The Cursed: Legend of Neil

Episode One-Part III: Classroom D

“You must be the new student,” the woman said, her glowing green eyes locking onto Sandy. Her voice was sharp, carrying a strange pressure. “Find a seat. I’m not the patient type.”

Her eerie green aura seeped through the entire classroom, coiling around each student like invisible chains. A chill ran straight down Sandy’s spine, forcing the sweat from his skin. His bravado melted away in an instant. Without hesitation, he scrambled and quickly sat behind Neil.

The teacher retracted her aura, leaving the room heavy with silence. She scanned each student carefully from the first seat to the very last, her expression cold and unreadable. Then, without warning, she retrieved a black-bound book from the desk and began flipping through it.

When her eyes rose again, her voice carried a calm edge.

“Now that we’re all settled down,” she said. “Let’s begin the daily routine. I believe you all remember how it’s done?”

Her eyes lingered on Neil for a moment, sharp and deliberate, before sliding toward Sandy. Then, just as quickly, they fell back to the book in her hands.

She cleared her throat and began calling out names, each student expected to confirm their presence in turn.

“Chiyo Kenshin… Cheryle Myles… Clint Daren.”

“Present!” a small voice shouted cheerfully.

All eyes turned to a little girl clutching a stuffed teddy bear tightly to her chest. She was tiny—her body petite like a porcelain doll. She wore a Barbie-style gown under her uniform, her hair tied into two high ponytails that bounced at either side of her head. Her bright pink eyes sparkled with an innocent hope that seemed almost out of place in the eerie classroom. She sat in the third chair of the second row, her charm impossible to ignore.

“Present,” another girl answered, her tone flat and unforgiving.

This one couldn’t have been more different. With jet-black hair streaked by jagged purple lines, she looked like she had walked out of a gothic painting. Her eyes were dark, the shadows around them sharpened by thick black makeup that gave her a vampiric aura. Instead of the school’s standard uniform, she had customized hers entirely black. The robe-like long sleeves stopped at her elbows, gloves with spikes covered her hands, and trousers replaced the regulation skirt. Her very presence screamed rebellion. She sat alone at the very back, last seat, third row.

“Present,” a soft, androgynous voice followed.

Neil turned his head slightly and raised a brow. The boy—if he even was one—looked almost too graceful to belong in the same classroom. He held a single rose delicately between his fingers, twirling it idly as if reciting poetry in his mind. His uniform sleeves were loose and oversized, cinched at the wrists like an aristocrat from old England. His marine-green hair shimmered, silky and well-kept, flowing all the way down to his hips. With such features, Clint could have been mistaken for a noble lady instead of a fellow student. He sat on the first row, Third seat.

“Clint, eh…” Neil muttered internally, his lips curling into a comical grimace. “I hope he doesn’t try any stupid tricks on me.”

The roll call continued.

“Delia Williams… Freda Adams… Glen Jonathan.”

“Present.”

Delia’s voice was a whisper, but it carried a weight sharp enough to silence the row. She sat at the first seat of the First row, isolated, her icy expression untouched by emotion. Her presence was chilling, like a statue carved out of winter itself.

“Present,” another girl announced firmly.

This one looked every bit as tough as her voice. Her short pink hair barely reached her ears, messy strands covering one of her eyes. The other eye glowed with a predatory yellow that could pierce through even a grown man. Her uniform was mostly proper, except for the front—where she’d left it unbuttoned just enough to reveal a bold amount of cleavage. She leaned casually, her arm wrapped possessively around Chiyo’s neck as though the little girl were her younger sister.

“Present!” the next voice rang out with confidence.

Neil’s eyes drifted to the boy, noting his deep blue spiky hair and sparkling blue eyes that shone with charisma. His uniform was neat, but his grin suggested mischief. He sat directly behind Delia, occupying the second row.

The teacher moved on.

“Jade Wong… Jayden Wong… Lyn Evan.”

“Present,” came a gentle, melodic voice.

Jade’s voice matched her beauty, refined yet inviting. She sat on the door-side of the second row, directly behind Delia, her posture elegant and proper.

“Present,” Jayden replied, his rocky voice rougher, as he strummed an invisible guitar in the air.

Neil blinked. “These two… are they’re twins?” he realized.

Jayden sat right behind Jade, and though they shared features, his aura carried a wilder energy compared to his sister.

“Present!” another cheerful voice chimed in.

This one belonged to a lively, pompous girl with striking beauty. Her yellow-orange hair shimmered as if fresh from a shampoo advertisement, cascading with volume. Her brown eyes glowed with confidence. But her uniform had been scandalously altered—the shirt cropped at her midriff, her skirt short enough to reveal an enticing amount of her thighs. Neil’s eyes flickered uncomfortably before he realized she sat at the second row, second chair, right beside Glen.

The teacher’s voice carried on.

“Ned Dwane… Reece Malcolm… Rory Brandon… Zoe Logan.”

“Actively present!” a nerdy boy called, pushing up his glasses with precision.

His long, well-combed tan hair was tied neatly at the back, a single strand falling stylishly in front of his specs. He looked every bit the gentleman scholar—disciplined, polished, rule-abiding. He shared a seat with Jade.

“Present,” a soft voice murmured.

Reece had very short grey hair falling over his forehead. Quiet, polite, and modest, he seemed like the type to speak only when necessary. He sat beside Sandy, his presence subtle but composed.

“Present,” another boy said, revealing calm brown eyes beneath a small mark on his forehead. His buzz-cut hair and plain aura gave him the appearance of someone religious, steady in faith and discipline.

“Present,” came the last girl’s voice.

Her pink hair framed a face so flawlessly sculpted it could’ve been carved from marble. Her cheeks flushed with unnatural warmth, lips pursed as though she had stepped out of a love scene. She crossed her legs deliberately, oozing flirtation with every motion.

“Now the final two.” The teacher’s glowing eyes turned toward the last pair. “Neil Randolf… and Sandy Swan.”

“Present,” both answered quickly.

Neil stiffened as he felt the weight of stares. Slowly, he turned—and immediately froze. Chiyo was looking at him with suspicion, her teddy bear clutched protectively. Beside her, Zoe watched with a flirtatious smile, her gaze lingering too long.

“I’m cooked,” Neil blurted nervously, sweat trailing down his temple.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Sandy muttered under his breath.

The teacher’s eyes locked onto Sandy again, unblinking and sharp, as though she could see straight through him. His chest tightened. He could hear the pounding of his own heartbeat.

Finally, she spoke.

“I will introduce myself to the newly appointed students of this class,” she declared. Her aura seemed to flare briefly. “My name is Ms. Kira Wade, and I am your homeroom teacher.”

Her gaze swept across the classroom from first seat to last, her eyes piercing and commanding.

“Welcome,” she said coldly. “To Classroom D.”