The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 105: Ethan’s Study Class [3]

After midnight, the school’s faculty building gave off an eerie atmosphere.

The kind you’d expect to see in a horror film—dark, too quiet, and too still, as if something was lurking just out of sight.

And inside one of those buildings, Ethan was holding his first private lesson.

...Maybe his last, too.

"Students your age need to learn something different for a change," Ethan said casually, pacing in front of the chalkboard. "I know my job as a professor is to teach you about monsters, beasts, curses, and all that... and we do that every day in class, don’t we?"

He smiled gently. His tone was calm—too calm.

"But tonight, we’re going to talk about something else. Something more important. Something that will shape your future far more than any monster ever could."

His voice echoed strangely in the cramped room.

No one responded.

They couldn’t.

Because along the walls—barely illuminated by the flickering overhead light—stood several grotesque, humanoid creatures. Tall, gaunt figures with stretched limbs and skin as gray as stone. Their glowing eyes blinked slowly, following every movement. Their bodies twitched and creaked like wooden puppets struggling to stand.

The students tried to focus on Ethan’s words, but it was nearly impossible. The tension in the air was suffocating. A few were shaking visibly. Others clenched their fists to keep from crying.

Some had already stopped breathing normally.

"I believe," Ethan continued, "that your teenage years are not just about combat or test scores. They’re about connection. Friends. Trust. Building bonds that will last. That’s what this phase is about. And yet, none of you seem to grasp that."

He chuckled, brushing chalk dust from his coat. The sound of it scraped against the students’ nerves.

"Now then... let me ask you a question. What do you think your teenage years are supposed to be about?"

His smile was serene. As if the monsters weren’t even there. As if this was just another class discussion.

But no one spoke.

No one dared.

They sat frozen, eyes darting between Ethan and the creatures that were now crawling along the ceiling like giant shadows, their long fingers digging into the stone above.

"Hmm..." Ethan tilted his head. "Not a single answer? That’s disappointing. You’re usually much more chatty during Monster Studies."

He sighed, and then—snap.

A sharp finger snap echoed through the room.

The creatures raised their heads at once, creaking like rusty hinges, their glowing eyes fixed on the students.

A collective gasp filled the air.

Some students covered their mouths.

A few instinctively raised their hands.

"Ah," Ethan said with a pleased nod. "So you are paying attention. Good. Very good."

His gaze settled on a single girl in the crowd.

"Then... let’s hear Keira’s answer, shall we?"

She froze.

Dozens of eyes—human and not—turned toward her.

And Ethan smiled.

As if this was all going according to plan.

Keira’s lips trembled. Her hand was still half-raised, but it felt like her whole arm was numb. The monstrous figures along the walls stared at her, their heads cocked, like wolves curious about prey that hadn’t run yet.

She swallowed hard.

"I..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think... our teenage years are supposed to be about figuring out who we are."

Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in intrigue.

Keira continued, somehow finding steadiness in her voice. "It’s about... making mistakes. Learning from them. Finding what matters to you. The people. The things you want to protect."

Her eyes flicked toward the nearest creature—its long limbs twitching, its jaw distending slightly, as if amused.

"And maybe..." she added, "about having the freedom to feel scared without being punished for it."

The classroom went silent again, but this time, not from fear.

Even the creatures seemed still, if only for a moment.

Ethan stared at her for a few more seconds, his smile lingering just a little too long.

"That’s a very good answer," he said softly.

Then, turning back to the rest of the room, his voice rose, bright and composed, like a teacher casually addressing a classroom—despite the fact that everyone was still tied up and a few of them were visibly trembling.

"Now then, anyone else want to give it a try?" he asked, his tone cheerful.

Silence.

No one spoke. No one even dared to meet his eyes.

Ethan’s smile twitched at the corners.

He slowly scanned the rows of students, his expression still polite but his patience thinning. His eyes finally settled on a muscular student near the back—Ravi—the same boy who had been quietly trying to wriggle free earlier.

"You," Ethan said, pointing at him. "How about you give us an answer this time, Ravi?"

Ravi glared at him, jaw clenched tight.

After a few seconds, he gave in with a low growl. "Isn’t it about... focusing on sports or hobbies? Y’know, doing what you like?"

Ethan’s eyes lit up, nodding as if genuinely pleased.

"That’s a good answer too," he said. "You all really seem to understand youth well. Impressive."

He walked down the row, continuing to call on more students.

One by one, they answered in small voices.

"Making memories..."

"Finding your purpose..."

"Making mistakes and learning from them..."

Ethan nodded at each answer with a warm smile, like a proud teacher during a class presentation.

Even when he reached the last student—a small girl in the far corner—who simply shook her head and whispered, "I... I don’t know," Ethan didn’t lose his smile.

"Haha," he chuckled lightly. "That’s okay. In fact, that’s probably the most honest answer yet."

He turned back to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk. As he wrote, the sound of it scratching against the board echoed eerily in the silent room.

His smile softened.

"I’m sorry, everyone. I lied earlier—there’s no single right answer to that question. Everyone experiences youth in their own way. Some of you might already know what drives you. Some of you might still be searching for it."

He stepped aside and gestured to the board.

"But if someone asked me what youth means..." His eyes flicked toward Keira again, just for a second. "This is what I’d say."

Scrawled across the blackboard in slightly crooked handwriting were the words:

"It is moment of failure, the courage to face it, and the honesty to admit it."

He tapped the last line with the chalk.

"Failure," he repeated. "Isn’t that the most human part of life?"

Then, with a strangely sincere look, he added, "Failure is a lesson. It’s pain, but it’s also... beautiful."

The room remained silent.

Unmoving.

As if even the monsters above were listening.

No one spoke.

The air was heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath. Ethan stepped away from the board, his smile slowly fading into something more unreadable—something that hovered between nostalgia and madness.

He looked over the students again, his hands clasped behind his back like a lecturer at ease.

"Do you know why I’m talking about this?" he asked, almost to himself. "Because I think... all of you are on the verge of forgetting what it means to be young." frёewebnoѵēl.com

His voice remained gentle, but a sharpness had crept into it, barely noticeable at first—like a hairline crack in glass.

"You’re rushing toward something," he said. "Some of you want strength. Others want recognition, power, safety. And in doing that, you’re skipping the most important part—failing. Falling flat. Getting hurt."

He tilted his head.

"You’re scared of looking foolish."

A few students lowered their eyes, not daring to answer. Ethan walked slowly, his footsteps eerily soft on the cold floor.

"I used to be the same, you know," he said with a nostalgic chuckle. "Always trying to be perfect. Always hiding the ugly parts."

He paused in front of Ravi again.

"But you know what happened?"

Ravi didn’t respond, his body tense.

Ethan leaned in just a little, his voice lowering into a whisper only a few could hear.

"I shattered."

Then he pulled away, his usual smile returning like a mask slipping back into place.

"That’s why I’m here. I want you all to understand something very simple." He turned and tapped the words on the board again. Failure is a lesson of life, it’s beautiful.

"You will fail. You must fail. Otherwise, you’ll never grow."

A loud creak echoed above them—one of the creatures shifted, dragging its limbs across the ceiling like it was growing restless. A few students flinched. But Ethan didn’t even glance up.

"Now," he said, brushing chalk dust off his fingers. "Let’s take that understanding a bit deeper, shall we?"

He pulled out a small black notebook from his coat pocket and flipped it open.

"Time for a different kind of lesson. Lesson is topic is Self-sacrifice."

At the word of ’Self-sacrifice’ many of the students flinched, they knew the meaning of that words.

....And that’s why their dear grow stronger then before.

As for Ethan....

He looked toward the front row and locked eyes with Keira again.

"Keira, since you answered first... why don’t you help me with this next part?"

His tone was still polite, his smile just as warm—but there was something in his eyes now.