The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 106: Ethan’s Study Class [4]

The world around Keira had become a distant blur.

Her body sat in that cramped, suffocating classroom—but her mind, her soul, had slipped somewhere far away.

It felt like her life was unraveling before her eyes, one memory at a time.

They say that happens when death is near—your regrets catch up to you faster than your breath.

And for Keira, they came crashing down like a tide.

Shame gnawed at her.

Faces she’d hurt, laughter at someone else’s expense, the quiet sobs of classmates she had ganged up on... all of it returned with cruel clarity.

The most recent memory lingered like a stain—Rin Evans.

She had mocked him, whispered behind his back, made sure others laughed too. For what? A sense of control? To hide her own insecurities?

Now, as her life hung in the balance, she couldn’t help but wonder—

’Was this karma? Is this what I deserve?’

"Now," Ethan’s voice rang out again, yanking her back into the moment. "Onto the next lesson."

He stepped forward with a teacher’s poise and a lunatic’s calm.

"We’ll be learning about self-sacrifice."

The words cut through the silence like a blade.

Keira blinked. "Self-sacrifice...?"

A student near the back stammered, "W-what does that mean... exactly?"

Ethan smiled wider, like a proud parent watching his children take their first steps.

"Yes, self-sacrifice." He let the phrase hang in the air, his gaze sweeping across the terrified students.

"Today," he said gently, "you’ll part ways with who you were. You’ll be reborn."

A soft, almost delighted laugh escaped his throat. It echoed strangely in the small room.

"You’ll learn about self-sacrifice, friendship, respect. You’ll sincerely apologize to the ones you’ve wronged, and—most importantly—you’ll forgive yourselves."

The way he spoke—it should have been comforting. But nothing about his voice was warm. It was like being hugged by a corpse.

His eyes sparkled, not with joy, but with unhinged conviction.

It was clear now. Whatever lines he once had, he’d long since crossed them. The man standing before them wasn’t a teacher anymore—he was a zealot. A believer in some twisted ideology of redemption through suffering.

Then he turned to Keira.

"Keira," Ethan said, his tone still calm, still polite. "Since you answered first... why don’t you help me with this next part?"

She froze.

There was no threat in his voice—no shouting, no harsh gestures. Just a soft invitation.

But the weight of his words landed like a hammer on her chest.

Ethan’s eyes found hers again, and this time, she couldn’t look away.

That smile on his face—still there, still gentle—had something else lurking beneath it now. Something hungry. Something feral.

"...How?" Keira managed to ask.

Her voice was steady. Surprisingly so. Even she didn’t know how she pulled it off.

Ethan’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with an almost childlike excitement.

"Simple," he said. "Become this creature’s food."

"...Huh?" Keira breathed, her mind blanking entirely.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t flinch.

She just stood there, staring at him—unable to comprehend what he had just said.

"Ten minutes," Ethan continued, now pacing in front of the class. "If Keira doesn’t volunteer to become this creature’s meal within ten minutes... I’ll kill every single one of you."

He raised a finger as if giving a friendly reminder. "Ah, ah, ah—no coercion. I hate that kind of thing. I want sincerity."

For a few seconds, no one moved.

The classroom was dead silent, save for the faint, sickening skittering of the centipede at Ethan’s feet.

They understood the words. They knew what he was saying. But their minds rejected it, tried to twist it into some elaborate joke or bluff.

Until someone whispered, "What...?"

Then a voice burst from the back. "Don’t be ridiculous!"

It was a large student—Ravi—his voice full of rage. "What kind of sick joke is this?!"

But Ethan just tilted his head, smiling as if he’d heard the most innocent question.

"I thought you’d say that," he said lightly. "But I wasn’t asking for your opinion. Do I look like I’m joking?"

As if on cue, the massive centipede stirred, lifting its grotesque, armored body and clacking its jaws in the air.

A few students gasped and instinctively pressed back against the wall.

Ethan crouched beside the creature and gently patted its head like a pet dog.

"Shall I prove I’m not joking?" he asked sweetly.

Ravi clenched his fists. "I’ll—"

"Hmm?" Ethan looked up, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You’ll what?"

Ravi opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

There was something in Ethan’s gaze—an unspoken threat that froze him in place.

It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t even anger.

It was certainty.

Certainty that if Ravi moved an inch closer, he’d die.

Everyone in the room could feel it. A current of madness so quiet, so sure, it left no room for doubt.

The minutes ticked by.

And Keira stood still at the center of it all, her heart pounding, her mind spinning.

Her name had been spoken.

Her role had been chosen.

Now the whole room waited—watched—held their breath.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes to decide if she would give herself up...

Or let them all die.

Keira could feel every pair of eyes in the room drilling into her.

Ten minutes.

That’s what he said.

But already, each second felt like an hour.

She looked around.

No one said anything. Not anymore.

Some looked at her with horror. Others with pity. And a few... a few already looked like they were beginning to hope she would do it.

So they wouldn’t have to.

Her throat tightened.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t real. She was just in class. Just wearing her uniform. Just having another regular day in her very normal, very controllable life.

And yet here she was, being offered up to a monster, in front of everyone—by a teacher who still hadn’t raised his voice once.

A small sob broke out to her left.

Keira turned and saw a girl—Maria, she thought her name was.