Chapter 4: Gilded Shackles
Holly squeezed the pen in her hand, her knuckles whitening with frustration.
She had been sitting here for the past 3 hours grinding through quizzes. Whenever a paper is not 100% correct, a new one stuffed with another 100 more questions gets added to the pile. Holly had failed the first sheet, and then the second, and is now on her third. There is no end to the nightmare.
Her precious laptop, one she always had with her since her childhood, had been taken away from her and deemed a ‘distraction.’ Without it, Holly felt like she lost a part of herself. Even in elementary, Holly had a fascination with computers, her optimism with technology had her get in trouble for stealing her teacher’s phones and jail breaking them, claiming that she’s helping them with a much more versatile software.
Multiple near expulsions stacked up to the point where her family finally folded and let her have her own device at a young age. On the condition Holly does not steal anyone else’s ever again.
Holly wasn’t “pencil smart”—she was computer smart. Her studying had always been assisted by programs she coded herself: digital highlighters, personalized flashcards, searchable libraries of notes. Sure, she admitted that physical highlighting was more interactive, but it couldn’t beat the efficiency of her digital setup. No heavy books. No messy stacks of paper. Just clean, indexed knowledge.
Without her laptop, Holly was slower, clumsier. Her handwriting was barely legible after years of typing.
The world Holly grew up in leaned into digitalization. But this world? Same people, different tech timeline. Everything was slower, clunkier, wrapped in dusty books. Honestly, with how bad the organizational systems were here, it was no surprise someone like Miss Inari turned out the way she did.
Holly had even taken off her jacket, she didn’t want lead stains on it from the constant scribbling. The only computer in the room was an ancient CRT monitor, barely powerful enough to run a game from twenty years ago.
She leaned back in her chair, fingers sore, eyes burning. Her thoughts drifted to him. Her supposed older brother.
Class-wise, he was a totally different person here—polished, praised, adored. But underneath?
Same controlling attitude.
Same manipulation.
Same brother. Different methods.
Holly took a sip of water, letting the memory of her last encounter with Haytham surface.
...
...
...
Holly sighed to herself. She stood in front of what should’ve been her dorm room—but something was off. This wasn’t hers.
She stared at the name on the door.
Rina O’Rama.
A shadow engulfed her, and a hand violently slammed right next to her head – hard. Too close.
“My dear sister,” came a syrupy and cold voice,”we know what you’re trying to do sneaking to Rina’s room. Just give it up already...”
Holly internally jolted at the sudden slam but outwardly, nothing.
She turned to the all-too-familiar voice, wearing deadpan expression
Haytham.
Seconds passed.
The clock on the wall ticked softly. Muffled sounds from the adjacent rooms bled through the silence.
Holly said nothing. No fear. No anger. No reaction.
That alone irritated Haytham.
It became an impromptu staring contest. Holly tilted her head slightly, almost curious, as if waiting for him to continue his dramatic monologue.
Eventually, he had to break the silence.
“Not scared today, are we?” he scoffed. “I heard you caused Miss Inari some trouble, hanging out with Sapphira again. Tsk, tsk, tsk… Girl, why are you so stubborn? We have an image to uphold. Associating with someone who sells her body is the last thing we want from you.”
He spoke as though scolding a child—condescending, smug, expecting the usual fiery pushback.
But again—nothing.
More seconds passed.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Holly glanced toward the clock, then back at Haytham. Her lips parted.
Haytham readied himself for the inevitable rebuttal.
“Unlike you, the ticking actually serves a purpose.”
It took him a second to register it. She had just devalued him lower than a wall clock.
“You know,” he said sharply, “sharp tongues only work when they’re understandable.”
“I’m just stating the fact,” Holly replied coolly. “A clock is consistent. Predictable. Clear. You? You just make noise.”
Haytham stormed off angrily, Holly sighed – her brother was a no better snob in this world than the last.
She wanted to move on but noticed chaperons on both ends of the hallway.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“My dear sister is rebelling again; can you please take to the study room?” Haytham commanded.
The two chaperones approached Holly and grabbed her by both arms
All Holly can do was just be dragged along the carpet
They brought her toward a secluded room deep in the VPI dorms.
Spartan. Quiet.
Just a bed, and a study desk and an outdated computer humming.
The chaperones sat Holly down and locked her in, and left
...
...
...
Holly sat at her desk. Her legs still ached from the cold grip of the restraints. Apparently, trying to visit Rina was enough of a crime to warrant this treatment.
She hadn’t expected the name on the door to catch her off guard. Rina O'' Rama. Holly blinked at it once—no hesitation, just recalculating.
Same floor. Same hallway. It should’ve been her room.
And the second Haytham came into view, something jammed in her mind. A glitch. A blank screen.
Then the ticking filled the silence, and her mouth moved before her brain did.
Now, here she was.
They have set up an unnecessarily complicated system in front of her.
Her legs were locked to the seat by thick metal brackets—secure, unmoving. Struggling was pointless.
On the desk: a stack of paper, an old computer, a mouse, and a scanner.
The instructions on the screen were simple but cruel—print each question, answer it by hand, then scan it in for evaluation.
Each question was its own sheet.
Each one layered with multiple subjects, disguised in complex, winding scenarios.
Holly squinted at the system. Clunky. Inefficient. Overengineered.
But that wasn’t even the worst part.
She glanced under the desk.
A bottle of water.
A bucket.
They weren’t expecting her to leave this seat. Not for a while. Not for anything.
This wasn’t discipline. It was conditioning.
Holly sighed. The work was stacking up by the minute.
She’d never studied these subjects seriously before. Of course there’d be mistakes—even after multiple rereads.
No textbooks. No references. Some questions hinted at answers from earlier ones... but by then, it was too late.
Each failure reset the cycle.
By the third failed attempt, Holly slouched back in her chair, defeated.
She grabbed the bottle, took a sip.
Wiped her mouth with her arm.
She didn’t want to think about the bucket.
Holly let her eyes drift to the monitor - blank, flickering slightly.
An idea sparked.
Maybe this ancient thing could be broken through.
She reached for the keyboard.
Pressed ESC.
...
Everything was in fullscreen after all. No actual lockdown protocol—just a program running in kiosk mode. Technically, she could exit the application at any time.
But doing so? That felt like a trap.
Like the kind that leaves you strapped to a chair for the rest of your life.
And for all she knew, Haytham could already be monitoring her every move—from that one button press alone.
Time was ticking.
If she was going to get out, she''d need to figure something out before the restraints are the least of her worries.
...
Desktop. Web browser.
The computer was connected to the internet.
Seriously?
She typed the name of the program. ‘VPI’s most intense study helper’ quoted one of the lecturers. Built by Haytham and his team during their first year. A glorified passion project.
No login screen. No authentication tokens.
Just a folder. Containing every question... and answer.
Holly blinked at the screen.
This… couldn’t be real.
Even a first-year student would know better cybersecurity than this.
No, it''s not even cyber security, its basic knowledge!
Why go through the trouble of coding an entire program for other students - with restraints- and then leave it wide open like this?
She looked under the desk.
The restraints didn’t appear to be hardwired into anything—nothing connected directly to the scanner, either. Wireless, maybe. But that loosened things up in her mind.
She decided to play along. Answer a few questions.
While doing so, she opened the task manager—looking for activity whenever a submission was made.
...
No indicator of correctness.
No progress bar.
Just a blank, endless stream of questions.
Four hundred of them.
“What a waste of time,” Holly muttered under her breath.
She’d make no more mistakes.
Every answer from here on out would be perfect.
But someone might already be on their way. Her little digital footprints could be raising alarms as she sat here pretending to study.
She flipped the current question sheet over.
Started sketching. Routes. Scenarios. Escape vectors.
The restraints.
How were they controlled?
An external program? Admin connection?
Power-based override?
What was the trigger—and where did it originate?
No answers. But... maybe she could catch an outgoing signal.
Yes. Leave a breadcrumb. Lure the program to trip itself.
Holly answered another question—carefully, correctly.
Then she watched the command prompt.
There.
A local program.
No remote admin. No live monitor.
She stared at it in disbelief.
It was automated. Telling it to open when all... All questions were set to true.
When one false is detected...it added another 100 questions.
Well then. If they wanted perfection, they’d get it.
And now, she wasn’t just a student.
She is now the principal of this twisted study session.
Without hesitation, Holly redirected the trace back to her terminal.
Marking ‘true’ for every question.
And with the final answer processed.
Click.
The restraints released with a hiss of disengaged metal.
She was free.
...
Holly stood up and stretched.
An audible crack echoed throughout the room.
Holly stared back at the computer in disbelief.
No encryption. No login screen. No firewalls. No audit logs. Just... layman’s idea for a secure program. The entire system could have been breached with just a simple remote access.
And after everything, the restraints, isolation – this is what Haytham can do? A program Holly can make infinitely better – yet purposely build like a torture device, quick, crude and ancient.
Was this laziness? Arrogance? Or all the above.
Haytham had many loopholes in the supposed VPI standard of studying.
Holly CAN coded a much better one on this very computer and take over the throne overnight.
But that''s the least of her worries now.
There is a believable stack of papers to indicate a completed assignment, but Holly had no heart to cover all her tracks.
She completed the questions until number 69.
A smirk curled her lips.
She turned off the monitor.
If someone were to peek into the room right now, it will give off an illusion Holly completed everything, and the computer went to sleep.
It would buy Holly at least 5 seconds to slip away.
Holly pondered her next move. With internet connection she can figure out more details of this world.
But it''s too risky, someone might enter at any time.
Friends? Holly never made any other than Sapphira. Rina and Ayaka tend to become white noise.
Maybe Robin? They have hung out a lot, maybe they are another friendly face in this world.
She collapsed onto the bed. Harder than expected.
No clear path forward. Getting home was the goal—but right now, she lacked even the map.
That’s why they split up in the first place.
Holly could only guess what the other three were doing.
Maybe they’d show up tomorrow. Maybe not.
But one thing was certain—she wouldn’t.
Coming back to class? Pointless.
They’d just shackle her like some obedient pet again.
Back home, at least, she could move on her own terms.
An objective is set. Getting her laptop.
There is no clue on where it will be. But since the incident, Holly remembered a glimpse - tucked inside the desk, where the 4 of them originally found themselves in.
Can it still be there? Maybe someone confiscated it.
It is alien tech judging by the ‘best’ software this room has to offer. Nobody is breaking into her laptop.
She approached the door. There’s...no lock...
The lengths this VPI goes through and omits security even in its most basic form is still baffling, insulting even.
Like they believed she wouldn’t even think of leaving the room even after completing all the questions.
But no time to waste
Haytham is a status symbol. Holly roaming around unchecked would raise every alarm.
She needs to run; she needs to hide.
And while she finds answers, she will lurk like she does on forums
Only this time, it''s for survival.
They will search high and low for her.
But Sabotage? That is Holly’s specialty.