September 18 (Wednesday)
12:53 PM
The silence in the freezing campus library was completely shattered by a single administrative anomaly.
"Uh... a-ay..." Jiro stuttered, his calm deadpan entirely shattered by the unexpected interrogation. "I... uh..."
The campus librarian narrowed her eyes, further explaining the anomaly on his registration form.
"Uhm, this should be addressed by the campus registrar," the librarian pointed out, tapping the paper. "It should be KSU TA2024 for Taytay eh. But why and how did you get a completely different student number?"
Jiro cleared his throat. His Apex Strategist mind was frantically trying to recalibrate, but he made sure to keep his volume low to respect the library's strict silence.
"Uh, ah, ay, Ma'am, I was transferred po eh from Morong," Jiro explained cautiously. "Or maybe... they didn't change my student number."
While his mouth delivered the polite excuse, his internal monologue was practically vibrating with panic.
I hope that's it. Please, let that be it!Don't trigger a follow-up interrogation, please, please, please!!
The librarian looked at the ink, then back at him, slowly processing the bureaucratic glitch. She finally nodded, acknowledging his transferee status.
"Ah, I see..." she muttered softly.
Jiro's internal thoughts instantly celebrated the successful excuse.
Yes! Finally!!
But the institution is never that merciful. The librarian simply dropped a follow-up inquiry, extending her curiosity into his personal background.
"But what was your first program in Morong, and why did you transfer here?"
Boom.
There she is!! Crap! Follow-up questions!
Cornered by the library counter, Jiro had no choice but to clear the interrogation as quickly as possible. He relied on his strategic reasoning, maintaining his calm, low-volume tone.
"Uhm, Ma'am, it was Construction Technology po," Jiro explained. "And because, uhm, it was quite far from Taytay, so I requested a transfer to this campus po. Yeah, it seems like they really didn't change my student number po."
The librarian listened intently. The logic was sound. The commute from Taytay to Morong was a universally understood nightmare. She finally accepted his complete backstory.
"Ahh, okay," the librarian nodded, sliding the form back toward him. "Anyway, kindly glue your 1x1 picture here, and just wait to obtain your Library ID card. Maybe by next week ah."
Jiro let out a quiet exhale, successfully securing the library requirement. "Okay po, Ma'am. Thanks po!"
He grabbed the glue tube from the counter, secured his 2022 portrait picture onto the designated box, and handed the completed form back to the librarian.
With the registry finally cleared, he exited the freezing room. He retrieved his heavy "Hulk" backpack from the steel rack outside the door, carefully placing his Certificate of Registration, wallet, pen, and smartphone safely back inside.
His next target: The CBA and Utility Office. He needed to purchase the official KSU ID lanyard.
He began his trek down the third-floor hallway, navigating the quiet territory of the White Faction. He passed a series of distinct rooms. First, a fully closed Computer Laboratory. Next, an open but completely unoccupied Speech Laboratory.
He then walked past Rooms 305 and 306. Instead of the strict academic silence he expected, both rooms were in a state of absolute, unsupervised chaos.
There was no professor at the front. Taking full advantage of the absence, a few nursing students had completely hijacked the teacher's table, using the wide wooden surface to comfortably eat their packed lunches out of plastic containers rather than struggling with their cramped, narrow armchairs. The rest of the wooden armchairs were scattered everywhere, shoved into messy, disorganized clusters.
The ambient noise was deafening—a loud mixture of overlapping gossip and echoing laughter. In the corners, groups were huddled together, holding their phones horizontally and furiously tapping the screens as they shouted over a mobile game. Near the back windows, a small group was even standing up, actively practicing a synchronized TikTok dance routine, completely unbothered by the open doorway.
As he continued his walk, he caught a quick glance through the open doorway of the Chemistry Laboratory. The room was packed with CON students, but they weren't mixing chemicals or wearing goggles. They were aggressively shifting from chair to chair in absolute silence.
Ah, Jiro smirked internally. The infamous moving quiz legend. I don't like that high-stakes quiz. Good luck to them.
Reaching the end of the corridor, he smoothly transitioned to the DOWN ONLY stairs. Since he was actually descending to the second floor, he was, for once, perfectly compliant with the strict directional rules of the stairwell.
He stepped onto the second-floor landing and immediately spotted his target. The CBA and Utility Office was situated just a few feet away, right beside the COE and CON Dean's offices.
Jiro politely knocked on the wooden door frame before stepping inside.
The office was sectioned off by a thick glass pane divider. He walked up to the counter and saw a woman stationed at the desk, heavily focused on her computer monitor. Judging by her crisp white uniform, she was a CON professor handling administrative duties for the hour.
Jiro greeted her respectfully and stated his intent to buy the ID lanyard.
The woman nodded, pausing her work to stand up. She grabbed a set of keys from her desk and walked toward a large metal filing cabinet.
"P75 po," she announced calmly over her shoulder.
Jiro instantly swung his heavy bag off his shoulder, unzipped the front compartment, and fished out his wallet. He extracted a crisp, fresh P100 bill.
The woman unlocked the metal drawer, pulled out a packaged blue lanyard, and firmly locked the drawer again. She walked back to the desk, sliding the lanyard across the counter.
Jiro handed her the P100 bill. She processed the transaction and handed him back a P25 coin as change.
Transaction complete.
"Kindly fill out this logbook," the woman instructed casually, tapping a thick notebook resting on the counter.
But Jiro's auditory focus completely failed. He was entirely focused on wrestling his wallet back into the tight pocket of his overloaded "Hulk" bag. Having successfully zipped the compartment, he turned on his heel, ready to exit the office.
"Uh, sir," the woman called out again, raising her voice slightly. "Kindly sign the logbook first."
Jiro froze mid-step. He quickly turned back around, his deadpan expression cracking into a slight wince.
"Ay, oops. Sorry po," Jiro apologized, quickly stepping back to the counter.
He grabbed the tied pen and rapidly filled out the required bureaucratic data: Name, Program, Time, and his Signature. Accountability logged.
"Thank you po," Jiro nodded one last time before finally stepping out of the office.
With his new lanyard safely secured in his bag, he navigated the second-floor hallway and approached the nearby stairwell.
The bright, red painted poster sign on the wall clearly stated: DOWN ONLY.
Jiro didn't even hesitate. He grabbed the handrail and began marching up the concrete steps, effortlessly bypassing the strict directional rules of the building.
He conquered the ascent, finally reaching the fourth floor and stepping through the open doorway of Room 406 at exactly 1:26 PM.
The room was already partially occupied by a handful of BEEd 1-A early birds. At the front, the academic tension was high. Cristel Basha, Mekayla Sano, and Nica Rosa were locked in an intense peer review session for their upcoming RPH quizzes. Cristel was loudly reading random definitions, while Mekayla and Nica practically raced each other to shout the correct answers.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the atmosphere was completely different. It was loud, full of rapid chit-chat and echoing laughter. As Jiro walked down the aisle, he spotted Cosma Ibana. She was sitting comfortably beside Tiffany Diez and Ivyn Giron in the second row, actively gossiping and completely ignoring the heavy review session happening just in front of them.
Jiro just shrugged it off. He navigated to his usual spot in the second row, aisle seat, by the Door-Hallway section. He settled in, pulled out his phone, and opened the soft copy modules downloaded from Google Classroom to start his own review.
But the peace was immediately interrupted.
His seatmate, Princess Cleria, leaned over and deployed her usual request, begging to borrow his handheld portable fan. Jiro just sighed, unclipped the lanyard, and handed it over without a fight.
A moment later, from the first row right in front of Princess, her friend Aprille Bolente reached back, trying to grab the spinning fan while Princess was still holding it.
"Cess, may I get some wind, please?" Aprille asked softly.
Princess immediately turned to Jiro, interrupting his deep focus on the digital module.
"Hoy beh, just do your reviewing later, okay?" Princess urged him. "Amae says she wants to borrow your fan."
Jiro lifted his head, blinking in mild disbelief. He glanced at Aprille, who was flashing a bright, innocent smile while holding the device.
"May I borrow ah?" Aprille asked softly.
Jiro just nodded and let out another long, heavy sigh.
Haytss… his internal monologue grumbled. My fan's battery will hit zero before I even get to use it.
Back in the fourth row, just one row behind Jiro, the tension within his own Circle of Friends was brewing. Mira Palida and Niewi Voeliè were whispering furiously to each other.
"I tried to talk to Cosma earlier ah," Niewi insisted, her tone laced with frustration. "But she was completely ignoring me."
Mira just nodded, her expression mirroring Niewi's deep confusion over the sudden, absolute cold shoulder.
Around 2:12 PM, the 28-year-old Elite Educator finally arrived. Mr. Jimmy Brackin stepped into Room 406, carrying his tablet and radiating his usual calm aura.
"Uh, BEEd 1, are you all ready for our quiz? Hehehe," Mr. Brackin greeted, flashing a chill smile.
A collective, synchronized groan echoed across the room.
"Huh? Sir, you said no quiz today ah! Hahaha," several students were just joking, desperately trying to negotiate their way out of the ambush.
Mr. Brackin just laughed it off, completely unbothered by their panic. "Okay, I will give you ten minutes to review, while I am preparing some questions on my tablet."
The entire cohort instantly went into a frantic overdrive. Notebooks were flipped open, and phones were swiped rapidly as everyone tried to cram weeks of history into ten minutes. Meanwhile, Mr. Brackin sat comfortably at the teacher's table. Since the Smart T.V. was still turned off, he kept his eyes glued to his tablet screen, quietly drafting the dictation questions.
As the ten minutes evaporated, Mr. Brackin gave the final directive. He told the class to prepare two separate 1/4 yellow sheets of paper and a pen, and strictly commanded them to hide all notes and phones inside their bags.
Once the desks were cleared and the names were written, Mr. Brackin stood up, balancing his tablet in one palm. He read the questions carefully, his voice projecting across the silent room.
The first quiz was only ten items, but the formatting was a chaotic mix of multiple-choice, true or false, and identification. The second quiz followed the exact same structure, but focused entirely on the Sources of Historical Data lesson they had tackled last Monday.
With the dictation finished, the checking phase began.
"Kindly exchange your papers with your seatmates," Mr. Brackin instructed.
Jiro, Princess, and Windy executed a three-way paper swap.
As Mr. Brackin revealed the answers, Jiro kept his face perfectly neutral, checking the items mechanically.
For the first quiz, Jiro secured a solid 7 out of 10. Princess dominated with a 9 over 10, while Windy managed a 6 over 10. For the second quiz, Jiro bumped his score to an 8, Princess maintained her streak with a 9, and Windy secured a 7.
Just chill, Jiro thought, looking at the returned papers. No need to compare scores. A pass is a pass.
With the assessments cleared, they smoothly proceeded to the next lesson: External and Internal Criticisms. Mr. Brackin connected his tablet to the Smart T.V., and the deep dive into Philippine History resumed.
The class officially ended at 4:20 PM.
As the majority of the students packed up to head home or hang out, Group Charlie dutifully began their assigned cleaning task. But out in the hallway, the unspoken drama of the fourth row finally boiled over.
At the extreme right wing of the building, the door to the girls' restroom was propped wide open. Inside, Ivyn, Mira, and Niewi were stationed in front of the mirror sink, doing some light makeup touch-ups before braving the commute.
Suddenly, the echoing sounds of loud laughter and rapid chit-chat bounced off the tiled walls. Tiffany, Cosma, Cristel, Zherel, Nica, Rechele, and Mekayla marched into the restroom together, bringing a massive wave of high energy with them.
Trying to maintain the peace, the three girls at the sink smiled.
"Uy, hi guys," they greeted casually.
The rest of the group acknowledged them, but Cosma didn't smile. She just looked at them through the mirror, delivering a sharp, cold stare before completely looking away.
Feeling the heavy, suffocating atmosphere, Ivyn, Mira, and Niewi quickly finished up and stepped outside. They walked over to the open-air hallway corridor, getting some fresh air while leaning their arms against the concrete fence.
"Uh, I don't know what is happening to Cosma, she ignores me eh," Niewi muttered, her voice laced with deep frustration.
"True, true, I hate this eh," Mira agreed, gripping the edge of the concrete. "I want to fix this as soon as possible. We can just talk to her."
"I hope so... if she answers us," Niewi sighed.
"Me too, I don't want our circle to be in trouble," Ivyn insisted, glancing back toward the open restroom door.
A few minutes later, the loud chatter signaled their exit. Cosma stepped out into the hallway, walking closely with Tiffany and the rest of her new group.
Mira immediately pushed herself off the fence. She approached her respectfully, desperate to bridge the sudden gap.
"Uy, Cosma, can I talk to you for a bit, please?" Mira asked softly.
Cosma stopped. She turned her head and stared directly at Mira and Niewi. Her face was completely blank, maintaining that chilling, unreadable silence for a few short seconds.
She didn't argue. She didn't explain.
Without saying a single word, Cosma simply ignored them, turning her back and walking away down the corridor with her new circle.
While Niewi and Mira were left stranded and stunned by the concrete fence, Ivyn Giron stepped in. Since Cosma was actually still talking to her on the side, Ivyn had managed to extract the crucial context.
She gathered Niewi and Mira closer, lowering her voice to deliver the painful truth. She explained exactly why Cosma was freezing them out, tracing it back to the overheard conversation and the misunderstood TikTok jokes from the previous days.
The realization hit Mira and Niewi hard. The guilt immediately washed over them, but the damage was already done. The fracture was too deep to fix right then and there.
Realizing the old dynamic was dead, Ivyn made a tactical suggestion to Niewi: create a new group chat.
Only Niewi, Ivyn, and Mira knew the heavy truth about Cosma's departure. Meanwhile, Jiro, Cicille, and Mona were completely in the dark, entirely unaware that the foundation of their Circle of Friends was actively collapsing.
Their original COF group chat had been eerily quiet all evening.
Then, at exactly 9:46 PM, a new notification popped up on their screens.
Niewi had created a brand new group chat. She named it Peeppeeps.
She immediately added Mira, Jiro, Ivyn, Cicille, and Mona.
And then, she sent the first two messages to establish the new reality.
Niewi Voeliè: "So halur guys."
Niewi Voeliè: "We downt wanna be layk da other cof that created gc without a certain someone."
Just a moment later, a confused Cicille dropped a massive crying heart sticker into the chat.
Cicille Masha: "Whaaaat did she say huhh 😭"
Niewi quickly tried to offer some plausible clarifications.
Niewi Voeliè: "but we hab to… sorry naur choice eh"
Ivyn immediately dropped a laugh reaction on the message.
Niewi Voeliè: "HABAHAHHAHAHAHA. okay correction in the spelling."
Niewi formally corrected her own statement to clarify her previous message.
Niewi Voeliè: "we dont wanna be like the other circle of friends na nagcreate ng gc without a certain someone. But we have to causeee… no choice for us."
She then laid out the full context of the digital migration.
Niewi Voeliè: "Ivyn asked me to create a new gc HBAHWHAHAHAHAHA. Just be careful about showing your screen ah . Later, there might be eyes staring at our phones when we enter the classroom eh.
Then, Ivyn dropped the absolute protocol warning, sending alarm bells ringing.
Ivyn Giron: "GUYSSS DON'T EVER CHAT ON OUR OLD GC. JUST ARCHIVE IT GUYS."
Eventually, Jiro picked up his phone. Seeing a completely new chat head profile popping up on his screen, he opened it.
What the hell? he thought, his deadpan expression cracking into pure confusion. He didn't know Cosma was excluded from this new private circle.
Jiro Sanata: "What is this… among us? Is there an impostor?"
Niewi was busy replying to Ivyn's warning.
Niewi Voeliè: "Is it no longer safe?"
Meanwhile, Ivyn saw Jiro's message, immediately slapped a laugh reaction on it, and replied to him.
Ivyn Giron: "shhhhh"
Niewi Voeliè: "yes beh"
Ivyn firmly warned the circle once again not to interact or chat on their old COF group chat. Later on, Mira joined the fray, actively plotting to confront Niewi in the old chat just to pretend everything was normal for Cosma's sake.
The night passed with a heavy, unspoken fracture running straight through Jiro's circle.
September 19 (Thursday)
10:25 AM
A notification suddenly pinged in the abandoned territory: COF - BEEd 1A.
It was Cosma Ibana. She was casually asking Mira for a pasabuy—a 1/4 blue index card and a sliding folder for tomorrow.
Mira smoothly maintained her merchant persona, keeping the illusion intact.
Mira Palida: "I don't have extra sliding folders beh eh, I already bought exactly 20 pieces yesterday. So you can only buy index card from me."
Cosma acknowledged the limited stock and accepted the remaining offer.
To keep the group chat looking active and unsuspicious, Niewi threw in a random question.
Niewi Voeliè: "What are the other things we will bring for tomorrow?"
Mira, utilizing her natural humor to keep the cover intact, fired back with a smooth line.
Mira Palida: "Yourself. Cuz I need ya 🫰. Ayieeeee."
Niewi Voeliè: "Fine.. I will not go to school."
Later that afternoon, Cosma messaged the old circle again, asking for pointers regarding their upcoming MMW preliminary exam tomorrow. Ivyn quickly handled the inquiry, answering her questions to maintain the normal dynamic.
The afternoon dragged on as the BEEd 1-A cohort frantically tried to decode the confusing MMW word problems given by Dr. Ricky Manazaki.
Then, suddenly, the MMW (F - Falcon) group chat buzzed at 3:37 PM. Lindsey Soliko, the class treasurer, dropped a massive piece of leaked intel.
Lindsey Soliko: "@everyone I encountered some rumor. Regarding in our MMW exam."
She sent a forwarded screenshot. It was a conversation with a student from another section entirely—BTLED ICT 1-A. The intel was terrifying: The MMW exam was going to be a group exam, referred to as a "pre-prelim." It only contained exactly three word problems, but they were absurdly difficult.
But the response from Group Falcon? Absolute silence. Jiro and the others were way too busy surviving their own reviews to even type a reply. Eventually, the terrifying rumor breached the main section group chat, spreading panic across the entire cohort.
September 20 (Friday)
7:22 AM
Room 407 was already buzzing with early birds desperately reviewing for the incoming MMW group prelim exams. Jiro occupied his designated seat in the fourth row.
As he looked around, he noticed a blatant academic anomaly. A few random BSED English 1-A students were actually inside the room, actively mingling with Reo Bairo, Hurd Onasa, Gracie Masado, Jayter Celda, Aira Berdez, Cristy Michiya, and Francine Cenia.
Jiro stared at the interaction. Wait a minute, his strategic mind calculated, watching them furiously scribble notes onto their yellow pads. Are they leaking the exact questions to them for the upcoming exam?
He just shrugged it off, turning his attention back to his own panicked seatmates, Nica Rosa and Mekayla Sano.
At exactly 8:14 AM, the red-haired idol professor finally arrived.
"Oh, good morning 1 BEEd. Ready for our exam? Hehehe," Dr. Ricky Manazaki greeted them, flashing his signature chill smile. "Okay, kindly arrange your seats, circle ha. By groups. Our exam is groupings, so, that is good hehehe. At least you all are cooperating. So now, we will start immediately."
The cohort frantically hid their notebooks and phones inside their bags. Dr. Manazaki uncapped his marker and began writing exactly three worded math problems on the white square board.
The exam officially commenced.
The armchairs were dragged into tight circles. Each group was provided a single yellow sheet of paper for their final solutions and answers, along with their names and group name. Group Falcon was surprisingly in a chill mode. Lindsey, Mekayla, Niewi, and the rest were actively cooperating, but they were heavily relying on Jiro to verify their logic and give the final go-signal.
The room was filled with the sounds of weak voices, the frantic tapping of scientific calculators, and the scratching of pens, while Dr. Manazaki sat comfortably at the front, casually scrolling on his phone.
Meanwhile, a completely different survival tactic was being deployed. While Group Falcon was struggling honestly to decipher the complex formulas, some other groups were executing stealth maneuvers. Phones were secretly pulled from skirts and pockets beneath the armchairs, quietly snapping pictures of the board and feeding the problems directly into AI applications to generate instant solutions. They were getting answers much faster.
By 9:56 AM, just four minutes before the checking phase, Jiro felt a dangerous mix of confidence and absolute dread. He was sure of his formulas, but the entire group had become totally dependent on him. They didn't know about the stealth operations happening across the room. Group Falcon played it completely honest.
10:00 AM kicked in.
"Okay, let's check the papers," Dr. Manazaki announced.
The checking phase began. Dr. Manazaki carefully answered and explained the three problems on the board. Each problem contained 10 items.
As the correct solution for Number 1 was revealed, Group Falcon looked at their paper. Incorrect solution and answer. They became nervous, awkwardly laughing it off. It's fine, we still have two left.
Then came the second problem. Another completely different logic path. Another zero points.
By the last question—a seemingly straightforward physics problem—Jiro was practically praying. It only required determining the velocity. He stared at the board as Dr. Manazaki wrote down the final variable.
Wrong formula.Wrong answer.
The realization hit Group Falcon like a concrete block. The whole group was doomed. Mekayla, Lindsey, Nica, and Windy just burst into nervous, defeated laughter.
Jiro, however, was absolutely destroyed. His strategic mind short-circuited. He literally dropped his head onto the wooden armchair desk, burying his face in his arms in pure shame. He had been the one verifying the logic. He had confidently given the final go-signal. The crushing weight of a total group failure rested entirely on his shoulders.
Sitting right beside him, Niewi immediately noticed his sudden physical collapse. She leaned closer and gently patted his arm, trying to soften the devastating blow.
"That is okay, beh," Niewi whispered softly over the chaotic noise of the classroom.
Lindsey, despite her own nervous laughter, saw Jiro's complete defeat. She leaned over from her side of the clustered armchairs, her usual assertive confidence melting into genuine sympathy.
"Uy, beh, don't be sad ah," Lindsey comforted him, giving his shoulder a light, reassuring tap. "We will just make up for it next time beh."
Jiro didn't lift his head. He just gave a weak, muffled nod against his folded arms, wishing the wooden desk would simply swallow him whole to escape the embarrassment.
Then came the public execution of scores.
"Group Alpha got 20 over 30," Dr. Manazaki announced. "Beta got 30 over 30, Charlie got 20 over 30, Delta and Enigma got 30 over 30."
He paused, looking down at the final paper.
"And Group Falcon got 0 over 30."
They got the hollow score. An absolute, undeniable zero.
Dr. Manazaki slowly walked toward their clustered circle, his face dropping its usual chill smile, replaced by total disappointment.
Jiro lifted his head from the desk. His heart was hammering violently against his ribs, skipping beats as he stared blankly at the approaching professor.
END OF THE HOLLOW SCORE