September 16 (Monday)
2:03 PM
As Cosma Ibana firmly planted herself in the empty third-row seat of the Window-Backyard section, she immediately deployed her defensive protocol. She grabbed her smartphone, locked her eyes onto the screen, and scrolled endlessly, maintaining a strict business-as-usual facade to block out the surrounding noise.
Back in the fourth row, on the opposite side of the room near the door-hallway section, the sudden migration did not go unnoticed. Niewi Voeliè and Mira Palida exchanged completely bewildered glances.
"Ha? Why did she swap seats?" Niewi asked casually, leaning in to whisper to Mira.
"I don't know eh," Mira replied, shrugging off the anomaly. "Anyway, let's continue."
A few seats away in the second row, Jiro Sanata had witnessed the entire abrupt maneuver. His Apex Strategist mind briefly calculated the shifting social dynamics, but the resulting data was irrelevant to his current objectives. He simply shrugged it off, cranked up the volume on his earphones, and went straight back to his digital isolation.
As the minutes ticked by, more BEEd 1-A students filtered into the classroom. The ambient noise level spiked. Several cohorts passing by the front rows took a moment to warmly greet their Commander, Hidy Medona, who was finally back on campus and looking fully recovered from her weekend sickness.
Around 2:10 PM, the volume in the room doubled as the Bisaya Alliance officially spawned into the arena.
Mona Patori, Cicille Masha, and Ivyn Giron marched in, talking out loud in rapid, rapid-fire Bisaya. Their conversation was punctuated by Ivyn's signature, booming laughter that echoed against the concrete walls.
As they claimed their seats right beside Mira and Niewi, the gossip pipeline was instantly activated. Niewi discreetly waved her hand, signaling Ivyn to lean in for a whispered intel drop.
"You know, Cosma suddenly swapped seats," Niewi confided, her tone laced with confusion. "We don't know why."
Ivyn glanced over her shoulder, completely unbothered by the territorial shift. "Uh, maybe she only wanted to swap seats eh."
Their eyes drifted across the aisle. Cosma was sitting in the third row, her phone still in hand, but she was now actively engaged in a fun, lively conversation with Tiffany Diez, who was seated right in front of her. Joining the chat were Cristel Basha and Rechele Eve, creating a completely new social circle while completely freezing out her original party members in the fourth row.
The cold shoulder was practically radiating across the classroom.
2:27 PM
The chaotic hum of Room 406 was silenced as the 28-year-old Elite Educator, Mr. Jimmy Brackin, finally stepped through the doorway.
The logistical setup was already flawless. Thanks to the Class Escort, Jesper Arufe, the extension cord was plugged in and the Smart T.V. was powered on, waiting for an input signal. Mr. Brackin didn't waste a second; he immediately connected his tablet to the screen via screencast as he walked to the teacher's table.
"Okay, so, uh," Mr. Brackin greeted, his voice calm and approachable. "Have you all finished your historical analysis?"
"Yes po, Sir," the BEEd 1-A class responded in unison.
"Alright, uh, submit it to me now," Mr. Brackin instructed. "Uh, just pass the activity forward."
A wave of rustling papers swept through the room as the physical documents were handed down the rows. As Mr. Brackin carefully received the stacks, organizing them neatly on his desk, he scanned the room.
"Is this all of it?" he asked.
A heavy, guilty silence hung over a specific section of the class. A few students awkwardly raised their hands, admitting they hadn't finished the heavy writing assignment yet.
Mr. Brackin paused. The strict, unyielding academic system usually demanded immediate zeros for missing outputs, but the Elite Educator operated on a different frequency.
"Okay, so, I will extend it until this Wednesday, next meeting," Mr. Brackin announced reasonably. "Is that okay for you?"
The panicked students exhaled a massive sigh of relief, respectfully agreeing to the merciful deadline extension.
With the administrative requirements cleared, the academic timeline shifted forward. The discussion officially began.
Mr. Brackin initiated a recall sequence for the first topic they had tackled during their previous meeting, instantly activating the class's recitation mode. He highlighted the foundational background of History, breaking down the Greek word historia—meaning learning by inquiry—and citing the iconic definitions laid down by Aristotle and other modern writers.
Then, he smoothly transitioned to the main topic of the day: Sources of Historical Data.
Mr. Brackin discussed the lesson thoroughly, his voice projecting clearly across the room. As the heavy historical lore dropped, the BEEd 1-A cohort went into a frantic data-archiving mode.
Pens scratched furiously against paper. Cristel Basha was meticulously writing in her notebook. Hidy Medona was taking structured notes in hers. Mekayla Sano was organizing data in her heavy binder, while Hurd Onasa scribbled rapidly on a yellow pad. Anila Bakuda and Mona Patori were locked in, writing non-stop. Even Jiro's seatmate, Princess Cleria, was heavily focused, continuously copying the bullet points onto her yellow pad paper.
Meanwhile, Jiro sat perfectly still.
His internal monologue was running a completely different kind of calculation. Wait… should I also take notes or just take pictures of the slides… uh… well, I hope there is no quiz later.
He deployed his ultimate energy conservation tactic. He didn't pick up his pen. He didn't even raise his phone to snap a picture. He just leaned back, deciding to passively absorb the audio while completely ignoring the physical labor of writing.
While Mr. Brackin was deeply immersed in defining the nature of Relics as a primary source, a hand shot up from the fifth row, right beside the aisle.
It was the FEC Representative, Deanne Parina.
Mr. Brackin paused his lecture. "Uh, yes, miss?"
"Sir, will you send the ppt in the GC?" Deanne asked brightly. She immediately pointed a finger at her seatmate to deflect the aggro. "Jerline said it eh."
Jerline Rama's eyes widened in shock. She playfully slapped Deanne's arm. "Luh, I didn't say it hahahaha!" she protested, laughing at the sudden betrayal.
Mr. Brackin smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Uh, no. I don't send ppts in the GC ah. But, you may try to look in our Google Classroom, I already sent a module copy there, and it is the same here."
"Okay po, Sir. Thank you po," Deanne nodded, satisfied with the digital alternative.
Mr. Brackin resumed the discussion. But as the afternoon dragged on, the environmental mechanics outside began to shift. The sky turned heavily overcast, a gloomy, dark gray that filtered out the remaining sunlight. A light, steady rain began to tap against the roof.
Inside the classroom, the combination of the cool, damp air and the heavy historical narrative triggered a massive status effect.
Jiro's energy bar was hitting a critical low. He found himself yawning repeatedly, desperately trying to keep his eyes open as he stared blankly at the Smart T.V.
Man, History is the number 1 sleepy subject, Jiro grumbled in his internal monologue, fighting the heavy pull of sleep. Plus it is so gloomy outside. I hate this.
Finally, around 4:12 PM, the saving grace arrived.
"Alright, we will end here," Mr. Brackin announced, disconnecting his tablet. "Review well, because I will conduct two quizzes on the next meeting, this Wednesday ah."
The class groaned internally at the double-quiz threat, but the professor wasn't done dropping academic bombs.
"And also, your prelim examination in RPH will be on September 25, next Wednesday," he added cleanly.
The cohort frantically noted the boss fight date in their calendars. With the final warnings delivered, Mr. Brackin grabbed his things and smoothly exited the room.
The moment he stepped out into the hallway, the academic peace shattered.
The Class Treasurer, Lindsey Soliko, instantly activated her walking toll booth protocol. She marched straight to the front of the room, aggressively slamming her hand against the teacher's table to get everyone's attention.
"Oy guys, our class funds!" Lindsey yelled out, her merchant aura flaring. "Especially those who still have debts from August ah!"
A chaotic scramble ensued. Some students expertly dodged her line of sight, making a break for the exit, while others reluctantly approached the desk to clear their financial debts.
Meanwhile, back in the fourth row, a completely different post-battle ritual was taking place.
Niewi was standing up, casually combing her hair. Mira and Ivyn were standing beside her, stretching their legs, while Cicille and Mona remained seated, heavily focused on their blush compact mirrors for a quick touch-up before braving the commute.
Suddenly, a group began walking down the aisle toward the door.
Cosma Ibana was passing by, walking alongside Tiffany, Cristel, Zherel, and Rechele.
Seeing her former party member, Niewi immediately called out to her. "Uy, Cosma!"
Cosma stopped for a fraction of a second. She turned her head, looking directly at Niewi and Mira. Her expression was completely unreadable. Without saying a single word, she turned her head back to the front, completely ignoring them, and resumed her lively conversation with Tiffany as they walked out into the hallway.
The cold shoulder was absolute. The spoken truth from earlier had shattered their group dynamics, and the fracture was now entirely visible.
While the silent tension hung in the air, a different coordinated effort was already underway.
Jiro and Lindsey Soliko immediately rallied the rest of Group Falcon. It was time to execute their mandatory NSTP "Adopt-A-Place" activity—the massive, ambitious project they had proposed to clean the campus gymnasium. They gathered around the hallway just outside Room 406, successfully rounding up the team. Mekayla Sano, Windy Viyago, Niewi Voeliè, and Nica Rosa joined the formation.
With the team assembled, they made their way down, navigating the strict DOWN ONLY stairs. As they descended, Lindsey's usual assertive confidence was slightly wavering.
"Uy, I am getting nervous about our NSTP activity eh," Lindsey admitted, talking rapidly as they descended. "We haven't actually done anything yet, and the documentation needs to be submitted tomorrow ah."
They finally reached the ground floor and stepped out toward the gymnasium. The weather conditions had slightly improved; the light rain had stopped, and the concrete ground was slowly beginning to dry up, though the sky above remained heavily overcast.
They approached the campus staff to secure their cleaning supplies. They successfully managed to borrow a single dustpan, one stick broom, and two soft brooms.
With their tools in hand, the group spread out across the gymnasium floor.
But the execution of the "Adopt-A-Place" project was far from a full-scale janitorial operation. They didn't actually intend to deep-clean the massive facility. They just needed the photographic evidence.
Mekayla, Lindsey, and Niewi took the brooms and started casually sweeping small, scattered portions of the dusty floor, ensuring they looked sufficiently busy while Nica trailed them, actively snapping documentation pictures.
Meanwhile, Jiro and Nica broke away from the main sweeping group and scoured the grassy yard just beside the gymnasium. They were on a specific scavenger hunt: plastic bottles, stray cups, and random straws.
Jiro spotted a small cluster of trash near the edge of the grass. "Lindsey, kindly take a picture of this ah," he directed smoothly, pointing at the debris.
A few moments later, Nica struck gold, finding a significantly larger discarded plastic bottle. She immediately called Lindsey over to secure the photographic proof of her discovery.
Jiro stood nearby, keeping his face perfectly neutral, but his internal monologue was absolutely screaming with laughter.
Hahaha, performative cleaning at its finest lol, Jiro mocked internally, highly amused by the sheer efficiency of their staged community service. We are literally just doing it for pictures.
As the documentation phase wrapped up, Lindsey spotted a familiar duo lingering around the corner of the gymnasium. It was Cosma and Tiffany.
Recognizing the opportunity for a high-quality group shot to wrap up their requirement, Lindsey immediately approached them.
"Uy, Cosma! Can you take a picture of us as a group ah? We just finished our adopt-a-place eh," Lindsey requested brightly.
Cosma agreed. The Falcon group quickly arranged themselves just beside the boundary of the gymnasium floor and the grass yard to secure the best natural lighting effect from the overcast sky.
They struck their poses from left to right: Nica held her soft broom with both hands like a staff; Lindsey gripped her stick broom firmly in her left hand; Mekayla posed dramatically while clutching the second soft broom with both hands; Jiro just stood perfectly still, wearing his heavy "Hulk" backpack and casually holding his insulated tumbler in his right hand; and lastly, Niewi balanced their gathered trash, holding a plastic bag containing bond papers in her right hand while gripping a dustpan filled with a meager collection of dust, fallen leaves, and their scavenged plastic cups and straws in her left.
Click. The final documentation was secured.
They thanked Cosma for her camera work. With the task officially complete, the group naturally disbanded.
Cosma quickly rejoined her new circle—Tiffany, Mekayla, Nica, Cristel, Zherel, and Rechele—and they walked off together. Lindsey, still riding the adrenaline of the completed task, decided to roam around the campus grounds, actively hunting for Jachie and Jesper.
Jiro and Niewi, however, took a different route. They walked toward the extreme right wing of the ground floor building, heading straight for the Girls' Restroom. The rest of their original circle—Mira, Ivyn, Cicille, and Mona—were already stationed there, executing their mandatory post-class touch-ups before braving the commute home.
As the massive wave of BEEd 1-A students finally cleared out of the classroom, eager to escape the rainy afternoon, one person remained behind.
Hidy Medona stood near the front of the room, looking at the aftermath.
She let out a heavy, disappointed sigh. The assigned cleaners for the day, Group Charlie, had completely vanished. They didn't sweep the dusty floors. They didn't close the casement windows, leaving the room vulnerable to the incoming rain. They didn't even bother turning off the two spinning ceiling fans.
When a task was assigned to an entire group, it was ultimately completed by no one.
Operating on pure leadership instinct, Hidy walked across the messy room. She manually pulled the casement windows shut, locking them tight against the gloomy weather. She reached up and clicked off the two ceiling fans. Finally, she grabbed her heavy bag, walked out, and pulled the front door closed, leaving the dirty, unswept floor behind in the quiet, darkening classroom.
4:58 PM
As the light rain finally tapered off, leaving the town soaked and humid, Cosma was already miles away from the classroom drama. She was officially running with a new faction—Tiffany, Cristel, Rechele, Zherel, Nica, and Mekayla.
They navigated the local mall, with Tiffany naturally taking the lead. She was basically funding the group's entertainment, buying heaps of tokens to sustain their arcade run. While Cristel, Nica, and Mekayla watched closely, Tiffany repeatedly battled the claw machine. But the arcade machines were completely rigged; the claw's grip strength intentionally dropped at the top, leaving her empty-handed. To recover their morale, they squeezed into a cramped karaoke box, vibing and singing their hearts out as Tiffany continuously fed tokens into the machine. They took aesthetic mirror selfies in the mall restrooms and hit the food court. After successfully blowing off some steam, the group finally disbanded and headed home.
As the evening approached, the group chats began to make noise again.
At exactly 6:30 PM, the Class Treasurer, Lindsey Soliko, dropped a panicked query into the main group chat. She was suddenly uncertain about their ongoing NSTP Adopt-a-Place activity.
Lindsey Soliko: "What is the time of deadline in NSTP po?"
A moment later, the Commander delivered a single, terrifying word.
Hidy Medona: "Tomorrow"
With the deadline officially locked in, Hidy smoothly pivoted to a much more serious administrative issue. The health hazard that had plagued the campus.
Hidy Medona: "Regarding your concerns with the food in the cafeteria, please contact VP @Princess Cleria with your names, just pm, not here. State your concerns so we can also know the total numbers of students who felt inconvenienced by the food."
The Vice President immediately backed her up, deploying her official authority.
Princess Cleria: "Don't be shy or afraid, we need to let you know, that's okay po, we have Dean's blessing and we also have our freedom. So just pm me, we'll write a letter for formality but our Dean (COE) has also been informed."
She provided the required data format:
Full name:
Eaten:
Effect:
Hidy Medona: "But just a reminder, we're doing this out of concern, not to compete with BSN or whoever on campus. It was made clear to the Dean that we just want good quality of foods, let's just avoid expanding it to other courses regarding this. It will be settled through a formal letter, no need to gossip in a bad way about other people who are not involved here. Thank you!"
Despite the heavy, serious atmosphere established by the class leaders, Tiffany casually dropped a massive comedic bomb in the chat.
Tiffany Diez: "Uh, is it not allowed to include the raw siopao and wrinkled siomai with cold inside?"
The tension instantly shattered. A wave of laughing emojis flooded the screen from Reo Bairo, Mira Palida, Gracie Masado, and several other cohorts. The sheer accuracy of the cold, sad siomai was too relatable.
But Hidy wasn't done. She shifted back into her strict Commander role, addressing the absolute mess she had witnessed earlier that afternoon.
Hidy Medona: "Group C, I was one of the last to leave the room, you left the fans on, the windows open, there was a mess on the window, it looks like they didn't sweep because there was a lot of mess on the floor."
She delivered the penalty cleanly.
Hidy Medona: "As much as possible, keep sweeping the room, because it accumulates a lot of dust and dirt later on, let's always maintain sweeping ah. With that being said, Group C will be the cleaners next class meeting, same rules applied for everyone. Let's not make this a habit."
Hidy Medona: "It's not super time-consuming to sweep when the chairs are already in order, less than 30 mins pa."
The cohort silently acknowledged the decree, dropping heart reacts on Hidy's message to confirm their compliance.
The free Tuesday arrived. No classes. But the academic grind continued. Group Falcon spent their designated rest day furiously compiling their performative cleaning pictures, transforming them into a sleek Canva poster before uploading the final documentation to the Google Drive.
As the day dragged on, Cosma Ibana quietly tested the waters of her original circle. She sent a message to the COF - BEEd 1A group chat.
Cosma Ibana: "Uy guys, who has reviewers for RPH, MMW, FIL, and ART?"
She kept it strictly academic. She wasn't prepared to address or explain the heated, unspoken tension from yesterday. Cicille immediately stepped in to help, sending her digital notes to bridge the gap.
Across the town, many BEEd 1-A cohorts spent their day aggressively reviewing for their upcoming quizzes in RPH, and the looming preliminary examinations for MMW, FIL, and ART. But in the afternoon, Hidy dropped another heavy administrative requirement in the BEED 1 UPDATES channel.
Hidy Medona: "Guys, your Adopt-a-Place and LTS tasks should be printed and submitted by Friday po ah, Doc Rick is requesting regular physical copies."
More printing fees. More physical inventory.
September 18 (Wednesday)
It was officially Jayter Celda's 21st birthday. But the town's atmosphere was radiating a completely different, gloomy vibe.
Around 11:10 AM, the Habagat winds dragged a massive, heavy downpour across Taytay. The sudden storm battered the streets, immediately flooding the lower, flood-prone areas of the town. Across the KSU TAYTAY BEED 1-A group chat, students were anxiously holding their phones, desperately waiting for a suspension announcement from the local government or the campus administration.
But the institutional silence remained absolute. Because the torrential rain was only a brief, passing event, the waters quickly receded, and no suspension was declared. The academic grind was mandatory.
12:39 PM
Despite the wet and slippery aftermath of the storm, Jiro arrived at the campus incredibly early. Since he had already bypassed the manual registration line by filling out the online Library ID form yesterday, he was now ready to secure his physical clearance.
He marched down the busy ground floor hallways, bypassing the crowd, and headed for the strict UP ONLY stairs near the extreme left wing of the building.
Because of the brief Habagat downpour, the notorious waterfall stairs were fully active once again. The heavy ceiling leak had turned the concrete steps into a slick, muddy hazard—the exact same treacherous environmental trap Hidy had battled just a few days prior.
Jiro paused for a split second at the bottom step. His Apex Strategist mind instantly calculated the safest path up. He grabbed the handrail for stability, carefully maneuvering his heavy "Hulk" backpack. Having already memorized the architectural betrayal of this specific stairwell, he expertly placed his shoes only on the dry patches of the concrete, effortlessly bypassing the slippery mud and the falling water.
He climbed steadily until he reached the third floor, entering the territory of the White Faction.
Several nursing students were stationed in the hallway just outside the campus library, heavily focused on their tablets. The nearby reading room was completely occupied by more nursing students, their eyes glued to their laptops and screens.
Jiro approached the library door. He took off his heavy "Hulk" backpack, leaving it on the designated steel rack outside. He traveled light, carrying only his printed Certificate of Registration (COR), his wallet containing his 1x1 pictures, a black pen, and his smartphone.
He stepped inside. The library was freezing cold and surprisingly compact. There were only nine bookshelves standing, three plastic tables, and a handful of chairs. The facility's resources were remarkably sparse.
The librarian at the front desk spotted him immediately.
"Yes? What do you need?" she asked efficiently.
"Uh, good afternoon po, ma'am!" Jiro greeted politely. "I will register po for a Library ID Card."
The librarian nodded. "Just wait po. May I take a look at your COR and 1x1, please?"
Jiro immediately handed the required documents over. She inspected the papers, then slid a long registration form across the counter.
"Kindly fill out the form first ah," she instructed.
"Okay po," Jiro noted.
He turned around, locating an empty spot at a table just right behind him. He uncapped his pen and began filling out the bureaucratic requirements: Name, Program, Campus, Contact Number, Student's Signature.
Then, he reached the final box. Student Number.
He wrote it down flawlessly: KSU M2024-06519.
He walked back to the counter and handed the signed form to the librarian. She took it, cross-referencing his written details with the printed COR.
She paused. Her eyes narrowed at the ink.
"Uh... Sanata," the librarian asked, her voice laced with sudden confusion. "Why is your student number registered in the Morong campus?"
Jiro froze. His eyes widened instantly.
Crap.
His internal strategist screamed. The administrative anomaly had finally caught up to him. He was completely ambushed. He hadn't prepared a script for the library registry.
"Uh... a-ay..." Jiro stuttered, his calm deadpan entirely shattered by the unexpected interrogation. "I... uh..."
END OF THE HEATED DISCUSSION