The classroom fell silent as Yuna's voice cut through the air with the precision of a well-honed blade. Her announcement was simple, delivered with cold, unflinching authority:
"Next week, I'm conducting a progress check. Anyone who slacks off will eat nothing but salad. No meat."
For a single, breathless moment, there was stillness—then chaos erupted.
A collective wail of despair tore through the Heart Class, a symphony of outrage and betrayal. Desks rattled as students bolted upright, hands slamming against wood, voices rising in protest.
"That's unfair!"
"Meat is essential for survival!"
"Yuna, have mercy! We're fragile creatures!"
One particularly dramatic soul clutched their chest as if struck by an arrow, gasping, "Mom, you're no longer my mom!"
But Yuna remained unmoved. Arms crossed, expression as blank as a stone monument, she let their cries wash over her without so much as a flicker of sympathy.
"No progress," she repeated, her voice steady, "no meat."
And just like that, the Heart Class was plunged into the depths of despair.
At the front of the room, partially obscured by the ever-present white mask that concealed his features, Professor Veyne observed the scene with quiet amusement. His grey eye glimmered faintly as his fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic pattern against the desk.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
This batch of students…
Far more entertaining than their seniors.
---
Yuna rubbed her temples, her gaze drifting upward as if seeking divine intervention.
She hadn't actually expected her threats to work.
And yet—
Against all odds, her classmates—the same lazy, mischievous gremlins who treated studying like an optional hobby—were now shuffling toward the library like prisoners marching to the gallows. Their feet dragged, their shoulders slumped, and their whimpers of despair filled the air.
"Meat… my precious meat…" one muttered, clutching a book to their chest like a lifeline.
"All this suffering… just to avoid salad… *sniffle*…"
"Yuna, I hope you step on a tiny wooden block."
'There are no Legos in this world,' Yuna thought dryly, choosing to ignore their theatrics.
Yet, despite their complaints, they were trying.
It was almost surreal.
The library, usually a sanctuary of silence and solitude, had been invaded by the Heart Class. Dusty tomes were yanked from shelves, pages flipped frantically, and hushed (but dramatic) whispers filled the air. They were *studying*—desperately cramming the material Professor Veyne recommended, as if their very survival depended on it.
…Which, in a way, it did.
'Food is life,' Yuna mused, watching them with a blank expression.
A small realization struck her.
'Threats work on these idiots.'
She mentally filed that away for future use.
---
As Yuna sifted through her survey results again, she couldn't help but sigh. The data was… depressing.
Most of her classmates were barely functional when it came to magic. The majority excelled only in Caster magic—the most basic, most rudimentary form of spellcasting.
'It's the first thing any mage learns,' she thought, exasperated.
Advanced magic? Specialized techniques? Forget it.
Only *one* person had even *attempted* to learn multiple magic types—and even then, his progress was laughable.
Her eyes flicked to the name on the survey:
The Alchemist Boy with Glasses.
She glanced up, spotting him in a corner of the library. He sat hunched over a massive, ancient-looking book, adjusting his glasses with scholarly intensity. His posture screamed dedicated academic.
'…Looks can be deceiving.'
This was the same boy who, just last week, had nearly gotten the entire class expelled after one of his homemade stink bombs detonated in the hallway.
'Heart Class almost became Stink Class.'
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
If only he could channel his intelligence into something *productive* instead of chaos.
Among the ability users, Yuna didn't even count herself. Sure, her natural elemental affinity was strong—but she had never tested it in a fight. Fighting wasn't her style. Not now, not ever.
According to her survey, the strongest ability user in the class was—
The Dainty Boy with Illusion Magic.
Yuna squinted at his name, then at the boy himself.
Across the library, he sat with perfect posture, sipping tea as if he were at a noble garden party rather than studying combat techniques. His fingers turned each page with delicate precision, his expression serene, almost bored.
'…Why does he look like he's reading poetry instead of battle strategies?'
He and the Diamond Class's prim-and-proper instructor would probably get along scarily well.
And then there were the warriors.
The supposed strong fighters.
The strongest among them?
Theo.
The lazy, bow-wielding menace.
Yuna's gaze slid to where he sat—or rather, didn't sit.
Theo was asleep.
The book meant for studying was now serving as a makeshift pillow.
'Of course.'
Her strongest warrior was a napping sloth.
Yuna leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers to her suffering.
'Did the academy just dump all the weakest and weirdest students into Heart Class?'
Yuna strongly suspect it but she has no concrete proof..
The evidence she had was damning.
- Lack of combat-ready individuals.
- Chaotic, unmotivated personalities.
- No clear direction or specialization.
It was *too* suspicious.
Her fingers drummed against the table.
'Do I really have to analyze each of them and plan their growth myself?'
Her eye twitched.
'That's a teacher's job!'
But Professor Veyne seemed content to sit back and watch the chaos unfold.
'No. Absolutely not. I refuse to do his job for him. I'm going to continue dragging him to work with me.'
She groaned internally.
'I'm basically an unpaid teaching assistant at this point.'
For a brief, blissful moment, she considered dropping out.
But then—
The image of her grandfather's hopeful face of passing out a prestigious academy flashed in her mind.
'…Damn it.'
She had come too far to quit now.
With a deep, resigned sigh, Yuna closed her eyes and repeated her personal mantra:
"Work hard now, rest later."
It was her coping mechanism.
Her way of convincing herself that if she suffered *enough,* she'd eventually earn the right to be lazy.
…Even though, so far, that "later" never seemed to come.
--
As Yuna observed her classmates—some studying with desperate determination, others napping without a care in the world—she couldn't help but wonder:
'Is there actually potential here?'
Buried beneath the laziness, the chaos, the stink bombs and tea-sipping illusions… was there something more?
Or was the Heart Class truly just a dumping ground for the academy's weakest links?
Only time would tell.
But for now—
"Meat…" a voice whimpered from across the library.
Yuna smirked.
At least she had *one* effective motivator.
---