Chapter 220

“Nice to meet you. Everyone.”

The voice of Professor Antorelli entering the classroom seemed to carry a hint of irritation.

At first glance, he appeared to be indifferent, but upon closer inspection, there were details that were not usually apparent beginning to surface.

He came into the classroom at 9:30 AM, just like any other day, climbing onto the podium with a measured stride and standing in front of the lectern. And with one word.

“Nice to meet you.”

Once he finished his usual greeting, he immediately dove into the lecture. He opened the Bible, then spread out the theological texts he had brought in his bag, and if there were any sections left unfinished from the previous class, he would address those first.

Today, however, Professor Antorelli did not do that.

“I will not proceed with the class syllabus today.”

He declared this. At least for today, he would not cover any syllabus.

The midterm academic assessments for the second semester had concluded, and with the end of the school year approaching, there was really nothing that could be meaningfully referred to as syllabus.

It was simply that he did not want his students to fall behind in his classes that they would be taking as second-year students.

Professor Antorelli seemed to sense this, showcasing his unwavering passion for teaching as he maintained a class attitude not much different from that prior to the end-of-semester assessments. The students in Class A attentively followed his lecture.

However, today was different.

His statement of “I will not proceed with the class syllabus” sounded somehow different.

Could it be that it was simply due to the students’ mood?

When there was no response from the students, Professor Antorelli scanned them before he spoke again.

“Instead, today I will provide announcements regarding the end-of-year class and the winter vacation, as well as an overview of the classes for next year, and finally….”

Professor Antorelli’s words momentarily paused. His unfinished sentence echoed in the silent air of the classroom, and his mouth did not open again.

And then, silence.

The students looked at him with expressions of confusion. Some exchanged puzzled looks with friends sitting beside them.

Observing the reactions of the students closely, Professor Antorelli continued, his expression showing some dissatisfaction.

“…Lastly, there will be a discussion regarding the integrated theology exam for first-year students, which was conducted during the midterm assessments. Are there any questions so far?”

There were no questions. Professor Antorelli nodded and continued with his explanation.

“First, the end-of-year class will likely focus on an overall review of the first-year curriculum. However, it won’t just be useless content; there will be portions included that will carry over to the second-year theology courses next year, so please do not neglect your review.”

A few students let out very quiet sighs. Fortunately, Professor Antorelli did not respond to those sighs and moved on.

“Next, I will provide announcements regarding the winter vacation. During winter break, as with summer break, students will be able to apply for various club activities, so I encourage everyone to participate. As a side note, clubs that engaged in activities during the summer break will not be able to receive a budget for club activities during the winter break.”

“Professor, may I ask just one question?”

“Hubert from the Combat Department. You may ask your question.”

“Could you tell us the reason why clubs that engaged in activities over the summer break cannot receive a budget?”

“For equity reasons. You can think of it as a way to prevent specific clubs from monopolizing the budget during the break.”

“Thank you.”

After Hubert from the Combat Department finished his question, there were no more questions. Professor Antorelli remarked that students should check the bulletin board for detailed information before moving on to the next topic.

“As you all know, I will also be in charge of the second-year Class A Theology next year. Please remain steadfast in your current spot. The curriculum for next year’s classes will be posted on the bulletin board before winter break.”

Once again, there were no questions. The students, with glistening eyes, began to look at Professor Antorelli as if the previous three mundane topics were entirely pointless.

Even amidst this, Professor Antorelli opened his mouth in his usual blunt manner.

“Lastly, we will proceed with the discussion regarding the integrated theology exam for first-year students from the midterm assessments.”

This was the moment everyone had been eagerly waiting for. The students clutched their sharpened pencils and pens, opening their notebooks, all the while gazing at Professor Antorelli.

Those brightly shining eyes. Looking at the dozens of glistening pupils, Professor Antorelli displayed a response that was quite different from what the students had anticipated.

“…But before that, one thing.”

He raised his index finger. All the students stared blankly at his finger.

“Before we start the discussion, I would like to ask you one question.”

The eager students, who had just finished preparing for note-taking, looked at him with expressions suggesting, “Go ahead, we’re listening.”

Professor Antorelli’s question was something that those students could figure out without having to wait long.

“Why is the discussion necessary?”

…..

The students were left speechless. No one in the classroom could muster a straightforward answer to his question.

Then, what could be the reason for this? Why could they not immediately provide a clear response to his question?

Was Professor Antorelli asking a truly unexpected question, like before?

It wasn’t. His question was indeed something that students had not anticipated, but the very act of throwing out a question prior to the discussion itself was what surprised them.

Why is the discussion necessary?

In a way, it appeared to be akin to asking, “Why do you keep whining for me to provide an explanation?” as if he were frustrated.

But in reality, he was simply curious. He was asking why the discussion was necessary.

It could be seen as him slightly losing his patience. His manner of questioning, or even the purity of his language. Judging by outward appearances, his tone was quite sharp.

The reason for that sharpness wasn’t solely to scold or chide the students.

“Everyone, I will ask once more. Why is a discussion necessary?”

He was genuinely perplexed.

The integrated theology exam, which he had led. Why on earth was a discussion about the five questions from that exam necessary?

To ask for an explanation of a problem? Why? What for? Why would anyone do that?

While Professor Antorelli did not articulate such thoughts, the astute students in Class A sitting in the classroom sensed it.

He was questioning. He truly did not understand, confronting them with a look of genuine confusion.

The classroom remained enveloped in silence. Even after Professor Antorelli repeated his question twice, not a single student dared to respond.

Professor Antorelli let out a soft sigh. The silence was so profound that one could hear even the smallest breath, or his eyes rolling, making his every action stand out.

He spoke.

“…Does no one have an answer? However, I can somewhat understand why you all are reacting this way in your current situation.”

The reason why the students could not answer. The reason why even when they had an answer, whether right or wrong, they could not confidently voice it.

The reason was simply….

“You are no longer prepared to attend my classes.”

He believed that all the students in this classroom, namely, the first-year Class A students, were unprepared to engage in his class.

It was a somewhat ambiguous response, yet all the more so, it was sufficient. All the students grasped the essence of his words, whether loosely or not.

Of course, not every student felt a sense of rebellion. What he just said would surely be unwelcome among students who were already somewhat on edge.

As he silently observed the reaction of these students, Professor Lucio Antorelli declared.

“Let’s play a game.”

He made that statement with an utterly indifferent expression.

Different emotions arose on the students’ faces. Some showed curiosity regarding Professor Antorelli’s statement, others felt excitement with the mention of ‘game,’ and yet others suspected that he might be preparing something, just like the previous assignment where he provided enlightenment under the guise of a game.

“I will distribute some paper.”

With his words, Sofia Sub-priest handed out paper to the students sitting in the front row. This was the paper Professor Antorelli had brought into the classroom.

Ten sheets per person, for a total of thirty-two students. In total, 320 sheets were needed, but the paper stock was far more abundant than expected. There was enough paper to give every student ten sheets and still have surplus.

Professor Antorelli placed his hand on the paper and waited for all the students to receive it.

‘This is….’

Laura, who received the bundle of ten sheets, rubbed the paper in her hands to feel its texture.

Slightly slick and yet still crisp. It was definitely paper.

After all the students received their paper, he continued.

“This game is similar to the one we played at the beginning of the year. From now on, I want you to just follow my commands.”

Professor Antorelli issued his orders. The students complied. There was no need for any advice or personal circumstances; they simply listened to Professor Antorelli’s words.

“Please fold the paper once.”

A statement reminiscent of the earlier game Professor Antorelli had given now came to mind. The students followed suit obediently.

Just like the paper-folding game from the beginning of the year, all students were rigorously adhering to Professor Antorelli’s commands.

They folded the paper. The texture and material felt slightly off, but no one raised any objections.

‘…Done.’

Laura placed the folded paper on her desk and looked at Professor Antorelli, waiting for the next instruction.

Then, Professor Antorelli…

“….”

With an expression that seemed to be containing a significant amount of anger.

“…Now, fold it one more time.”

His overall expression remained the same as usual, yet there was something subtly amiss. The students wanted to point that out, but for now, they complied with his instructions.

They folded the paper again. Various shapes of folded paper lay scattered before the students.

“Once more.”

At Professor Antorelli’s command to fold it once more, the students complied.

“Once more.”

Even though they had already folded it three times, was there really a need to fold it further?

Before they could ponder this question, they simply followed Professor Antorelli’s words.

“Fold it one more time.”

Because it was what Professor Antorelli said.

Eventually, the paper became endlessly folded, shrinking to an exceedingly tiny size. Enough so that further folding became impossible.

At first the size of a face, upon reaching this point, the students realized that something was off.

“…Everyone, I have something I truly wonder about.”

By that time, it was too late.

The dog, having discarded its leash in search of freedom, was now gnawing on that very leash to restrain itself once more.

“What on earth made you follow my words?”

The students were confronted with yet another issue.