Bran

Morning sunlight spilled into the quiet student council room as Bran stepped inside, already dressed in his tidy uniform and carrying a clipboard. The other council members gathered around the long table, listened to instructions, and were told they would be conducting classroom raids today.

After the meeting ended, the student council members dispersed through the hallways, each heading toward their assigned rooms. Bran’s destination was Class 7F, the class known for noise, mischief, and constant supervision problems.

Bran walked down the hallway with steady footsteps, pushing the door of 7F open just enough to see inside. The moment he entered, the lively chatter froze. There, in the back row, was Jihan — slouched comfortably in his chair, playing games on his phone with two friends leaning over his shoulders.

On Jihan’s desk sat an ashtray, casual as if it belonged there. The other boys shifted nervously the moment they noticed Bran’s eyes land on it. Jihan, however, paused his game slowly, lifted his gaze, and stared back with a look that hovered between annoyance and challenge.

Bran stepped forward without raising his voice. He picked up the ashtray lightly, inspected it, then set it back on the desk. The entire class watched him in thick silence. “Class 7F,” Bran said firmly, “phones away, desks cleared. This is an inspection.”

The room filled with rustling as students obeyed. Jihan reluctantly placed his phone down, his expression still sharp, but he didn’t say a word. Bran continued checking each desk, calm and composed, writing notes on his clipboard with practiced precision.

When he finished, he took one last look around the room. “I’ll be reporting today’s findings,” he said simply. Then he turned and walked out, leaving the class in a low buzz of whispers — and leaving Jihan unexpectedly focused on him, wondering why that calm senior’s presence lingered more than anyone else’s.