Chapter 94: NOT A HERO

Kai walked down the corridor toward Class IX-9. He was already close to the door—his hand already raised, ready to touch the door handle—when a voice from the school speakers stopped him. "Attention. Mr. Kai, please come to the principal’s office immediately. Mr. Kai, please come to the principal’s office immediately." Reina’s voice—firm, without emotion, as usual—echoed throughout the corridor, and several passing students turned toward Kai with curious expressions.

Kai lowered his hand. He stared at the Class IX-9 door for a moment—hearing his students’ voices from inside, already noisy as usual—then he turned and walked toward the principal’s office.

The principal’s office door was already open when Kai arrived. Reina sat behind her desk—with a white blouse and a long black skirt, with her hair tied half-back, with a folder in her hand that she didn’t open. She lifted her head when Kai entered, and she pointed to the chair across from her desk. "Sit."

Kai sat. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at Reina—with a flat gaze, with his hands on his lap—and he waited.

Reina closed her folder and placed it on the desk. She looked at Kai—for a long time, with unreadable eyes. "Leina came home last night," she said. "In a weakened state. She couldn’t walk on her own. I had to help her into the house."

Kai didn’t say anything.

"I asked what happened," Reina continued. "She didn’t want to answer. She just said she was tired. She just said she wanted to sleep. But I know—" she paused for a moment, "—I know something wasn’t right."

Kai still didn’t say anything. He just sat there—with his hands on his lap, with eyes looking at Reina—and he let Reina continue.

"This morning," Reina said, "she finally told me. Not much. Just—" she let out a breath, "—she said she went somewhere with her friends. She said something happened. She said someone saved her."

Kai looked at her.

"I asked who," Reina said. "She didn’t know. She said she didn’t see his face. She said the person was wearing dark glasses—and she could only say thank you before that person left."

Kai didn’t say anything. He just sat there—with an unchanged expression—and he waited.

Reina looked at him for a long time. Then she leaned her back against the chair—and she let out a breath. "Kai," she said. "I called you here not because I want you to investigate anything. I called you because—" she paused for a moment, "—because I have no one to talk to."

Kai looked at her. "You have Leina."

"Leina is asleep," Reina said. "She needs rest. I can’t wake her just because I want to talk." She looked at Kai—for a long time. "You’re the only person I know who—" she stopped again, like she was searching for the right word, "—who won’t judge me."

Kai didn’t say anything. He just sat there—with his hands on his lap, with eyes looking at Reina—and he waited.

Reina let out a breath. "I know you’re busy. I know you have students to teach. But—" she looked at Kai, "—I just want you to know that I appreciate what you do. For Leina. For your students. For—" she stopped, "—for everything."

Kai looked at her. Then he stood—slowly, with his hands at his sides. "You shouldn’t have called me for this, Reina."

Reina blinked. "What?"

"You called me here," Kai said. "You made me leave my class—leave my students—just because you wanted to talk. That’s not right."

Reina opened her mouth—but Kai had already continued.

"You have a problem. You want to talk. I understand." Kai looked at her—with a flat gaze, with a calm voice. "But you can’t call me anytime you want. You can’t make me leave my work just because you’re lonely."

Reina looked at him—for a long time. Then she looked down—slowly, with shoulders slightly slumped. "I know," she said. "I know that was wrong. But—" she lifted her head again, "—I have no one, Kai. I have no friends. I have no family—except Leina. And Leina—" she paused for a moment, "—Leina is asleep. She needs rest. I can’t disturb her."

Kai looked at her. He didn’t say anything.

"I just want you to know," Reina continued, "that I appreciate what you do. For Leina. For your students. For—" she stopped again, "—for everything."

Kai looked at her for a long time. Then he nodded—slowly, almost imperceptibly. "I have to go back to class."

Reina nodded. "Yes. Sorry for disturbing you."

Kai turned and walked to the door. He opened that door—and he paused at the threshold for a moment, turning back. "Reina."

Reina lifted her head.

"If you need to talk," Kai said, "you can come to my apartment. After work hours. Don’t call me here again."

Reina blinked. Then she smiled—a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes, but enough to make her face look a little younger. "Alright," she said. "Thank you, Kai."

Kai nodded. He left that room—closing the door behind him—and he walked down the corridor toward Class IX-9.

He opened the classroom door—and he saw his students sitting at their respective desks, with books open in front of them, with serious faces. They were studying on their own—without a teacher—and they didn’t realize Kai had entered until the door closed behind him.

Mira lifted her head. "Mr. Kai!" she said. "Are you done with your business with Ms. Reina?"

Kai nodded. "Done."

Iris rested her chin on her palm—with the mysterious smile that was always on her face. "What business, Sir? Why were you called to the principal’s office? Don’t tell me—"

"Iris." Ella tapped Iris’s desk with her pen. "Don’t meddle in other people’s business."

"I’m just asking."

"You’re always just asking."

Eve raised her hand—with glasses slightly slipping down her nose. "Mr. Kai. I have a question about the English literature material we’re studying."

Kai walked to Eve’s desk. He bent down—looking at the book open in front of Eve, looking at the notes filled with scribbles. "What don’t you understand?"

"On this page," Eve said, pointing to the book page, "there’s a poem about—" she paused for a moment, reading the title, "—’The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost. I understand the meaning of every word. But I don’t understand why this poem is considered important. What makes it different from other poems?"

Kai looked at Eve for a moment. Then he pulled an empty chair near Eve’s desk and sat down. "This poem is about choice," he said. "About two roads branching in a forest—and about how choosing one road means you’ll never know what’s on the other road. Frost wrote this as satire—about how people often romanticize the choices they didn’t make."

Eve furrowed her brow. "So... this poem is about regret?"

"Not regret," Kai said. "More about—how we justify our own choices. We say ’I took the road less traveled’—when actually both roads were the same. We just want to feel that our choice was special."

Eve nodded slowly. She noted something in her book—with neat handwriting, with blue ink. "I understand," she said. "Thank you, Mr. Kai."

Kai stood and returned to the front of the class. He continued the lesson—about English literature, about poems written in a language that wasn’t theirs, about how words could have different meanings depending on who read them. His students listened—some seriously, some with bored expressions, some with distant eyes.

They were so absorbed in learning—that they didn’t realize the bell for the second lesson had already rung. Kai closed his book and placed it on the desk. "Alright," he said. "Change into your sports clothes. After that, go straight to the field."

They stood—with the sound of chairs shifting and bags opening—and Kai left the class. He walked to the teachers’ room—took his sports clothes from the locker—and he entered the changing room. He changed quickly—sports shirt, training pants, sneakers—and he walked out to the field.

He stood under the large tree near the field—sheltering from the increasingly scorching sun—and he waited. Mira arrived first—with quick steps, with a wide smile.

"Mr. Kai!" she said. "Mira came first!"

Kai nodded. "Good."

Mira stood beside him—with her hands on her hips, with breath slightly heavy from running. "Mr. Kai," she said. "Mira is curious. What did Ms. Reina call you for earlier?"

"School business," Kai said.

"What school business?"

"Business you don’t need to know about."

Mira pouted her lips. "Mr. Kai is stingy."

Kai didn’t answer. He just stared at the field—toward the other students starting to arrive—and he waited until they were all gathered. After everyone arrived—Ella, Rin, Luna, Nora, Iris, Eve, Aria, and Fay—Kai asked them to form a line. They lined up neatly—with their hands at their sides, with eyes staring forward.

"Before we start," Kai said, "let’s warm up first. I don’t want anyone getting injured."

He led the warm-up—leg stretches, arm stretches, neck stretches. His students followed—some seriously, some lazily, some with irregular movements. After finishing, Kai stood in front of them.

"Today we’re going to do the long jump," he said. "I’ll explain the rules. You’ll run from the start line—" he pointed to the line he had drawn on the ground—"—then jump as far as you can from the takeoff line. You can’t step on that line. If you step on it, your jump doesn’t count."

He explained the technique—how to run, how to take off, how to jump, how to land. His students listened—some seriously, some with bored expressions. After finishing, Kai asked them to practice—one by one.

Nora jumped the farthest—with perfect technique, with a long jump. Rin also jumped far—with strong power, with a high jump. The others weren’t bad—maybe because they were active, maybe because they were used to moving. Mira jumped with enthusiasm—though her technique was still a little messy. Luna jumped calmly—with a not-too-far jump, but neat. Iris jumped casually—with the mysterious smile that never faded. Eve jumped with calculation—with a not-too-far jump, but precise. Aria jumped carefully—with a short jump, but she didn’t fall. Fay jumped slowly—with the shortest jump, but she smiled afterward.

The break bell rang—a long sound that echoed across the field. Kai ended the lesson—asking them to line up again, saying thank you, and inviting them to take a break. His students scattered—some to the cafeteria, some to the classroom, some sitting under the tree. Kai stood there for a moment—watching them leave—then he turned and walked to the teachers’ room.