"I have an handout for you lots. Make sure to listen while the Class Representative pass this around. Okay?" said the homeroom teacher, who always tried to sound authoritative and failed spectacularly every single time.
Now isn't this something? No matter how he looked at it, Elias couldn't help but feel a quiet sense of amazement.
The homeroom teacher of Year 3 Class 6, Victoria Johnson, 45 years old, was an interesting character.
...Or perhaps peculiar was the more accurate word.
First of all, she was a foreigner. An African-American woman who had arrived in Dyspar some time ago and somehow secured a teaching position at Counter Academy. That alone wouldn't have been noteworthy, if not for the fact that her personal history was frustratingly vague. Background checks in Dyspar were notoriously thorough. In a city where one could dig up a person's entire life with a simple swipe of a finger, the absence of information stood out far more than its presence. Compared to other cities, even other countries, the gap in technological reach and data access was absurdly wide. And yet, Victoria Johnson existed in that gap, neatly filed and officially approved, but strangely empty.
Secondly, there was the matter of her dating life.
It was said that she was seen with a new guy every week. Elias had overheard the whispers often enough that they'd stopped feeling like gossip and started feeling like common knowledge. Every Monday, like clockwork, someone in the back row would lean over and mutter, "Saw Ms. Johnson at the café on Fifth again." By Wednesday another rumor would sprout, and by Friday the cycle reset. And she never hid it either, so there was no limit to how anyone could raise their imagination. Funny enough, the boys in class had a running bet about how many different men she'd be spotted with by the end of the term.
Thirdly, and by far the most absurd of all, was her figure.
That ridiculous, figure was the reason she ranked among Counter Academy's unofficial Seven Mysteries. At 183 centimeters tall, she already towered over most of the female staff and half the senior boys. But it was the measurements — or rather, the whispered legend of the measurements — that turned her into campus folklore. Someone, years ago, had started the rumor that her three vital statistics were something absurd like 40 – 29 – 62. No one could produce proof, no one had ever seen a tape measure near her, and yet the number persisted like scripture passed from graduating class to incoming one.
Whether the bust and waist figures were accurate or wildly exaggerated, no one could deny the third digit.
Her hips flared into an enormous, heart-shaped backside that seemed to defy both gravity and physics. It was like a perfectly sculpted shelf that could balance a stack of textbooks without toppling, or perhaps more accurately, the rounded rear half of a compact car whose trunk lid curves outward, wide enough to make parallel parking feel like threading a needle. To put it into perspective, it was possible to fit roughly two large beach balls side-by-side across the back.
For that reason, Elias couldn't understand. She was just too strange.
Ding–! Ding–!
The bell rang for lunch, but Elias, Kieran, and Maris lingered in the back row of Year 3 Class 6, pretending to organize their bags while the room emptied. The handout lay forgotten on their desks, some droning announcement about upcoming exams, but none of them had glanced at it since Ms. Johnson had handed it over with her usual half-hearted authority. Instead, their eyes kept drifting toward the front, where their homeroom teacher was now erasing the board, with her back facing them and hips swaying in that hypnotic rhythm as she reached up high.
Kieran leaned in and whispered:
"Okay. Okay, be real. Those rumors are exaggerating, right? No way that's real. That's, like... cartoon levels. I mean, look at her right now. Those hips are basically blocking the entire lower half of the chalkboard."
Maris snorted.
"It's not cartoon. I've seen worse or better, depending on how you look at it, on the internet. You know those plus-size influencers who go viral for their measurements? Like, some of them claim 50-inch hips easy, and the record holders are way beyond that."
Elias blinked, tearing his gaze away from Ms. Johnson's silhouette.
"Record holders?"
"Yeah," Maris said, pulling out her phone under the desk like it was contraband. "There's this woman, Mikel Ruffinelli... she's got the world's biggest hips on record. Like, eight feet around. Eight. Feet. That's over 96 inches. Ms. Johnson at 62 is basically modest by comparison."
Kieran let out a low whistle.
"Eight feet? Isn't that's a whole furniture piece. Imagine trying to sit in a normal chair. Or walk through a door. Ms. J already has to turn sideways half the time."
"Exactly," Elias muttered, finally joining in. "But she's not... unhealthy-looking, right? I mean, she moves like it's nothing. Well... she's not like those record people who seem stuck in one spot."
Maris nodded.
"Those extreme ones are usually from intentional gaining or medical stuff. Mikel's like 420 pounds, hips engineered by years of it. But our lovely homeroom teacher is tall, and the rest of her is... proportional-ish. Reminds me of some celebs who push that vibe."
"Like who?" Kieran asked.
"Think Kim Kardashian back in her prime. Or Sofia Vergara... those hips don't quit, and she's got that same flare. Or Beyoncé in her 'Bootylicious' era. They all have that dramatic lower half, wide hips, tiny waist relative to it. But Ms. Johnson takes it further. If Kim's hips are, what, 40-something inches? Ms. J is in another league. It's like if you took JLo's curves, stretched them vertically because of the height, and then cranked the dial to eleven."
Elias chuckled despite himself.
"JLo would look tiny next to her. And don't forget the dating rumors. New guy every week? With hips like that? No wonder. She's basically walking fan service."
Kieran grinned wickedly.
"You think the guys she dates even notice her face? 'Hey, babe, nice personality... and those doors you keep getting stuck in.'"
Maris rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk. "You're both awful. But seriously, Elias, you've been staring since first period. Admit it, she's the most interesting thing in this school. Mysterious past, endless dates, and a backside that could probably eclipse the sun. Compared to the usual celeb curves we scroll through, She's real-life legend. As expected of one of the school's seven mysteries, she can't be underestimated. She's also good looking too despite being in her forties. I'm a little jealous."
"What was that? I didn't quite catch that."
"It's nothing."
"..."
Elias stared at her for a moment, thinking that he must have misheard. Then he shrugged and grabbed his rather unique walking cane.
"I just... find it hard to believe someone can exist like that and still teach algebra. It's distracting."
"Understatement of the centuy. Come on, let's get food before the cafeteria runs out of everything edible. But next class, I'm sitting front row. For purely educational purposes, of course." declared Kieran as he slinged his bag over his shoulder as the hallway noise swelled.
Maris stood up and smoothed her skirt. "Sure you are. Just don't get caught staring too hard. Last thing we need is to end up in one of her famous Monday café sightings as the third wheel."
"Haha. Wouldn't that be something? No. Actually, that would be pretty terrible."
The three of them filtered into the hallway, swept along by the lunchtime tide of students. Lockers clanged shut, voices overlapped, and somewhere down the corridor someone was already arguing about which line moved faster in the cafeteria.
Kieran stretched his arms overhead.
"You know, every time we talk about her, I feel like we're accidentally uncovering some secret boss character."
Maris walked beside him, unbothered by the noise.
"That's because you're thinking like a gamer. Not everything mysterious has to explode or summon something."
"That's exactly what someone hiding explosives would say," Kieran shot back.
"Hold on... what does explosives have any relevance here?"
Elias adjusted his grip on his cane as they walked before rubbing his chin and speaking thoughtfully. "Still, it is weird. Perfect records everywhere except where it matters. And she doesn't act like someone with something to hide."
Maris nodded.
"Right? If she were shady, she'd keep a low profile. Instead she's loud, obvious, and somehow still untouchable. It's like she knows no one can do anything about it."
Kieran smirked and gestured dramatically.
"Maybe she's secretly backed by the principal. Or the city. Or she's an ex–something. Like an Idol or let's say a spy or a retired super villain."
"You're projecting again."
They reached the stairwell, slowing as a group of first years clogged the steps.
Elias glanced back toward the classroom wing.
"Whatever she is, she's comfortable, that's for sure. And that confidence isn't fake either."
Maris looked at him sideways.
"You're weirdly serious about this."
He shrugged.
"When things don't add up, I notice."
Kieran leaned closer, lowering his voice theatrically.
"Listen to this guy. Walks around with a mysterious cane, talks about noticing things. If anyone's hiding a past, it's you."
Elias huffed.
"Please. I'm not even on the rumor board. Besides, I seriously doubt my past is that interesting."
They stepped into the cafeteria, greeted by the familiar chaos. The smell of fried food, the clatter of trays, and the disappointment of realizing the good menu was already gone.
Kieran stared at the serving line and his expression squeezed like a sour orange.
"Oh, what a tragedy. Damn those greedy first years!"
Elias smiled wryly.
"Guess that can't be helped."
Maris craned her neck to peer over the line of students.
"They really did wipe out the good stuff. No grilled chicken or even curry? Just stew and tired fries."
Kieran clicked his tongue.
"First the Seven Mysteries, now this. Truly a cursed day."
They shuffled forward inch by inch, trays in hand.
Elias glanced toward the teachers' section out of habit.
"At least we do not have to sit near the faculty tables."
Maris followed his gaze and chuckled.
"Scared you will spot another mystery?"
"More like scared of getting spotted," Kieran added. "You know how Ms. Johnson is. She catches you staring once and suddenly you are getting called on every question for the rest of the week."
Elias considered that.
"She does seem sharp when she wants to be."
"People get distracted by the obvious stuff and forget she actually knows her subject. She explains vectors better than half the teachers here," explained Maris in an uninterested tone.
Kieran sighed as they finally reached the counter.
"Fine. Mystery stew it is. If I disappear after lunch, tell my story."
They collected their food and scanned the cafeteria for seats. Most tables were full, loud and chaotic.
"Over there," Maris nodded toward a corner table near the windows.
They sat down, the noise settling into a dull roar around them.
Kieran poked his stew suspiciously.
"If this thing starts moving, I am filing a complaint."
Elias laughed softly.
"Relax. Worst case, it just builds character."
Maris rested her chin on her hand, looking thoughtful. She remained like this for a while then suddenly said:
"By the way, have you guys heard about Espers?"