable."
They passed by my room, their voices fading. Then… suddenly, the main door opened. I lifted my head quickly and looked through the peephole.
Krayne entered… the final student. He walked slowly, but without any nervousness — just complete indifference.
He wore the school uniform… but in a rebellious way. His black jacket had skull and crossbones symbols on the collar. Below that was a dark design that looked like black roots — a symbol known in emo culture. Around his neck was a shiny metal collar with spikes, not something you'd expect in a school… but he wore it proudly.
His hair was messy, thick, and blond — like he hadn't brushed it in months. His eye was pale yellow, with dark circles under it. His skin looked tired and pale. His right eye was covered by a black patch, adding to his strange and mysterious look. Worst of all… he was smoking, right inside the school. He took a deep drag from the cigarette, then dropped it on the floor and crushed it with his shoe — as if this whole building meant nothing to him.
The teacher stopped in front of him.
Female teacher (awkwardly): "A-Are you Student Number 16?"
Krayne didn't answer. He just pulled out his student ID from his pocket and held it up slowly without looking at anyone. The male teacher stood in front of him, trying hard to control his anger.
Male teacher (angrily): "Do you realize what you've done? Smoking a cigarette inside the school in front of everyone! That is completely unacceptable."
Here is the full continuation of your translation in easy English, maintaining the tone and style while naming the teachers as male teacher and female teacher as requested:
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He pointed to the ground where the cigarette was still lying.
Male teacher: "Pick up this mess. Now!"
Krayne let out a quiet laugh, full of mockery.
Krayne: "You think I'm here to follow your orders? I'm not a child you can control with rules whenever you like!"
He stepped forward and shouted at him sharply:
"No one tells me what to do! You think this school can break me? I'm too much for your fake rules."
The male teacher took a step back, trying to stay calm, but his anger was showing.
Male teacher: "Watch your words, or I'll be forced to take disciplinary action."
Krayne shrugged without care, then looked down.
Krayne (muttering): "Do whatever you want. It won't change me."
The female teacher stood silently beside them, watching nervously but didn't step in. The male teacher's face tensed with more anger as he listened to Krayne's bold challenge.
Male teacher (raising his voice): "If you think you can insult the system and challenge authority like this, you're wrong! This is not a place for chaos. It's a school, and you will respect its rules! Now go to your room and clean the floor — or face the consequences."
Krayne looked at him with eyes full of fire, then threw sharp words back at him:
Krayne: "You think I need your orders? Just show me my room. I'll go. But don't expect me to be your slave."
The male and female teacher exchanged confused glances before the female teacher finally pointed down the hallway — the same one where my room was.
Female teacher (firmly): "Room 16. Next to Room 17."
Krayne walked toward his room with heavy, deliberate steps. The male teacher stood behind, watching him with silent anger. After Krayne entered his room, I couldn't stop thinking about him and his violent attitude.
Who is this guy who fears no one, respects no rules, and challenges everything so confidently? He's not just a rebel… there's pain inside him. Or maybe some deep anger still waiting to explode.
Krayne entered his room without caring about the mess. He tossed his bag onto the floor as if it were a heavy burden. He looked around briefly, then walked toward the window and opened it. From his bag, he pulled out a worn-out ashtray and placed it carelessly on the table. He opened his pack of cigarettes and lit one with his metal lighter.
He inhaled the smoke calmly, letting the cough shake his chest without concern. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the gray cloud rising from his mouth was easing the weight of everything.
An hour and a half passed like I was preparing for a battle. I checked my appearance one last time: tie straight, hair perfectly styled, shoes shining like they never touched the ground. I opened my door and stepped out into the hallway with slow, confident steps.
I closed the door silently and walked toward the stairs. I saw a sign pointing to the meeting hall in the basement. I could hear voices now — laughter, questions, and a mix of tension and excitement. I didn't react much, but I watched everything from the corner of my eye.
This was the first impression… the moment when everyone's place is decided. Who gets noticed. Who gets ignored. Who becomes a leader… and who becomes a follower.
When I reached the ground floor, some students were already gathering near the hallway that led to the main hall.
I walked among them without saying a word, but I knew they were watching me. My looks, my calm, my measured steps — none of it was by accident. I was creating an image. I heard one student whisper to his friend while looking at me:
"Who's that? Looks like he came from a fancy party."
I smiled slightly, but didn't answer. When we reached the hall, a large metal door opened slowly, pushed by one of the teachers. We entered.
The hall was huge, with a tall ceiling. At the front stood a wide stage, covered by a closed gray curtain. Above it hung a massive black screen — it wasn't showing anything yet.
The floor was clean, covered in dark carpet. Facing the stage were exactly twenty-five chairs, placed with perfect precision. I paused for a second. They had planned everything from the beginning.
Students began entering one by one. Some whispered in surprise, others walked straight to the front row like they wanted attention. That blond guy — still nameless — jumped onto a chair playfully and sat like he was in his own home. A few girls sat close together, clearly nervous.
The silver-haired boy hesitated before picking a corner seat in the back, as if he wanted to disappear. Just as I expected — the weak ones always pick the corners.
Krayne… came in late, as always. One hand in his pocket, his whole presence screaming "I don't care." He picked a chair in the middle without looking at anyone and leaned forward silently. I sat in the middle of the front row.
Two girls sat in the same row as Krayne — one right next to him, the other beside her. At first, they didn't notice him because he was so quiet. But then… the smell of smoke reached them before anything else.
The first girl suddenly lifted her head and looked at him while covering her nose with her sleeve.
First girl (whispering to her friends, leaning away): "His smell… it's suffocating."
The second girl glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then quickly looked down, as if guilty for thinking the same. Krayne turned suddenly and stared at them — coldly, darkly, with a broken look no one could understand.
Under his messy hair, the black circles around his visible eye were deep, and the patch over the other only made him look scarier.
Krayne (quietly, with no emotion): "Got a problem?"
The first girl had brown hair tied in a simple ponytail and brown eyes. She forced a friendly smile and answered nervously:
First girl (awkwardly): "Oh… no, it's just… the cigarettes. I have a bit of a sensitivity, nothing serious."
Her friend stayed silent. Her black hair covered her pink eyes. She looked at Krayne for only a second, then quickly looked away. Her gaze was deep… but afraid. She didn't speak, but her hands clenched around her small notebook — a sign of how uncomfortable she felt.
Krayne looked straight ahead again… didn't say a word. But he felt them. He felt their discomfort, their unspoken words. And he didn't care.
I turned my gaze forward again — just as the door opened once more.
A girl walked in with firm steps, her eyes scanning the hall like she was evaluating it. Her hair was pure white, tied back in a tight ponytail. She wore glasses, and her sharp orange eyes sparkled with focus.
Her uniform was pressed too perfectly — I could tell right away she couldn't stand mess. She walked up to the front row, paused as she looked at the chairs, then looked at me.
Girl (clearly and directly): "Is this seat taken?"
I gave a small nod.
"No."
She sat beside me immediately, as if entering a board meeting, not a school. She pulled out a small notebook and pen, and quietly started writing. Then she suddenly looked at me and asked quickly:
"I'm Irissa. Number 02. And you?"
I gave her a small smile and replied:
"Naros. Number 17."
Everyone had taken their seats when the lights suddenly turned off. A few seconds passed. Then the giant black screen above the stage lit up and showed one sentence:
"Welcome to Level One."
Some students exchanged surprised looks, while others tried to analyze what was happening. Then… the curtain slowly opened, revealing the stage.
A man in his forties stood in the middle. His hair was red with white strands, and his green eyes were sharp. His beard and mustache were trimmed perfectly. He wore a neat suit — no badge, no symbol — but his presence was powerful.
He took a step forward, smiled lightly, and said in a clear, deep voice:
"Welcome, everyone. I know you're all wondering what's going on, but let me be clear from the start:
This school… is not ordinary."
A heavy silence filled the hall.
He continued:
"Our education system here is nothing like what you've seen before. There are no regular classes, no teachers moving from room to room, and no memorized lessons repeated every year."
"Tomorrow, at exactly 7:00 AM, your first test will begin… the Placement Test."
"And remember… from this moment on… everything you do is being watched."
Then the screen turned off. The lights went out again. And silence fell over everything.
To be continued…