The school bell rang and birds scattered away due to shock.
Classes, however, were not dismissed by the sound of it.
The sound of the bell meant something different in Colegio de Santo Rafael, school of divinity.
It was a horrible thing. But it had been so commonplace that it did not matter to the students anymore.
Braham "Bunny" Lee, who stood in front of the teacher’s desk, waited alongside his students for the bell to dissipate.
His long blond hair fell into ribbons when he averted his gaze away from the bell that can be seen through the arched windows of the classroom.
Braham should’ve been used to it by now.
The bell’s ringing gradually lowered and eventually stopped.
The students in front of him were only chatting amongst each other to pass the time, to wait for the bell’s ringing to go past.
One was even fixing her makeup, eyeing herself in a handheld mirror.
One was drawing an eye.
Another was pulling a girl closer to him by the waist...
These students...Braham gritted his teeth.
This wasn’t normal.
This shouldn’t be commonplace.
They should be concerned that one of their schoolmates had passed.
But there was not a spark of worry in the eyes of the students.
Not even Horace, who sat in the backmost, writing notes, seemed to give a damn.
He was still a student here, Braham reckoned. A child.
Chalk in one hand, Braham steeled himself and continued to teach.
"All right, class. Now, onto..."
When the bell, which stood tall in a rook at floor 68th of the tower of Babel, rang, it meant the death of a student, a fellow mage.
Second period, Supernatural Anatomy I, ended in a jiffy.
Braham, leaning on a wall, watched his students leave the classroom one by one or by cliques.
Some students had been lonesome since the beginning of the first year. It was strange to someone like Braham, who had always been extroverted, for someone to not even speak at least once with a classmate.
Not even friendly small talk?
He’d find himself thinking such arrogant things by himself.
Despite the Colegio’s regulations, Braham flicked a match against the concrete wall and lit the cigar with it.
Colegio de Santo Rafael was a school that focused on mysticism and the esoteric arts, though other tracks existed in this school as well.
Braham himself taught Supernatural Anatomy, a subject in which they taught about werewolves, nephilim, behemoths, and other supernatural species.
It was a subject he was interested in, but never dabbled with it firsthand.
He was a teacher, not a mercenary!
Still, he’d like to see a werewolf one day...He has seen behemoths and, he thought with an unpleased expression, they were kind of ugly.
Braham, taking a drag of the cigar, analyzed the bunch of second-year students as they left.
They came in flocks, gleeful.
He was waiting for someone.
These students were under the impression that the world was so vast.
They don’t know, thought Braham. They don’t know a damn thing.
This world of which they thought was so vast...was actually a simple floor in a certain tower.
"Four-Eyes."
"Haven’t I told you that that’s not my pseud?"
Horace "Four-Eyes" Jameson knitted his thick brows, his spectacles moving as result.
He was last to leave the classroom, as always. Maybe it was a respect thing. But, thought Braham, weren’t you older than them?
"I’m Rat!"
"Mouse," said Braham, "fits you better, I’d say."
You’re as cute as a mouse! Braham wanted to say, but dared not to.
"Fuck you, Bun."
The banter between them was something Braham enjoyed. He roared in laughter.
Horace, a third year studying Bachelor of Arts in Supernatural Studies, was his beloved intern.
Braham looked back on the olden days.
When Horace was a first year, he was a quiet person who did not interact with any of his classmates.
He was skinnier before, and had only gained a few kilos halfway through his second year.
Braham recalled that nonchalant, yet snarky look that Horace used to always have on. Every time he’d get approached he’d look at them all annoyed, brows furrowed, and mouth shaped in disgust.
He was kinder-looking now, he thought.
Braham eyed him, and Horace shifted in an uncomfortable fashion.
He never liked being looked at.
The silence between them was common, but it wasn’t always uncomfortable.
Unlike this one.
This one was deafening and suffocating.
Braham looked down from the terrace and watched students of all colors and identities and mage titles running amok.
Not all of them were on good terms, but they were friendly enough to not attack others.
They were happy despite being caged in this...Braham hated saying it.
"It really enrages me, you know."
Horace doesn’t reply for a moment.
He knew what he meant.
"I know, but, soon, they’ll know."
"When exactly is "soon," Rat?" Braham barked. "These people, these pupils will live thinking that there is nothing beyond this world."
This was the fate of someone who lived in the tower.
They all think that their worlds were this small.
Unbeknownst to them, beyond this tower of Babel, was a world of more than a hundred countries and billions of populace.
"They will live thinking small-mindedly."
"They’re young—"
Horace was interrupted.
From Braham’s reaction, Horace knew he shouldn’t have said that.
"Young!" bellowed Braham, erratically flailing his arms. "What of me then? Am I just someone who should watch them all happy, all giddy, full of love?
"They’re mages, for fuck’s sake! They’ll fucking die soon!"
The words of Braham echoed in the corridor, bouncing off the walls. Alongside it is the heartbeat of them both. A sign that, unlike the mage-students of this school, they were still alive.
The bell rang.
A bloodcurdling shriek of a woman.
There was a commotion bigger than theirs downstairs in the quadrangle.
Braham and Horace looked at each other. Braham still looked irritated.
Eventually, after a few staring downs, Braham went ahead and left Horace.
Horace followed suit afterwards.