When I was left for the second year at the Academy of Deaths, I did not think what this could mean. But it turned out — teaching activities, a new topic of the diploma and new troubles. There is no other way for me, Juliet More, to do this, and even a rector who is in love (or almost in love) will not save.
To still become a certified death, I will not only have to write a new scientific work, but also undergo teaching practice in the native walls of the Academy. It was not enough for me to have missed the secret of immortality, so I also have to somehow hammer valuable knowledge into the younger generation. Which, by the way, actively resists.
But since the students put a scythe in my classes, I will have to prove to them by personal example that learning is light, and ignorance is death without a diploma.
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