The Author's Playground
Chapter 54: I’ll pave the way, you just need to tell me (1)

Chapter 54: I’ll pave the way, you just need to tell me (1)

The entire student body had gathered, eyes glued to the chaotic scene unfolding before them.

"What is it this time...?"

"Someone’s rioting."

"Rioting? For what?"

"No clue... but I heard it’s something about the ’Professor Sean Favian Fanclub.’"

"Wait, what?!"

"I’m guessing it’s Class F again?"

"You guessed correctly."

In front of the Teacher’s Office, all hell had broken loose.

Standing at the front like some revolutionary leader, Elijah raised his fist to the sky, his voice turned shaky as he screamed.

"WE WANT PROFESSOR SEAN BACK!"

His loyal followers (Fellow classmates)—all three of them—screamed after him in perfect synchronization:

"WE WANT PROFESSOR SEAN BACK!"

"WE REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE HIS LEAVING!" Elijah howled.

"WE REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE HIS LEAVING!" echoed his ever-so-dedicated cult— Pardon, the narrator means... classmates.

Elijah took a deep breath, chest puffed out. He was about to deliver the final battle cry.

"WHAT ARE WE?!"

"THE PROFESSOR SEAN FANCLUB!!!!"

The entire hallway fell into stunned silence, the sheer absurdity of the scene sinking in.

Varden, standing among them, dragged a hand down his face. ’Fuck... I wanna die.’

Rachel, still half-hidden behind the sign let out a quiet sigh. ’I just want to sleep...’

Meanwhile, Shawn grinned, smiling with excitement. ’I have no idea what’s happening, but this looks fun!’

At that moment, Professor Sean stormed out, eyes flushing red in pure anger and embarrassment burning in his eyes. "W-what are you all doing?!"

Elijah dropped to one knee as if enacting the grandest proposal in history, extending his hand with exaggerated sincerity. "Professor Sean... will you be our advisor, forever?"

Right on cue, Shawn and Varden flung handfuls of flower petals into the air, letting them cascade down like a scene straight out of a corny romance novel.

It was absurd.

It was ridiculous.

And above all—

It was painfully embarrassing.

Professor Sean, unsurprisingly, was not impressed. Not even a little.

His expression twisted in sheer, unfiltered disgust as he stared at the four culprits before him.

"...All of you. My office. Now."

********

Inside his office, Professor Sean sat behind his desk, arms crossed. The weight of sheer disappointment radiated off him like some dark aura coating his body.

"So..." he spoke, voice flat and unimpressed. "Whose idea was this?"

Without hesitation—like a well-oiled machine, the three students turned their heads in perfect sync.

Straight at Elijah.

Elijah blinked, experiencing betrayal. Utter, shameless betrayal.

"What? We all agreed to it!"

"You again?!.... Everyone except Elijah. Leave."

"..."

"Now."

Varden gave Elijah a slow, disappointed shake of his head, the kind that screamed I warned you this will happen, don’t blame me. Without another word, he turned and walked out. "Tsk tsk..."

Shawn, simply grinned and waved his hands like some friendly farewell. "See you later~!"

Rachel, meanwhile, said nothing. She merely held up a small sign labeled Professor Sean Fanclub, using it as a makeshift shield to cover her face before bolting out like a startled rabbit.

The door clicked shut.

And just like that, Elijah was left alone.

With Professor Sean, of course...

Tik... tak... tik... tak...

"So, what happened?" The silence was broken by Professor Sean’s question.

The room felt strangely hollow. Elijah’s gaze flickered to the professor’s desk—empty. Even the luggage by the corner was neatly packed, as if preparing for departure. The sight made something in his chest tighten.

"Professor," he asked, tilting his head. "Do you like teaching?"

Sean blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Why would you ask that? Of course, I—"

The words faltered. His voice trailed off into silence.

He should have said ’Yes’ immediately.

But something else bothered him.

’Do I like teaching?’

A simple question. One that shouldn’t have been difficult to answer. And yet...

It was something he had asked himself more times than he cared to admit.

Sean had never set out to be a teacher. He hadn’t been guided by some brilliant mentor, hadn’t dreamed of shaping young minds. Teaching had been a consequence of circumstance, not a calling.

So why had he accepted the academy’s invitation?

For fame? No. Definitely not. He despised attention, which was why he had chosen Class F—the students the academy had all but abandoned, the ones left to fend for themselves.

For money? ...Probably. That was the logical answer, wasn’t it?

And yet, as he sat there, an old memory surfaced, unbidden.

His expression softened, and a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "Haha... right." A small smile followed. "Of course, I do. I’ve always loved teaching."

Elijah’s eyes widened slightly before he let out a quiet breath, his own lips curving into a knowing smile as he received his answer.

’That’s right. This is the real Sean Favian I wrote.’

In the original story, Sean had always devoted himself to the orphanage, nurturing the children, guiding them, becoming their father itself.

But as the kingdom waged endless wars against rival nations, against the creeping horrors of the Nightmare, the orphanage’s survival had become uncertain. At some point, Sean had no choice but to leave, forced to find a job that could sustain them.

If he chose to walk away now... then either that arc would happen sooner than it should or not at all.

After all, those children are...

Elijah clenched his jaw and then exhaled deeply, shaking his head.

’No. There’s no point in thinking about it.’

"Professor, do you really want to leave?"

Sean exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Well, I don’t have any choice but to do so."

Elijah studied him for a moment before leaning forward, crossing his legs as he spoke with quiet conviction. "Then you don’t really want to go, do you?"

Sean’s fingers stilled.

"I’ll pave the way for you."

"..."

"All you have to do... is to tell me."

****

Headmaster’s office.

Behind a mahogany desk, sat Headmaster Percival.

A single lamp illuminated the polished wood, highlighting a stack of documents beneath her fingers as she flipped through the pages.

"Elijah Noe Shahrazad..." she murmured under her breath.

Her gaze swept over the details. By all accounts, his background was ordinary—nothing remarkable, nothing worth scrutinizing. And yet...

Then why does this intel say otherwise?

Her fingers tightened around the parchment.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke her concentration.

Percival immediately tucked the documents into a locked cabinet as she spoke.

"Come in."

The door creaked open.

And in walked the very subject of her thoughts.

Elijah Noe Shahrazad.

His dark blue hair was slightly tousled, barely tied properly in ponytail. He didn’t hesitate for a single moment when he stepped forward, cutting straight to the point.

"Your offer back then from the dungeon," he spoke. "I came to reconsider it."