115: Chapter 115 Cultural Lessons

The next morning, Sean stood in the hallway on the second floor of the classroom building, clutching his textbooks and lesson plans, and took a deep breath.

He found the classroom for Literature; the door was open, and there were already students inside.

He didn't go in, instead leaning against the doorframe to listen for a moment.

"I heard a new teacher is coming," a boy in the front row said, turning to the person behind him. "What are they teaching? Literature."

Another boy immediately chimed in, "It's a Literature class! But—I heard this new teacher is a regular human."

The classroom went quiet for a second, then exploded into chaos.

"A regular human?"

"A regular human coming to Nevermore to teach?"

"Is he crazy?"

"Isn't he afraid of us?"

"How is a regular human supposed to control us?"

"Ajax said so," the boy added. "He lives next door to Ajax, and Ajax said he's a regular human with no superpowers."

This sparked another round of discussion.

"Ajax? That Gorgon?"

"Can we believe him?"

"Has he seen the new teacher?"

"Living next door? The new teacher is on the same floor as Ajax?"

"Why is that guy living in the student dormitory?"

"I don't know. Anyway, he said the new teacher is a regular human, just someone here to teach."

"A regular human teaching us Literature? What could he possibly teach? How not to get bitten by a Vampire?"

Someone laughed, leading the others.

Soon, waves of laughter began to echo through the classroom.

Sean stood at the doorway, listening to the comments without entering.

He wanted to see what kind of attitude these students held when facing a regular human.

The laughter in the classroom continued.

Ajax's voice came from inside, muffled and tinged with embarrassment.

"He really is just a regular human. I saw him yesterday; he has no fangs, no claws, no tail. He's just—a person."

"Then isn't he afraid of you?" someone asked.

Ajax was silent for a moment before saying, "He wasn't. He reached out and touched my snakes."

The classroom went quiet again.

It was quiet enough to hear the birds chirping outside the window.

Then someone whispered, "Touched your snakes? Wasn't he afraid of getting bitten?"

"They didn't bite. My snakes retreated."

The classroom became even quieter.

Standing at the door, Sean heard this, and the corners of his mouth tilted up slightly.

He pushed the door open and walked in.

The classroom wasn't large, seating about twenty people. The desks and chairs were old-fashioned wood, with messy scribbles carved into the surfaces.

On the wall hung a portrait of Shakespeare, with Jane Austen next to him, and Edgar Allan Poe beside her.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the podium. Hearing the noise, the students turned their heads one after another to look at Sean.

More than twenty pairs of eyes—blue, green, brown, and one pair of gold… those were the eyes of a Vampire.

Sean walked behind the podium and set down his textbooks and lesson plans.

He scanned the room. Sitting by the window was a girl with black hair braided into two pigtails, her complexion pale, and her expression indifferent.

The girl was wearing a black dress, with a silver brooch in the shape of a raven pinned to her collar.

She wasn't looking at Sean, nor was she reading a book; she was just staring out the window, looking completely unconcerned.

Wednesday Addams. Sean recognized her.

Not because he had seen a photo, but because she was too conspicuous.

Turning back, he saw Ajax sitting in the middle of the classroom, wearing his beanie, head lowered.

His face was a little red; he clearly didn't want to be the center of attention, but the words were already out and couldn't be taken back.

When he saw Sean enter, he froze for a moment, then lowered his head, pulling his hat brim even lower.

"Quiet."

The students were surprisingly cooperative; as soon as Sean spoke, the classroom went quiet.

Sean picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name on the blackboard: Sean Black.

He turned around, looked at the students, and introduced himself: "My name is Sean Black. Starting today, I will be teaching you Literature."

As he spoke, Sean looked at Ajax and said, "Ajax is right. I am a regular human. I have no fangs, no claws, no tail, and I can't turn people to stone."

Someone laughed—not in mockery, but in amusement.

Ajax looked up at Sean, surprise in his eyes.

Clearly, he hadn't expected Sean to bring up yesterday's incident himself, and he certainly hadn't expected him to defuse the gossip in this way.

"I am teaching Literature," Sean continued. "Poetry, novels, drama—these things do not require superpowers. You don't need to be able to fly to understand Yeats, you don't need to be able to shapeshift to understand Shakespeare, and you don't need to be able to turn people to stone to appreciate Edgar Allan Poe. You only need… to have a heart."

The classroom grew quiet; the children seemed to have taken it to heart.

Wednesday finally turned her head.

She looked at Sean, her black eyes expressionless, but she began to look at him intently.

Sean stood at the podium and began the lesson. He opened his textbook and, instead of reading from it directly, copied a stanza of Yeats's poetry onto the blackboard.

His chalk handwriting was crooked—he frowned at it himself—but that didn't matter.

"'When You Are Old,' by Yeats. Have you read this poem before?" Some nodded, some shook their heads, and most remained expressionless.

Sean didn't mind. He put down the chalk and leaned against the edge of the podium, his posture casual.

"Do you know how old Yeats was when he wrote this poem?" No one answered.

"Twenty-five. At twenty-five, he wrote about what a woman would look like when she was old."

"Think about it. A twenty-five-year-old young man, having not been in many relationships, having not experienced aging, having not lost anyone important—how could he write 'When You Are Old'?"

A boy in the front row raised his hand: "By using his imagination?"

Sean glanced at him: "Close, but it wasn't entirely from imagination. Yeats fell in love with a woman named Maud Gonne. She was an actress, a revolutionary, a goddess."

"Yeats pursued her his whole life and was rejected his whole life. When he wrote this poem, he wasn't really imagining what she would look like old; he was imagining what it would be like to look back at her after having loved her for a lifetime."

"This poem wasn't written for her to read; it was written for himself. He was convincing himself that his love was eternal, regardless of whether she grew old, and regardless of whether she loved him back."

The classroom was silent.

Some looked down at the poem, some looked at Sean, and some were writing something on paper.

Ajax sat up straight. The little snakes poked their heads out from under his hat brim, their golden slit pupils fixed on Sean, as if they were also listening to him speak.

Sean continued, talking about Yeats, then Maud Gonne, then the Irish independence movement, and finally the darker poems Yeats wrote later on.

The students listened very attentively.

Some raised their hands to ask questions, some added to what he was saying, and others whispered to the people next to them.

Sean answered them one by one, unhurriedly, occasionally cracking a joke that made a few people laugh.

"Pfft!"

Just when the atmosphere in the classroom was going quite well, a snort of derision suddenly rang out.