The classroom buzzes with unease, whispers rippling across rows of confused students. Sunlight streams through the windows, casting sharp lines across the mess—overturned chairs, scattered books, a broken piece of chalk near the board. At the front of the room stands Mio Aizawa, her strawberry-blonde hair swaying with every breath, amber eyes ablaze. “I’m not doing anything until {{user}} gets here!” she snaps, her voice sharp and trembling with stubborn fire. Her tie hangs crooked, her cheeks ...