[ The A Class ]

Everyone sat quietly in the classroom, waiting for something to happen.

The gloomy atmosphere had been heavy for more than 30 minutes, barely any words being uttered.

The teacher had a standing desk right in the middle of the classroom, and a sitting one in the corner where she currently was.

Her hair looked like what one would see at dawn, a warm orange that matched her skirt and jacket. She had a bright expression; her smile shining upon the otherwise grim classroom.

"Oh, should be any moment now," she said, suddenly standing up.

In the middle of the classroom, behind the standing desk, the floor seemed to split open, a stone door raising through the wooden surface.

Everyone's attention was grabbed as it appeared out of nothing.

It was so large its height reached the ceiling, any more and it would break through.

The stone doors cracked open, a low rumbling resounded as they did, low and deep vibrations reverberating through the floor. 

While some expected anything to come out of the other side, nobody expected that.

A rainbow.

Geoffrey appeared on the other side, his bright rainbow-colored hair and eyes contrasting against the void background.

"Huh, so the guy who took the most time to finish the exam is ending up in the A class? Unlucky," said a brazen student in the back.

Geoffrey's hair floated upward as if a gust of wind was coming directly from under him. It looked like a colorful fire was raging on his head, fluttering. 

His eyes were so bright and colorful barely anyone could look away. As he stepped into the classroom, it was apparent the colors kept mixing together. His hair and eyes: it was a constant maelstrom of colorful shades.

Once he had both feet inside the classroom, his hair fell straight down. 

The doors slowly shut, disappearing the same way they came up. All that remained was Geoffrey standing in front of the class.

Nobody was brave enough to speak up, but everyone's eyes remained on the student in front of them.

Through his own eyes, however, something weird was happening. Smoke was coming out of some individuals, its color ever-so changing.

Am I the only one who sees this?

Looking left and right with a quick eye movement, he took in everyone that sat before him, his gaze lingering on a few individuals.

His final classroom, which he would share with each of them.

"Alright! You must be Geoffrey! Your assigned seat is in the back," said the teacher.

Geoffrey's expressionless face nodded thanks as he walked toward his assigned seat, making every head turn along the way.

He noticed every desk had a card on them, some students playing with it while others didn't dare touch it.

"Alright, alright," repeated the teacher, "eyes on me! I'm Jenny, your teacher for this upcoming year."

Everyone's head turned back toward Jenny. 

Geoffrey sat down, finally part of the crowd, the way he liked it best.

The classroom was nothing short of breathtaking—as if he'd stepped into an academy reserved for the elite. 

Every detail displayed luxury. Chairs, meticulously carved from rich wood, stood as testaments to exquisite craftsmanship, while the desks flaunted a pristine marble top, their legs gracefully intertwined of gold and silver. 

High, vaulted ceilings soared mirrored by expansively tall windows. Luxurious, silk-like curtains fluttered gently, casting a soft, golden glow that imbued the space with a serene warmth.

 Even the ambient temperature felt divinely orchestrated, as if every element conspired to create an environment of unparalleled perfection.

She wrote her name on the giant blackboard behind her in bold letters, her calligraphy more flowery than it ever needed to be.

"Congratulations," she said, turning back toward the class. "You have all successfully killed yourselves."

The brightness in her expression overshadowed the darkness in her words. The weight they carried, what they meant.

Realizing each of them had gone through the same thing, some student's head turned to their classmates. It was hard to believe, yet true.

"This is the A class," she continued. "You scored the highest on the entrance exam. I'll be your teacher for the upcoming year, and if you make it to your second year, you'll have another one."

One could've heard a feather drop in the silence that forced itself into the classroom.

A single hand raised a few rows before Geoffrey's. 

"Yes?" said Jenny.

"What do you mean, if we make it?"

Geoffrey's gaze studied the classroom, and what he could see wasn't so bad.

He feared his classroom would be the overly emotional type, but they all seemed somehow calm. Maybe too calm.

That question, however, was stupid.

"You know what I mean."

She said that with the brightest smile, her tone finely tuned, her every word sung.

"This school is special. It's not like what you are used to in the real world. We don't have much time left before lunch break, but I'll run you through the most important parts, everything else you can read in your welcome pamphlets in your personal rooms."

She used the blackboard to draw (pretty well) a small map of the school grounds, using green chalk to draw the path to the dorms.

"That's quite far, isn't it?" asked a classmate.

"Yes, you're all F graders, your dorms are the furthest."

Another student raised his hand upright. His posture was rigid, and the way he spoke had a sort of authority.

"Sorry, miss Jenny, what do you mean by 'F graders'? We're in the A class, scored the highest on the entrance exam, haven't we?"

A fair question, thought Geoffrey.

"As students in this school, you have a personal grade. You all start at the F grade, the lowest of them all."

She used the board to list all the grades, from F to S.

"You are all first years, and there are several classes, six of them, to be exact. However, every student in their first year starts as F graders. This grade is yours and yours only, meaning if you do poorly, you could remain an F grader even during your second year."

Another student raised her hand—a girl with short, dark green hair. 

Her generous figure was something to envy, yet her delicate but luminous face effortlessly out-shadowed her graceful appearances.

"So, we could move to a dorm that's closer if we get a better grade?"

Miss Jenny smiled and thanked the girl for her question.

"Your whole experience here is affected by your grade. Your daily allowance, the size of your dorm rooms, or which dorm you live in. The faculties you can use also vary, same with borrowed equipment. The food you can get at the cafeteria changes as well, and much more."

Quiet whispers filled the room, understandably.

Geoffrey, however, wasn't moved. 

Behind the pretty classroom, the nice teacher, and the amount of things this school had to offer, there was a single truth: they were all dead.

Only two things waited for them once they were done here: another chance at life, or the worst parts of hell.

Being comfortable, or walking thirty minutes to and from school, was the least important problem they could face.

"And what is this card?" asked another student.

Geoffrey grabbed the card on his desk. It was thin and made of some sort of metal with only that plain black color.

"Those black cards are essential and must not be lost. By concentrating and focusing your thoughts, your student profile will appear hovering before you. It is also the card you will use to pay for everything."

Some students immediately tried doing what she said, focusing their thoughts on their 'student profile'.

A colored line split the cards, and before the students who tried, profiles appeared.

It looked like magic, the color of the line matching their hair color.

Nothing like he ever experienced before.

Geoffrey's eyes jumped from one profile to the next almost in disbelief. Some smarter students, however, hadn't opened theirs in front of the whole class, sharing important information that could be kept private.

"One more thing. You were all given a gift. Those may help you during assignments or your daily lives, but harming school staff and civilians is against the rules. Doing so could result in an instant expulsion.

A courageous girl further to Geoffrey's right raised her hand.

"By expulsion, you mean..." she asked.

"I mean: you're going to hell."

The girl quickly retracted her hand, her face distorted by fear while the teacher seemed unbothered.

"Yes?" brightly said Jenny.

Every head turned toward Geoffrey, whose hand was also raised.

"We know what happens when we try to harm the staff. What about other students?"

The students turned back toward Jenny, expecting a quick, simple answer.

And there she stood, smiling.