Jealousy

“Ah, Teacher Ophelia. Where have you been all this time? I’m sorry, but work has piled up. Please sign these documents.”

Thump-papers literally piled up like a mountain before my eyes.

A stack as tall as my height, no matter how I looked at it.

Expecting me to sign all this in one day-are you insane? This is an absurd amount by any measure.

…The even more ridiculous part is that this stack is pitifully small compared to other teachers’ workloads.

Because unlike them, I can’t handle specialized tasks.

With manpower shortages, they’ve just dumped a portion of menial tasks on me.

The problem is that even a fraction of menial work amounts to a murderous workload.

“…Teacher Ophelia?”

“I apologize. I don’t think I can assist with work any longer.”

“Huh? Wh-what do you…!”

“I’ve suddenly had urgent business to resolve.”

But that murderous workload ends today.

From the beginning, I wasn’t a regular teacher here-just a counseling teacher.

I only agreed when others asked for help.

Having helped enough until now, they clearly can’t complain.

The unbearable tidal wave of work is finally over.

From now on… it’s time to return to my original duties.

I’m a counseling teacher, not a signing machine!

“T-Teacher Ophelia! What do you mean by sudden urgent business?!”

“Exactly what I said. I’m sorry, but it’ll be difficult to assist going forward.”

“Th-that’s…! You’ve been helping us diligently until now! What sudden business?!”

“That’s just how it is. My apologies.”

“Wh-what kind of business is it?! What…!”

The teachers who’d been dumping work on me began desperately clutching at my coattails.

Hmm, I do feel slightly sorry since I understand their despair.

But there’s no helping it.

I have to live too… Sorry!

“You remember the recent terror incident, right?”

“…How could we forget? That’s why we’re in this state.”

“Ahaha… That’s caused some issues.”

“Issues?”

“Students seem to be suffering psychological distress.”

“…PTSD?”

“Yes, something like that.”

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Commonly known to manifest among soldiers who’ve experienced war.

It’s a well-known condition frequently portrayed in media.

The teachers seemed to guess PTSD from the mention of psychological distress.

“Extreme situations like terrorism… may be familiar to teachers, but not to students.”

“…”

Well, it’s all lies!

The memories of people dying before their eyes (and parts of my own involvement) were already erased via hypnosis.

How could PTSD develop without memories? Impossible.

At most, students beaten by scarecrows might flinch when seeing one-those memories weren’t erased.

But this is the perfect excuse for unaware teachers…!

This is the power of information asymmetry!

“I was already worried about neglecting student counseling sessions.”

“…Ugh.”

“The academy’s purpose is nurturing and protecting students, so alleviating their suffering should come first…”

“Grrk…”

“Don’t you agree?”

Hah, perfect.

With this flawless excuse, no one can stop me from escaping my role as a signing machine.

I scanned the faculty room confidently.

No one here could oppose me now.

They’re all fundamentally kind people who care about students.

No one would dump work on me after hearing this perfect excuse…!

“I-if that’s the case… we have no choice…”

“I’m sorry. I truly wish I could help, but students come first.”

“…Understood. Have a good day.”

I maintained an apologetic expression until leaving the faculty room, through the hallway, until reaching the counseling room.

Looking too happy might draw unwanted reactions.

But upon entering the counseling room, I couldn’t control my expression anymore.

“Huh, huhuhu…! I did it…!”

“Congratulations, Teacher.”

“Ah, Eileen. Thank you.”

“Your acting was great.”

“Hehe.”

Eileen, who was ready to storm in if problems arose, patted my shoulder.

Even trivial praise from her-especially as a character I adore-felt extra joyful.

“Is this really okay?”

“Yes, perfect.”

I’d been anxious about potential issues… but none arose.

Things went so smoothly it was almost scary.

“What a relief.”

“Ah, since you’re here, why not rest for a… no.”

Silly me.

I almost said something strange.

Smirking at Eileen, I said:

“How about… a counseling session?”

“…Hah. That sounds great, Teacher. Counseling… perfect.”

Eileen and I laughed while facing each other.

…Perhaps suspiciously so.

***

“Haaam…”

Orca dragged her tired body toward the counseling room.

Though usually light-footed, her mood had soured recently.

“…Too busy?”

That teacher-even when in the counseling room-just kept signing documents lately.

Too busy to even burn incense, claiming it was fine to burn it alone while sleeping.

The reason was obvious.

That bastard who blabbered about revenge before dying.

“Should’ve died quietly instead of causing fucking trouble.”

Irritation surged inexplicably, making her kick the hallway wall.

Not understanding why she was angry made her angrier.

She didn’t need that teacher’s incense. The brat, princess, and blind woman who bothered her visited less often-it should’ve been peaceful.

Why was she irritated? It made no sense.

“Tch. Pissed off.”

Last time, she’d muttered to herself when that demon brat spoke to her. When bystanders treated her like a madwoman, she yelled at them to fuck off, straining her throat.

There should be citron tea in the counseling room cabinet.

She’d drink that and sleep.

Grumbling, Orca headed to the counseling room.

Lying on the soft bed might slightly improve her mood.

“…lin! …o! You… not…!”

“Heh, Sense… too terri… play…!”

“Huh?”

After flinging the door open as usual, voices reached Orca’s ears as she headed to bed.

The teacher’s voice. Had she finished work already?

She usually returned much later.

Feeling her mood lift slightly, Orca opened the door.

“Teacher, you’re back early toda…y…”

“Aaah! You’re too good! Eeeek…! Do it again!”

“Same result either way. You suck at games, Teacher.”

“It’s because you’re too good! How dare you say that line to me…! I won’t tolerate it! I’ll crush your pride!”

“Try if you can.”

“Urgh…!”

What the hell was this?

Orca felt dizzy seeing the counseling room’s completely altered state.

Scattered snack crumbs. Half-finished drinks.

…And the teacher, flushed with competitive spirit, being teased by a vaguely familiar woman.

“The fuck…”

“Huh? …Orca! You’re early?”

“Same time as usual.”

“Oh, right. Time flies…”

“Seriously. Had fun, Teacher. I’ll head out.”

“Already? We could play… I mean, counsel more.”

“Don’t worry. Skipping… I mean, counseling too long isn’t good.”

“True.”

“See you!”

The cheerful woman passed Orca, promising to meet again as she left.

Only the teacher fiddling regretfully with a game console and traces of the woman remained.

“…Why so early? You’re usually late.”

“Ah, starting today, I’m stationed in the counseling room again.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Eileen gave me an excuse to escape.”

“…”

Orca disliked the teacher’s smiling face as she called it a secret.

She didn’t know why, but she disliked it.

Her mood, which had slightly improved earlier, now plummeted.

“Orca?”

“Sleeping.”

“Huh? …Oh, sleep well…?”

Orca stomped across the room, burned incense, and flopped onto the bed.

The sweet snack smell and the lingering giddy atmosphere irritated her.

“…Fuck, why’s the bed like this?!”

“Orca! I told you not to swear!”

“Not your business! Why are there crumbs here?!”

“Eileen brought snacks up earlier… I told her to leave quickly, but some must’ve fallen. Sorry, I’ll clean it…”

“Hmph.”

This was the bed she always slept in.

Too annoyed, Orca dove onto another bed instead.

“Orca?”

“…”

She was in a bad mood.

Extremely so.

Not understanding why made it worse.