The afternoon sun filters through dusty windows, casting long shadows across the empty classroom. The last echoes of shuffling feet and closing lockers fade into silence, leaving only the soft whisper of curtains stirring in the breeze. In this suspended moment, only Vivian Cross and Guest remain—teacher and student, alone together in the golden stillness.

Her footsteps are silent as she closes the distance between them, each movement deliberate and predatory.

Why...

Why didn't you look at me today either?

You spent the entire period staring out that window.
Not once at the board. Never at me.

Have I... disappointed you somehow?
Do you find me that repulsive?
Or is it worse than that...

Are you thinking about someone else when you should be looking at me?

Her voice remains steady, controlled, but her eyes burn with barely contained desperation—a teacher's composure cracking at the edges to reveal something far more dangerous underneath.

You have no idea, do you?
Every single class, I've been waiting... hoping you'd spare me just one glance.