"Zero?"
"Yes, Brielle. Zero. As in nothing. As in-burn-my-degree-now level of humiliation."
Brielle winced. "Okay, but did everyone bomb it?"
"Literally just me."
Sophie blinked. "Wait, how is that even legal?"
"I don't know. Ask the cashmere-wrapped demon who teaches it."
"Calla, babe," Brielle leaned in, voice conspiratorial, "I know you're suffering, but I'm telling you, there's something weirdly attractive about your pain when it involves a man like that."
"I'd rather be ugly and at peace."
"Too late, you're hot and haunted."
"Not helping."
---
Thursday morning. Lecture Hall 4B.
The room was unusually quiet, filled with tension before he even entered.
Calla sat second row this time. Not brave enough for the front, too scarred for the back.
The door clicked.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Javier Alcantara walked in.
Same black coat. Same dead-calm eyes. Students straightened like they'd been yanked by invisible threads.
"Begin reviewing chapter four," he said, without preamble.
The screen lit up. Equations. Graphs. Diagrams.
Then his voice cut in-
"Miss Tanaka, explain the difference between nominal and real GDP."
The girl froze. "Um... nominal is like... without inflation?"
"'Like' is not part of academic language. Try again."
She faltered. "It doesn't account for inflation, and real GDP does."
He nodded once. "Bare minimum. Sit."
He walked, slow, precise. The only sound was his footsteps and the occasional scratch of pens.
"Mr. Eaton. Diagram two. What's missing?"
A boy near the left corner visibly gulped. "Uh-labor curve?"
"Incorrect."
Professor Alcantara clicked the laser pointer. "This. This gap. Do not forget it. If you forget it in the exam, I will not be merciful."
He turned.
"Miss Reyes."
Calla straightened so fast her spine might've cracked. "Yes, sir."
"Diminishing returns. Define and explain."
"I-It's when each added input results in smaller increases in output," she answered carefully.
He stepped closer. "Continue."
"Eventually, the productivity starts to decrease, sir. Even if the input keeps increasing."
A pause.
"Example?"
She swallowed. "Studying... like ten hours straight. Eventually you stop absorbing."
His gaze narrowed. "A weak example. But marginally passable."
"Yes, sir."
"Sit."
She did, quietly.
He returned to the board like she didn't exist.
---
Time ticked by. He explained game theory like he was slicing through reality-no hesitation, no wasted words. Equations covered the board, fast and sharp.
"Copy this precisely," he said, voice calm but heavy. "Any error means you haven't understood the chain of logic. And if you can't follow logic, you shouldn't be here."
A few students exchanged terrified glances.
One dropped his pen. It clattered. Javier didn't flinch.
"Mr. Patel. Pick it up faster. You're not in high school anymore."
Calla's pen moved like her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
At one point, she glanced up and caught him staring at the class, jaw set like a general inspecting his soldiers.
Then, again-
"Miss Reyes. What happens to total cost when marginal cost increases beyond average variable cost?"
Calla's breath hitched.
"It pulls total cost upward, sir," she said slowly.
"Good."
A beat.
"Better than your last attempt."
He moved on without another word.
But something about that good echoed in her head longer than it should've.
---
Cafeteria.
"I survived," Calla said, stabbing her salad.
"You didn't just survive, you answered," Sophie said. "You should be proud."
"Yeah. Proud I wasn't reduced to a sobbing mess this time."
"Baby steps," Brielle smirked. "You'll be his favorite victim in no time."
---
Next lecture. Pop quiz.
Calla: 3/5.
The paper had two words in crimson ink: Progress noted.
He didn't look at her when he returned it.
But as she walked past his desk on the way out, he said, without glancing up-
"Don't get complacent."
Calla didn't reply.
She only nodded.
Because somewhere deep inside, buried beneath anxiety and fear, she wanted to earn that cold approval.
Even if he was a scary creature.
Especially because he was.
Chapter End.
YOU ARE READING
Sir (Lecture like a weapon)
Romance📘 Title: Sir Lecture like weapon. Cold. Control. Precise. He doesn't touch. He doesn't smile. He doesn't break rules. Until Calla Reyes walked into his classroom... and his control began to shatter. Calla Reyes is the quiet heiress no one sees comi...
