《Romance or Ruin? [Progression Fantasy]》 001 Prologue - A Weird Kind of Love - Mark’s POV 001 Prologue - A Weird Kind of Love - Mark¡¯s POV Mom had always been weird. But I didn¡¯t realize just how weird until she got hit by a truck. I was eight years old when I saw my mom die. Or at least, I thought I did. We were walking home from the grocery store, my tiny hands gripping a plastic bag stuffed with snacks. Then¡ª HONK. The deafening blare of a truck¡¯s horn. Tires screaming against asphalt. Mom¡¯s body flying through the air like a ragdoll, her silver hair whipping around her face like some kind of ghostly veil. She hit the pavement with a sickening thud. It was what Mom would¡¯ve called an "isekai experience." But this wasn¡¯t that kind of story. No reincarnation. No fantasy world. Just cold, hard pavement and the sound of my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I don¡¯t remember screaming. I don¡¯t remember dropping the bag. I just remember running to her. She lay there, not moving. Blood pooled beneath her head, dark and creeping into the cracks of the road. Her eyes¡ªthose warm, gentle eyes¡ªwere closed. ¡°M-Mom?¡± My voice barely came out. She didn¡¯t move. I hit my knees and grabbed her shoulders. ¡°Wake up¡­ Wake up, Mom!¡± People started gathering. Blurry faces, frantic voices. Someone yelled for an ambulance. A man pulled out his phone. A woman tried to drag me away, but I fought her, clutching Mom¡¯s lifeless form. ¡°She¡¯s not dead! She¡¯s not dead!¡± The sirens came fast. Paramedics pushed me aside, checking her pulse, loading her onto a stretcher. ¡°Is she gonna be okay?¡± I begged. No one answered me. She stayed in a coma for weeks. The doctors said it was a miracle she even survived. They didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d wake up¡ªand if she did, they couldn¡¯t promise she¡¯d be the same. I didn¡¯t care. I just wanted her back. So I sat by her bed every day. Talking to her. Holding her hand. Begging her to wake up. And one day, she did. Her eyes fluttered open. My breath caught. Slowly, her gaze settled on me. For a second, I thought¡ªMaybe it¡¯s okay. Maybe it¡¯s over. Then she grinned. A sharp, manic grin. ¡°It¡¯s the big bad wolf!¡± Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm with surprising strength. My heart skipped. ¡°M-Mom?¡± Her eyes widened, practically glowing. She laughed. A sharp, breathless laugh. Something was¡­ wrong. Mom had always been weird. But this? This was something else. I was expecting something¡ªmaybe a weak ¡®hey, kiddo¡¯ or even just my name. Not¡­ this. "This world is an otome game," Mom said, her voice breathless and urgent. "And if you don¡¯t make the heroine fall in love with you, you¡¯re doomed." ¡­Uh. What? I stared. My brain short-circuited. That was too much¡­ wasn¡¯t it? Mom¡¯s grip on my arm tightened. Her red eyes locked onto mine, sharp and almost feverish. "Do you trust Mom?" I blinked. "W-what?" "Do you trust Mom?" she repeated, softer this time. I didn¡¯t even hesitate. "Yeah. Of course." Her shoulders relaxed, and for the first time since waking up, she smiled¡ªgenuinely, warmly. The kind of smile I remembered from before the accident. "Good. You¡¯re a good kid," she murmured, pulling me into a hug. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing her in. She smelled like hospital antiseptic and something faintly metallic¡ªprobably from yanking out her IV in her sleep one time¡ªbut I didn¡¯t care. She was here. She was awake. That was all that mattered. For a while, we just stayed like that. I didn¡¯t want to let go. Then she spoke again. "I wasn¡¯t always¡­ this Mom," she said, resting her chin on my head. "I mean, I¡¯m still your mom, but I also have memories from another life. A life where I played a game. A very specific game." I hesitated. "A game?" "An otome game," she said dramatically, like that explained everything. (It did not.) I frowned. "What¡¯s an otome game?" She pulled back, her face twisted in genuine horror. "Oh no. I¡¯ve failed you as a mother." "Mom." She sighed. "It¡¯s a dating sim, Mark. A romance game where you play as a heroine and choose between handsome love interests." I had no idea what to do with that information. She didn¡¯t wait for me to figure it out. "And in this game, there¡¯s always someone standing in the way of the heroine¡¯s happiness. Someone who exists only to be crushed underfoot by the story¡¯s heroes." Something about the way she said that made my stomach twist. "...And?" She smiled grimly. "That someone is you, sweetheart." I just stared at her. "...Huh?" She nodded. "You were born into the role of a villain. The arrogant young noble who bullies the heroine, makes enemies of the love interests, and¡ªspoiler alert¡ªgets destroyed in every single route." I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "What?" "I know," she said, shaking her head. "When I first realized it, I had the biggest existential crisis. I thought, ¡®Oh no, my son is doomed to be a villainous little brat who gets wrecked by the plot.¡¯ But then I thought¡ªwait. What if we changed the story?" She leaned forward, her grip tightening on my shoulders. "Mark, you don¡¯t have to be the villain. We can fix this. If you make the heroine fall for you, then the game can¡¯t kill you off!" I didn¡¯t get it. I really, really didn¡¯t get it. But I missed my mom. I missed her warmth, her certainty¡ªthe way she always made everything seem possible, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. So I just nodded. "Okay." She beamed. "That¡¯s my boy!" And then, before I could even process what was happening, she ripped off the heart monitor, yanked out the IV tubes, and flung the hospital blanket aside like a dramatic cartoon character. "Now let¡¯s go hunt cryptids, son!" I watched in mute horror as she stood up, wobbling slightly but looking absolutely determined. Maybe the coma had messed with her brain after all. That was the day my mom woke up, chose violence¡­ and turned my life into a dating sim from hell. Actually, scratch that. It was more like an open-world crime sim five seconds later. I thought waking up from a coma had left her a little weird. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I was wrong. She was completely insane. The moment she stood up, alarms started blaring. Her little prison break had tripped the hospital¡¯s monitoring system. Nurses burst into the room, shouting for her to calm down, but Mom just cracked her knuckles. "Mark, sweetie," she said, rolling her shoulders like a street thug about to throw down. "Stick close to me." And then she punched a security guard in the face. "What is happening?!" I shrieked. Mom spun around and kicked another guard in the gut. He crumpled instantly, wheezing. A third guy tried to pull out a stun baton, but Mom yanked the radio cord from his shoulder, wrapped it around his neck, and sent him face-first into the hospital bed. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to disappear into the drywall. Mom, breathing hard, flashed me a wild grin. "Survival, my dear son. It¡¯s a lawless world out there. And we can¡¯t have your daddy get you¡­ or it¡¯s a death flag for me." ¡°What?¡± The remaining guards wisely backed off, probably questioning their career choices. A nurse screamed. Someone hit the emergency button. Mom ignored them. She grabbed a handful of syringes and pill bottles from the counter, shoving them into her hospital gown pockets like a raccoon on a crime spree. "Mom, you can¡¯t just¡ª" "Shh," she whispered, holding a finger to my lips. "We have no money." "That¡¯s not how¡ª" She suddenly pivoted, grabbed the nearest elderly patient¡ªa sweet-looking old granny in a wheelchair¡ªand yanked her up with unnatural strength. "ALRIGHT, EVERYONE STAND BACK! I HAVE A HOSTAGE!" "MOM!" The entire hospital froze. The poor old lady blinked in confusion, then scowled. "Young lady, what do you think you¡¯re doing¡ª" "Sorry, ma¡¯am," Mom said, adjusting her grip. "This is an emergency acquisition of assets." And then¡­ she hijacked a car. I sat in the backseat, still in shock, as Mom swerved wildly through the city streets. The stolen sedan narrowly avoided pedestrians and at least one fruit stand. The granny, now safely buckled into the passenger seat with a stolen juice box, seemed less terrified and more¡­ mildly inconvenienced. Mom¡¯s eyes were laser-focused on the road. "This is a lawless world," she muttered. "The corpos control everything. Money, medicine, power. And we have none of it." "You literally just stole medicine," I pointed out weakly. "Exactly! That¡¯s called wealth redistribution." "You also kidnapped a grandma." The granny took a loud sip from her juice. "I was getting bored in there anyway." I buried my face in my hands. At some point, Mom must have realized that having a child and zero resources was not a winning strategy¡ªbecause she suddenly changed course. When we finally pulled up to a familiar building, my stomach dropped. I knew this place. The orphanage. "Mom, no¡ª" She parked the car, got out, opened the back door, and dragged me out by the collar like a stray cat. "Mom, PLEASE¡ª" She marched up to the front door and knocked. Hard. A tired-looking nun opened it. The moment she saw Mom, her face paled. "You¡ª" "Here," Mom said, shoving me forward. "Hold this for me." "I AM NOT A BAG OF GROCERIES." The nun sighed deeply. "Miss Evelyn, you can¡¯t just¡ª" "Shh." Mom put a finger to her lips. "I¡¯ll be back." She turned to me, her expression oddly soft despite¡­ everything. She knelt down, ruffling my hair. "I will be back, Mark. I promise." I stared at her, too stunned to process what was happening. Then she turned on her heel, hopped back into the stolen car (granny still in the passenger seat), and sped off into the night, hospital gown flapping in the wind. I watched her go, my fists clenched at my sides. Screw you, Mom. ¡ª And then, a few weeks later, she was back. Most people would consider breaking into an orphanage a crime. Most people would also consider stealing a child from said orphanage a crime. My mother was not most people. It had barely been a few weeks since she dumped me at that miserable place with a half-hearted promise to return. And now, in the dead of night, I found myself being yanked out of bed, slung over her shoulder like a sack of rice, and smuggled out the window. "Mom, what the hell?!" I whisper-shouted as she effortlessly scaled the orphanage wall, moving like some kind of rogue assassin. "Shh, keep your voice down. I¡¯m in the middle of a stealth mission." "This is literally kidnapping!" "Relax, it¡¯s only kidnapping if you take a kid away from their home. I¡¯m bringing you back to our home." "We don¡¯t even have a¡ª" She vaulted over the last barrier, landing on the pavement with an almost supernatural grace. I, meanwhile, did not land gracefully. The next thing I knew, I was in the passenger seat of yet another stolen car, being whisked away from civilization at illegal speeds. "Where are we going?" I asked, rubbing my sore arm. Mom grinned. "Training arc time, baby." I had a very bad feeling about this. ¡ª A few hours later¡­ "Okay, Mom, this is too much!" I was inside a dungeon. A real-ass dungeon. The kind you see in video games, full of glowing moss, eerie tunnels, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªcryptids. Specifically, goblins. And I was holding a club. A literal club. A goblin screeched in the distance. I tensed, sweat pouring down my neck. "Mom, what am I supposed to¡ª" "Swing!" she shouted from behind me. A goblin lunged. I swung wildly. The club connected with a sickening crack¡ªand the goblin collapsed, twitching. My arms trembled. My heart hammered in my chest. I stared down at the goblin. It wasn¡¯t dead. But it wasn¡¯t moving either. "Good form!" Mom cheered. "Alright, time to farm some EXP!" "I don¡¯t think this is legal!" "Relax." She patted my shoulder. "It''s only illegal if you get caught." The goblin twitched. Another one peeked around the corner. My grip tightened on the club. I was going to die down here. Or worse¡ª I was going to survive. Mom stood behind me, casually dual-wielding a stolen handgun and an energy knife. Every time a goblin so much as breathed in my direction, she put a bullet in its head like she was grinding EXP in an FPS game. "You need to awaken your ESP fast," she called out, reloading like this was just another Tuesday. "So we can begin your Spartan training and grind your stats." "This isn¡¯t Spartan enough?!" I shouted, ducking as a goblin swung at my head. "You have no idea what Spartan means until you survive on your own for a week with nothing but a rusty knife and some ration bars." "WHAT?!" Mom casually shot a goblin that was about to ambush me from behind. "I did it in a few weeks after we escaped the hospital, you know?" I could only gape at her. Mom, what the actual hell have you been doing?! Then I saw it¡ªthe goblin coming. For once, I actually saw it. The way its muscles tensed before lunging, the crude dagger in its grip aimed right for my gut. I didn¡¯t think. My body just moved. I twisted to the side, the blade whiffing past me, and swung my club with all the strength my tiny, noodle arms could muster. CRACK. The goblin¡¯s skull caved in. It dropped like a sack of rotten meat. Another one screeched and charged at me. I didn¡¯t wait. I stepped in, grabbed its head¡ª ¡ªand twisted. A sickening snap rang out. The goblin went limp in my grasp. For a second, I just stood there, panting, my hands trembling slightly. My heart hammered in my chest. Then I turned to Mom. She clapped her hands together, looking way too pleased. "Bravo! So? Do you feel anything new? ESP much?" I checked. I still felt like me. My limbs were sore. My breath was ragged. My heart was still hammering from the sheer adrenaline of almost getting stabbed. But¡­ nothing else. "No, Mom¡­ I still feel like me¡­" Mom sighed dramatically, holstering her gun. "Tsk, I was hoping for an instant awakening. Oh well, guess we¡¯ll have to do things the old-fashioned way." I had a very bad feeling about the old-fashioned way. She ruffled my hair, then slung an arm over my shoulder. "Listen, this world is filled with cryptids and ESPers. You? You¡¯re just a normie. For now. But we have six to seven years to pad up your stats. And hopefully, awaken your ESP." "Pad up my stats? ESP?" I asked, still trying to process the fact that I had just killed two goblins with a club. "The ESPer Academy is a tough place," she continued, completely ignoring my horror. "And you will have even tougher competition. You can do it, my boy! This mommy of yours is rooting hard for you!" I barely had time to process that before another goblin nearly took my head off. "Not helping, Mom!" I shouted, scrambling away. Mom simply laughed as she shot the goblin in the face. "No worries, sweetie! Mom¡¯s got your back!" This woman was insane. So I continued killing goblins with my trusty club until it broke into two. It took a lot of effort, but eventually, I got used to it. ¡°Alright, sweetheart!¡± Mom said brightly, tripping a goblin and crushing its skull with her boot. ¡°Now that you¡¯ve gotten a taste of combat, it¡¯s time for the next phase of training!¡± I wiped goblin blood off my face, still shaking from the adrenaline. "Next phase?" She grinned. The kind of grin that promised imminent psychological trauma. ¡°Trial by FIRE!¡± she declared, throwing her arms out dramatically. ¡°Mom, no¡ª¡± A fireball shot past my head, singeing a chunk of my hair. I spun around to see a goblin shaman standing at the far end of the dungeon, staff glowing ominously. ¡°Trial by fire,¡± Mom repeated smugly. ¡°YOU LITERALLY MEANT FIRE?!¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°AND YOU LET IT BURN MY HAIR?!¡± ¡°You¡¯ll survive.¡± The shaman chanted something in a language that sounded suspiciously like someone choking on gravel. I watched, horrified, as molten cracks formed beneath its feet. ¡°Mom!¡± I screamed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sweetie,¡± Mom said, cocking her gun. ¡°I¡¯ll cover you.¡± ¡°Thank¡ª¡± ¡°But I won¡¯t interfere!¡± ¡°WHAT?!¡± ¡°You have to learn to handle it yourself.¡± ¡°THAT IS LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE OF COVERING ME!¡± Mom holstered her gun and stepped back, hands on her hips. ¡°You¡¯ve got this! I believe in you!¡± ¡°I DON¡¯T BELIEVE IN ME!¡± ¡°Fake it till you make it!¡± The goblin shaman finished its chant. The ground split open, magma bubbling through the cracks. Mom gave me a thumbs up. ¡°Oh, screw you.¡± The goblin raised its staff¡ªand I did the only thing my instincts screamed at me to do. I grabbed the nearest goblin corpse and threw it at the shaman. It let out a strangled yelp as the corpse knocked it over. The molten cracks flickered out. ¡°Hah!¡± I gasped, heart racing. ¡°See?! I handled it!¡± Mom''s eyes narrowed. ¡°Clever. But¡­¡± A guttural growl sounded behind me. ¡°Oh, come on.¡± I turned. Another goblin stood there, bigger than the others. Bulkier. Its teeth were like jagged daggers. It was holding an axe the size of my torso. ¡°Meet the miniboss,¡± Mom said, voice brimming with glee. ¡°I hate you.¡± ¡°I love you too.¡± The goblin charged. I screamed. My survival instincts kicked in. I lunged to the side, barely dodging the axe as it embedded itself into the floor. "Good dodge!" Mom called helpfully. The goblin wrenched the axe free and lunged again. I scrambled backward, looking wildly for a weapon. ¡°Mom! Gun?! Knife?! Help?!¡± ¡°Can¡¯t!¡± ¡°WHY?!¡± She smiled sweetly. ¡°Because you¡¯re still tutorial level, sweetie!¡± ¡°WHAT KIND OF TUTORIAL LEVEL HAS A MINIBOSS?!¡± ¡°Git gud!¡± I spotted a new club lying a few feet away. I dove for it just as the goblin¡¯s axe came down, missing my head by inches. ¡°Alright, Mark,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°You¡¯ve got this. Just¡­ think.¡± The goblin raised its axe. ¡­And that¡¯s when I saw it. A weak point. Right at the base of its thick, knotted neck where the muscle didn¡¯t quite cover the spine. I breathed in. Feinted to my left. Rushed to my right. Jumped high. And I swung. CRACK. The club connected with a sickening snap. The goblin¡¯s body seized up¡ªand then it dropped, limp. I stood over the body, panting. My hands trembled. My whole body ached. For a second, I just stood there. Then I turned toward Mom. She was positively glowing with pride. "That¡¯s my boy!¡± she cheered. I pointed at the goblin corpse. "I just killed a miniboss!" "Yup!" "And you left me to die!" "Only a little!" ¡°I¡¯m traumatized!¡± Mom ruffled my hair. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡± I groaned, dropping to my knees. And then¡­ something flickered. Deep inside me. My breath hitched. The world around me felt sharper. I could feel¡­ energy? Pressure? Like the whole room was pulsing. My vision sharpened unnaturally. My heart thudded faster¡ªnot from fear, but from¡­ something else. ¡°Oh?¡± Mom¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Feeling it?¡± I opened my mouth to say yes¡ª ¡ªAnd promptly collapsed. I woke up to Mom sitting beside me, peeling a stolen orange. ¡°Aw, sweetie,¡± she cooed. ¡°You almost had it.¡± ¡°Almost?¡± She nodded approvingly. ¡°Yup. ESP awakening is tough. You¡¯ve just gotta get pushed harder.¡± ¡°HARDER?!¡± Mom popped a slice of orange into my mouth. ¡°You¡¯re doing great, honey.¡± I spat it out. ¡°Mom, I literally almost died!¡± ¡°Nonsense. You only ALMOST died.¡± ¡°THAT IS NOT REASSURING.¡± Mom peeled another slice. "Ready for the next dungeon?" I stared at her, horror sinking into my soul. "...There¡¯s more?" She beamed. ¡°Oh, sweetie. This was the easy one.¡± 002 Whose Mommy? - Evelyn’s POV 002 Whose Mommy? - Evelyn¡¯s POV I remembered my past life all too well. It wasn¡¯t flattering. Being a corporate slave sucked. The work was soul-sucking. The pay was trash. My boss was the worst. The fact that I still had to show up every day despite everything sucking? That sucked the most. Sometimes, I¡¯d stand in the middle of the highway, staring down the blinding headlights of an incoming truck, hoping fate would finally do me a favor and smash me straight to kingdom come. But fate had a twisted sense of humor. It started with a video game. I bought an otome game as a gift for my baby girl¡ªmay she rest in peace. I never even got the chance to give it to her. I was a kid once. I made mistakes. But that girl? She wasn¡¯t one of them. If anything, my greatest mistake was not loving her enough. And then I died. Not by a truck. Not by overwork. Just¡­ darkness. One second, I existed. The next, I didn¡¯t. No grand farewell, no final words. Just the void. But fate wasn¡¯t done screwing with me yet. Because I woke up in a new world. The same world as that otome game. And my son¡ªthe little brat currently putting on an Oscar-worthy performance¡ªwas the villain. "Mom! Mommy~! He hit me!" I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I stared down at the so-called victim. A hobgoblin, limping dramatically as if it had just been through hell and back. "Seriously?" I deadpanned. Mark, my dear little menace of a son, had the audacity to sniffle. "My brain hurts. I need rest." I glanced at the hobgoblin. It wasn¡¯t dead¡­ yet. That was progress. Mark was getting better. Still, his acting could use some work. I pulled out my handgun and shot the hobgoblin in the head. It crumpled, lifeless. "Let¡¯s go," I said, holstering the gun. "We¡¯ll continue tomorrow." Mark groaned, dragging his feet behind me as we left the training ground. "Mom, you¡¯re evil." I smirked. "And you¡¯re soft." The road stretched endlessly before me, bathed in the dim glow of the headlights. The hum of the engine filled the silence, steady and grounding. I wasn¡¯t running. Not exactly. Just¡­ relocating. Again. The motel I pulled into was a rundown little thing on the side of the highway. Peeling paint, a neon sign flickering on its last legs¡ªcharming. But it had a bed, a door that locked, and no nosy neighbors. Good enough. Mark was out of the car the second I parked. "Dibs on the shower!" I let him have it. Dragging our luggage inside, I tossed the duffel bags onto the rickety bed and rubbed at my eyes. They still ached¡ªa dull, irritating pain from using my ESP for too long. It¡¯d been months, but my body was still adjusting. The first chance I got after dropping Mark at the orphanage, I¡¯d gone on a little adventure. Step one: abuse my lore knowledge. Step two: sell information from behind the scenes, just enough to get the right people interested. Step three: build the funds. Step four: hire a somewhat reliable power broker who could forcibly awaken my ESP in a controlled environment. The "controlled" part turned out to be a lie. There was no such thing. The bastard had tossed me into the deepest abyss and told me to sink or swim. Literally. I swam. And now? Now I had ESP. My mind stretched further than it ever had before, but my body still hated me for it. The headaches were brutal. "I really am taking it easy on Mark." "What¡¯s that, Mom?" The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. I turned to see the little brat stepping out of the bathroom, steam rolling behind him as he rubbed a towel through his hair. "Nothing," I said, grabbing my change of clothes. "My turn." Mark flopped onto the bed. "Can I sleep now?" "Not if you¡¯re still wet," I shot back. "Ugh." I smirked and shut the bathroom door behind me. The water cascaded over my skin, washing away the grime of the road. The motel shower was a piece of crap¡ªlow pressure, weird smell, a showerhead that looked like it hadn¡¯t been cleaned since the last century¡ªbut after a long drive, it felt divine. I ran a hand through my silver hair, slicking it back as I took a moment to appreciate my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. Lean figure, sharp features, piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly with ESP energy¡ªthis body had come a long way since I first woke up in this world. The hellish training, the near-death experiences, the forced ESP awakening¡­ worth it. But the side effects of the forced method were getting worse. The pain, the migraines¡ªthere were days when my vision blurred so badly I couldn¡¯t see straight. I wouldn¡¯t put Mark through that. I couldn¡¯t. He needed a safer path. I let out a slow breath and pulled up my interface. [ESP Interface: System Online] It flickered to life within my Mind¡¯s Eye, a glowing blue construct floating in the darkness of my thoughts. I had built it myself, using my ESP to create a mental construct modeled after the otome game¡¯s system.
[Evelyn''s ESP Interface: Mark''s Stat Sheet] Name: Mark (No registered surname) Title: The Villain Age: 8 Race: Human (?) Affiliation: None (Currently a free agent) Threat Level: [? Variable ?] (Depends on mood and sugar intake) Attributes: Abilities: Personality Notes: Current Condition: Evelyn¡¯s Personal Notes:
A stat sheet unfolded before me, its layout eerily similar to the game¡¯s menu. The main display? Mark¡¯s stats. I had no intention of letting my son stumble blindly into his fate. If the world wanted him to be the villain, I¡¯d make damn sure he was a prepared villain. Better yet, I¡¯d make him the hero. That¡¯s why I built this interface¡ªso I could monitor his growth, track his strengths, and keep a damn Exp system in place. If the world wanted to treat this like a game, I¡¯d play it better than anyone else. I flicked through the stats, noting his progress. His physical stats were improving at a snail¡¯s pace, mostly because he preferred not to do any work. His intelligence and charisma were still sky-high, which explained why he kept finessing his way out of things. And of course, his Brat Energy was as strong as ever. A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. "Mom, I¡¯m hungry." I rolled my eyes. "Sweetie, there¡¯s a snack bar in the duffel. Eat that for now. We¡¯ll go out later." There was a moment of silence before¡ª "Wa-hoo~!" I snorted. Little shit probably found the chocolate stash. Shaking my head, I returned to the interface, tweaking the settings and taking notes on what I remembered from the game. Every little detail mattered. Every route, every character, every event¡ªI had to keep track of it all. My initial plan was simple: make money, find a reliable power broker, and get Mark¡¯s ESP awakened in a guaranteed safe way¡ªbefore the heroine could even say, bitch, please. Then, I learned the nature of my power. ESP manifested differently for everyone. Some people got raw telekinesis, others got elemental control, and the truly unlucky ones ended up with useless garbage like enhanced taste perception. Mine? Mine was something else. A hyper-aware, sixth-sense, telepathic insight kind of something else. I called it Mind¡¯s Eye¡ªbecause it felt right. With it, I could perceive the world in ways others couldn¡¯t. Every shift in the air, every stray thought brushing against my consciousness, even the faintest hostility hiding behind a fake smile¡ªI could sense it all. And that changed everything. With an ability like this, I didn¡¯t need to rely on a third party to awaken Mark¡¯s ESP. I could do it myself. And I could do it safer than the reckless, borderline-suicidal methods that others used. But just awakening his powers wasn¡¯t enough. If I wanted Mark to have an easier life at the ESPer Academy, he needed more than just strength¡ªhe needed status. Which meant I needed status. The ESPer Registry granted noble titles to those who were powerful enough. At the very least, I could secure a quasi-knight rank. If I climbed high enough, Mark would have the backing he needed to avoid the bullying that would come with his appearance¡ªhis silver hair, sharp features, and unnatural presence made him an easy target. I wasn¡¯t about to let that happen. Mark wasn¡¯t going to be a villain. He was going to survive, thrive, and smile like he meant it. Even if I had to drag him there kicking and screaming. My phone rang. I grabbed it from the sink without bothering to check the caller ID. "I found a dungeon. Low-level cryptids. Even a midget could beat them like you requested." I smirked. "Send me the coordinates." 003 Training Arc No One Wanted - Mark’s POV 003 Training Arc No One Wanted - Mark¡¯s POV Year one of my hellish training arc. Preparation to romance the heroine? That was the excuse. The real reason? My mom was a psycho. Most kids got tutors, etiquette lessons, and maybe some fencing practice if they were preparing for high society. I got survival training, combat drills, and the privilege of being chased through the woods by cryptids. At first, I thought she was joking. Then she dropped me in the middle of a forest with nothing but a knife and told me to "figure it out." By the time I was nine and a half, I could start a fire, set traps, and throw a punch that actually hurt. Not that it ever worked on her. The one time I landed a hit, she just grinned like a proud lunatic and threw me into the river as a reward. And then, I turned ten. "Mom! Mommy~! It¡¯s my birthday! Give me some slack!" "Run, boy! Run! Or the wolves will get you!" Behind me, Dire Wolves. Too big. Too fast. Too many teeth. I pumped my legs harder, the cold morning air burning in my lungs. My boots barely missed a root as I sprinted through the underbrush. The wolves weren¡¯t even trying. They were playing with me, keeping pace, waiting for the moment I¡¯d trip. I risked a glance back. Bad idea. One of them lunged. I dove forward, rolling as its claws slashed where my back had been a second ago. Dirt and leaves smeared my face. I scrambled up, heart hammering. "Mom!" I yelled, panic creeping into my voice. She stood on a branch above me, watching like this was quality entertainment. "Figure it out!" she called back, completely unfazed. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sit down and cry and demand a normal childhood. But mostly, I wanted to not get eaten. So I figured it out. Mostly¡­ by running faster than them. Somehow. Year two of the training arc that absolutely no one wanted¡ªexcept Mom. Apparently, if I wanted to bag the heroine, I needed to be stronger than ninety percent of the student body at ESPer Academy. That meant I needed combat experience, survival skills, and reflexes sharp enough to dodge an attack before I even saw it coming. Most kids my age were worried about pop quizzes and weekend cartoons. I was worried about what fresh nightmare my mother had cooked up for training. At nine, it was basic survival¡ªhunting, tracking, and fighting off cryptids barely bigger than me. At ten, she threw Dire Wolves at me like it was a normal Tuesday. And then I turned eleven. "MOMMY~!" A big, bad dog that smelled like a barbecue gone wrong threw a fireball at me. I barely dodged. The explosion singed the tips of my hair, heat searing against my skin as I hit the ground and rolled. My heart pounded. The thing in front of me was twice my size, black fur flickering with embers, its glowing red eyes locked onto me with pure hunger. A Hellhound. Mom¡¯s voice rang out from somewhere above me. "Run, boy! RUN! That¡¯s a Hellhound!" I scrambled to my feet, lungs burning, adrenaline kicking in full force. "No shit, Mom!" "Also, hold your breath! The noxious fumes could accidentally knock you out!" What? I barely had time to process that before the air hit me¡ªthick, heavy, reeking of sulfur and something toxic. My head swam. Oh, hell no. I pinched my nose shut and bolted, my legs moving faster than they ever had before. The Hellhound growled, low and guttural, before its mouth started glowing again. Oh, come on. Another fireball shot toward me. I ran faster. Year three of the training arc from hell. At this point, I knew better than to trust my mom. The moment I saw her making preparations, I knew she was about to drop me into another horrific situation and call it ¡°education.¡± So, naturally, I tried to run. Key word: tried. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. She caught me by the ear before I even made it fifty feet, dragged me back, and flung me straight into the middle of this year¡¯s nightmare. A horde of alpacas. With human heads. And piranha teeth. It was an Alpaca Apocalypse. I was twelve now. A full year older, stronger, and somewhat wiser after barely surviving a Hellhound. But that did not prepare me for the sight of dozens of freakish alpaca things, their gaping maws full of serrated teeth, their hollow eyes locked onto me like I was prime steak. "I HATE YOU, MOM!" I screamed. "YOU WILL LOVE ME FOR IT!" she yelled back from behind the horde, holding up a bag of something that smelled like a hobo¡¯s underwear. "RUN, BOY! MOMMY''S CHEERING FOR YOU!" Whatever it was, the alpacas hated it. Which meant they were now charging straight at me. Also, fun fact: these things spit acid. And not just any acid¡ªmultiplying acid that stripped bark and leaves off trees in seconds. I dodged left. A glob of green goo splattered where I had just been, hissing as it burned straight through the ground. I dodged right. More acid. I learned from the past years. This time, I wasn¡¯t helpless. "PARKOUR!" I screamed, launching myself up the nearest tree. For a split second, I felt victorious¡ªuntil the acid multiplied across the trunk, and the whole damn tree started collapsing. I landed, rolled, and bolted before the alpacas could tear me apart. Behind me, Mom laughed like a maniac. Year four of the training arc I never signed up for. At this point, I was done. I had survived Dire Wolves, dodged Hellhound fireballs, and barely made it out of an alpaca apocalypse with my skin intact. Enough was enough. So I did what any sane, abused child would do. I tried to run away. Again. I tracked down the orphanage I used to live in, ready to beg them to take me back. I even had a whole sob story prepared, complete with fake tears and everything. I didn¡¯t make it far. Mom caught me again, bagged me like a damn criminal, and dumped me straight into a lake. Not just any lake. A lake filled with wild cryptids. IN ALL KINDS OF SPECIES! With too many teeth that made Dire Wolves look like children. The water was freezing, the air knocked out of my lungs the second I hit the surface. I flailed, kicking upward, only for something big and scaly to brush against my leg. My panic skyrocketed. "Mom!" I coughed, treading water as best as I could. "You can do it, kiddo!" she cheered from the shore. "I believe in you! Draw in the power of love or whatever ESP functions on. These guys are nothing, compared to what Florida has to offer!" What the hell even was Florida? A cryptid lunged. I barely dodged, water splashing around me as I kicked off and swam for my life. My muscles burned, my breath short, my heart pounding against my ribs. I was going to die. I was actually going to die this time. Something grabbed my leg, yanked me downward, and just as my head slipped below the surface¡ª Everything stopped. The cryptids went still. Their eyes passed over me like I wasn¡¯t even there. Like I didn¡¯t exist. I wasn¡¯t sure how, but something in me had clicked. A strange sensation washed over me, like I was¡­ absent. The cryptids lost interest, drifting away as if I had never been in their territory. I had awakened my ESP. And I did what any reasonable person would do¡ªI cried as I swam to shore. "Mom! I did it!" I was crying and laughing. Mom pulled me into a hug, fed me a health potion, and then¡ª She tossed me back. "MOM! THAT¡¯S CHEATING! I WASN¡¯T READY!" "Your acting could use a bit of polishing," she said, completely unfazed. Year five of the training arc. At this point, I had something I never had before¡ªconfidence. Thanks to my ESP, I could make people forget I existed. I wasn¡¯t just running away blind this time. I planned. A full week before my birthday, I gathered supplies, mapped out an escape route, and set everything up. When the time came, I¡¯d vanish without a trace. No more cryptids, no more dungeons, and no more psychotic training. Then I turned fourteen. And Mom found me anyway. Not only did she find me, but she used the supplies I prepared to set up a camp. I just stared at her. She stared back. I sighed, immediately giving up. Ironically enough, we spent the day like a normal birthday. Actually, we spent the whole week like that. From Monday to Friday, we celebrated. We ate real food, we played games, we just¡­ existed. No training, no fighting, no running for my life. By Saturday, I didn¡¯t feel like running anymore. "Thanks, Mom," I muttered. She smiled. "And I am sorry." I expected her to suddenly throw me into a dungeon. She didn¡¯t. She just had a wistful expression that day. Year six of the training arc. At this point, I had stopped fighting it. Running never worked. Complaining never worked. Mom was going to train me, no matter what. So I started cooperating. She taught me how to handle all kinds of weapons¡ªblades, staffs, guns, even the occasional explosive. At first, I was just going through the motions, but over time¡­ I got into it. Then I turned fifteen. For my birthday, Mom handed me a butterfly knife. It was rad as hell. She even showed me some tricks, flipping it open and closed in a blur of silver. When I tried, I nearly took my own fingers off, but that was beside the point. Later that day, we hit a shooting range. Mom casually picked up a pistol and¡ªbang bang bang bang bang¡ªlanded every shot dead center. I just stood there, jaw slack. "Whoa~ can I do something like that someday?" "Probably not," she said, setting the gun down. "My power, Mind¡¯s Eye, gives me incredible insight and mastery over any weapon I touch. I don¡¯t even need that much training." That was kind of unfair, but whatever. She glanced at me. "So, any idea what to call your power?" I shrugged. "Still thinking about it. Is it really necessary?" "Not really," she admitted. "But ESP abilities tend to follow certain themes, and naming them helps ESPers strengthen their belief in those themes. It can actually improve your abilities." I frowned, flipping my knife open and shut. "So I just name it something cool?" Mom smirked. "The cooler, the better. Might impress the heroine. I don¡¯t know." Year seven of the training arc. Mom called it a confidence builder. I called it insane. For the whole year, we worked various jobs¡­ violent jobs. We entered dungeons. We hunted cryptids. We fought people. People could get hurt. People could die. Sometimes, they did. I learned how to handle real fights¡ªnot just against monsters, but against people who were desperate, ruthless, or just plain evil. There was no sugarcoating it anymore. Then I turned sixteen. And for the first time, I really thought about it. "Mom," I asked, watching the sunrise after another long night. "Is the world really so violent?" She sipped her coffee. "What do you think?" I hesitated. "...I don¡¯t know." She laughed, shaking her head before looking at me with that sharp, knowing gaze. "Mark, if you want an answer, don¡¯t ask me¡ªask yourself. You¡¯ve seen this world with your own eyes. You¡¯ve fought in it, bled in it, survived in it. You know better than anyone whether it¡¯s violent or not. So tell me¡­ what do you think?" Year eight since Mom had her accident. And just like that, the crazy, brutal training arc ended. Mom bought an entire apartment building for us. We lived a fairly normal life for the first time. No cryptids. No dungeons. No people trying to kill us. Just¡­ peace. She faked all sorts of documents, making sure we had proper identities. She drilled a backstory into my head¡ªwho I was, where I grew up, what I should say if anyone asked too many questions. Then, for the first time in my life, I went to high school. Not for long, though. Mom hired a tutor and had me cram everything I missed over the years. Math, science, history¡ªit was like she was trying to squeeze an entire childhood¡¯s worth of education into my brain in a single year. And then I turned seventeen. Mom honked from the driver¡¯s seat, grinning. "Come on, Mark, you¡¯ll be late. ESPer Academy awaits!" For the first time ever, the car she was driving wasn¡¯t stolen. It was actually hers. I adjusted my uniform, took a deep breath, and grabbed my bag. "Coming, Mom." 004 Mom, Please Stop - Mark’s POV 004 Mom, Please Stop - Mark¡¯s POV The airport was packed with people, the kind of crowd that made me tense up automatically. Travelers rushed past in a blur of suitcases and chatter, announcements droned over the speakers, and the faint smell of coffee and something filled the air. I stood near the departure gate, gripping my ticket so tightly that the paper crumpled in my palm. My backpack was slung over one shoulder, heavy with everything I needed for the trip. It should have been a normal, bittersweet farewell. A quiet hug, maybe a few words of encouragement. But no. That wasn¡¯t how my mom operated. She was sobbing. Loudly. "My baby boy is soooo grown up now!" she wailed, her voice carrying over the entire terminal. Heads turned. Strangers slowed their steps to stare. Some looked amused. Others just looked confused. I groaned, pulling my hoodie over my head in a weak attempt to disappear. "Mom, this is embarrassing¡­" She didn¡¯t hear me. Or, more likely, she ignored me completely. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her chest like I was being drafted into war. "This is the hardest moment of a mother''s life!" she continued, her voice practically shaking with emotion. "To send her beloved son into the unknown! Oh, the pain! The heartbreak! Someone, hold me¡ªI''m going to faint!" I sighed... She had to be doing this on purpose to embarrass me. A security guard nearby shifted uncomfortably. A couple taking selfies turned their camera toward us, probably thinking this was some kind of reality TV moment. I sighed, running a hand down my face. "Mom, you dropped me off here. This was your idea." "And now I regret it!" she cried, grabbing my arms. "I should''ve never let you go! What kind of mother sends her precious son off all alone? What if you get lost? What if you get kidnapped?! What if you¡ª" "Mom." I gave her a flat look. "I''m literally just flying to another city." She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "That''s how it starts." I exhaled through my nose, trying to keep my cool. "You said this was a great opportunity. You pushed me to take it. Remember?" She blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Oh no. I was the one who encouraged you, wasn¡¯t I?" "Yeah." A long pause. Then, with a sudden change in demeanor, she beamed at me. "Then you¡¯re going to do amazing, sweetheart! I believe in you!" I stared at her, unblinking. "What just happened?" She grabbed my face and smushed my cheeks together. "Make sure to eat properly! And call me every day! And don¡¯t trust suspicious strangers!" "Mom, let go¡ª" "And remember, practice your pickup lines, okay? No matter what, you have to bag the heroine home! Also, no harem, unless they get my approval! I didn¡¯t raise that kind of son! If anyone tries to date you, bring them home first! I have to approve!" I managed to pry her hands off me, stepping back quickly before she could trap me in another crushing hug. "Okay, okay! I got it! Just¡ªcan you please lower your voice? People are watching." She sniffled again but nodded. "Fine." I sighed in relief. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI could get through this farewell without further humiliation. Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled at full volume, "I LOVE YOU, SWEETHEART! FLY SAFE! MOMMY WILL ALWAYS BE WAITING FOR YOU!" I wanted to melt into the floor. A group of teenage girls nearby giggled. A businessman walking past gave me a look of deep sympathy. The same security guard from earlier cleared his throat, probably debating whether or not he needed to step in. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I''m going now." Mom grinned, wiping her tears away. "Go make me proud!" Shaking my head, I turned and walked toward the gate, fully aware that she was still standing there, probably waving dramatically. I refused to look back. If I did, I knew I''d just see her making a heart shape with her hands or something equally embarrassing. As I handed my ticket to the attendant and stepped forward, I took a deep breath. This was it. A new chapter. A fresh start. ¡­And hopefully, a life with way less public humiliation. The past seven years or so had been a special kind of hell for me. Mom''s training was relentless¡ªdungeons, cryptid hunting, survival drills that felt more like death sentences. And the worst part? It was all to prepare me for something as ridiculous as an otome game. She insisted this world followed the logic of one, that I had to win over the heroine if I wanted to survive. I still had no idea how seriously I should take that. Even now, as I walked through the bustling airport, her parting words echoed in my head. ¡°Make sure to practice your pickup lines! And no matter what, you have to bag the heroine and bring her home!¡± Yikes. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Yeah. No pressure. I exhaled, finally far enough from the departure gate to loosen up. I yanked off my hoodie and tied it around my waist¡ªnot because I was trying too hard to be cool, but because the crowd made the air thick and stifling. Too many bodies, too much movement. Following the line of passengers, I made my way through security, where a uniformed officer barely glanced at me before waving me through. After that, it was just a short walk to where the giant airship was docked, looming over the terminal like something out of a fantasy novel. Admittedly, this wasn''t my first time on an airship, but I''ve always found the entire thing to be magical. Mom had once told me that in an alternate history, people used "airplanes" instead. Apparently, they were smaller, faster, and ran on something called "jet fuel." I wasn¡¯t sure how much of her so-called past-life knowledge was real and how much was just her being¡­ well, Mom, but she talked about it like it was undeniable truth. Just like she talked about the Otome game. ¡°You¡¯ll understand in time,¡± she¡¯d said. I wasn¡¯t exactly keen on falling in love with a girl I knew nothing about, but apparently, my life depended on it. Checking my wristwatch, I noted the time. The flight would be about two hours long. If everything went smoothly, I¡¯d land around nine in the morning, reach my dorm, and have some time to socialize before the entrance ceremony at ESPer Academy. I wasn¡¯t thrilled about the ¡°socializing¡± part, but it was unavoidable. Stepping onto the airship, I navigated the narrow aisle to my seat and slid into place. Just as I settled in, someone dropped into the seat beside me. ¡°Hello! A fellow student, huh?¡± I turned my head. My seatmate was a girl around my age, dressed in the same ESPer Academy uniform as me. She had short, dark hair and sharp eyes that gleamed with curiosity. She grinned. ¡°Nice to meet you. My name¡¯s Riley. Second year.¡± I blinked, caught off guard by how fast she introduced herself. ¡°¡­Mark. First year,¡± I replied after a beat. Riley¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh, a newbie! Guess that makes me your senpai. Lucky you.¡± What was even a senpai? Maybe I should have memorized the ''popularized'' lingos like mom suggested. I wasn¡¯t sure if ¡°lucky¡± was the right word. More importantly, the name Riley didn¡¯t ring any bells. Mom had me memorize an entire journal full of character names¡ªlove interests, rivals, side characters, even background NPCs¡ªbut Riley wasn¡¯t on the list. That, and the fact that she was a second year, meant we probably wouldn¡¯t interact much anyway. Or so I thought. Riley casually leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. ¡°So, Marky, that¡¯s your mom?¡± I frowned at the nickname but followed her gaze toward the window. And nearly fainted. There, standing on the roof of the terminal, was Mom. She held a massive sign that read: I LOVE YOU, MARK! LOVE TRANSCENDS! ALL BOUNDARIES! FIGHTING! In glowing, blinking letters. I felt my soul leave my body. Y-yeah. That was Mom, alright. I swallowed, forcing the words out. ¡°Y-yeah. That¡¯s Mom.¡± Riley let out a low whistle. ¡°Wow. That¡¯s some serious dedication. You sure you¡¯re not secretly royalty or something?¡± I sank deeper into my seat, wishing the airship would take off faster. Worst. Flight. Ever. A low chime echoed through the cabin, followed by the pilot¡¯s voice crackling through the intercom. ¡°Attention passengers, we will now begin departure. Please remain seated and enjoy the flight.¡± The hum of the engines deepened, a faint vibration running through the floor. Outside the window, the floating terminal slowly drifted away as the airship lifted off, defying gravity with an ease that still felt unreal¡ªthis wasn¡¯t my first flight though. The moment we left the ground, the view stretched wide, revealing the sprawling city below, its countless lights winking against the early morning sky. With a quiet sigh, I leaned back in my seat. There was no turning back now. Riley eventually dozed off beside me, her head leaning slightly to the side, her breathing slow and steady. It was a bit surprising, considering how energetic she¡¯d been just a few minutes ago. With nothing else to do, I pulled out Journal No. 1, the words HOW TO CATCH THE HEROINE¡¯S HEART boldly printed across the front in obnoxiously large font. Mom¡¯s signature was proudly displayed on the cover as if she were the author of a critically acclaimed masterpiece rather than a completely unhinged instruction manual for her son¡¯s love life. This was just one of three journals she¡¯d given me. The first one¡ªthe one I was currently holding¡ªdetailed events I had to attend in order to win the heroine¡¯s heart. It was basically a guidebook for what Mom called ¡°flag-raising,¡± though I tried not to think too hard about that phrasing. The second journal was a collection of information on cryptids, special locations, and all kinds of tidbits that an ESPer in the business would love to have. It also doubled as my training manual, the very same one that had turned my childhood into a living nightmare. The third journal, however, was different. Instead of focusing on the heroine, it listed characters of interest¡ªpeople I had to watch out for, either as potential allies or dangerous obstacles. It also included tips on how to gain their ¡°affection points,¡± a term that made me deeply uncomfortable. Basically, it covered everything about the game except for the heroine herself. Mom had never outright admitted to having prophetic abilities, but I was fairly certain she did. After all, how else could she have won the lottery five times in a row? At one point, I think someone even tried to assassinate her for it. I flipped through the pages, scanning the notes on the upcoming Entrance Ceremony. It outlined key moments, the people I¡¯d meet, and what choices would lead to the best possible outcome. I still wasn¡¯t sure how seriously I should take all this. But if Mom¡¯s predictions were anything like her lottery wins, ignoring them probably wasn¡¯t the best idea. Riley stirred beside me. ¡°What¡¯s that you¡¯re reading?¡± I glanced at her. She was rubbing her eyes, still groggy from sleep. ¡°Some notes,¡± I replied, closing the journal halfway. Riley tilted her head. ¡°Weird¡­ looks like a different language.¡± That was because it was. Or at least, Mom claimed it was a real language from another world. Personally, I had my doubts. I was more inclined to believe she had just invented it herself and then forced me to learn it. I sighed. ¡°My mom¡¯s¡­ quite adventurous. She has weird requirements. Made me learn this language, for example.¡± Riley gave me a curious look, but she didn¡¯t press further. Instead, she pulled out her phone, her attention already shifting. I took the opportunity to go back to my notes. Riley had gone quiet, scrolling through her phone, so I took the chance to pull out Journal No. 2. Unlike the first one, which was all about romancing the heroine, this one had a more practical purpose. HOW TO BE STRONG was written in bold, capital letters across the cover, as if strength were something you could just study like a textbook. I flipped straight to the last page and stared at my stats. Mom had insisted on keeping track of my progress like this¡ªlists of skills, estimated power levels, and notes on what I still needed to improve. Some of it was useful. Some of it was¡­ well, less so. I sighed and closed the journal. Pulling out my walkie and earphones, I put on some music and leaned back into my seat, letting the hum of the airship blend into the background. My thoughts drifted as I stared out the window. The past seven years had been a blur of survival, training, and trying (and failing) to understand Mom¡¯s obsession with the game. To her, everything had rules, predetermined paths, and scripted outcomes. If I just followed the events, things would work out. But it wasn¡¯t that simple. I murmured, more to myself than anyone, ¡°Do I really have to?¡± Romancing the heroine, raising affection points, securing flags¡ªit all felt overly complicated. Forced. And besides¡­ I wasn¡¯t even sure I had it in me to like someone like that. 005 Northstar House - Mark’s POV 005 Northstar House - Mark¡¯s POV ESPer Academy wasn¡¯t just an academy¡ªit was a city. Built on a massive artificial island, the academy was backed by numerous Kingdoms, the Empire, and various global powers. It functioned as a training ground for the world¡¯s strongest ESPers, a proving ground for elites, and a neutral zone where politics took a backseat to raw talent. Even though it was called an "academy," it had its own infrastructure, governance, and economy. From above, I could see it all: towering skyscrapers, sprawling districts, training grounds the size of stadiums, and entire zones dedicated to research and development. It was an entire metropolis built to raise ESPers and integrate them into society. The island itself was divided into several key areas. The Central District housed the administration buildings, libraries, and main lecture halls. The Combat Zones were where students engaged in sparring matches, cryptid hunts, and mock battles. The Residential Quarters stretched across different districts, each catering to students of varying ranks and affiliations. Some dorms looked like high-end hotels, while others resembled military barracks. There were even entire streets dedicated to entertainment¡ªcaf¨¦s, shops, and arcades where students could unwind between their grueling training. All of this¡­ just to train people to harness their ESP. I stood by the deck, gripping the railing as the airship approached one of the high-rise docking towers. The sheer scale of the academy was overwhelming, even for me. Mom had drilled countless facts about this place into my head, but experiencing it firsthand was different. The airship slowed as we neared the docking station, a massive platform connected to a towering structure that extended high into the sky. Other airships were already docked, their passengers disembarking. Staff members, upperclassmen, and visitors waited by the terminals¡ªsome greeting relatives, others just loitering around. "Whoa~ a lot of freshmen." "The academy really is thriving." "Hopefully, someone puts the rankers in their place this year." I listened to the scattered conversations as I activated Nth Person. The moment the airship settled and the doors hissed open, I walked forward, letting my ability shroud me in cognitive invisibility. Nobody reacted as I slipped past them, moving smoothly through the crowd. The best part of Nth Person wasn¡¯t just being overlooked¡ªit was being forgotten. Anyone who briefly noticed me would dismiss me the moment I was out of sight. It wasn¡¯t true invisibility, but it was close enough. Stepping off the ramp, I took my first official step onto ESPer Academy¡¯s grounds. I secured my backpack, feeling its weight settle against my shoulders. Even after all these years of training, old habits lingered. I always packed light but made sure to carry essentials¡ªjust in case. Pulling my hoodie over my uniform, I adjusted it for comfort. Despite the warm climate I''d read about, the air was unexpectedly chilly here. Maybe it was just the altitude or the island¡¯s strange microclimate, but either way, I preferred the extra layer. The giant elevator leading down into the main city was already crowded when I stepped in. Packed shoulder to shoulder, the space felt suffocating, but I ignored it. Most people were too focused on their own things to bother me. I pulled out my smartphone, flicking through the academy¡¯s map. Dormitory¡­ Dormitory¡­ There it was. I traced the route with my thumb, memorizing the path before slipping my phone back into my pocket. Then, it rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Mom. Pressing the answer button, I brought the phone to my ear. "I just arrived at the island, Mom." "Oh, good, good¡­" she said. "So how¡¯s your Ghost Walker ability working?" I sighed. "It¡¯s called Nth Person, Mom. If you were going to insist on me not naming my ESP ability, you should¡¯ve told me sooner. But I¡¯m too invested in this now." Mom had spent the last year pestering me to name my ability. I did. And she didn¡¯t like it. Naming ESP abilities wasn¡¯t just for show¡ªit had a profound effect on how they developed. A name was a foundation, something to build belief and confidence upon. It wasn¡¯t just about what I could do now, but what I could become. Manifestation. Reality-warping through sheer conviction. "But if you named it Ghost Walker," she argued, "chances are you could awaken intangibility. That¡¯s dope as fuck." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. "Mom, language." It was selfish of me, but after scouring the dictionary, I¡¯d decided on Nth Person for a simple reason¡ªit was my best shot at becoming an Extra. While I didn¡¯t fully believe Mom¡¯s whole story about memories from another life, I wouldn¡¯t dismiss her outright either. She knew things. And that knowledge shaped how she raised me, how she trained me. But despite all that, I had my own plans. I wasn¡¯t going down the villain route. No grand ambitions. No power struggles. I was dedicating myself to the side character path. Better yet, I wasn¡¯t really invested in becoming the romantic lead of the story¡­ or anything like that. "My dream is to become an Extra, Mom," I reminded her. "So why did you call anyway?" "Boooring! Fine, fine," she said, sounding amused. "Sooo¡­ why did I call? Oh, right. There might be a problem with your dorm housing." I stiffened. "What is it, Mom?" A brief pause. Then¡ª "I called to apologize in advance." A cold sense of dread crawled up my spine. "...Mom?" Click. She hung up. "...MOM!?" The elevator had gone dead silent. People who had ignored me before were staring now, their gazes cutting through my cognitive invisibility like a knife. Some looked amused, others judgmental. I felt a headache coming on. I had a very bad feeling about this. I took a deep breath and checked my map again. Whatever nonsense Mom had gotten me into, I¡¯d deal with it when I got there. Right now, I needed to get moving. I hailed a cab and gave the driver my destination. "Northstar House, please." The driver glanced at me through the mirror, eyes narrowing slightly. "You sure, kid?" "Yeah." He didn¡¯t say anything else, but the ride felt longer than it should have. I stared out the window, watching as we left the busier districts and entered a quieter, more refined part of the island. When we finally stopped, I saw the towering gates of Northstar House. It looked¡­ expensive. More like a noble estate than a student dorm. The walls were clean white stone, the gates made of polished metal with intricate patterns woven into them. The front garden was perfectly maintained, with trimmed hedges and a cobblestone pathway leading to the main entrance. I paid the cab fare¡ªesp bills, which were used on the island. The ¡°p¡± was silent. Just outside the gate, waiting for me, was a woman with brown hair and a warm smile. I recognized her immediately. Reina Morningstar. A professor, a powerful ESPer, and one of the characters Mom had drilled into my head. She was around Mom¡¯s age and, according to Mom, owed her a favor. Most importantly, she owned Northstar House. She spread her arms dramatically. "Hey there, champ!" I adjusted my backpack. "Mom told me about you." Her grin widened. "Oh, did she now? Lemme guess¡ªshe made me sound like some big-shot?" I shrugged. "She said you owed her." Reina laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I do. And she called it in for you, huh? Damn, I was hoping it¡¯d be for a new car or something." That bad feeling in my gut only grew stronger. She patted me on the back and gestured toward the gate. "Well, come on in. Let¡¯s get you settled, kid." I followed her, completely unaware of the real problem waiting inside. Northstar House was posh. From the outside, it looked like an old-world mansion mixed with modern architecture¡ªwhite walls, black-trimmed windows, and polished wooden balconies. It was elegant but not gaudy, giving off a sense of prestige without shoving it in your face. The gates alone were reinforced steel, with sleek engravings of stars in various constellations. The kind of place that made you second-guess if you were really allowed to be here. Despite its size, the place wasn¡¯t crowded. A few students were lounging on the benches outside or walking between buildings, but it was quiet. Peaceful. Too peaceful. Reina Morningstar walked beside me, arms folded behind her back. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that I couldn¡¯t quite place, like she knew something I didn¡¯t. That alone put me on edge. "Well, here we are," she said. "Your new home." I adjusted the straps of my backpack, waiting. She grinned. "Not much of a talker, huh?" "I listen," I said. "Good. You¡¯ll need it. Let¡¯s go over the rules." I followed her through the courtyard, past a row of statues that looked too expensive to be anywhere near students. "First off, curfew is at ten o¡¯clock PM. No exceptions," she said. "If you¡¯re out past that, you better have a good reason." I nodded. Reasonable. "No bringing in strangers from the outside. This is a safe space for our residents, and we like to keep it that way." "Understood." "Everyone gets a single room. No roommates. Think of it as a personal sanctuary." That sounded¡­ nice. Solitude was preferable. "Lunch is free at the cafeteria between eleven and one," she continued. "Breakfast and dinner? Not so much. You¡¯ll have to fend for yourself." I raised an eyebrow. "So we¡¯re on our own for two meals?" "Exactly. Teaches independence. There are vending machines, a small convenience store, and the city¡¯s not far if you want actual food." Fair enough. "The railway system connects directly to the dorm, so there¡¯s no excuse to be late for classes," Reina added. "It¡¯s fast, efficient, and makes sure you actually show up." I liked her already. Way better than Mom. I had expected to see other students checking in, maybe some seniors lazing around, but there weren¡¯t many people outside and inside. The ones I did see were walking in groups, chatting in hushed voices, or sneaking glances in my direction. A few lingered near the entrance, pausing just long enough to take a good look before whispering among themselves. Reina stood beside me, watching with a smirk, and I the bad feeling in my guts only continued to worsen. Something was off. Then it hit me. Girls. Everywhere. They were about my age or a bit older. The ones who looked like seniors carried themselves with a refined air, their uniforms neat and crisp. Others had a more casual posture, but they were all undeniably female. Even the security guard standing by the entrance¡ªa tall brunette with a stern face and sunglasses¡ªwas a woman. A few murmurs reached my ears. ¡°Is that a boy?¡± ¡°Where¡¯s the skirt?¡± ¡°Maybe she just likes boy clothes?¡± ¡°Yeah, it happens.¡± ¡°Is he the Matron¡¯s son?¡± Reina¡¯s eye twitched at that last comment. "Call me Headmistress, damn it!" she snapped. The student who had called her Matron flinched, making a sour face before scurrying off. I swallowed. Okay. No need to panic yet. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe the male students were just in a place other than here. I cleared my throat. "Is there¡­ maybe a mistake?" Reina turned to me with an infuriatingly smug smile. "This doesn¡¯t happen to be the girls'' dorm, right?" I asked, hoping¡ªpraying¡ªfor a simple no. Instead, Reina tilted her head, looking way too amused for my liking. "What do you think?" MOM~?! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? 006 Things You Couldn’t Bump - Mark’s POV 006 Things You Couldn¡¯t Bump - Mark¡¯s POV Room zero-zero-zero-zero wasn¡¯t as bad as it sounded. Sure, it was tucked under the stairs and right next to the guard¡¯s office, but it was surprisingly luxurious. The walls were freshly painted, the floor had a plush carpet, and the bed looked way too soft for a dorm. Even the desk and chair looked expensive¡ªsturdy wood with a polished finish, not the flimsy kind you¡¯d expect in student housing. There was only one problem. No window. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Living in a place with no natural light would mess with my sleep schedule, but considering the alternative¡ªgetting thrown into the main wing with a bunch of girls who might scream at the sight of me¡ªthis was fine. More than fine, actually. I had my own space, and it was quiet. Just as Mom promised, my luggage was already here. I crouched down, unzipping the first bag and pulling out my neatly folded clothes. I stuffed them into the wardrobe, then arranged my toiletries on the small bathroom shelf. Next came my books, some emergency rations¡ªbecause you never knew when the cafeteria food might betray you¡ªand a few personal items. As I placed my butterfly knife in the bedside drawer, a nagging thought hit me. "Am I forgetting something?" I scanned the room, mentally checking off everything I packed. Clothes, check. Food, check. Weapons, check. And then, I saw it. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out a small, neatly laminated photo. A girl with dark hair and an ordinary, almost forgettable face stared back at me. She wasn¡¯t smiling, wasn¡¯t posing¡ªjust looking straight at the camera with a neutral expression. Mom insisted I bring it. I walked over to the door, grabbed a piece of tape from my desk, and stuck the picture right at eye level. I took a step back, looking at it for a moment. ¡°Nice to meet you, Mirai.¡± Mirai Valeska. Dark hair, oriental features, and an orphan. A commoner, basically. There was nothing particularly special about her on the surface. No prestigious lineage, no massive inheritance, no powerful family name backing her up. Just another student among thousands who made it into ESPer Academy. Except, of course, for her ESP. She awakened her abilities at fifteen, which was considered late compared to most prodigies. But what she lacked in early development, she made up for with sheer absurdity. Her ESP had something to do with luck¡ªa nearly endless reservoir of good fortune that she could apparently store and release in controlled bursts. It was also a confidence booster of sorts. The more she believed in herself, the more perfect her actions would become. As a result, her ''path'' would become so perfect she could transform her ''ideals'' into reality as long as she acted on it... Truly a protagonist-like power. In short, she was exactly the kind of person Mom would shove in my direction with the insistence of a crazed matchmaker. Still, that had nothing to do with me. To me, Mirai was a mission. I yawned, stretching my arms as I checked my phone. "Entrance Ceremony starts around one o¡¯clock PM¡­ and it¡¯s only a quarter before ten¡­" I sighed, stuffing the device back into my pocket. That meant I had three whole hours before I needed to show my face in public. More than enough time to kill. Socializing wasn¡¯t an option anymore. The last thing I wanted was to introduce myself early and make some dumb first impression I¡¯d regret. There was also the tiny problem that most students in this dorm probably still thought I was a girl. I had to make an appeal or¡­ something. Embarrassment would kill me faster than any cryptid ever could. I flopped onto my bed, pulled out my earbuds, and scrolled through my playlist. Music was a safer bet. Closing my eyes, I let the sound drown out my thoughts. I¡¯d worry about everything else later. Zzzzzz¡­Zzzzzzzzzzzzz¡­ I woke up and checked the time. Still too early. I returned to sleep. Zzzzzz¡­Zzzzzzzzzzzzz¡­ I woke up again and checked the time. And immediately wished I hadn¡¯t. "What in the loving name of¡ª" I shot up from bed, bolted for the door, and sprinted down the hallway. The gates. Empty. The train station. Deserted. There wasn¡¯t a single train in sight, and judging by the schedule board, there wouldn¡¯t be one passing through anytime soon. Panic clawed at my chest as I switched tactics, running past the dorm entrance and out onto the highway. I waved my arms like a madman, flagging down the first cab I saw. The driver gave me a strange look but pulled over anyway. "Academy Main Gate," I said, practically throwing myself into the backseat. The car lurched forward, and I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. As the city blurred past the window, a single thought crept into my head: Would I even reach her in time? And more importantly¡­ did I want to? No. I shouln''t think like that. This was a mission. Mom¡¯s so-called strategy had been clear¡ªbeing late to the Entrance Ceremony and ambushing the heroine at the gates. That was how I was supposed to make an impression. The problem was I overslept and I might be late for real. But at this point, was it even worth it? I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. ¡°Bah, I don¡¯t care anymore¡­ Since when was Mom ever wrong anyway?¡± I closed my eyes, letting out a slow breath. Might as well do it and see where that brings me. Hopefully, I¡¯d manage to get to the Academy earlier than the heroine. That was the plan, at least. I paid the fare, stepped out of the cab, and immediately activated Nth Person. As the driver pulled away, he barely spared me a second glance¡ªjust as expected. People noticed me only when I allowed it. With my ESP concealing my presence, I walked toward the Academy gates and took position. Then, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through a copy of Journal No. 1. Strategy No. 1: Entrance Ceremony Delay¡ªForced Encounter Under it was the text: bump her good. "Phrasing, Mom... Nevermind..." I skimmed past the unnecessary details, zeroing in on the most relevant part: Stand in the middle of the gate. I frowned. That seemed¡­ oddly specific. What exactly was the plan here again? I reread the entry carefully, and the full picture came back to me. This was an engineered event. A guaranteed way to meet the heroine under ¡®memorable¡¯ circumstances. A forced coincidence. Mom¡¯s words echoed in my mind: "Misery loves company, kid. If she¡¯s having a bad day, make sure she remembers it with you." Just as I was processing this, I heard a panicked voice in the distance. ¡°Ah, ah, I am late!¡± I turned just in time to see her. Dark hair. A piece of bread clenched between her teeth. Pedaling furiously as if her life depended on it. Riding a bicycle. Straight at me. ¡­Wait. What were you thinking, Mom?! How am I supposed to ¡®bump¡¯ into that?! Before I could even react, she crashed into me at full speed. ¡°Ugh¡­ oooff¡ª¡± She had the momentum of a damn truck. Maybe even worse¡ªan ESP-powered truck. Yeah, I could punch cryptids and kill a lot of them, but could I outrun a speeding bicycle of doom? No. Her front wheel slammed right into my gut, knocking the air from my lungs. I was sent flying. Spit flew from my mouth. Something soft smashed into my face. And then I hit the pavement, hard. Everything faded to black. "Wake up! Wake up! Don¡¯t die on me, bro!" Did she just call me bro? I felt something soft pressing against my face. My head was spinning, my ribs ached, and my lungs struggled to catch up with reality. Slowly, I cracked my eyes open, only to realize¡ª I was suffocating. Specifically, my face was buried in the heroine¡¯s chest. And she was shaking me. Hard. And then harder. "Uogh... s-thap..." You''r killing me, lady! Her arms were wrapped around me in a vice grip, her ESP-powered strength making it impossible to break free. If she wanted to shake me, she could shake me¡ªfor as long as her luck held out. ¡°Guuofh¡ª¡± I struggled. Nothing. I pushed against her. Nothing. I tried again, only for my hands to sink into plush mounds that were impossibly soft, warm, and dangerously pillowy. It definitely was not supposed to be there. Uh-oh. ¡°Eh?¡± uttered the confused heroine. She froze. She let go. I gasped for air. ¡°You do know a proper CPR is done with chest compressions, right? And not via strangulation, right?¡± Silence. We stared at each other. Her face turned red. Her ears burned. And then¡ª WHACK Pain exploded in my skull as she punched me in the face. W-why?! Darkness swallowed my vision again. Before I blacked out, one last ridiculous thought crossed my mind¡ª Did she knock me out so she could do CPR properly?! ¡­That wasn¡¯t how CPR worked. Maybe? The next second, I woke up in the infirmary. Or at least, that¡¯s what it felt like. One moment, I was getting my face punched by a girl with truck-tier momentum, and the next, I was lying on a clean white bed with a slight headache. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, and soft fluorescent lights glowed above me. The walls were painted a neutral beige¡ªnothing fancy, but it was clear that ESPer Academy had spared no expense in ensuring their students wouldn¡¯t die from stupid accidents. I groaned and touched my forehead. A mild throbbing. Not too bad. "Ah, you¡¯re awake." I turned my head. A woman in a white coat stood by the bedside, holding a tablet. Her glasses perched at the tip of her nose as she studied the screen. She looked young, maybe late twenties, with sharp eyes that gave off a no-nonsense vibe. "Where am I?" "Infirmary. You suffered a mild concussion." "...Right." Memories came rushing back¡ªthe bump strategy, the bike, the suffocation, the punch to the face. I sighed. "How bad is it?" "You¡¯re fine. No fractures. Just some swelling. You¡¯ll live." "Good to know." I sat up, testing my balance. The room didn¡¯t spin. That was a good sign. "By the way¡­ the girl who brought me here. Do you know who she was?" Of course, I already knew the answer, but planting seeds was a necessary part of courtship¡­ or so Mom sometimes referred as laying the groundwork. The nurse glanced up from her tablet. "No idea. You were already here when my shift started." "I see. A pity." So she left without a word. I leaned back against the pillow. This wasn¡¯t how things were supposed to go. But then again, Mom¡¯s plans never did account for my personal dignity. I sighed and leaned back against the pillow. The throbbing in my head had dulled to a manageable ache, nothing I couldn¡¯t deal with. The nurse¡ªGina, according to her nametag¡ªfinished tapping on her tablet and set it aside. She adjusted her glasses and glanced at me with mild curiosity. ¡°You¡¯re taking this well for someone who got hit by a bicycle.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t just a bicycle. It was a speeding, luck-empowered missile.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. And who, exactly, was riding this ¡®missile¡¯?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was trying to ask you.¡± No way I could just snitch on the heroine. Gina gave me a look that said she wasn¡¯t amused. ¡°Well, whoever she was, she must have been in quite a rush. Left you here and bolted.¡± ¡°Sounds about right.¡± She took out a roll of bandages and gestured for me to sit up. ¡°I¡¯m going to wrap your head. You won¡¯t need to wear it for long, but it¡¯ll help with the swelling.¡± I sat still as she worked, winding the bandages carefully around my forehead. ¡°So¡­ do you still plan on taking the Entrance Exam today?¡± ¡°Of course I do.¡± She paused. ¡°You sure? No dizziness? No nausea?¡± ¡°None.¡± ¡°No headaches?¡± ¡°A little. But I¡¯ve had worse.¡± Gina sighed, stepping back to inspect her work. ¡°Well, you¡¯re not the first student to show up half-broken before the exam even starts. Just don¡¯t die before you make it in, alright?¡± ¡°No promises.¡± She shook her head but didn¡¯t argue. ¡°Alright, you¡¯re good to go. Try not to get hit by anything else on your way out.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± "Oh wait," she stopped me, handing a letter to me. "I found this lying in my desk, looks like it is addressed to you." Was it just me? Or the nurse was kind of a dunce? ¡°Dear¡­ uh, unconscious guy, I¡¯m so, so sorry! I wasn¡¯t looking where I was going, and, well¡­ you were just there! I hope you¡¯re okay. I mean, obviously, you¡¯re in the infirmary, so maybe not completely okay, but I promise I didn¡¯t mean to run you over! To make it up to you, I¡¯ll do whatever you want¡ªwithin reason! Lunch? A favor? Just say the word! Also, here¡¯s my number: [redacted]. Please text me when you wake up so I know you¡¯re not, you know¡­ permanently damaged. Really, really sorry again! ¡ªMirai Valeska P.S. You¡¯re not pressing charges, right? ??" ¡°Ms. Gina, why is the number redacted with a red pen?¡± Gina hummed innocently, tucking the pen back into her pocket. ¡°Well, well, well, I can¡¯t make it too easy for you, right?¡± Her smile turned downright mischievous. "I heard some kids can accidentally make babies by exchanging numbers, right?" "That''s not how it works!" I stared at her, unamused. ¡°You do realize I got hit by a bike, right? Shouldn¡¯t I at least get a pity pass?¡± And maybe like ask the person responsible for compensation, though it was mostly Mom¡¯s fault. ¡°Hmm.¡± She tapped her chin, pretending to think about it. ¡°Nah.¡± I exhaled sharply. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Moreover,¡± she continued, leaning in slightly, ¡°I can¡¯t really have just any young lady around leaving her number in the open, right? What if bad guys learn of it and start bothering her?¡± I looked at the ruined number, then at her smug face. ¡°¡­Right. Because I¡¯m obviously the villain here.¡± Gina winked. ¡°You said it, not me.¡± 007 Entrance Exam - Part 1 - Mirai’s POV 007 Entrance Exam - Part 1 - Mirai¡¯s POV I¡¯m deadass late! I might not have been if I hadn''t crashed straight into some poor guy at the gate. Maybe if I¡¯d left my dorm a minute earlier. Maybe if I¡¯d skipped breakfast. Maybe if I hadn¡¯t spent five whole minutes panicking about what to wear, even though we had a damn uniform. But then again¡­ this was me we were talking about. Even if I hadn¡¯t hit that white-haired dude with my bike, something else probably would have delayed me. A flat tire. A sudden earthquake. A spontaneous chicken parade blocking the road. I didn¡¯t just have bad luck¡ªI burned through good luck so fast that the universe had to balance things out somehow. It was a miracle I even made it here at all. The moment I entered the auditorium, my heart nearly stopped. The place was packed¡ªthousands of freshmen seated in rows stretching far beyond what my panicked mind could process. The ceiling arched high above, glimmering with artificial stars that mimicked the night sky, a subtle flex of ESP technology. Massive screens hovered at the front, broadcasting the stage where the Archon of the Academy stood, delivering his speech. I had to move fast. Head low, I scanned for the nearest empty seat. No way was I going to walk all the way to the back like a loser. With every ounce of stored luck I had been expending since I woke up, I wove through the aisles, barely slipping past scanning eyes, avoiding any professor¡¯s glare, dodging the overly enthusiastic upperclassmen positioned around the room. One seat, right there. Third row from the left. I was almost there when¡ª "... And so, as you take your first steps into the halls of World ESPer Academy..." Oh. Lucky. The Archon was wrapping up his speech. I slipped into my chair, exhaling slowly as my heart pounded against my ribs. Crisis averted. Now that I was here, I finally got a good look at the guy speaking. The Archon¡ªleader of the Academy, one of the most powerful ESPers in the world, and apparently nearly a hundred years old¡ªlooked like a damn elementary schooler. His hair, neatly tied into a high ponytail, was split down the middle¡ªhalf black, half white, like someone had taken two completely different people and stitched them together. His eyes were even stranger. One glowed deep purple, the other a sharp emerald green, like jewels reflecting some unseen wisdom. Even standing on an elevated platform, he barely reached the podium¡¯s height. If I hadn¡¯t known better, I would have mistaken him for some rich kid cosplaying as a student rep. But there was no mistaking the weight of his presence. Even with his small frame, he commanded the room, his voice smooth and unwavering, holding the attention of thousands. And then¡­ I felt it the moment it happened. A sudden emptiness, like I had used up all my stored luck in one go. My ESP had run dry. Oh, crap. Every time my luck ran out, bad luck came crashing down right after. It was an unspoken rule, a cruel joke the universe liked to play on me. And sure enough¡ª My foot caught on absolutely nothing. I lurched forward, too fast to stop myself, and slammed face-first into something soft yet firm. My nose throbbed. My pride shattered. There was a stunned silence around me, followed by a sharp inhale. When I looked up, I met a pair of wide blue eyes. Blonde hair. Red cheeks. And then I realized where my face had landed. Oh. Oh no. Students around us gasped, their whispers sharp enough to stab. "Did she just¡ª?" "Right in the¡ª" "A public execution¡­" Heat crawled up my face, my entire soul shriveling. I scrambled to get away, but before I could bolt, a hand grabbed my wrist. "Dude, let go." I tried to yank free, but my strength was nothing compared to his grip. He looked just as flustered as I felt, his face burning red. "Y-you can take my seat if you want¡­" Then, without another word, he stood, helped me up, and quietly moved to the seat I had been aiming for in the first place. I stared at him, still processing what just happened. "...Thanks," I muttered, sinking into the chair. I was never riding a bike again. He nodded stiffly, avoiding my gaze. What was this guy¡¯s problem? Nevermind. I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. The Archon had finally finished speaking, and the podium was handed over to a new speaker. ¡°My name is Reina Morningstar,¡± began the new speaker. ¡°And I am not going to repeat myself twice. Do you understand?¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. A few nodded to her words. Reina took the stage with the confidence of someone who owned the place. Her brown hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and her piercing gaze swept over the crowd like a hawk searching for prey. She adjusted the microphone, then leaned in with a smirk. ¡°Alright, brats. Listen up.¡± A ripple of murmurs spread through the audience at her bluntness. She sighed. ¡°I said shut your trap!¡± The entire auditorium went silent. ¡°Good. Now that I have your attention¡ª¡± She straightened and crossed her arms. ¡°Name¡¯s Reina Morningstar. Professor. Master of the Pioneer Class. You¡¯ll be seeing a lot of me, so burn my face into your tiny little brains.¡± More whispers broke out. She rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, yeah. I know what you¡¯re thinking. ¡®What¡¯s the Pioneer Class? Why does she talk like a thug? Is she really a professor?¡¯ Newsflash¡ªI don¡¯t care what you think. What I do care about is making sure you understand what you¡¯re here for.¡± She leaned on the podium, tapping her fingers against the wood. ¡°This is World ESPer Academy. You made it past the entrance gates, so congratulations, you¡¯re officially students. But don¡¯t go celebrating just yet. First, you¡¯ve got to take the Entrance Exam.¡± A wave of tension spread through the room. She grinned. ¡°What, nervous? Don¡¯t be. This isn¡¯t a test to weed you out. No one¡¯s getting expelled for failing. Every single one of you will be attending this Academy, whether you like it or not.¡± That got a few confused looks. Reina continued, undeterred. ¡°This exam is meant to gauge your potential. Strength, intelligence, strategy, adaptability¡ªyou name it. It¡¯ll determine where you belong. Whether you¡¯re fit for the elite classes or better off learning how to file paperwork. Either way, you have a role in society, even if it¡¯s just being a glorified desk jockey.¡± Some students laughed. Others looked horrified. She smirked. ¡°Harsh? Maybe. But that¡¯s reality, kids. Some of you will be soldiers. Some of you will be leaders. Some of you will barely scrape by, but you¡¯ll still be useful in some way. And as long as you¡¯re useful, you have a place here.¡± Her expression turned sharp. ¡°Now, if you¡¯re hoping for a smooth ride, I suggest you quit that fantasy right now. This school isn¡¯t for the weak-willed. It¡¯s for those who¡¯ll shape the future. And whether you end up shaping it from the frontlines or from the shadows¡ªthat¡¯s up to you.¡± She stepped back from the podium. ¡°Welcome to World ESPer Academy. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯re made of.¡± For a moment, the auditorium was silent. A short, tense quiet. Then, the dude beside me started clapping like a seal. Slow, loud, and painfully enthusiastic. I shot him a look. He ignored it and kept clapping. Then, like some kind of contagious disease, the applause spread. One person joined in, then another, until the whole room was clapping. ¡­Never mind. Might as well join in. I clapped too. Seemed like the polite thing to do. Reina didn¡¯t react to the applause¡ªjust waited for it to die down before she continued. ¡°Alright, now that you all know what¡¯s at stake, let¡¯s talk about the test.¡± She smirked. ¡°We¡¯re keeping it simple this year. It¡¯s hide and seek.¡± Murmurs filled the auditorium again. ¡°Survival edition,¡± she added. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal¡ªthe entire main academy grounds will be your playground. Students will be hiding. Professors will be seeking. Your goal? Don¡¯t get caught.¡± More whispers. ¡°Oh, and combat is allowed,¡± Reina said casually, like she wasn¡¯t just encouraging a battle royale. ¡°We, the professors, will be equipped with anti-ESP cuffs. And no, we won''t be wearing them. Once you¡¯re caught, you¡¯re dead in the water. I hope you liked getting cuffed, because everyone here would get to experience it.¡± The murmurs turned into full-on discussions. I glanced around. Some students looked excited, others horrified. The dude beside me? Grinning like an idiot. Hide and seek, huh? Sounded simple. But if they were throwing in combat and ESP suppression cuffs¡­ yeah. This was going to be a nightmare. Reina clapped her hands. ¡°Alright, brats. You¡¯ve got three minutes to run.¡± No one moved. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m counting.¡± ¡°One¡ª¡± A red-haired guy immediately bolted for the doors. Smart. The rest of us? Just stood there, blinking. Some looked confused, others frozen in place. Blondie and I? Yeah, we were zoning out too. I mean... What could I even do? I''ve used my luck already... ¡°Two¡ª¡± Reina sighed. ¡°Idiots. START RUNNING.¡± The room exploded into chaos. Chairs screeched against the floor, students shoved past each other, and the stampede began. Blondie turned to me. ¡°Hey, want to stick toge¡ª¡± I didn¡¯t hear the rest. Because at that moment, I felt myself getting yanked. ¡°What the¡ª?!¡± I tried to fight back, but whoever had grabbed me was way stronger. I was lifted clean off my feet and slung over someone¡¯s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ¡°Oi! Put me down!¡± I kicked my legs, but it was useless. The guy was running¡ªno, sprinting¡ªfor the doors like he had somewhere to be. Wait. White hair. And a bandage covering half his face. Oh. Oh no. I felt a shudder. I knew exactly who this was. I cried out for justice. "I¡¯m sorry! Please don¡¯t kill me! I don¡¯t have money!" No response. "HELP! SOMEONE! THIS GUY''S KIDNAPPING ME!" Blondie stood frozen in the chaos, looking absolutely devastated¡ªhand stretched out like he was witnessing a tragic farewell. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to process what was happening. Meanwhile, white-haired psycho just kept running. ¡°Stop being silly.¡± SILLY?! He smashed through the doors, took a sharp left, and¡ªfinally¡ªdumped me back onto my feet. Well, sort of. He still had a death grip on my wrist. "Run," he shouted. "Like your life depends on it!" He was dead serious, like we were being chased by Dire Wolves or something. That¡¯s when it hit me. This dude was crazy. Just behind us, chaos erupted. More students flooded out of the doors, pushing, shoving¡ªsome even tripping over each other. The congestion turned into a full-blown stampede. Before I could process what was happening, Whitey scooped me up in a princess carry. "WHAT THE¡ª" Then he jumped. Right through a freaking window. I screamed my heart out as we arched through the air, glass shards flying past us. We crashed through another window, rolling across the floor. The impact rattled my bones, and I was pretty sure I got a few cuts, but Whitey had it worse¡ªhe had wrapped himself around me midair, shielding me like some kind of insane bulletproof vest. We barely had time to breathe before a shadow loomed over us. A bald man stood in front of us, arms crossed, completely unfazed. We froze. The professor glanced at a pocket watch and said, "Relax. There''s still time. Reina-chan is probably still counting." I didn''t wait for him to change his mind. I turned on my heel to run¡ªonly for Whitey to grab my wrist again and yank me in the opposite direction. Psycho dragged me through the halls like a madman, dodging groups of students, taking sharp turns, and vaulting over obstacles like he had the whole map memorized. I barely had time to process where we were going before he kicked open a door, yanked me through, and slammed it shut behind us. ¡°Where¡ª¡± I panted. ¡°No time,¡± he cut me off, pulling me toward a staircase. And then he ran up. Why up?! The ground was right there! I stumbled, but he tightened his grip on my wrist, practically lifting me as he sprinted. The stairwell ended at a locked door, but instead of stopping, he jumped onto the railing and launched us sideways¡ªstraight through a gap in the wall. I screamed. Again. We landed on a rooftop walkway. "You¡ªare¡ªINSANE!" I gasped between breaths, my legs wobbling. He didn¡¯t even acknowledge me, just kept moving. We ducked under metal pipes, leapt across platforms, and at one point, he ran up a wall to avoid a group of students. I was convinced at this point¡ªthis guy had to be some kind of cryptid. "Why are we going UP?!" I demanded. "Staying high is better," he said like it was obvious. "Better for who?!" He didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he suddenly stopped, scanned the area, then dragged me toward the edge of the building. Oh no. No, no, no. ¡°You are NOT about to¡ª¡± He jumped. And he took me with him. "Crazy bastard!" 008 Entrance Exam – Part 2 – Mark’s POV 008 Entrance Exam - Part 2 - Mark¡¯s POV ¡°So far, so good.¡± Strategy No. 2: Entrance Exam¡ªSteal the Heroine! According to Mom, there was supposed to be a big event between the heroine and one of the love interests today. A high-tension, life-or-death moment. Great for bonding. Mom explained it was technically the tutorial round for players. So what was the strategy? And what was my role in this strategy? Simple. Steal the heroine. We ran through the halls, me in the lead, dragging her along as she tripped over her own feet. I didn¡¯t slow down. We had places to be. If Mom¡¯s notes were right, we were heading for the safest hiding spot in the entire academy. The rooftop of the staff dormitories. It was at the edge of the academy, past the main buildings, and overlooked by almost everyone. The logic was simple: staff members were snitches. If students hid near them, they got caught immediately. But if you actually managed to sneak past all the staff? You disappeared. And if I was good at anything, it was disappearing. We reached the final staircase. I kicked the door open. The rooftop was empty, just as I expected. Open space, a few air conditioning units, a maintenance hatch, and a couple of benches. Perfect. I let go of the girl¡¯s wrist. She staggered, bent over, and wheezed like she¡¯d just run a marathon. ¡°Y-you¡­ absolute¡­ psycho¡­¡± she gasped. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. She shot me a glare between ragged breaths. ¡°That¡ªwasn¡¯t¡ªa compliment¡ª¡± I ignored her and checked the area. No security cameras. No nosy teachers. And most importantly, no students. It was quiet. We were safe. For now. ¡°My name¡¯s Mark,¡± I said, leaning against the wall. She lay sprawled on the ground, arms wide like a starfish, wheezing like a dying fish. ¡°W-where are we?¡± she gasped. ¡°You should sit up. It¡¯s better that way,¡± I advised. She let out a pathetic groan and, instead of standing, rolled onto her stomach like a dying sloth. Then she crawled into a half-seated position with all the grace of roadkill. Was it really that bad? I was the one doing most of the work. I sighed. ¡°Rooftop. Staff dormitory. Best place we can hide. Perfect, because my ESP makes us¡­ hard to notice.¡± She blinked sweat out of her eyes. ¡°ESP?¡± I nodded. ¡°My power makes people¡­ forget me. Or rather, it makes me irrelevant. The more people believe I don¡¯t matter, the stronger the effect.¡± A hint of wariness crossed her face. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ creepy.¡± I shrugged. ¡°It has its uses.¡± She didn¡¯t look convinced, but she was too exhausted to argue. I glanced at the academy grounds from the edge of the rooftop. Below us, the game was still in motion. Students were scattered across the courtyards, dashing into buildings or hiding behind obstacles. Professors, acting as seekers, were already closing in. Most of them would get caught. We wouldn¡¯t. If not, at least outlast the rest of them. I leaned back against the wall, hands in my pockets. ¡°Relax. We¡¯re in the safest place possible. No one comes here. No one even thinks to look here.¡± Mirai groaned and flopped onto her back. ¡°If you kidnapped me just to hide on a roof, I¡¯m gonna kill you.¡± I smirked. Good luck with that. ¡°What¡¯s so wrong with hiding on the roof?¡± I asked. She wasn¡¯t looking at me. Not directly. Her gaze kept flicking between the rooftop door and me, standing right beside it. Not a coincidence. I¡¯d positioned myself there on purpose. If someone managed to find us, I¡¯d have the advantage of a sneak attack by hiding near the only entrance and exit in this place. She swallowed, then hesitantly asked, ¡°You¡­ aren¡¯t going to teach me a lesson?¡± I frowned. ¡°A lesson?¡± Why would I¡ª? Oh. That. A certain incident came rushing back. A bicycle. A piece of bread. A girl speeding toward me like a damn truck. And then¡ªboom. I¡¯d blacked out. And now, here we were. Because of Mom¡¯s insane instructions. If she hadn¡¯t pushed me into following her absurd romance playbook, none of this would¡¯ve happened. Then again¡­ I wasn¡¯t any better. I was still here, playing along with her so-called Strategies, following them to the letter. I sighed. What the hell am I doing? ¡°So, Whitey¡ª¡± ¡°I have a name,¡± I interrupted. Mirai sighed. ¡°Fine. Mark it is.¡± She stretched her legs out, glancing around the rooftop. ¡°How long do we have to wait?¡± I checked my watch. 1:45 PM. The test would last until 5:00 PM. I knew this because Mom practically spelled it out in her journal, right alongside the best hiding spots, potential scripted events, and ideal strategies to get close to the heroine. But obviously, I couldn¡¯t just say that. Instead, I said, ¡°Class schedules are usually from eight to five, so probably until five.¡± Mirai groaned. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°They¡¯re going to find us no matter what,¡± I said. ¡°They probably have a list of all our names. Maybe even a secret tracking method if they feel like cheating. This is more of an assessment than a battle exam anyway. The goal isn¡¯t to win¡ªit¡¯s to see how we act under pressure.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. That¡¯s why hiding was just as valid as fighting. And that¡¯s why I was here. The exam was called ¡°Hide and Seek¡± for a reason. Okay. This was the perfect moment¡­ I guess? Mom said it was important to do this, no matter what. That was the exact phrasing she used. And when Mom said something was important, it usually meant life-or-death levels of importance. Was it actually life or death? No. Did I feel like I was about to die from sheer secondhand embarrassment? Absolutely. Mirai, sensing the tension on my face, tensed up herself. Great. Now she thinks I¡¯m about to say something serious. "What is it, Mark?" I hesitated, suddenly overthinking things. Maybe I should stall. Buy some time. Yeah, that sounded smart. "Mirai¡­" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, how do you know my name?" "You left it in your letter. The one you gave the nurse." "Ah¡­ that one¡­" Mirai scratched her cheek, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that." Breathe in. Breathe out. I could do this. It was just a pickup line. How hard could it be? "Are you made of copper and tellurium?" Mirai blinked. "Huh?" I steeled myself and delivered the punchline. "Because you''re¡­ Cu-Te." Silence. Awkward, crushing silence. Then suddenly¡ª "Pfft¡ªhahaha! W-wait, what?!" Mirai practically doubled over, full-on wheezing. I felt heat rush to my face. "Wait, why are you laughing?!" She kept going, clutching her sides. "I mean¡­ haha¡­ this psycho¡­ I can¡¯t¡­!" Her shoulders shook, her laughter echoing across the rooftop. I felt my soul leave my body. This was not the reaction I expected. Mom, what the hell?! According to her, the heroine would either find it charming or awkwardly endearing. Instead, Mirai was absolutely losing it, like I¡¯d just told the funniest joke in the world. I stood there, frozen in shame, as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Fine. Laugh all you want. I¡¯d recover from this. Or at least, that¡¯s what I thought¡ªuntil she suddenly straightened up, cleared her throat, and smirked at me. "Are you gold?" I blinked. "W-what?" I wasn¡¯t ready. I was never ready. "Because you¡¯ve got me saying¡ª" She paused for dramatic effect, grinning ear to ear. "Auuu, damn!" Oh. Oh no. Heat rushed straight to my ears. A dumb noise almost slipped out, so I slapped a hand over my mouth like that would help. Shit. She''s cute. Mirai leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. "G-get it? Gold? Because Au? Auuu, damn!" Her own joke cracked her up, and she burst into giggles again. I stared at her, completely disarmed. Mom never mentioned what to do if she fired back. I turned away. Avoided eye contact. Tried to focus on literally anything else¡ªthe rooftop railing, the sky, the distant sounds of students running below us. She was too cute. Stop it, heart. Stop. Mirai waved a hand in front of my face. "Hey, where are you looking?" Nowhere. Nowhere at all. Definitely not at her. She was teasing me¡ªI could hear it in her voice, see it in the way she tilted her head and leaned in, determined to force eye contact. I stared harder at the sky. She stepped closer. "Hey, why so quiet?" Mirai poked my shoulder. "You started this, remember?" She stood on her toes, trying to match my height, her face now way too close for comfort. I shut my eyes. Mom, help! Then, I felt it. Fwooo~! She blew air into my ear. I flinched like a spooked cat. My whole body tensed¡ªI crouched¡ª Bad move. In the worst possible chain reaction, I bumped into her. "Ah¡ª!" "Whoa¡ª!" We lost our balance. Mirai yelped. I grunted. The next thing I knew, we hit the floor. I groaned, rubbing my head. "Ugh." Mirai winced. "Ouch." The impact left me flat on my back, with Mirai on top of me. Her legs straddled my stomach. Her hands pinned under mine. We both froze, realizing the position at the same time. She squirmed, trying to push off¡ªbut I instinctively held her wrists down. She wasn¡¯t getting out of this one. No way I was losing this. And then¡ª A thought crossed my mind. A terrible thought. "Are you made of beryllium and gold?" Mirai hiccuped. "W-what?" I smirked, ignoring every instinct screaming at me to shut up. "Because you¡¯re¡­ Be-Au-tiful." Cringe alert. CRINGE ALERT. I braced for impact¡ªlaughter, teasing, maybe even a punch. But instead¡ª Mirai¡¯s ears burned red. Her gaze darted to the side, hands curling slightly under my grip. She was flustered. Wait¡­ is this¡­ working?! Victory. ¡­Victory? I¡ªI don¡¯t know. Pain exploded in my throat. Thwack! "Kuooghf¡ª!" Palm strike. I choked, my airways slamming shut. I let go. Mirai scrambled to her feet and sprinted toward a vending machine. She jammed a coin in, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, and chugged it down like she¡¯d just finished a marathon. I sat up, rubbing my throat. "What the hell was that for?!" Mirai lowered the bottle, wiped her mouth, and shot me a glare. "Survival instinct." I groaned and pushed myself up, rubbing my sore throat. That¡­ was a solid hit. She must¡¯ve had some self-defense training. ¡°Uuuummm¡­ I am sorry?¡± Mirai glared at me with burning intensity, her grip tightening on the bottle. Then, just as quickly, her gaze softened. Mirai sighed. "Why are you saying sorry, psycho?" I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. ¡°W-w-m-m¡­¡± What was I even apologizing for? No clue. It just felt like the right thing to do. Mirai chuckled. ¡°Weird. You¡¯re okay with being called a psycho, but not Whitey?¡± I blinked. Huh. Yeah, that was weird. I let out a long breath, welcoming the distraction. ¡°Probably because Mom¡­ is a psycho.¡± It was wrong to badmouth my mom. But¡­ I¡¯d had so few interactions like this. Real conversations. Ones where I wasn¡¯t just following a script or executing a strategy. I felt¡­ vulnerable. At least when my mom was around, I knew she had my back. Evelyn Valentine was a force of nature. No matter what happened, I knew she¡¯d bulldoze through anything in her way. But here? Right now? I was fumbling. The words left my mouth before I could stop them. "Do you know? My mom thinks we live in an otome video game. And that there¡¯s this girl she must set me up with, no matter what, or else I¡¯ll suffer a doomed fate.¡± Mirai quirked a brow. ¡°An arranged marriage, then?¡± I froze. That wasn¡¯t¡­ exactly wrong. But it wasn¡¯t right either. I stopped myself before I spilled anything more. This was already dangerously close to strategy failure. ¡°¡­Yeah. Something like that.¡± Mirai leaned against the vending machine, rolling the water bottle against her palm. "I think you''re free to like who you want to like, you know?¡± She gave me a small, knowing smile. ¡°People only have one heart, after all." I swallowed. For a moment, I didn¡¯t know what to say. One heart. Her words lingered longer than they should have. A quiet, uncomfortable heat settled in my chest. Mirai was smiling, but her eyes¡­ They weren¡¯t teasing anymore. I forced a laugh. ¡°Yeah. I guess.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Guess?¡± I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing toward the edge of the rooftop. ¡°Look, it¡¯s complicated.¡± Mirai¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Sounds simple to me.¡± Simple? My mom would riot if she heard that. Mirai stepped closer. Just a little. Close enough that I could see the amusement dancing in her eyes. "Or maybe¡­ you just like making things complicated." My heart skipped a beat. I took a step back. Mirai took a step forward. ¡°W-wait¡ª¡± I felt the wall behind me, realizing I¡¯ve put myself in a rather dangerous situation. ¡°Uuuuh¡­ Calm down¡­ Please?¡± ¡°Relax, psycho,¡± she grinned. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna hurt you or anything.¡± I scoffed. "Gee, thanks." It was ironic, considering it was coming to the girl who just slammed me with her bicycle and struck my throat with the heel of her palm. The former wasn¡¯t exactly her fault, but the latter? That was definitely on her¡­ "...Sorry about your throat." I blinked. "Huh?" Her gaze drifted toward the floor. "And¡­ for hitting you with my bike earlier." Oh. Right. "I mean¡­" She fidgeted with her sleeve. "I panicked." "Yeah, I noticed," I deadpanned. Her mouth twitched. "But I guess you did deserve it, saying something like that while pinning me down." "Hey, that was a good line." "It was something." She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "Be-Au-tiful? Really? Just a little bit more and you could do stand-up comedy." I opened my mouth to defend myself¡ª ¡ªand shut it when I saw the way her lips twitched upward. Ah. She was teasing me again. Mirai¡¯s gaze softened as she knelt down beside me. "Let me see your head." I tensed. "It¡¯s fine." She gave me a flat look. "You¡¯re bleeding." "Am I?" I touched my temple. My fingers came away with a faint smear of red. Ah. Okay, maybe not fine. Mirai sighed. "Hold still." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled handkerchief. Before I could protest, she pressed it gently to the side of my head. I hissed. "Ow." "Stop squirming." "I¡¯m not squirming¡ª" "Shut up." Her hand was steady as she dabbed at the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. I tried not to focus on the feeling of her fingers brushing against my skin. Failed. "You''re really bad at this, you know." "At what?" I mumbled. "Letting people help you." I almost flinched. That¡­ hit closer to home than it should have. ¡°Don¡¯t be so quick to judge,¡± I remarked. Mirai pulled away to inspect her work. She frowned. "You¡¯ll need a new bandage. And I want my handkerchief back. Clean. Okay?" ¡°Thanks,¡± I shrugged. "I''ll survive." Mirai rolled her eyes. "Idiot." 009 Entrance Exam – Part 3 – Mirai’s POV 009 Entrance Exam - Part 3 - Mirai¡¯s POV I sat cross-legged, focusing on recovering as much luck as I could. There was no better way to put it. Luck wasn¡¯t something I controlled¡ªit was something I had to recharge. It trickled back naturally, but the process was slow. Ugh¡­ I hated myself for not reading the itinerary. If I knew there was going to be a test, I would¡¯ve just slept in the auditorium or something. I¡¯m such a klutz. Not my fault, though. I worked two jobs. It used to be five part-time gigs before I cut back, and even then, life was still a juggling act. I peeked at Psycho¡ªwho remained planted near the door like a damn statue. "What are you doing, Whitey?" He twitched. "Don''t call me Whitey. Do you want me to call you Blackie?" I grinned. "Fair point, Whitey." Mark groaned like I had physically wounded him. "Ugh¡­" Oh-hoh. So that¡¯s how it was. I was finally getting a good grasp on Mark. He was so like those pushovers back in the orphanage. The kind who acted tough but folded the moment you pushed the right buttons. I stretched my legs out and leaned back on my hands. "So, what were you brooding about?" Mark exhaled through his nose. "I wish I brought my knife." Uegh¡­ Okay. This guy was totally psycho. I eyed him warily. Yeah, he might look like a pushover, but if he snapped¡­ He was probably the really scary kind. ¡­Maybe I should minimize calling him Whitey. An hour passed. Whitey was still standing by the door like a damn statue. Seriously, was he even breathing? Meanwhile, I was sitting cross-legged, still trying to recover my luck. It was slow as hell, but at least I was feeling a bit peppier. I¡¯d been experimenting with my power ever since I first discovered it. For some reason, when I got into awkward situations and fed on misfortune, I could stock up on luck a lot faster. I tried to recall the last few hours¡­ Falling on Blondie in an awkward manner. Getting dragged around by a psycho. Getting embarrassed over pickup lines¡­ What else? Ugh¡­ If I really wanted to charge up my luck, I¡¯d have to get myself into unfortunate scenarios again. Preferably the kind that made me feel embarrassed. I chewed on my lip. Hmmm¡­ Did it really need to be embarrassment, though? Or was it just misfortune in general? Maybe I could find a way to test it. I glanced around the rooftop. It wasn¡¯t like I could accidentally slip on nothing. ¡­Right? Another hour passed. Mark finally spoke for the first time in an hour. "It''s 4:30 PM now. We should try to run¡­ or maybe make a final stand here. What do you think?" I stretched my arms and yawned. Damn, I was feeling stiff. "Mmmm¡­ I dunno. I think staying here is fine. I mean, if they haven¡¯t found us yet, they probably won¡¯t¡ª" "I think you kids are having too much of a fun date!" A familiar, booming voice rang through the rooftop. My blood ran cold. Mark and I both snapped our heads toward the door, where a figure was standing, arms crossed, grinning like a devil. Professor Reina Morningstar. She looked right at home in her role as the Master of the Pioneer Class. With her sharp features, piercing blue eyes, and long, flowing dark brown hair, she had this intense presence that made it impossible to ignore her. Even in her crisp, tailored professor''s coat, she carried herself like a warrior¡ªa far cry from the usual strict and boring teachers you¡¯d expect at a school. And her ESP? Absolute Authority. The woman could make her words into law, bending reality around her commands¡ªat least, to a certain extent. She couldn¡¯t just say, "Die," and expect people to drop dead, but she could absolutely tell you to stop moving, and your body would listen, whether you liked it or not. Rumor had it she was an ex-mercenary before becoming a professor, which honestly made way too much sense. And right now, she was grinning like she owned the place. "Oh no," I muttered under my breath. "We''re screwed." Reina Morningstar was basically a supermodel in the ESPer industry. Even if you didn¡¯t go to this academy, you¡¯d probably still know her name. She was one of the most famous ESPers alive¡ªrumored to be an ex-mercenary, but also a brand ambassador for some combat gear companies. If I remembered correctly, she even had a commercial where she took down an entire group of thugs while advertising running shoes. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. And this absolute celebrity of a professor was now standing in front of us, arms crossed, looking amused. I barely had time to blink before Mark moved. He shot forward like a ghost, his hand cutting straight for her throat. Reina¡¯s eyes flickered. "I can see you." Before the hit could land, she caught his wrist. Wait¡ªcaught it? She shouldn¡¯t have been able to react to that! Mark¡¯s ESP made him practically invisible to people''s attention! Reina tilted her head, gripping his arm firmly. "You have an interesting power. I almost forgot you were there." Then, in one fluid motion, she flipped Mark over her shoulder. Shit! But¡ªMark wasn''t done. Somehow, mid-throw, his body twisted unnaturally, his back bending at an insane ninety-degree angle as his feet landed on the ground instead of his back. My jaw dropped. Before Reina could react, Mark pulled at her arm, using her own momentum against her. And suddenly¡ªwhoop¡ªthe professor was the one flipping over, crashing down with a thud as Mark landed on top of her, pinning her down. I just stared. I mean¡­ whoa. That psycho rocks. Reina grinned. A bad sign. She jerked her head forward¡ªcrack!¡ªand slammed her forehead right into Mark¡¯s skull. Mark recoiled. "SON OF A¡ª!" Reina cackled. "OH, SHIT! You felt that, huh? That¡¯s what you get for throwing me, you little bastard!" Mark held his forehead, looking dazed. "I did throw you! You tried to yeet me first, dumbass!" "You''re the one who attacked me first, dumbass!" "You¡¯re the one who snuck up on us first, dumbass!" "You¡¯re the one hiding like a rat, dumbass!" "You''re the one who¡ªwait, this is hide and seek?!" Mark froze, then groaned. "Oh my god, I am so conflicted right now!" "Good, stay conflicted!" Reina barked a laugh, cracking her knuckles. "I thought you''d be a coward, but look at you. You¡¯re really throwing hands with me, huh?" Mark clenched his fists. "I don''t know whether I hate you or if I should be proud that your Mom¡¯s friend, but screw it. I¡¯m putting everything I¡¯ve got to the test!" ¡­Wait a damn second. I narrowed my eyes. "Mom¡¯s friend?" They knew each other?! Unfortunately, there was no time to question it. Because if Mark was going all out¡ªthen so was I. I focused. Luck, as a concept, wasn¡¯t just about getting things to go my way. It let me move in perfect coordination with my ideal outcome. It wasn¡¯t just about dodging attacks¡ªI could set myself up for a perfect counter. And right now, my ideal outcome? Me, taking down Reina Morningstar. Mark lunged forward again, and I used the moment to sneak behind her. His ESP made him hard to notice, and my luck let me move like a ghost. It was the perfect combination. To be more specific, I made my luck move me like a ghost. Reina was too focused on him to notice me slipping into her blind spot. I aimed. And with a snap, I kicked the back of her knee. Reina''s leg buckled, and she fell. Before she could recover, I locked my arms around her neck, squeezing tight in a headlock. I grinned. "How¡¯s that?!" I clenched my teeth as Reina¡¯s arms somehow still reached me, even though I knew I had pinned them correctly. Damn it¡ªshe was an adult, taller, stronger, and built different. I held on, silently pleading that she wouldn¡¯t be able to utter a word. If she activated her ESP, things would go downhill fast. Reina grunted and drove an elbow into my ribs. Once. Twice. Thrice. Pain shot through my torso, but I refused to let go. My pain tolerance was way higher than your average high schooler. I had survived literal starvation before¡ªI could handle this. Or at least, I thought I could. Reina suddenly contorted her body like a damn snake, twisting out of my grip and slithering behind me. Before I could react, her arm coiled around my neck. Her grip was iron. ¡°This,¡± she whispered into my ear, ¡°is how you perform a headlock.¡± My vision blurred as my oxygen got cut off. "Ugh¡­!" Where the hell was Mark?! I barely managed to glance forward. He was standing there, warming up. Was he seriously stretching while I was getting strangled to death?! Then¡ªhe vanished. Reina chuckled. ¡°Neat trick, but you can still hear me¡­¡± I felt my breath shorten. Shit¡ªshe was using some kind of ESP trick. ¡°And I say,¡± Reina declared, tightening her grip, ¡°reveal yourself.¡± My heart almost exploded as Mark suddenly appeared¡ª Not behind Reina. Not somewhere else. But right in front of me, crouching low and using my body as cover. Holy crap. Reina wouldn¡¯t see him coming! Mark met my gaze and mouthed, Lean to the side. I did. Mark¡¯s cross jab crashed into Reina¡¯s cheek with a satisfying thud. It landed. A chill ran down my spine. Oh shit. This is real. But my luck told me¡ªpush through. I followed up, striking Reina¡¯s throat with an open palm. She gasped, her breath disrupted. Mark followed with a hook straight to the lip. I slammed a palm heel strike into her temple. Mark drove a straight jab into the philtrum. We were beating her senseless. For a brief moment, I actually felt guilty. And then¡ª "BWAHAHAHAHA!" Reina laughed. Blood dripped from her nose, her lips were bruised, her face should have been wrecked¡ª But instead, she grinned like a lunatic. ¡°You make me proud, kids!¡± she cheered, her voice wild with excitement. ¡°I don¡¯t even feel pain anymore! And I¡¯ve never felt stronger than ever!¡± Oh, hell no. Before we could react, Reina grabbed both of our foreheads in a vice grip¡ª And smashed us into the ground. "UUGHH!" Dirt and concrete scraped against my face. My body screamed in pain. Mark groaned next to me. I looked up¡ª And saw Reina smiling down at us, completely healed. "And look!" she boasted, gesturing to her perfectly unscathed face. "I¡¯m already healed!" I wanted to cry. Even cheating had its limits, okay? I tried to reach for Reina¡¯s face¡ªcouldn¡¯t. I tried to attack her arms¡ªcouldn¡¯t. Mark struggled just as much, his arms flapping to reach her uselessly like mine. But I wasn¡¯t about to give up. I clenched my jaw and focused, forcing every last bit of my luck into action. If there was one thing I had learned, it was that luck wasn¡¯t just about making things go right¡ªit was about rewriting reality in my favor. I reached out and grabbed Mark¡¯s hand. Reina raised an eyebrow. ¡°Holding hands? That¡¯s cute.¡± ¡°No, dummy,¡± I gritted out. ¡°I¡¯m sharing my luck.¡± Holding hands was for chumps. ¡­Wait. That was a self-burn, wasn¡¯t it? Ugh. My mood swings and stray thoughts aside¡ªMark moved. And holy hell, he moved like a monster. He lodged his feet onto Reina¡¯s shoulder, using her own body as leverage. With a sudden, explosive motion, he flipped, twisting mid-air and forcing her into an armbar. I grinned and grabbed his arm, giving him extra leverage so he could fully lock her in. Reina¡¯s confidence finally wavered. ¡°Ouch, ouch¡ªwhat the¡ª¡± She winced. ¡°Why does it hurt?!¡± She let go of me. I cackled with malicious glee. ¡°DO IT!¡± I cheered. ¡°THE SUBMISSION POSE!¡± Mark groaned. ¡°This isn¡¯t as easy as it looks.¡± ¡°What do you mean? Just break her arm.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not breaking her arm.¡± ¡°Lame.¡± ¡°I¡¯m using my ESP,¡± he continued, ¡°to artificially make her ESP think I own it by forcing it into a Second Perspective.¡± I blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡± I took it back. I didn¡¯t understand a single thing this psycho just said. But whatever it was, it sounded like some next-level cheating. Reina suddenly laughed. ¡°Ahhh, so that¡¯s what¡¯s happening.¡± She smirked. ¡°You kids really gave me a run for my money. So here¡¯s lesson one¡ªdon¡¯t tell your enemies what your ESP does.¡± Mark froze. ¡°Ah, crap.¡± I stared at him. ¡°What?¡± Mark grimaced. ¡°I lost control of it.¡± Before either of us could react, Reina stood up, lifted Mark up, and then flung him into the air like a ragdoll. I gawked as his body soared straight up, higher and higher. He kept going. ¡­And going. "MARK!" I sprinted, my legs moving before my brain even processed it. *Screw it¡ª*my luck should save me, right? I ran, jumped onto the roof, and prepared to leap after him. And then¡ª Something snagged my leg. I yelped as my body jerked to a stop. Gravity pulled me down, my skirt flipping up in the process. ¡°GAH!¡± I scrambled, pushing my skirt down before anyone got a free show. I twisted my head and¡ªyep. Reina had grabbed me by the leg like I was a misbehaving cat. Reina smirked up at me. ¡°Not bad, kid. But¡ª¡± ¡°I give up, Professor,¡± I deadpanned. In the distance, I heard Mark¡¯s screams growing smaller. 010 Entrance Exam – Part 4 – Mark’s POV 010 Entrance Exam - Part 4 - Mark¡¯s POV Mom¡¯s friend Reina finally showed her true colors. And they were bullshit. ¡°Of course, crazy attracts crazy!¡± I screamed. I was dying. Literally flying through the air. Wind roared past my ears, my body spinning uncontrollably as I plummeted through the sky. I had no idea how high she threw me, but it was high enough that I could see half the damn campus. The worst part? I couldn¡¯t even use my ESP to hide. The sheer absurdity of my situation made sure everyone watching would absolutely remember me.Hopefully, they didn¡¯t have vision-related ESP and they would see me as just some strange bird. Mom, I hope you¡¯re happy. Just as I was bracing myself for an extremely painful landing, something yanked me back¡ª ¡°Oooof¡ª!¡± The collar of my uniform snapped tight around my neck as I was abruptly caught midair. I choked at the sudden stop, my limbs still flailing for a second before I realized I wasn¡¯t falling anymore. I missed my hoodie. My arms and neck stung from the friction of being grabbed mid-flight. A deep, booming laugh echoed beside me. ¡°This ought to be a milestone!¡± I turned my head and¡ªoh. Oh no. A bald professor with a flight-based ESP hovered beside me, grinning ear to ear like this was the funniest thing he¡¯d seen all year. ¡°To think Reina-chan would do something this exaggerated!¡± He howled with laughter, still holding me one-handed like a stray cat. ¡°Threw you quite far, eh?¡± I just stared at him. Then I slowly closed my eyes. ¡°¡­I hate this school.¡± The bald professor was Brady Collins. According to my notes, he used to be in the military, part of some classified special ops unit. He had an ESP that let him manipulate air currents, which¡ªcombined with his combat experience¡ªmade him an absolute nightmare in aerial combat. I knew all of this because Mom wrote it down in my journal. Brady grinned as he held me midair like a prize fish. ¡°Now, don¡¯t fight back,¡± he said casually. ¡°We¡¯re quite high up.¡± As if to drive home the point, he let go of my collar for a split second¡ªjust enough for my stomach to plunge before he caught me again. I glared at him. He just chuckled. Then, without any real ceremony, he cuffed me. I froze. Anti-ESP cuffs. They were standard-issue at ESPer Academy, designed to neutralize a student¡¯s ability by scrambling the ESP signature in their brain. Each pair was customized to block specific ESP types. Meaning the school already had a countermeasure for mine. Which meant they were expecting me. Which meant¡ª Mom¡­ was a snitch. And here I thought I¡¯d get to enjoy the privilege of being immune to cuffs. I sighed through my nose. ¡°Really?¡± I muttered. Brady shrugged. ¡°Really.¡± I was brought back to the auditorium and dumped into one of the frontmost seats. To my left was Mirai, who looked equally exhausted. To my right¡ªunfortunately¡ªwas someone I recognized from my notes. A red-haired guy with an unmistakable scowl, sitting across the aisle, separated from me by a pathway of empty seats. Karl Brandt. One of the love interests. And he had anger issues. Karl turned his sharp gaze toward me. "What are you looking at, chump?" I wasn¡¯t even looking at him. He just had that kind of personality¡ªloud, confrontational, and always looking for a fight. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I gave him the barest glance before returning my focus to the stage. Karl wasn¡¯t done. "Hey, hey, I¡¯m gonna be number one, do you hear me?!" What did I do to deserve this? According to Mom¡¯s notes, the best strategy here was to ignore him. That suited me just fine. Besides Mirai sat the blonde kid. Ronald Ardent. Or Ron, as he liked to be called. According to Mom, he was the canon male lead. The imperial prince. The golden-haired, blue-eyed noble. My so-called archnemesis. What was I doing with my life? I watched Mirai and Ron chat like they had been friends for years. The topic? Puppies. Mirai¡¯s eyes sparkled. "Oh! You have a Corgi? That¡¯s adorable!" Ron beamed. "Yeah, her name¡¯s Butter. She¡¯s super energetic, though. She always tries to escape the palace grounds." "Butter? That¡¯s so cute! I bet she has little stubby legs and a fluffy butt!" "She does! And she loves belly rubs." Mirai gasped. "No way, I love giving belly rubs!" I frowned. Mom told me never to let Ronald get Mirai¡¯s attention too much. Mom also told me to be bold, but with so many people around, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do something embarrassing¡­ again. So what was the best strategy? Clearly, Ronald talking to Mirai was the problem. I see. So that was the solution. I just had to come up with a topic Mirai found more interesting. What did I know about Mirai? ¡­Apparently, nothing. Mom had no idea what the heroine¡¯s personality was either since the otome game was fashioned after the player¡¯s choices. I thought back to the rooftop. Cu for Copper. Te for Tellurium. Be for Beryllium. Au for Gold. ¡­Okay, I got it. She must have liked chemistry. She responded to those pickup lines too well for it to be a coincidence. I inserted myself into their conversation. "Hey, Mirai, have you memorized the periodic table?" Silence. Mirai went awfully quiet. I thought back to my short stint in high school. Memorizing the periodic table was something students were forced to do. So obviously, Mirai¡ªwho worked multiple jobs¡ªmust have had it memorized, right? I turned to her. "You do know it, right?" Mirai glared at me. ¡­Huh? What did I do wrong? She stopped talking to Ronald entirely and just stared ahead, arms crossed. Ron looked confused. I looked confused. But Mirai wasn¡¯t talking to him anymore. So I guessed¡­ this was my victory. I think? It was just periodic table though¡­ Reina strolled up to the podium with that usual cocky grin of hers, completely unfazed by the collective exhaustion of the freshman class. "Okay, kids, a short announcement before I let you go and dismiss class for real," she said, her voice echoing through the auditorium. The room fell into silence, save for a few muttered complaints. "Between eight o¡¯clock and nine o¡¯clock tonight, you should receive your class designations via email, so look forward to it. Your class schedules will also be sent via email." Murmurs spread through the room. Some students sounded excited. Others sounded like they were already dreading it. I just wanted to get these cuffs off. Reina clapped her hands together. "Last but not least, bring a dictionary tomorrow for your classes, okay? You¡¯ll suffer demerits at the hands of your Masters if you fail to bring something as simple as a dictionary." A few students groaned. I didn¡¯t blame them. Then Reina smirked, and I immediately knew she had something worse planned. "Also," she continued, dragging out the word, "a bit of a take-home assignment. You¡¯ll be bringing those cuffs with you home." A heavy silence fell over the room. "If you manage to break them or get out of them, you will receive merits from your Masters. Feel free to use any method at your disposal." For a moment, no one reacted. Then the freshmen erupted into protests. "You can¡¯t be serious!" "This is cruel!" "How are we supposed to sleep like this?!" "My ESP is totally useless in this state!" I wasn¡¯t any different. I flexed my wrists, testing the cuffs for the hundredth time. Solid. No visible locks. No seams. No screws. Ugh. Reina ignored the protests and simply shrugged. "That¡¯s all. Class dismissed." The groaning only got louder. The freshmen left the auditorium in an orderly manner, though the air was thick with grumbles and complaints about the cuffs. I wasn¡¯t complaining. I was already working on mine. Anti-ESP cuffs were tricky. I¡¯d spent the last few minutes analyzing how mine worked. Popping a thumb out wouldn¡¯t do anything¡ªthese things weren¡¯t just locked around the wrists. They were stitched into the ESP of the ESPer itself. The only way to break free was to reverse-engineer the suppression and undo it from within. It was weird tech. Even Mom had trouble explaining it to me, and she was the one who had trained me to deal with them. I flexed my fingers, feeling for the internal signal feedback. It was a subtle thing, like searching for an invisible thread running through my nerves. I pulled at it, just the way Mom had drilled into me. Click. The cuff unlinked from my wrist. I pocketed it to submit for tomorrow. Next to me, Mirai let out a dramatic gasp. ¡°You little cheater.¡± I turned to see her watching me with sharp, amused eyes. Then, without hesitation, she did the exact same thing to her cuffs, and they popped open like she had done it a thousand times before. ¡°¡­Are you serious?¡± I said flatly. She grinned. ¡°What? You showed me how. I just did the same thing.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how that works.¡± ¡°For you, maybe.¡± She twirled the cuffs in her hands before slipping them into her pocket. ¡°That¡¯s top-tier cheating,¡± I muttered. ¡°Your ability¡¯s busted.¡± Mirai tossed her hair dramatically. ¡°I prefer the term ¡®highly adaptive.¡¯¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°And by that, you mean you can just steal anything you see.¡± She gasped in mock offense. ¡°I don¡¯t steal! I just¡­ borrow knowledge permanently.¡± I shot her a look. ¡°Fine,¡± she admitted, smirking. ¡°I cheat. But I cheat fairly.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡± Mirai stretched her arms, looking far too pleased with herself. ¡°Well, sense or not, I¡¯m free. So what now, Whitey?¡± I sighed. ¡°First, stop calling me Whitey.¡± ¡°Then stop calling me a cheater.¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°Fine. Mirai the ¡®legally questionable individual.¡¯¡± She laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± We reached the park just by Mirai¡¯s bicycle, which, surprisingly, was still intact after everything that had happened today. I stopped beside it and glanced at her. ¡°Hey, Mirai, you owe me one, right?¡± Mirai tensed up. ¡°Y-yeah¡­¡± She was nervous. Good. That meant she¡¯d actually take this seriously. This wasn¡¯t written in the journal. Mom never mentioned anything about the cuffs staying on, and asking for this might ruin the strategy. But I wasn¡¯t going to get a better chance. I crossed my arms. ¡°How about we settle that debt you owe me?¡± Mirai narrowed her eyes. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Your bicycle.¡± Her jaw dropped. ¡°I can¡¯t give it to you!¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I shrugged, playing it down. ¡°Just give me a ride then.¡± Mirai relaxed, but only slightly. ¡°¡­A ride?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll even pedal. I could use the exercise, and¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± I blinked. ¡°No?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll give you a ride,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°But I will be pedaling.¡± ¡°¡­Can I at least try?¡± Mirai frowned. ¡°Try what?¡± I hesitated. Ugh, this was embarrassing. I could feel my ears burning. ¡°I want to learn how to ride a bike.¡± Mirai stared at me like I¡¯d just told her I wanted to learn how to fly. ¡°¡­Are you serious?¡± ¡°Pretty much,¡± I said. She kept staring. I refused to make eye contact. For as long as I could remember, I¡¯d always thought kids riding bikes looked cool. But I never got the chance to learn. No time. No stable environment. And whenever I did try, I¡¯d always end up falling on my knees for some reason. Mirai tilted her head. ¡°Wait¡­ You don¡¯t know how to ride a bike?¡± ¡°Obviously,¡± I muttered. A slow grin spread across her face. ¡°¡­Don¡¯t.¡± She ignored me and grinned harder. ¡°Mirai. Don¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Oh this is going to be fun.¡± 011 Pioneer Class - Part 1 - Mirai’s POV 011 Pioneer Class - Part 1 - Mirai¡¯s POV Mark was awful at riding a bike. Like, spectacularly, hilariously awful. For fifteen straight minutes, I instructed him, guided him, and even gave him a push. Each time, he barely lasted five seconds before wobbling like a newborn deer and crashing to the side. ¡°Dude, what was that?!¡± I cackled as he faceplanted into the grass. ¡°You looked like a marionette with its strings cut!¡± Mark groaned, peeling himself off the ground. ¡°You said to balance!¡± ¡°Yeah, and you failed spectacularly.¡± I grinned, wiping tears from my eyes. ¡°Oh my god, this is better than I expected.¡± Mark scowled at me, brushing dirt off his uniform. ¡°I thought you were supposed to teach me, not laugh at my suffering.¡± I tried¡ªreally, I did¡ªbut the moment he got back on the bike and immediately veered straight into a bush, I lost it again. ¡°Pfft¡ª AHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! I CAN¡¯T¡ª¡± Mark stood up, twigs sticking out of his hair, and glared daggers at me. ¡°You suck as a teacher.¡± ¡°And you suck at biking!¡± I wheezed. ¡°We both have our flaws!¡± Mark muttered something under his breath but climbed onto the bike again. He was determined, I¡¯d give him that. Unfortunately, determination didn¡¯t mean skill. Another fall. Another laugh. Another attempt. Another disaster. Eventually, I wiped my eyes and sighed. ¡°Alright, alright. We¡¯ll do this again tomorrow. It¡¯s getting dark.¡± Mark exhaled, clearly exhausted. ¡°¡­Fine.¡± I hopped onto the bike, motioning for him to get on. ¡°C¡¯mon, I¡¯ll drop you off.¡± We stopped at a posh-looking place called Northstar House¡ªsome high-end dorm or something. Mark hopped off the bike like his life depended on it. ¡°Alright, thanks, bye!¡± He started aggressively shooing me away, waving his hands like I was some stray cat. I blinked. ¡°The hell¡¯s your problem?¡± ¡°Nothing! Just¡ªgo! It¡¯s late! You should get home!¡± ¡°¡­Pffffft.¡± I smirked. ¡°What, don¡¯t want your fancy dormmates to see you hanging out with me? It¡¯s barely been a day and you are basically a stranger to me¡­ a fun stranger¡­ Anyways, I still owe you¡ª¡± Mark stiffened, then scowled. ¡°That¡¯s not it.¡± But the way he practically ran to the gates without looking back? Suspicious. Adorable. Though, now that I thought about it¡­ I couldn¡¯t actually imagine him caring about something like that. I pedaled through the streets with ease, the night air cool against my face as I made my way home. The roads were mostly empty now, save for the occasional car rolling by. Streetlights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows over the pavement. The neighborhood I lived in wasn¡¯t exactly high-class¡ªit was one of the cheaper areas on the island. Most ESPers with wealthy families stayed in dorms or high-rise apartments closer to the Academy, but I had to budget my way through life. Even then, the Academy never failed to provide the bare minimum of luxury. My place was an old but well-maintained apartment complex tucked away in a quieter part of town. The building wasn¡¯t flashy, but it was clean, secure, and had everything I needed. The landlord was a retired ESPer who barely gave a damn as long as rent was paid on time. I parked my bike at the rack, locked it up, and took the stairs two at a time. My unit was on the third floor, nothing fancy¡ªa single-room setup with a small kitchenette and a bed. I flicked the light on, tossed my bag onto the chair, and changed into my work uniform. Time for my real job. Being an ESPer Academy student was already exhausting, but tuition and living expenses weren¡¯t going to pay for themselves. So, five nights a week, I worked as a convenience store clerk. Paid by the hour. Nothing glamorous, but it kept me afloat. And then there was weekend work. I sighed, pulling my hair into a quick ponytail. The real exhausting part of my schedule. But that was for later. For now, I had a shift to get to. The night shift was slow. Not dead, but slow enough that I could sneak in some studying when no one was looking. While most of our textbooks were in PDF format, I insisted on having mine printed. It was easier on the eyes, and more importantly, it didn¡¯t look bad while working. Scrolling through your phone at the counter made you look lazy, but reading a book? That gave the impression of someone industrious, even if customers sometimes gave me weird looks. I flipped through a page, absorbing the material on ESP theory, when the doorbell jingled. I glanced up and saw a red-haired guy striding in. Him again. I recognized him from the auditorium earlier. He was across from Mark¡ªwhat was his name? Karl? Yeah, Karl Brandt, the guy who screamed about being number one. He walked straight to the fridge, yanked it open, and pulled out a can of beer. I closed my book. ¡°That¡¯s not happening.¡± Karl didn¡¯t even flinch. He walked up to the counter, placed the can down, and met my eyes with a confident smirk. ¡°One beer.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a freshman,¡± I pointed out. ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain you¡¯re underage.¡± He leaned in slightly, that cocky smirk still there. ¡°Maybe. Maybe not.¡± I folded my arms. ¡°ID.¡± Karl didn¡¯t move. Neither did I. We stared each other down in absolute silence. The fridge hummed. The clock ticked. Finally, Karl clicked his tongue and scoffed. ¡°Tch. Fine.¡± He grabbed the can, walked back to the fridge, and slammed it back inside a little harder than necessary. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door. I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head. ¡°Psycho.¡± Then I picked up my book again and got back to work. What was up with this place? That was the second psycho I had encountered today¡ªon top of Mark. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I really hoped this wasn¡¯t some sort of contest. The doorbell jingled again, and this time, it was my co-worker. A silent guy with brown hair and glasses. He gave me a small nod as he walked past the counter. Matt Wentworth. Mild-mannered, soft-spoken, and according to the boss, in a similar situation to me. Whatever that meant. He smiled, headed to the back to change, then came out a few minutes later and started filling up the shelves. I took that as my chance to sneak a look at my phone. It was one of my most expensive purchases recently¡ªa good smartphone, necessary for living in ESPer Academy. QR codes, schedules, transactions¡ªbasically, everything ran through it. I unlocked the screen, my thumb hovering over the email icon. My heart pounded. The class assignments were out. I took a deep breath and opened the email. Pioneer Class. I stared. Then stared some more. I read it again. And then¡ª ¡°EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE¡ª¡± Matt nearly dropped the box he was carrying. I clamped my hands over my mouth, my whole body trembling with excitement. Pioneer Class. The class of the elites. The best of the best. The strongest Espers of our year. I was in. I was recognized. Matt blinked at me from the shelves, adjusting his glasses. ¡°Uh¡­ something good happen?¡± I couldn¡¯t stop grinning as I turned my phone toward him, practically vibrating in place. ¡°I got into Pioneer Class!¡± He tilted his head, squinting at the screen, then gave a small, impressed nod. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ really good.¡± ¡°REALLY GOOD?! This is amazing!¡± I hugged my phone to my chest, still overwhelmed. ¡°This means I¡¯m strong. This means I belong here! This means¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re gonna be surrounded by psychos,¡± Matt pointed out, deadpan. I froze. ¡­Oh. I mean. He wasn¡¯t wrong. ESPer Academy - Freshman Year Class Schedule Class Designations: Pioneer, Advanced, Standard, Remedial (Class schedules may slightly vary depending on designation, but Pioneer students follow this structure.) Monday - Friday
Time Slot Class Name Description
08:00 - 09:00 ESP Theory & Application Understanding ESP mechanics, classifications, and weaknesses.
09:00 - 10:00 Combat Training I Hand-to-hand combat, ESP-assisted combat, and endurance drills.
10:00 - 11:00 Survival & Field Operations Navigation, resource management, cryptid identification, and ESP survival tactics.
11:00 - 12:00 Break / Lunch Cafeteria and rest period.
12:00 - 13:00 Tactics & Strategy ESP dueling, battle formations, enemy profiling, and mind games.
13:00 - 14:00 Mathematics & Physics Focus on ESP-related physics, trajectory calculations, and applied sciences.
14:00 - 15:00 Esper Ethics & Psychology Mental resilience, ESP-related psychological effects, and moral dilemmas.
15:00 - 16:00 Combat Training II (Sparring) One-on-one matches, group fights, and ESP sparring under supervision.
16:00 - 17:00 Independent Training / Clubs Self-study, skill improvement, or participation in ESP clubs.
Special Notes: I stared at my class schedule, feeling my soul leave my body. Too many subjects¡­ Too little time for each. Each subject looked insanely demanding. ESP-intensive, physically exhausting, and mentally draining¡ªit was as if they wanted to squeeze every last drop of energy from us. I sighed. Did Mark get into Pioneer Class too? He probably did. We practically worked as a team during the Entrance Exam. If I was in, he was definitely in. I scrolled further down the email and found an Achievements & Notable Performances section. A ranking list. Longest to Last in the Hide and Seek Exam I skimmed through the names. Karl Brandt was listed near the bottom. No surprise there. Ron was also listed, but was it the same Ronald Ardent from earlier? Seemed likely. No way ¡®Ron¡¯ couldn¡¯t pull it off¡­ Then I saw Mark¡¯s name. Third place. Wait¡­ I was second?! I nearly dropped my phone. Who the hell beat me? To be fair, I didn¡¯t mean to feel entitled to it since it was Mark¡¯s strategy and dragging me around that brought me this far¡­ but still. I scrolled up and saw the name: 1st Place - Matt Wentworth I blinked. I glanced at my coworker¡ªMatt¡ªthe quiet, brown-haired guy currently mopping up a spilled drink near the back aisle. Him? How?! I needed answers. I casually leaned on the counter and called out, "Hey, Matt." He looked up, adjusting his glasses. "Hmm?" "You were in the Entrance Exam, right?" He nodded slowly. "Yeah." I pointed at my phone. "You placed first in the hide-and-seek ranking. How¡¯d you do it?" Matt hesitated. His grip on the mop tightened. "I¡­ was never found." I gawked. "Wait, wait, never?" He nodded again, avoiding my gaze. I let that sink in. Mark¡¯s strategy was clever¡ªdisguising himself among the dorm staff and blending into the background. But Matt went several levels beyond that. "You hid among the staff?" I guessed. He scratched his cheek, looking awkward. "Sort of." I squinted. "Then how¡ª" Poof. Suddenly, a small black dog stood where Matt had been. I gasped. The dog wagged its tail, then, with another poof, Matt was back, standing there like nothing had happened. "I''m¡­ kind of like a werewolf," he mumbled. Holy crap. My brain short-circuited. "That¡¯s awesome!" I blurted. Matt looked away, clearly flustered. A thought crossed my mind. I should not say that was cute. It somehow felt demeaning. But it was cute. Instead, I smirked. "I¡¯m glad I¡¯ll have a familiar face in class." Matt¡¯s lips twitched into a small smile. Yeah. This would work out. The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Matt and I worked through our shifts, occasionally chatting when there was a lull in customers. Eventually, we took a break, sitting at the back of the store and eating our packed dinners. Matt had a simple meal¡ªrice and some fried chicken. Mine was a convenience store sandwich I had bought at a discount. We didn¡¯t talk much while eating, just the occasional comment about work or what to expect of school. Once the clock struck midnight, we clocked out, exchanged a few goodbyes, and went our separate ways. ESPers needed less sleep than normal people, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant I could stretch my time between studying, working, and training, but it also meant I had no real excuse to rest. Every second of downtime felt like I was wasting an opportunity to improve myself. The bike ride home was peaceful. The streets in this part of the island were quieter, less developed compared to the extravagant districts where students like Mark probably lived. The apartment complex I stayed in was affordable but still well-maintained¡ªESPer Academy didn¡¯t let even its cheaper housing fall into disrepair. My building was a simple five-story complex with no fancy amenities, just a basic lobby and stairwell. My unit was a one-room studio, compact but functional. I changed into more comfortable clothes and sat on my futon, pulling out my phone. There it was. The email with my evaluation. I hesitated for a moment before opening it.
Subject: Pioneer Class Evaluation Report From: Reina Morningstar Mirai Valeska, Congratulations on securing a place in the Pioneer Class. You are one of the few students selected based on exceptional performance during the Entrance Exam. Your results demonstrate a combination of instinct, adaptability, and an ESP with an absurd level of potential. Here are some key points from your evaluation: ESP Proficiency: You exhibit a unique control over probability, effectively allowing you to perform actions that align with your desired outcome. However, what sets you apart is not just your ability to manipulate luck but your unconscious synchronization with it. You don¡¯t just get lucky¡ªyou make the most optimal choices in real time, almost like an unseen force is guiding you. Physical Performance: While not the strongest physically, your ability compensates by allowing you to react with inhuman precision. Your agility, reflexes, and coordination put you on par with or even above more physically trained students. That being said, your raw physical endurance could use improvement. Tactical Awareness: One of the highlights of your exam was your ability to work seamlessly with others while still maintaining an independent approach. You were neither overly reliant on teammates nor dismissive of their strengths. You also displayed quick thinking and decisiveness under pressure Notable Achievements: Ranked 2nd place in the Hide-and-Seek segment, only outlasted by Matt Wentworth. Successfully engaged and subdued instructor with varied levels of success. Displayed proficiency in adapting to both solo and team-based challenges. With all that said, being part of the Pioneer Class comes with expectations. You will be challenged beyond what most students experience. Your limits will be tested, and failure will not be tolerated. Consider this your first and only warning: if you cannot keep up, you will be replaced. Welcome to the Pioneer Class. Try not to disappoint me. ¡ªMaster Reina
I stared at the screen for a long moment, rereading the email just to let it sink in. Master Reina, huh? That was going to take some getting used to. Her tone was as blunt as ever, but I could tell there was a strange sense of¡­ pride? Maybe that was just me reading too much into it. Either way, the message was clear. I was here because I earned it. And now I had to prove that I deserved to stay. I let out a breath, flopping onto my futon with my phone still in hand. My body was exhausted, but my mind was too wired to sleep just yet. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. But I was ready. Or at least, I hoped I was. 012 Pioneer Class - Part 2 - Mark’s POV 012 Pioneer Class - Part 2 - Mark¡¯s POV The first thing I did when I returned to my dorm was eat dinner, rest for a bit, and then head outside to train like crazy. Why? Because Mom demanded it. And because I liked training. It was a secret though. Mom must not learn of this secret. Northstar House was a high-end dorm, but I didn¡¯t spend much time enjoying the luxuries it offered. Instead, I slipped out the back, making my way toward the academy¡¯s forested areas. Technically, there was a curfew. Technically, students weren¡¯t supposed to leave the dorms past a certain hour. But as long as I didn¡¯t get caught, I didn¡¯t see the problem. The academy had its own cryptid population, mostly controlled and kept for study or training purposes. I used them as moving targets, playing hide and seek in the dark. Sometimes they were the hunters. Sometimes I was. Either way, it was good practice. I didn¡¯t push too far into the restricted areas, though. Breaking curfew was one thing. Getting mauled to death by something the school barely had under control was another. After a few hours of running, dodging, and avoiding sharp teeth and claws, I called it a night. By the time I returned to my dorm, it was already late. I barely glanced at my phone before crashing onto my bed. The notification on my screen read: "Congratulations. You have been inducted into the Pioneer Class." I barely had time to process it before sleep took over. I woke up early, out of habit. Morning routines were simple¡ªwash up, change into my academy uniform, and then figure out where to get food since I hadn¡¯t done any grocery shopping yet. That meant eating outside. I found a small local eatery near the dorms, nothing fancy, just a place that served simple meals. I placed my order and sat down, pulling out my phone to kill time. That¡¯s when I saw the evaluation email waiting for me. I tapped it open.
Subject: Pioneer Class Evaluation Report From: Professor Reina Morningstar Mark Valentine, Your acceptance into the Pioneer Class was determined based on exceptional performance in the Entrance Exam. Your results indicate an advanced level of tactical awareness, adaptability, and efficiency in utilizing your ESP ability. Below are some key points from your evaluation: ESP Proficiency: Your ability provides you with an unorthodox yet highly effective form of stealth. Unlike traditional invisibility or misdirection, your ability works on a conceptual level¡ªerasing your presence from active perception and memory. You demonstrated an intuitive grasp of how to manipulate this in a high-stress environment, using it not only to hide but to control engagement on your terms. Physical and Combat Performance: While not the physically strongest in your year, your combat proficiency compensates for it. You fight with efficiency, favoring practical and lethal techniques over showmanship. However, there is room for improvement in sustained endurance and adaptability against overwhelming force. Tactical Awareness: You displayed exceptional decision-making, prioritizing survival and long-term strategy over short-term gains. You utilized your environment effectively, minimized unnecessary risks, and capitalized on the weaknesses of both your opponents and the exam structure itself. Notable Achievements: Ranked 3rd place in the Hide-and-Seek segment, lasting nearly the entire duration of the exam. Displayed an understanding of long-term engagement and survival tactics. While your skills are undeniable, there are areas that require refinement. Over-reliance on passive engagement may become a liability in direct confrontations. Strengthening your ability to operate in high-intensity combat scenarios will be crucial to your continued success. That being said, you have earned your place in the Pioneer Class. Do not waste this opportunity. ¡ªMaster Reina
I read the email twice. It was about what I expected. Pioneer Class, huh? I guessed I should¡¯ve been surprised, but I wasn¡¯t. I had trained for this. Prepared for this. If anything, I would¡¯ve been more shocked if I hadn¡¯t made the cut. Still, the evaluation pointed out some weak spots. Mom probably would¡¯ve said the same thing. I leaned back in my chair, watching as my breakfast was placed in front of me. Fried rice, eggs, and some side dishes. Simple. Nothing extravagant. I picked up my chopsticks and started eating, already thinking about how I was going to train tonight. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. There was no room for complacency. Not now. Not ever. I took a cab to the academy. The local train by the dorm was an option, but I had no interest in taking it. Why? Because I didn¡¯t want to be the center of attention as the one guy in a dormitory meant for girls. Who even thought that was a good idea? I should petition the Archon about this. The cab ride was quiet, aside from the occasional small talk with the driver. "You a student?" the cabbie asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Yeah." "First-year?" "Yeah." "That explains the uniform." He chuckled, nodding to himself. "Bet you''re excited, huh? ESPer Academy¡¯s a big deal. You must be crazy talented to get in." "Something like that." "Well, good luck, kid. Just don¡¯t blow up the school, alright?" "No promises," I muttered. The cabbie laughed. "That¡¯s the spirit!" Eventually, we reached the Freshmen grounds. I paid the fare, stepped out, and took in the sight before me. The ESPer Academy was a four-year program, with each year level having an entire facility dedicated to them. These were based on the four cardinal beasts: That meant I was standing at the Black Tortoise premises, the dedicated area for freshmen. It was massive, built like an independent campus within the academy grounds. The buildings had a fortress-like design, with reinforced structures, high walls, and training facilities spread across the area. I walked toward the entrance gate, passing by groups of students¡ªsome chatting, some stretching like they were preparing for combat, others just loitering. Two students ahead of me were talking loudly. "Did you hear? Someone managed to remove their cuffs last night." "Wait, already? But they said those things were impossible to take off!" "Guess not. Some people are just built different." I glanced down at my pocket, where my own unlinked cuff sat. Yeah¡­ it wasn¡¯t that hard. Another conversation caught my attention as I passed by. "Man, I hope I don¡¯t get stuck in a garbage class," a student grumbled. "Relax. As long as you weren¡¯t dead last in the entrance exam, you¡¯ll be fine." Easy for them to say. I already knew where I ended up. Pioneer Class. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good thing yet. The Black Tortoise uniform was simple¡ªmostly black, with a few golden layers here and there. Nothing too flashy. I adjusted my backpack, smoothed my collar, and took in my surroundings. A lot of students still had their anti-ESP cuffs on. Some were fidgeting, trying to figure out how to get them off, while others had clearly given up and just accepted their fate. A few, like me, were already free. I could feel the stares, though most of them were just curious glances. Then, out of nowhere¡ª "Hey!" A voice rang out, bright and overly familiar. I turned and immediately regretted it. A blonde guy with an easygoing smile was striding toward me like we were old friends. Ronald Ardent. Imperial prince. Heroine¡¯s canon love interest. My supposed arch-nemesis. What was I supposed to do here? Mom had drilled me on how to deal with Mirai. I had entire journals on strategies for that. But the heroine¡¯s love interests? Nothing. Not a single note, except if it involved the heroine. I was flying blind. Ronald stopped right in front of me, still grinning like some overgrown golden retriever. "You remember me, right?" I stared. "No." His smile didn¡¯t even falter. "Sure you do! We sat near each other at the orientation!" I tried stepping around him. He stepped with me. I sighed. "Look, I don¡¯t know what you want, but I¡¯m busy." "Busy?" He tilted his head. "You¡¯re just standing there." I opened my mouth, then shut it. Damn it, he got me. Ronald clapped a hand on my shoulder like we were buddies. "C¡¯mon, no need to be shy. We¡¯re in the same class, so we should get along!" I glanced at his cuffs. Still on. Good. That meant he couldn¡¯t use his ESP yet. "I don¡¯t remember you," I repeated, stepping away. "And I¡¯m not looking for friends." Ronald just laughed. Not offended. Not annoyed. Just laughed, like this was all some joke. "Man, you¡¯re fun." Fun?! I squinted at him, but Ronald had already moved past it, shoving his hands in his pockets and falling into step beside me. Huh? When did he remove his cuffs? I tried to walk faster. He matched my pace. I slowed down. So did he. This guy¡­ Mom, what the hell am I supposed to do with him?! I sighed and did what I did best¡ªI vanished. Shrouding myself in my ESP, I walked away without a sound, letting my presence slip from the minds of those around me. Ronald blinked, confused, his gaze darting around for a moment. For a second, he lost me. But then¡ª "There you are!" He locked eyes with me. I barely suppressed a groan as he jogged after me, grinning like he just won a game of tag. "So, what do you think our class is gonna be like?" he asked, falling into step beside me again. "I heard it¡¯s super intense. We¡¯ll probably be sparring by the end of the day. Maybe even throwing fireballs! Or fighting teachers! That¡¯d be sick, right?" I didn¡¯t respond. He kept talking anyway. "Though, I dunno about the whole ¡®Master¡¯ thing. Kinda weird, isn¡¯t it? Calling the professors that?" I side-eyed him. "That¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about?" He grinned. "Hey, just saying. Feels cult-y." I exhaled sharply, quickening my pace. Ronald matched it. Around us, students whispered, pointing in his direction. Some were swooning, their eyes practically sparkling. Others looked at him like he was insane. Some of them were probably seeing something completely different¡ªlike a blonde guy talking to empty air. I resisted the urge to smirk. At least my ESP was still doing its job. Still, I needed to find our classroom. I glanced around, scanning the hallways. Too many doors. Tch. I spotted a student standing by a vending machine and made my way over. "Hey," I said. "Where¡¯s the Pioneer Class?" The student, a younger guy with glasses, lit up immediately. "The Pioneer Class?" His voice practically vibrated with admiration. "Oh, you must be one of them! That¡¯s amazing! It¡¯s right down this hall¡ªthird door to the left!" He pointed eagerly, looking at me like I was some kind of legend. I nodded. "Thanks." Then, before Ronald could start up again, I booked it. Ronald Ardent, or rather, "Ron," as he introduced himself, was still keeping up with me. No matter how much I walked faster or subtly changed my direction, he stuck to me like glue. The guy had a ridiculous amount of energy this early in the morning. ¡°This is awesome,¡± he said, flashing a grin. ¡°I thought I¡¯d be walking to class alone, but here I am, making a friend already!¡± My lips twitched. A friend? When did that happen? I checked my wristwatch. If I hurried, I wouldn¡¯t be late. The strategies in my journal had yet to fail me, and I wanted to keep it that way. The first day of class had an event. If I followed the pattern, something important should be happening right about now. We rounded the corner to our classroom, and that¡¯s when I saw it¡ª A red-haired guy, completely floored, groaning in pain. Standing over him imperiously was a dark-haired girl. Huh? Something was wrong. Wasn¡¯t this scene supposed to be the other way around? 013 Pioneer Class - Part 3 - Mirai’s POV 013 Pioneer Class - Part 3 - Mirai¡¯s POV The murmurs of the gathered students buzzed around me like an annoying swarm of flies. Some whispered in shock, others laughed, and a few even started recording on their phones. Karl Brandt, the red-haired idiot currently sprawled on the floor, had just tried to threaten me over my convenience store job. Seriously? This was what he was wasting his time on? Karl wiped his mouth, his expression twisting in rage. ¡°You think you¡¯re hot shit?¡± I crossed my arms, unimpressed. ¡°I know I am.¡± This dumbass had stormed up to me the second I walked into the classroom, spewing some nonsense about how he¡¯d ruin my life if I didn¡¯t agree to his demands. And what were his oh-so-important demands? ¡°To become his girlfriend.¡± Yeah. No. I had always had a bit of a boyish streak. I wasn¡¯t the type to shy away from a fight, and right now, my luck was stacked. It must¡¯ve been topped off from yesterday¡¯s events because I felt supercharged. A flicker of ESP sparked around me. I let a little loose, just enough to guide my next move. I jabbed him square in the jaw. It connected perfectly. With a sickening crack, Karl¡¯s head snapped back, and he collapsed onto the floor. Out. Cold. Silence stretched through the crowd. Then someone whistled. ¡°Holy shit.¡± ¡°Damn, she knocked him the hell out.¡± The corner of my lip twitched. That was satisfying. I met Mark¡¯s gaze from across the crowd. He stood at the sidelines, watching with that usual unreadable expression of his. Beside him was Ron, still radiating that golden retriever energy. I lifted a hand in a casual wave. ¡°Yo~!¡± Mark didn¡¯t even acknowledge me. He just turned on his heel and walked straight into the classroom like I didn¡¯t exist. What the hell was that? Before I could dwell on it, Ron practically bounced over, eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡°Whoa~! You knocked him out good!¡± he whistled, glancing at Karl¡¯s unconscious form. ¡°What did he do to you?¡± I frowned as I watched Mark disappear into the classroom without a word. What was his problem? Ron, still grinning beside me, tilted his head. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s jealous?¡± I nearly choked. ¡°Jealous? Why?¡± Ron shrugged. ¡°I dunno. You knocked a guy out cold in front of him. Maybe he wanted to do it first?¡± ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± I muttered, face heating up. ¡°We just met yesterday.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± Ron wiggled his eyebrows, ¡°he ignored you like a scorned lover.¡± I clicked my tongue and walked faster. This golden retriever is way too nosy. The moment we stepped into the classroom, Ron still stuck to me like glue. I glanced around, trying to find Mark¡ªbut he was gone. I blinked. How? It wasn¡¯t like the classroom was packed. In fact, it was the opposite. Students were scattered around, standing awkwardly, looking around with confusion. Because there were no seats. No desks. Nothing. ¡°¡­Uh.¡± I glanced at Ron. ¡°Where are the seats?¡± Ron crossed his arms. ¡°Where are the desks?¡± A bad feeling crept up my spine. Just what kind of class did we get into? The classroom was a massive, open space¡ªmore like a training hall than a place for learning. The walls were smooth, a deep gray with faint patterns etched into the surface, like some kind of reinforcement. The floor was just as tough-looking, a polished material that wasn¡¯t quite concrete but definitely built to take a beating. No windows, just long strips of artificial lighting overhead. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. And most importantly¡ªno seats. No desks. Just students standing around awkwardly, shifting on their feet, waiting for something to happen. I took a quick headcount. About fifteen of us. Sixteen, if you included the very invisible Mark. That dude¡¯s ESP was weird. I swore he was here, but my brain kept glossing over his presence like he was part of the background. Before I could dwell on it, the door suddenly slammed open. Reina Morningstar entered like a storm, dragging someone behind her¡ªKarl Brandt, the red-haired idiot who had been harassing me earlier. He was unconscious. Okay. Correction. Seventeen students. That was surprisingly few. Back in high school, classes were packed with at least thirty to forty students. But this was the Pioneer Class¡ªthe elite of the elite. It made sense they¡¯d keep it small. Reina let go of Karl¡¯s collar and let him thud against the floor before turning to the rest of us with a bright, almost friendly smile. ¡°Good morning, class!¡± she announced. ¡°You might be wondering why there are no desks and chairs.¡± No one said anything. Some shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Well, guess what?¡± Reina clapped her hands together. ¡°You can¡¯t have them unless I say so!¡± I narrowed my eyes. That didn¡¯t sound good. ¡°Okay, rules!¡± Reina continued, still smiling. ¡°I¡¯m an easy person to get along with! For one, I don¡¯t take attendance.¡± A few students perked up at that. ¡°But!¡± Reina¡¯s smile widened. ¡°If I find out you skipped my class, I will kill you.¡± The hopeful expressions vanished. ¡°Don¡¯t worry!¡± she added cheerfully. ¡°If you have a valid reason for skipping, I will only kill you an inch before your death!¡± I felt my eye twitch. Kill you an inch before your death? Was that even possible? Reina clapped her hands in slow, exaggerated sarcasm, the sound echoing through the empty room. ¡°Okay, now I see that everyone here managed to remove their cuffs. Excellent work.¡± Her tone was thick with amusement. ¡°Good, good, you must feel real special.¡± Some students shuffled awkwardly. Others, like me, simply stared. ¡°Anyways,¡± Reina continued, stretching her arms behind her head. ¡°I¡¯m feeling generous today, so I¡¯ll give you all a choice.¡± A few students perked up, listening intently. ¡°You can either get a merit point¡ª¡± Reina held up one finger. ¡°¡ªor¡­¡± She held up a second finger, pausing dramatically. ¡°The option to have¡­ an armchair!¡± Silence. I blinked. What? I knew Mark was crazy, but this professor? She was on a whole different level. Then, suddenly¡ª ¡°I¡¯ll take the armchair,¡± Mark said, raising his hand. A few students flinched, whipping their heads around in his direction like he had materialized out of thin air. Which, to be fair, he probably did. His ESP was freaky like that. The entire class just stared at him. Then, another voice. ¡°I¡¯ll do the same,¡± remarked a girl with long blonde hair. A few more hands went up. I hesitated. On one hand, merit points. Those sounded important. But on the other hand, I had been standing for way too long, and an armchair sounded like the best thing ever right now. I raised my hand. Roughly a quarter of the class followed suit. Reina smirked and turned toward the front of the room, where an old, oversized blackboard stood on the wall. It was massive¡ªat least twice the size of a normal classroom board, with thick metal rails supporting it. The surface was worn, dark with streaks of chalk dust, and covered in faint scratches like someone had once clawed at it. At the top, an old-fashioned track system let it slide up and down, almost like a panel hiding something. With a casual tug, Reina pulled the blackboard downward. Behind it¡ª Armchairs. Plush, cushioned, actual armchairs stacked neatly in rows, like she had been planning this the entire time. What the fuck? ¡°There you go,¡± Reina said, gesturing toward them. ¡°Those who wanted armchairs, feel free to pick one. You can also place them wherever you want.¡± I walked over in a daze, grabbed one of the armchairs, and dragged it to a corner. I dragged my armchair toward the back of the classroom and planted it firmly against the wall. If there were any windows, I would¡¯ve preferred to sit by one, but of course this place didn¡¯t have any. Just the dim glow of overhead lights casting weird shadows on the walls. Mark had already settled down beside me, leaning back in his chair like this was all completely normal. A second later, Ron plopped his chair right next to mine, flashing me a grin. ¡°Guess we¡¯re seatmates.¡± I sighed. The seating arrangement in this classroom was absolute chaos. Some students spaced themselves far apart, while others clustered into little groups. A few even dragged their chairs right up to the front, practically looming over Reina like they wanted a front-row VIP seat to whatever insanity she was about to pull. Reina, meanwhile, was watching us with clear amusement. ¡°Alright, alright, listen up! If you¡¯re left-handed, please grab one of the left-handed ones. Don¡¯t be an idiot and try to fit in with the right-handed ones.¡± A few students paused mid-adjustment, looking at their armrests in mild horror. ¡°Anyways,¡± Reina continued, crossing her arms. ¡°You might¡¯ve noticed the button on the right side of your chair. Go ahead, give it a click.¡± I frowned and reached down. Sure enough, there was a small, circular button embedded into the frame. The moment I pressed the button, the armchair vanished. In its place, a sleek black ring landed neatly in my palm. And because I definitely wasn¡¯t expecting that, I fell flat on my ass. A thud echoed through the room as I hit the cold, hard floor. A few students snickered. One outright laughed. Ron also crashed onto the floor beside me. ¡°Ow! What the hell?!¡± he yelped, rubbing his tailbone. I turned to him, wide-eyed. ¡°You too?!¡± He blinked at me, then at the empty space where his chair used to be. ¡°Uh, yeah?! I wasn¡¯t expecting it to just¡ªpoof!¡± He mimed an explosion with his hands. ¡°You good?¡± asked Mark I ignored the heat rising to my face and quickly scrambled to my feet. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m fine!¡± I coughed, trying to act like nothing happened. ¡°Me too,¡± added Ron. The ring that used to be my chair lay in my palm, as innocent as could be. Reina, of course, saw everything. She grinned like she had just won something. ¡°Ah, yes. I should have mentioned the sudden disappearance. Oops.¡± I shot her a glare, but she only looked more entertained. Reina smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. ¡°Neat, right? That bad boy isn¡¯t just any spatial storage. Oh no. This is the first-ever hyperdimensional spatial storage equipment. It shouldn¡¯t even be on the market yet. But I am awesome like that.¡± I slipped the ring onto my finger, still processing what had just happened. Reina stretched her arms dramatically. ¡°And the best feature? It turns into a chair!¡± The classroom groaned. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± someone in the front row shouted. ¡°If we knew that, we would¡¯ve all taken the chairs!¡± Reina grinned, utterly shameless. ¡°Exactly. But nooooo, you wanted merit points instead. Tough luck.¡± A few students glared at her. One guy looked like he wanted to flip a desk¡ªexcept there weren¡¯t any desks to flip. Reina clapped her hands. ¡°And just so we¡¯re clear, I did give you a chance. If you really want one of these, it¡¯ll cost you ten merit points!¡± More groans. I glanced at Mark, who was silently twisting his ring between his fingers. He hadn¡¯t reacted much, but something about the way his lips barely curled at the edges told me he was way too satisfied with his decision. Ron groaned, picking up his newly-formed ring from the ground. ¡°Man, I really should¡¯ve just stayed standing¡­¡± 014 Pioneer Class - Part 4 - Mark’s POV 014 Pioneer Class - Part 4 - Mark¡¯s POV With a faint shimmer, the chairs expanded back into their original shape, and I settled into mine without a second thought. Mirai, beside me, hesitated for a moment before doing the same. On my other side, Ron practically bounced into his seat, looking way too pleased with himself. Meanwhile, the students who had stubbornly refused the armchair deal sat awkwardly on the floor. Some of them crossed their legs, trying to look composed, while others shifted uncomfortably, realizing their mistake. A few were glancing at Reina, as if hoping she¡¯d change her mind and offer them another chance. She didn¡¯t. The classroom now looked like a chaotic mix of students either sitting comfortably in their chairs or looking miserable on the ground. The spacing was weird too¡ªsome people spread out near the walls, others clustered toward the front. There was no organization, no neat rows or assigned spots. Just students placing themselves wherever they felt like. It was a mess. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was intentional or if Reina just didn¡¯t care. Given her attitude, I was leaning toward the latter. Reina clapped her hands once, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°All right, take out your dictionaries.¡± There was a beat of silence. Then a collective groan spread through the class. Ron, sitting beside me, slumped forward. ¡°A dictionary? Seriously? Why would we even need¡ª¡± ¡°Because I said so,¡± Reina cut him off with a sharp grin. ¡°And because some of you are functionally illiterate when it comes to ESP theory. Now, take them out.¡± I sighed and pulled out my dictionary. I had a feeling something like this would happen, so I bought an extra copy. When I glanced over at Mirai, I saw her casually flipping through her own dictionary. ¡­Damn it. A part of me felt a little disappointed. If this world had followed Mom¡¯s so-called otome game storyline exactly, Mirai probably wouldn¡¯t have brought one, and I could¡¯ve used this as an excuse to help her. But no¡ªhere she was, perfectly prepared. What was this? Butterfly effect? Ron, on the other hand, had his face buried in his hands. ¡°Ugh, I didn¡¯t bring one¡­¡± I sighed, wordlessly sliding my extra dictionary onto his desk. He looked up at me, eyes wide. ¡°For real? Dude, you¡¯re a lifesaver.¡± I just shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ll owe me one.¡± Ron grinned like I¡¯d just given him a golden ticket. ¡°Sure, sure. I¡¯ll treat you to lunch or something.¡± Reina clapped again, drawing back our attention. ¡°Anyone without a dictionary gets a demerit.¡± More groaning. Ron sheepishly hugged the one I gave him. ¡°Man, I really would¡¯ve been screwed.¡± ¡°Five minutes, skim your dictionary as you like,¡± added Reina. Class settled into a dull hum of pages flipping and pens scratching against paper. Reina hadn¡¯t given us anything to do yet, so naturally, people started passing notes and whispering behind cupped hands. A piece of paper slid onto my desk. I glanced to my side. Mirai was staring straight ahead, looking innocent. Too innocent. I unfolded the note. ''Why did you ignore me earlier?'' I exhaled through my nose. Well, according to Mom¡¯s strategy, I should maintain some distance from Mirai to avoid appearing too clingy. Yeah, no way I was telling her that. I picked up my pen and scribbled my reply¡ªnothing but a neutral face emoji. Then, without looking at her, I slid the paper back. Mirai shot me an incredulous look, then scribbled something else before shoving it back at me. ''That¡¯s it? Really?'' I smirked and didn¡¯t write anything. Mom never said anything about passing along ripped-up pages, so I simply tore the note in half and tucked it into my pocket. Mirai huffed but didn¡¯t press further. At the front of the classroom, Reina finally started speaking again. "All right, listen up," she said, crossing her arms. "I¡¯ll be honest with you. This class? It¡¯s going to be hell. There¡¯s no guaranteed success, no empty promises that you¡¯ll all go on to be big shots in the world. That¡¯s on you. What I can promise is that I will drag out every ounce of potential you have, whether you like it or not." The room was quiet. Some students sat up straighter. Others swallowed hard. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I already knew this world was harsh. I didn¡¯t need Reina to tell me that. But still, something about the way she said it made me believe her. As Reina paced at the front of the chaotic classroom, she clapped her hands together to grab everyone¡¯s attention. "Alright, brats. Ground rules. Listen up." The students quieted, though a few still shifted uncomfortably on the floor. Reina smirked, clearly enjoying the contrast between those who had chosen armchairs and those who hadn¡¯t. "First off, when addressing professors, you will refer to them as ''Professor,'' ''Sir,'' ''Ma¡¯am,'' or whatever respectful title applies. But when it comes to me? I am Master Reina. Got it?" A few murmurs passed through the room. Someone scoffed under their breath. Reina¡¯s eyes flicked toward the sound. "Something funny?" Her voice dropped a degree, carrying an edge that made even me sit up straighter. Silence. "Good," she continued. "This isn''t just for my amusement. The ESPer Academy follows an adjacent master-disciple structure. Your professors are your mentors, and the expectation is that you¡¯ll treat them as such. It¡¯s a sign of respect and acknowledgment of their ability to guide you. If you have a problem with that, you can leave now." No one moved. "Thought so. Next¡ªmerit points. These are your lifeline in my class. A hundred demerits, and you¡¯re out. No exceptions. A hundred merit points, and you can buy a favor from me. What kind of favor? That depends on how generous I¡¯m feeling." She grinned. "Or how desperate you are." A few students muttered to themselves, processing the weight of that statement. Then Reina clapped her hands again. "Alright, your five minutes of skimming through your dictionary are up. Pop quiz. Who can tell me why I had you bring a dictionary on the first day?" The room fell silent. Some students shifted in their seats¡ªor on the floor¡ªglancing at each other as if hoping someone else would answer first. I raised my hand. Reina arched a brow. "Valentine. Enlighten us." "It¡¯s to help us think of a name for our ESP," I answered. For a moment, there was silence. Then a few students laughed, as if I had just said the dumbest thing imaginable. Reina didn¡¯t look amused. If anything, she looked pleased. Mirai, sitting beside me, looked contemplative. Ron, on my other side, just looked bored, tapping his fingers idly on the armrest of his chair. Across the room, Karl stirred from his unconscious state, blinking groggily as he tried to process what was going on. Reina chuckled. "Well, well, well. Looks like we have at least one student who gets it. Naming your ESP isn¡¯t just some stupid formality. A name gives shape to your power. It makes it more than just some vague force. It makes it yours. The stronger the name, the stronger your ESP can become. Some of the most powerful ESPers in history were those who understood that simple concept." The class quieted down, the laughter dying off. Reina raised her hand, and with a single word¡ª"Ember"¡ªa small flame flickered to life in her palm. It burned steadily, dancing between her fingers as if obeying an unseen command. "This is my ESP," she declared. "Absolute Authority." The class watched in silence, some eyes widening in realization. The demonstration was simple, but the name carried weight. Absolute Authority. Reina curled her fingers inward, and the flame twisted into a spiral before snuffing out completely. She lowered her hand and scanned the room with a smirk. "Now, let me ask again," she continued, her tone sharper. "Is the name everything to a power? Does a stronger name really make the ability stronger?" The class hesitated. A few students glanced at their dictionaries, as if they could find the answer buried in the pages. Then Mirai raised her hand. Reina arched a brow. "Go ahead, little miss delinquent." Mirai didn¡¯t react to the nickname. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "That¡¯s not always the case," she said. "Some abilities are strong simply because of the person using them. The names or titles we assign to our ESP aren¡¯t what make them powerful¡ªthey just act as a guide, a way for us to understand and shape our abilities." For a second, there was silence. Then Reina let out a laugh. A sharp, approving sound. "Bravo!" she announced, clapping once. "You¡¯re absolutely right!" The class relaxed slightly. Some students nodded to themselves, while others seemed confused, still trying to piece everything together. Reina leaned against the blackboard, her smirk widening. "A name is a tool. It helps you focus, helps you conceptualize what your power is. But at the end of the day, what matters is you. Your experience, your control, your belief in what your ESP can do. If you think slapping a powerful name on your ability will suddenly make you an untouchable badass, you¡¯re going to be very disappointed." She gestured toward the dictionaries. "That said, pick your words carefully. Because if you name your power something stupid, you¡¯re going to have to live with it." Reina tapped her fingers against the blackboard, her gaze sweeping over the class. "Alright, next question," she said. "What makes an ESP truly powerful?" Silence. Some students shifted uncomfortably, others flipped through their dictionaries as if the answer was hidden somewhere in the pages. Then Reina smirked. "Wentworth." A student adjusted his glasses and stepped forward. Matt Wentworth. I recognized him immediately¡ªone of the heroine¡¯s love interests. He had the whole intellectual look going for him, neat hair, sharp eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. He looked like a nerd, but I knew better. Unlike me and a few others, Wentworth hadn¡¯t picked an armchair. He remained standing, arms crossed, looking completely at ease despite the lack of seating. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Personality," he answered. Reina let out a pleased hum. She lifted her hand again, reigniting the ember at her fingertips. It burned steady for a moment before she clenched her fist, snuffing it out. "Good answer," she said. "Personality shapes power. My ESP¡ªAbsolute Authority¡ªlets me impose my will on the world. Pyrokinesis?" She scoffed. "That¡¯s not in my arsenal. And yes, I could replicate pyrokinesis to an extent, but it doesn''t really match my personality. Fire isn¡¯t my most compatible weapon. If anything, my personality leans toward domination. Good answer, Wentworth." Wentworth gave a slow nod. Reina clapped her hands together. "And that brings us to today¡¯s main lesson. You will be naming your ESP." Murmurs spread through the classroom. A few students looked unsure, others excited. "ESP always manifests around certain themes," Reina continued. "Power is personal. It reflects who you are, what you desire, what drives you. Realizing those themes makes it easier to understand and use your ESP. And that¡¯s where a name comes in." She pointed at us with an exaggerated motion. "So, get to thinking. By the end of this class, you will have a name for your ESP, or you¡¯re going to have a really bad time." Groans echoed through the classroom. Mirai slumped onto her desk¡ªwell, her armchair¡ªwhining, "This is the worst. Why do we have to explain it?" Reina grinned, clearly enjoying our suffering. "Because I said so. I expect an essay from each of you explaining why you chose the name for your ESP. If you can¡¯t even put your thoughts into words, then you don¡¯t understand your own power." More groans. Some students banged their heads against their armrests in frustration. I, on the other hand, simply took out a bundle of paper and started writing. I had done this training before¡ªjust not in a classroom. Mom had drilled this into me in a far less comfortable environment. Naming your ESP was important. It shaped perception, both your own and others¡¯. I already knew my ESP''s name. Nth Person. It was the crystallization of my dream¡ªto be an Extra, a Nobody in this world. Someone unnoticed, unseen, forgotten. The kind of person who could slip through the cracks of reality itself. Ron looked equally at ease. He pulled out a piece of paper and tapped his pen against it, already deep in thought. Whatever name he had in mind, he seemed pretty confident. Meanwhile, Mirai groaned, burying her face in her arms. "Ugh, why is this so hard?" I smirked. Looked like her luck powers weren¡¯t helping her think of a name. Hah~! Not so much a cheater now, huh? 015 Heroine’s Heart - Part 1 - Mirai’s POV 015 Heroine¡¯s Heart - Part 1 - Mirai¡¯s POV I groaned, slumping further into my armchair. My pen tapped against the blank page in frustration. "Ughhh, why is this so hard?" Luck. Probability. Fortune. What the hell was I even supposed to call this thing? I skimmed through my dictionary, flipping through pages way too fast to actually read anything. Lucky. Fortune. Chance. Serendipity? No, that sounded like a perfume brand. Providence? Too pretentious. Fate? Too dramatic. I started playing word association in my head. I could store luck. Release it. Stockpile it. Distribute it in bursts. Bank? Reservoir? Something about that felt right, but it wasn¡¯t clicking yet. Reina clapped her hands, drawing my attention back to the front. "ESP isn''t just about raw ability¡ªit¡¯s about passion, ideal, and vision. The name you give it shapes how you use it, how others perceive it, and how it grows. If you can''t name it, you don''t understand it yet." I huffed, slumping further into my chair. To my left, Mark was already done. Two pages'' worth. Of course. His handwriting was neat, his expression unreadable. He didn''t even hesitate. He just knew what he wanted his ESP to be. To my right¡­ I glanced at Ron. ...Never mind. He was doodling. Not writing. Doodling. He''d drawn a little chibi version of Reina breathing fire at stick-figure students, half of whom were burning while the others ran away. I sighed. "You''re not taking this seriously at all, are you?" Ron beamed. "I am taking it seriously. This is art." I resisted the urge to smack the back of his head. Maybe I needed advice. Maybe from someone who actually cared about this assignment. My gaze shifted back to Mark. "Psycho Mark it is." I leaned back in my chair, staring at my blank page like it had personally offended me. This was stupid. Why did naming an ESP have to be this complicated? With a sigh, I turned to Mark. He looked... distracted. Like he was lost in his own world, thinking about something way more important than this assignment. But he seemed smart. He had already written two whole pages, which meant he at least had an idea of what he was doing. "Hey," I nudged him with my elbow. "Got any advice?" Mark blinked, as if snapping back to reality. He turned his gaze toward me, studying me for a second like I was some kind of puzzle. I suddenly felt the urge to not be studied. Then, just as I was considering dragging my chair over to Matt Wentworth instead¡ªbecause he looked like a smart dude too¡ªMark grabbed my wrist. "WTF, bro?" I blurted, my chair halfway off the ground. "Just answer this," Mark said, his tone calm but firm. "Where do you see yourself ten years from now?" I blinked. "Huh?" "Ten years from now," he repeated. "What kind of person do you want to be? What do you want to accomplish? What kind of feats do you want your ESP to be capable of?" I hesitated. That was¡­ a lot to think about. "I dunno," I muttered. "Hopefully not dead?" Mark didn''t react to my joke. He just stared at me expectantly, waiting for a real answer. I glanced at my blank page, then back at him. Maybe this was worth actually thinking about. Mark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied me. ¡°Naming your ESP is like naming a child.¡± I stared at him. ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what my mom told me,¡± he said matter-of-factly. ¡°It carries a person¡¯s dreams and hopes. It¡¯s not just some random label¡ªit defines the direction of your power, what you want it to become.¡± That made me pause. A name wasn¡¯t just a name? I never really thought about it like that. Mark continued, his tone serious. ¡°If you don¡¯t give it a direction, you¡¯re just letting your power decide things for you. That¡¯s a risk.¡± I frowned. ¡°A risk?¡± ¡°You could end up somewhere you don¡¯t want to be.¡± That hit a little too close to home. I stared down at my empty page, Mark¡¯s words lingering in my mind. Direction, huh? For a moment, my thoughts drifted back to my childhood. The orphanage. The endless days of feeling like I didn¡¯t quite belong. I remembered the way the other kids looked at me when weird things happened around me¡ªwhen I tripped but never fell, when I picked the winning ticket in every game, when food never ran out on my plate no matter how little was left. I remembered how I used to think it was just luck. A stupid, fickle thing that came and went as it pleased. And then, about a year and a half ago, I awakened. I realized my luck wasn¡¯t random¡ªit was something I could control, something I could use. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. It made me feel like a heroine in one of those stories. For the first time, I started dreaming. Dreaming of something more than just surviving, more than just scraping by. Maybe¡­ maybe Mark was right. Maybe I needed to name my ESP after the kind of future I wanted. I tapped my pencil against the paper, staring at the blank space beneath my name. I had to think about what kind of life I wanted ten years from now. I wanted to help people. That much was obvious. I also wanted to be rich. No shame in admitting that. But what else? Fame? Maybe. I wasn¡¯t sure. Happiness? Yeah¡­ I guess I wanted that too. I chewed on my lower lip, my gaze flicking toward Mark. His pencil moved steadily, filling the page with whatever genius thoughts he had. On my other side, Ron was still doodling nonsense on his paper. He was probably going to get scolded. I sighed and focused back on my own work. I wanted to be a hero in the future. The ideal one. Someone who stood for something. But what was the most important thing to a hero? Ideals? Power? The heart? Huh. That sounded nice. The heart. The Heroine¡¯s Heart. I blinked, rolling the name around in my head. It had a nice ring to it. It fit. My power wasn¡¯t just about luck¡ªit was about me. I turned to Mark, nudging him lightly. "I think I got it." He glanced at me, looking like he was pulled out of his own thoughts. "Yeah?" "I''ll name it Heroine¡¯s Heart." Mark¡¯s brows lifted slightly. He seemed surprised, but after a brief moment, he nodded. "Whatever suits you." I grinned, feeling a little more confident, and quickly wrote the title at the top of my paper: The Heroine¡¯s Heart. Now, I just had to write the rest. Heroine¡¯s Heart ¡°A hero is someone who stands for something greater than themselves. Some say it¡¯s about power¡ªthe strength to protect others. Some say it¡¯s about ideals¡ªthe vision that shapes the world. But to me, the most important thing a hero needs is heart. ¡°The heart is what keeps a hero moving forward, even when the odds are stacked against them. It¡¯s what makes them rise after every fall, what makes them care even when it¡¯s easier not to. Strength without heart is just violence. Ideals without heart are just empty words. But with heart, even the weakest person can become someone great. ¡°My ESP allows me to store, release, and control luck. Some might think luck is just chance, a roll of the dice, but I believe it¡¯s more than that. Luck is possibility. It¡¯s the belief that things can change, that no matter how impossible something seems, there¡¯s always a way forward. That¡¯s what Heroine¡¯s Heart means to me. It¡¯s not just about luck¡ªit¡¯s about the courage to trust in the future, to take risks, and to never give up. ¡°I don¡¯t know what kind of person I¡¯ll be in ten years. But I do know that no matter what happens, I want to be someone who never loses heart.¡± Master Reina walked around the classroom with a lazy, almost predatory gait, her sharp gaze sweeping over students'' shoulders as she passed. She didn¡¯t say much, occasionally glancing at someone¡¯s paper but never stopping long enough to offer real feedback. It was hard to tell if she was actually reading anything or just enjoying making people nervous. I tapped my pen against my cheek. The classroom still felt weird to me. No desks. No chairs¡ªwell, unless you were one of the lucky ones, like me, who had grabbed an armchair before realizing they doubled as ultra-tech spatial storage. And worst of all¡­ no windows. Seriously, what kind of classroom didn¡¯t have windows? The walls were dull, the air felt strangely still, and the lighting was just bright enough to be uncomfortable. It was like we were locked in some kind of experimental bunker. From the corner of my eye, I saw the blonde girl sitting in the front raise her hand. She had a sharp, noble air about her, but something about her face looked oddly familiar. "Master Reina, is there an ideal length for this essay?" she asked. Reina shrugged. "As long as you properly explain why you chose your ESP¡¯s name, I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s a sentence or an entire book. Just don¡¯t hand me nonsense." I squinted at the girl. Wait¡­ now that I got a closer look, she kind of looked like¡­ Ron? Oh no. I darted my eyes to Ron, who was at my side, still doodling something on the side of his paper. He didn¡¯t seem to notice¡ªor care¡ªthat someone who looked suspiciously like him was sitting right at the front. A twin? A cousin? Maybe a long-lost sister? Because if they were¡­ like a relative, shouldn¡¯t he be with her and not sticking to me? Honestly, Ron was bothering me. He had too much energy. A few other students raised their hands to ask questions. Some were technical, like whether our ESP names could change later on (answer: it was possible but difficult), while others were more philosophical. Even Ron, who I was convinced had zero brain cells dedicated to stress, had a few questions. "Master, what if we don¡¯t like our ESP?" he asked, genuinely curious. Reina snorted. "Tough luck. Work with what you got or die useless." ¡­Okay, so she was accommodating, but still had a terrifying way of phrasing things. Fifteen minutes before class ended, she clapped her hands together. "Alright, time¡¯s up! Hand them over." There were some groans, a few hurried scribbles, and even one desperate "Wait, wait, just one more sentence!" from the back before students hesitantly stood up to turn in their papers. I glanced at Ron¡¯s work, half-expecting to see just a mess of doodles, but to my surprise, he had actually managed to fill an entire page. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, too. Mark, on the other hand¡­ I had definitely seen him writing like a madman earlier, but when he handed in his paper, it was just a single page. What the hell? Was he messing with me? Didn¡¯t he write, like, two whole pages'' worth? Where did the rest go? Did he crumple them up? Burn them? Eat them? I shook my head. Not my problem. Taking a deep breath, I handed my essay over as well. Heroine¡¯s Heart. That was the name I had decided on. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was mine. Reina took the stack of papers without looking at them and smirked. "Good. Class dismissed. Try not to die before next time." Reina sat at her desk, flipping through our essays with an unreadable expression. She didn''t rush, taking her time as if savoring every word. The classroom was mostly quiet at first, but with about fifteen minutes left before class ended, people started murmuring amongst themselves. Some tried to strike up conversations, testing the waters to make friends. I figured I should do the same. My luck wasn¡¯t going to help me with socializing, so I had to take the first step. I walked over to Matt and greeted him, ¡°Hey Matt, how are you doing?¡± Matt looked away, pretending I wasn¡¯t there. ¡°F-fine¡­¡± He murmured-shouted. Before I could figure out what that was about, Karl¡ªyes, the same Karl I knocked out earlier¡ªswaggered over and scoffed. ¡°What¡¯s your problem, bruv?¡± I tried to look tough, but failed at it spectacularly as Matt suppressed a guffaw. For a second, I braced for another stupid confrontation, but to my surprise, Karl sighed and muttered, ¡°My bad.¡± Huh? He then turned away, plopped down in his corner, and pulled out a handheld game console like nothing happened. The complete 180 had me blinking. Did I knock some sense into him or something? I shook my head and tried again to talk to other students, but most of them were wary. Not outright hostile, but guarded. I got a few polite nods, but the energy was clear¡ªno one was looking to buddy up yet. Except for one. A blonde girl, sitting at the front of the class, openly glared at me. ¡°You should know your place,¡± she remarked, her tone cold. I blinked. ¡°Bitch, what¡¯s your problem?¡± That was probably not the smartest thing to say, but I wasn¡¯t in the mood for whatever power trip she was on. Before things could escalate, Ron stepped between us with that golden retriever smile of his. ¡°Ahaha¡­ guys, let¡¯s all get along, yeah?¡± He then turned to me, scratching his cheek. ¡°Mirai, uh¡­ this is my cousin, Elena Faust.¡± Cousin? Oh. That explained a lot. Before I could say anything, I felt someone lean in close from behind. A soft voice whispered into my ear, ¡°What¡¯s your relationship with the prince?¡± I turned my head slightly to see a girl with blue hair, her expression playful but her eyes sharp. Prince? ¡°Prince who?¡± I asked. She tilted her head, amused. ¡°The handsome one, of course.¡± Mark? I blinked at her, the gears in my head turning. Mark¡¯s last name was Valentine. Didn¡¯t ring any bells, but¡­ wait. Ron¡¯s last name was Ardent. Wasn¡¯t the Ardent family¡ª My stomach dropped. The Ardent family was the Imperial family. Which meant Ron¡­ was a prince. And I just casually called him a golden retriever. Ugh. What the hell did I get myself into? 016 Heroine’s Heart - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV 016 Heroine¡¯s Heart - Part 2 - Mirai¡¯s POV The blue-haired girl was taller than me, and she had an easygoing, friendly smile. She leaned back slightly, arms crossed as if she had all the time in the world. ¡°Annabette Tether,¡± she introduced herself. ¡°But just call me Anna.¡± I liked her already. We clicked almost instantly. I plopped down cross-legged beside her, keeping my chair in its ring form. No point in taking it out when the floor was just fine. It definitely wasn¡¯t because Anna didn¡¯t have an armchair. Maybe? I expected Mark to drag his seat over to mine¡ªor at least sit near me¡ªbut before he could, Ron swooped in, taking the spot beside me. What was Ron¡¯s problem? I shot him a look, but he just grinned like he didn¡¯t do anything. ¡°So,¡± Ron said, stretching out his legs, ¡°what¡¯s the next class again?¡± I groaned. ¡°Ugh, I don¡¯t even want to think about it.¡± Anna chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. You placed pretty high in the Entrance Exam, didn¡¯t you?¡± I blinked. ¡°Oh. Yeah, I guess?¡± It was easy to forget. Those who lasted the longest in the Entrance Exam got better ranks. I had done well, but honestly, Mark should¡¯ve ranked way higher than me. The only reason I looked impressive was because I had someone to copy. I glanced at Mark, wondering if he¡¯d say anything about his own rank. He didn¡¯t seem interested in the conversation, though. Instead, he was idly spinning his ring¡ªthe compacted form of his chair¡ªbetween his fingers, lost in thought while he leaned on the wall. Anna nudged me playfully. ¡°See? You¡¯re good. Just don¡¯t stress too much.¡± Easy for her to say. She didn¡¯t have to worry about living up to heroine expectations. Well, it was my dream, so I only have myself to blame. The moment the clock neared the end of the first class, everyone remained seated, waiting for Master Reina to leave. Instead of walking out, however, she casually tucked the essay papers under her desk, then strolled back to the front of the classroom. ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t expecting a break,¡± Reina said, stretching her arms. ¡°Because lucky for you, I¡¯m also your instructor for the next hour.¡± No one groaned. Maybe we were already used to her antics. Maybe we were just too scared to react. Either way, the announcement was met with silence¡ªjust a few glances exchanged between students. ¡°This class is Combat Training I,¡± Reina continued, grinning. ¡°So, first things first¡ªput your armchairs away. If you still have them out, you¡¯re a damn fool.¡± In seconds, the room became wide and empty again. Reina pulled her chair and desk into the far corner, dusted her hands, and turned back to us with an almost too-pleased expression. ¡°We¡¯ll start with a sparring match.¡± There it was. The thing everyone knew was coming. I saw Karl visibly tense, Matt adjust his glasses, and Ron crack his knuckles like he was actually looking forward to this. The blonde girl¡ªElena, Ron¡¯s cousin¡ªjust crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. ¡°We have seventeen students in this class,¡± Reina continued, smirking. ¡°That means one lucky student gets to spar with me.¡± Reina pulled down the blackboard again, and just like before, something was hidden behind it. This time, instead of armchairs, a set of sleek-looking bracelets hung from hooks on the wall. ¡°Line up,¡± she ordered, waving a hand. We did as we were told, forming a mostly orderly line. As each student stepped forward, Reina handed them a bracelet. When it was my turn, I got a closer look¡ªit was a simple metal band, smooth and cool against my palm, with a faintly glowing display on the surface showing 100%. ¡°This is enchanted with my power,¡± Reina explained once everyone had received theirs. ¡°It acts as your health gauge. If it hits zero, that means you lost.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I fastened mine around my wrist, watching the numbers stay steady at 100%. The concept was simple enough. ¡°Now, clear the floor,¡± Reina continued, gesturing for us to move aside. She then turned toward the class with an almost eager look in her eyes. ¡°For our first bout, step forward¡­ Valentine and Wentworth.¡± Oof. Matt Wentworth adjusted his glasses. Mark remained expressionless, his usual unreadable self. Without thinking, I raised my voice. ¡°Matt, kick Mark¡¯s butt!¡± A few students turned to look at me. Mark himself blinked, his gaze flicking toward me with a slightly confused expression¡ªalmost like I had hurt his feelings. What? I liked underdogs. Matt, on the other hand, huffed and frowned, looking just as displeased. Oops. ¡°I mean¡ª¡± I scrambled to fix it, looking at Matt. ¡°You can do it! I wasn¡¯t thinking you were a wimp or anything.¡± He sighed, rubbing his temple. ¡°...Right.¡± I wasn¡¯t lying! The dude got Rank 1 in hide and seek during the Entrance Exam, didn¡¯t he? He had to be good at something. Matt removed his glasses. It was a small action, but it felt like something shifted. His entire aura changed. He looked more focused, sharper¡ªlike someone who had just switched into battle mode. He rolled his shoulders, letting out a breath, then smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll take it easy on you,¡± he said, voice casual but carrying an edge. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you, after all.¡± That was coming in a little too spicy. Mark, in contrast, was just quietly cracking his knuckles. No bravado, no taunts¡ªjust a simple stretch of his fingers before he took a loose stance. The fight started. And¡­ it was normal. No explosions. No weird ESP abilities flying around. Just two guys throwing punches at each other, like some after-school brawl. I could tell neither of them were using their ESP. Mark¡¯s presence was whole¡ªhe wasn¡¯t activating Nth Person, which meant he was fighting completely on instinct or how he seemed to do it normally. Matt was dodging well, countering here and there, but neither was going all out. The bracelets on their wrists still showed 100%. Reina sighed. Loudly. ¡°Okay, what the hell are you two doing?¡± she said, stepping forward with an exasperated expression. ¡°Why are you holding back?¡± Matt adjusted his stance, glancing at Mark, then back at Reina. ¡°I did say I didn¡¯t want to hurt him.¡± Mark, deadpan, responded, ¡°I don¡¯t want to get hurt.¡± The class collectively blinked. There was a long silence as everyone processed that. I tilted my head. ¡°Wait, Mark, are you saying you¡¯re scared of getting hit?¡± Matt looked even more surprised than confused. His brows furrowed slightly as he studied Mark, as if suddenly realizing something. Reina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Both of you. Bench. Now.¡± Mark and Matt exchanged glances. Then, wordlessly, they stepped off to the side, taking seats at the edge of the sparring area. Well. That was anticlimactic. Reina continued the sparring matches, pairing up the rest of the class in different configurations. Some were one-on-one, others were two-on-two, and a few unlucky ones got thrown into chaotic free-for-alls. It was the first real look at what our classmates could do, and the variety of ESPs was insane. Some had elemental control¡ªfire, wind, ice. Others had self-targeted effects, like enhanced speed, reinforced durability, or even partial shapeshifting. Then there were the more unique abilities, the ones that weren¡¯t as straightforward. A guy with a gravity-based ESP, a girl who could make objects ¡°stick¡± together with invisible force, and someone who could copy movements after seeing them once¡­ wait, that was more like power. With each match, the tension in the room grew. Most of us were on edge, wary of one thing: Who was Reina going to pick to fight her? No one wanted to be the one stuck in the ring with that monster. But before that could happen¡ª ¡°Mirai. Anna. Step up.¡± I blinked. That was unexpected. Then Reina turned toward the other side of the room. ¡°Karl. Elena. You¡¯re up, too.¡± A two-on-two match. I gave Karl a look. He stretched his arms out, shaking off his jacket like he was warming up for a real fight. Meanwhile, Elena¡ªwho had been throwing me dirty looks all morning¡ªlet out a small huff and crossed her arms. This was so intentional. Reina had definitely picked this combination to fan the flames. Karl and Elena already seemed to have some sort of beef with me, and this was only going to make things more heated. Anna, standing beside me, leaned in slightly and whispered, ¡°My ESP is called Threads of Fate¡ªmy accuracy is off the charts, and I can conjure thread-like energy constructs.¡± That sounded¡­ absurdly useful. I scratched the back of my head. ¡°Uh¡­ mine¡¯s Heroine¡¯s Heart. I still don¡¯t really know what it does, other than something about using luck.¡± Anna gave me a polite smile. ¡°...That¡¯s not very reassuring.¡± I sighed. ¡°Yeah. I know.¡± Elena, who had been listening, snorted. ¡°Are you two done with your little strategy meeting?¡± she said, voice dripping with condescension. ¡°Or do you need a little more time to come up with a way to lose?¡± What was this lady¡¯s problem? Seriously. She had it in for me. I clenched my jaw, already irritated, but before I could say anything, Reina clapped her hands. ¡°Enough talk,¡± she said. ¡°Step into the ring.¡± Fine. If she wanted a fight, she was going to get one. I cracked my knuckles. Yeah, I was feeling pretty confident. Karl? No beef with him. He already apologized, and he seemed more interested in his game console than me¡­ or maybe he was still interested in beating me up? No dice, this was a team match anyway. But Elena? I was going to own this bitch. The best part? We had bracelets. Once our percentage hit zero, we¡¯d heal automatically as it had been demonstrated a few times already. That meant no permanent damage. No guilt. No holding back. Reina raised a hand. ¡°Begin.¡± Elena immediately lifted her arm. Shadows stretched from beneath her feet, writhing like living things. Then, something crawled out of the darkness. A creature, tall and lanky, with elongated limbs and glowing red eyes. Its body was made entirely of shifting black mist, barely holding its form. It let out a guttural hiss. I froze. Was that a¡ª? No way. She had summoned a shadow demon. A cryptid. I had only ever seen those things on TV, in documentaries, and recorded dungeon footage. And she just casually pulled one out like it was nothing. ¡°Ah, shit,¡± I muttered. Anna, standing beside me, let out a low whistle. ¡°Welp,¡± she said. ¡°Good luck with that.¡± Hey, you¡¯re in my team, right?! 017 Heroine’s Heart - Part 3 - Mirai’s POV 017 Heroine¡¯s Heart - Part 3 - Mirai¡¯s POV The shadow demon stood beside Elena, connected to her by a thin thread of darkness stretching from her feet. It looked almost humanoid¡ªtwo arms, two legs, a head¡ªbut its body flickered like a silhouette struggling to exist in three dimensions. Its glowing red eyes fixed on me, unblinking. I had no idea how strong it was, but considering it was a cryptid, I was going to assume very. Karl didn¡¯t give me much time to think. His entire body ignited, flames surging from his skin. He dashed forward, moving faster than I expected. Oh, we¡¯re going all in now? I thought he¡¯d be a little more gentle, considering how he apologized earlier. Guess not. I had no time to counter. All I could do was move. Karl¡¯s flaming fist came flying toward me. I twisted my body, letting out a bit of my luck to dodge. His attacks came in a flurry¡ªjab, hook, elbow strike. I barely managed to weave between them, feeling the heat lick at my skin. The shadow demon moved in from my side. Its arm stretched out like a blade, aiming straight for my ribs. ¡°Anna¡ª!¡± Threads shot from her fingertips, wrapping around Karl¡¯s wrist, yanking him back. But the demon? It wasn¡¯t affected. Of course not. It wasn¡¯t really physical. I had a split second to react. My instincts screamed at me to move, so I jumped¡ªflipping backward just as the demon¡¯s arm morphed into a long, scythe-like blade and swung at me. I somehow cleared it. I landed, panting. And they always told me backflips weren¡¯t practical. A loud buzz rang in my ears. I blinked. ¡°What¡ª?¡± Reina crossed her arms and announced, ¡°Mirai¡¯s out.¡± I looked down at my bracelet. The gauge displayed a glowing red 0%. Wait. What? Karl smirked at me before immediately shifting his focus to Anna, flames flaring around his fists. Elena scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re a fool for not noticing the flames that latched onto you.¡± My eyes widened. I frantically patted my clothes, searching. There¡ªon the edge of my sleeve¡ªa tiny, almost invisible ember clung stubbornly to the fabric. That sneaky bastard. Karl must have slipped it onto me during his rush, and I hadn¡¯t even felt it. It probably didn¡¯t burn me directly, but it must have been enough to chip away at whatever invisible barrier or system the bracelet used to measure damage. What a dirty tactic. I let out a frustrated sigh as I stepped back, now officially out of the match. Meanwhile, Anna was holding her ground, but barely. Karl and Elena had wasted no time double-teaming her. The shadow demon lunged, its arm morphing into another wicked blade. Anna barely dodged, rolling to the side as Karl closed in with a fiery uppercut. I watched, helpless, as the fight continued without me. Some heroine I was. I stood at the sidelines, useless, as Anna fended off two opponents at once. Karl and Elena worked disturbingly well together, slowly chipping away at her defenses. Anna¡¯s ESP, Threads of Fate, gave her some versatility¡ªthin, glowing strands wove around her, creating makeshift barriers and snares¡ªbut against Karl¡¯s raw aggression and Elena¡¯s damn shadow demon, she was barely holding on. Karl¡¯s fists blazed with flames as he dashed in again, forcing Anna to retreat. She tried to bind his arms with her threads, but the moment they wrapped around him, the flames flared, burning them away. Elena smirked, arms crossed as she let her demon do the work. The shadowy figure twisted unnaturally, melting into the ground before reappearing behind Anna. Its scythe-arm swung. Anna barely dodged, flipping away, but she was slowing down. Come on, Anna¡­ I clenched my fists, feeling completely useless. If I¡¯d just been a little more careful¡ªif I¡¯d realized Karl had tagged me sooner¡ªI could¡¯ve still been fighting. Instead, I left my partner in a two-on-one beatdown. Anna breathed heavily, sweat forming on her brow. She weaved another set of threads, this time lashing them out like whips. They cut through the air with a sharp crack¡ªKarl dodged, but one of them slashed across Elena¡¯s cheek. Elena¡¯s eyes flared. ¡°You little¡ª¡± The demon lunged again. Karl rushed in at the same time. Anna twisted, trying to dodge¡ª Too late. Karl¡¯s fist slammed into her gut, flames erupting on impact. At the same time, the shadow demon¡¯s arm pierced through her defenses, hitting her square in the back. A loud buzz filled the air. Anna staggered, her bracelet flashing red before displaying 0%. ¡°Match over,¡± Reina called out. ¡°Karl and Elena win.¡± Anna groaned and fell onto her back, arms spread. ¡°Ugh.¡± I exhaled, frustrated. This loss? It was on me. Reina clapped her hands once, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. "Now, let''s talk about why Mirai and Anna lost." I swallowed, already knowing what I had to say. "It was my fault," I admitted. "I didn''t detect Karl¡¯s ember in time. I got taken out because of it." Reina scoffed. "That''s your takeaway?" I blinked. "...Yes?" She shook her head. "Karl and Elena exploited a loophole in the system, but in a real battle, do you think you¡¯d just drop dead the moment your bracelet hit zero?" The room was silent. "If this were an actual fight, you¡¯d have kept going," Reina continued. "You would''ve struggled, burned through every bit of luck you had, fought until one of you was dead. That¡¯s how it really works." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. A chill ran down my spine at how easily she threw that possibility out there¡ªlike it was just a fact of life. "Your mistake wasn¡¯t missing the ember," Reina said, "it was hesitation. You let your defeat happen the moment you stopped looking for a way to win." I had no response to that. Then she turned to Anna. "And you," Reina said sharply, "why did you let them control the pace of the fight?" Anna stiffened. "I¡ª" "You reacted instead of dictating. From the moment Mirai went down, you played by their rhythm instead of forcing them to play by yours. Against one opponent, maybe you could¡¯ve managed, but against two? That hesitation got you taken out." Anna clenched her fists. "I understand." Reina sighed. "You''re lucky this is just a spar. Next time, don¡¯t give your opponents the chance to do whatever they want." She turned away, looking at the rest of the class. "Remember, combat isn¡¯t just about power. It''s about control¡ªof yourself, of the battle, and of how your opponent reacts. If you let them dictate everything, you will lose." No one dared to speak. I clenched my fists. "Come on! It was two against one!" My voice rang out, sharper than I intended, but I didn¡¯t back down. "This was unfair! None of the other sparring matches had this setup. Why are you only singling us out?" Reina met my glare with an impassive look. "You think the world is fair?" "That¡¯s not the point!" "That¡¯s exactly the point," she said coolly. "You lost, and now you¡¯re making excuses. There¡¯s no such thing as a fair fight¡ªonly winners and losers." I opened my mouth to argue, but she turned away, calling out, "John." John¡ªthe imitator. He stiffened, looking hesitant. I remembered he lost his match earlier, though I wasn¡¯t sure to who. I think he lost to the speedster. "Come here," Reina ordered. John hesitated before stepping forward. He wasn¡¯t exactly a fighter, and he knew it. "Y-Yes, Master Reina?" "You¡¯re going to fight Karl and Elena," Reina said. John paled. "Wait, what¡ª?" "But," Reina continued, her voice unwavering, "I will be possessing you." Silence fell over the class. "Possessing?" I echoed. Reina nodded. "This is an extension of my ability. I can mentally inhabit another person, but only with their consent. I take over their body and use their ESP as if it were my own." John gulped, glancing around as if hoping someone would object. No one did. "...And I don¡¯t get a say in this?" "You do," Reina said simply. "Consent is required. Do you accept?" John looked like he wanted to say no, but he bit his lip and nodded. "...Fine." Reina smiled, but it wasn¡¯t exactly reassuring. "Good." Then she went still. Completely. John blinked, standing in place for a few moments¡ªthen, subtly, something changed. His posture, his stance, the way he held himself¡ªit was all Reina. Even though the body in front of us was John¡¯s, the aura it exuded was hers. That same sharp, almost predatory presence. "With experience," John¡ªno, Reina¡ªspoke, "anything is possible." The voice was his, but the way he spoke, the confidence in every word¡ªunmistakably Reina. She rolled John¡¯s shoulders, testing the movement. Then she looked at us, smiling slightly. "This is what I mean when I say experience is the key to everything. My vision for the Pioneer Class is simple: to crystallize experience as fast as possible. The younger you are, the more paths you can explore. The faster you learn, the more new paths you can create for the ESPer world." She cracked her neck. "And now, let¡¯s demonstrate. Karl. Elena. Step forward." Karl and Elena exchanged glances, but they stepped forward, getting into position. I narrowed my eyes. John¡¯s ESP was imitation, right? But I remembered from his earlier match that it had limitations¡ªhe could only copy a single ESP at a time, and there was a strict time limit. Even so, Reina had just taken over his body. And she was still completely confident. The match began. Karl¡¯s flames roared to life as he dashed in, aiming straight for Reina-John. Elena¡¯s shadow demon loomed behind, ready to flank. John didn¡¯t move. Then¡ªeffortlessly¡ªhe stepped to the side. Karl¡¯s fist shot past, grazing air. The moment Karl realized he missed, Reina grabbed his wrist and flung him over her shoulder in one smooth motion. Karl hit the ground with a thud. I blinked. Elena¡¯s demon swiped in from behind, its blade-like arm descending¡ª Reina ducked, twisted, and grabbed the demon¡¯s outstretched limb. A shimmer ran through John¡¯s body. Suddenly, his free hand erupted with flames. Karl¡¯s flames. Reina copied him. She twisted the demon¡¯s arm violently, and the creature screeched before being blown apart by an explosion of flames. Elena cursed, backing up. "Tch¡ª!" Karl groaned from the floor, trying to get up, but Reina didn¡¯t give him the chance. She darted forward and planted a foot on his chest, forcing him back down. Then she raised a hand toward Elena, her palm still flickering with stolen fire. "Yield," she said flatly. Elena clenched her jaw. She hesitated¡ªthen, reluctantly, nodded. Reina smirked. "Good." She stepped back, rolling her shoulders again, before suddenly freezing in place. Then, just as abruptly, she moved again¡ªbut this time, it was John who controlled his body. His expression twisted into shock as he stumbled. "Whoa¡ª!" He caught himself, looking around wildly. "What the hell just happened?!" Reina, now fully back in her own body, smirked. "Experience." Karl groaned, still lying on the floor. "That wasn¡¯t experience. That was insane." Elena crossed her arms, scowling. "¡­That was ridiculous." Reina ignored their complaints, turning back to the class. "If I can do that using his ESP, then what do you think you are capable of with enough experience? Think about that before our next session." I swallowed. Maybe I should start thinking about that. Reina let out a slow breath as she returned to her own body, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the sensation of possessing John. She regarded us with her usual sharp gaze, arms crossed. "I want you all to understand something," she said. "You are not just students. You are pioneers. You are the first class of this Academy, the first of your kind. You will not be the best because of talent alone¡ªyou will be the best because you must be." Her words carried weight, pressing down on us with an unshakable certainty. "Pioneers carve new paths," she continued. "Champions raise the standard. Heroes change the world." I flinched. That last word¡ªhero¡ªlodged itself deep in my mind, more than I wanted it to. Hero. It wasn¡¯t just some random word to me. It was a role I had played before. One that I never asked for, yet somehow kept being forced into. Why did it bother me so much? I clenched my fists but stayed silent. "Now," Reina said, snapping me out of my thoughts, "to conclude this session, I will have one last match." I tilted my head. Who was left? Everyone had already sparred¡ªexcept¡­ "Ron," Reina called. The class stirred. My curiosity piqued. Ron Ardent¡ªthe imperial prince. What kind of ESP did he have? Ron sighed, standing up and stretching. "Guess I can¡¯t get out of this, huh?" "You will spar with me," Reina said, giving him a look that brooked no argument. "And before anyone accuses me of giving him special treatment¡ª" She swept her gaze across the room. "¡ªthis is not favoritism. This is an example." I raised a brow. An example of what exactly? Reina turned to the class, expression serious. "Your ESP abilities will, ultimately, be a mismatch against him. If you had to fight him seriously, you would lose." That was a bold claim. The class murmured in confusion. Ron smirked, looking mildly amused. "You sure about that? Kinda setting high expectations here, Master Reina." The golden retriever suddenly looked like a sly fox for some reason. Reina ignored him. "His ESP is a combination of precognition and ESP nullification." The murmurs grew louder. I froze. That was¡­ insanely broken. Precognition alone was a nightmare to deal with, but adding nullification into the mix? That was an outright counter to nearly every ability in this room. Wait. If he had precognition, then¡ª "Hold on," I blurted out. "If he can see the future, then why did he rank so low in the Entrance Exam?" The class quieted, waiting for an answer. Ron laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that¡­" Reina answered instead. "His precognition does not work the way you think. It is not a constant, perfect foresight. It is unreliable. Incomplete. Limited." Ron shrugged. "Basically, I get glimpses of the future, but it¡¯s not like I can just pick and choose when it happens. And as for ESP nullification¡­" He rolled his wrist. "Let¡¯s just say it works best in person." So it had range limits too. That made sense. No ability was truly perfect. Reina didn¡¯t waste any more time. She stepped forward, raising a hand. "Enough talk. Let¡¯s begin." Ron sighed. "Guess I can¡¯t just forfeit, huh?" "You cannot." "Didn¡¯t think so." He rolled his shoulders, then got into a stance. "Alright then, Master Reina. Let¡¯s see how this goes." The fight started. Ron dodged before Reina even moved. His body shifted out of the way, reacting to an attack that hadn¡¯t happened yet. A moment later, Reina¡¯s fist shot forward, but Ron was already gone, moving to the side with ease. Precognition. It wasn¡¯t a constant awareness of the future, but it was good enough. Reina didn¡¯t seem frustrated. She adjusted immediately, striking faster, sharper¡ªbut Ron kept avoiding her attacks, always a step ahead. He wasn¡¯t even counterattacking. Just dodging. Then, suddenly, he struck¡ªhis fist barely grazing Reina¡¯s sleeve. A flicker of something passed over her body. ESP nullification. That was his real counter. He just needed to touch someone, and their ESP would be nullified. But Reina didn¡¯t falter. She embraced the hit¡ªgrabbing Ron¡¯s arm the moment he made contact. Ron¡¯s eyes widened. "Ah, shit¡ª" Reina slammed him into the ground. The match didn¡¯t last much longer. Ron was quick, and his abilities were strong, but Reina was stronger. Faster. More experienced. She read his movements, anticipated his precognition, and kept pressing until he had to fight back. Until he had no choice but to touch her again. And every time he did¡ªshe punished him for it. After a few brutal takedowns, Ron groaned from the floor. "Okay, okay. I get it. I lost." Reina stepped back, satisfied. "Your ability is powerful," she told him, "but power alone means nothing without skill. Experience is what sharpens talent into something truly lethal. That is what I want all of you to understand." She turned to the rest of the class. "That concludes today¡¯s session. Dismissed." With that, she walked out of the room. I exhaled. Well. That was¡­ a lot. Ron, still on the floor, groaned. "Ugh. Someone remind me why I agreed to come to this school?" I snorted. "You¡¯re royalty. You probably didn¡¯t have a choice." He grumbled something under his breath before pushing himself up. I stayed where I was, mulling over everything. Precognition. ESP nullification. Experience. Pioneers. Heroes. I didn¡¯t know why, but Reina¡¯s words still lingered in my head. And no matter how much I wanted to ignore it¡­ That word wouldn¡¯t leave me alone. 018 Her Luck - Part 1 - Mark’s POV 018 Her Luck - Part 1 - Mark¡¯s POV I facepalmed, resisting the urge to reprimand Mirai. What was her problem? Picking a fight with the professor? I mean, I admired her bravery¡ªReina¡¯s crazy index was around my mom¡¯s level, so I had zero intention of pissing her off. But Mirai? She went right in, guns blazing. Reina had let it slide¡ªthis time. But the real problem wasn¡¯t Reina. It was Elena. Mirai had really ticked her off. What could I say? Just her luck. I sighed, rubbing my temple. Of course, I knew Elena. She was a named character¡ªthe only daughter of the archduke. She wasn¡¯t the main villainess of the story or anything. If anything, she was just cannon fodder, a minor antagonist at best. So, a question then. Why was she so harsh on Mirai? Number one: Mirai being a commoner. Mirai probably didn¡¯t know it, but¡­ she was the only person in the Pioneer Class who wasn¡¯t from nobility. The Pioneer Class was a special program. It was meant for elites¡ªthe best of the best. And in this world, ¡°best¡± usually meant ¡°born with status.¡± Most of the students here were nobles, some with centuries of lineage backing them. And then there was Mirai. A commoner. A total black sheep. I could already see the issue. She had no idea she was stepping on toes just by existing. I leaned back in my seat, glancing at Mirai. She was still fuming, arms crossed, muttering under her breath about how unfair the match was. Meanwhile, Elena sat a few rows away, cool and composed, like she hadn¡¯t just made it her personal mission to humiliate Mirai. Great. Just great. I could step in. Try to smooth things over. Maybe get Mirai to realize she was swimming with sharks. But¡­ I hesitated. Mirai wasn¡¯t the type to take warnings well. She was the type to charge in, consequences be damned. Would she even listen to me? The next professor walked in¡ªa bald man with a confident stride. I recognized him immediately. Brady Collins. He was the bald guy from the entrance exam. The one who could fly. I still wasn¡¯t sure how he pulled it off, but considering the absurdity of ESP, I wasn¡¯t ruling anything out. Collins stopped at the front of the classroom and clapped his hands together. "Alright, class! Name¡¯s Brady Collins, and I¡¯ll be your instructor for Survival & Field Operations." He grinned, scanning the room. "Which means it¡¯s my job to make sure you don¡¯t die out there." Straight to the point. I could respect that. I summoned my armchair from my ring and moved to a different spot, settling in before the lecture began. Mirai dragged her chair right next to mine. Ron, of course, followed. I sighed. This guy was really persistent. I glanced around the room. Only five students had managed to retrieve an armchair after Reina¡¯s stunt from earlier¡ªme, Elena, Ron, Matt, and Mirai. Everyone else had to stand or lean against desks. Collins didn¡¯t seem to care. He rolled his shoulders and grinned again. "Now then¡ªlet¡¯s talk about survival, shall we?" Professor Collins paced at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, radiating the kind of energy that made me think he enjoyed making people uncomfortable. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. "Alright, listen up," he began. "Survival & Field Operations isn¡¯t just some theory class where you write essays and take tests. This is about staying alive in the field. Because guess what? ESP isn¡¯t a magical ¡®I win¡¯ button. If you¡¯re stupid, you¡¯ll still die." Blunt. I liked that. I leaned back in my chair, only half-listening as he went on about the course structure. Something about wilderness survival, combat scenarios, cryptid classifications, and real-world operations. Important stuff, but not exactly new to me. Instead, I let my gaze wander across the classroom. I wasn¡¯t just here to play student¡ªI had a mission. A goal. A script to follow. And part of that meant keeping tabs on the key players. So far, three of the five love interests had made their appearance: Ron, Matt, and Karl. That left two more. One of them, I knew, was absent today. The other? A transfer student who hadn¡¯t appeared yet. Classes ended without much trouble. Professor Collins had gone easy on us, probably because it was the first day. He dismissed us with a casual wave, telling us to be ready for some "real work" next time. Fine by me. I stretched as I stood up, already thinking about lunch. The smart move was to head back to Northstar House¡ªmy dorm. Free food, decent quality, and no need to spend a dime. But then there was Mirai. And Ron. Ron turned to her, flashing a princely smile. "Mirai, would you like to have lunch at my place? My attendants prepare excellent dishes, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯d enjoy¡ª" "N-no thanks," Mirai cut in, looking nervous. "I, uh¡­ already have plans!" Ron raised a brow, clearly not buying it, but he didn¡¯t push. I followed her gaze. Matt was hovering nearby, obviously wanting to say something. Sorry, pal. I couldn¡¯t let that happen. This was where Strategy No. 3: Exclusive Lunch came into play. According to Mom, having private lunches with the heroine was an effective way to "raise affection points." She insisted I prepare a bento always, insisting that bento culture was a "big deal" in otome games. I had no idea what she meant, but she was the expert on this stuff. Most of the time, Matt was the one who had lunch with the heroine, according to Mom¡¯s strange foresight. So, I had to cut him off. I activated Nth Person at maximum power, controlling it with precision. To everyone else in the room, I vanished. Only Matt could see me. I stepped in front of Mirai, holding out my hand toward her in a way that, from Matt¡¯s perspective, probably looked like a hug. His expression immediately shifted. Misunderstanding? Achieved. Matt sighed, clenched his fists, then turned around and walked off toward the door. Yep. I knew I was being a creep and a jerk¡ªbut if I wanted to stomp the competition, this was the way to do it. Mom¡¯s orders. Mirai walked off, dragging her bag behind her like she was in a hurry. I already knew why. According to Mom, Mirai preferred eating alone. It wasn¡¯t because she was shy or unsociable¡ªno, it was because she hated the idea of people judging her by her lunch. So, what did I do? I stalked her. Yep. I had officially become a creep. Ugh. I trailed after her, still using Nth Person to stay unnoticed. She took a few turns, making sure she was completely alone. That¡¯s when I made my move. I undid my invisibility and casually stepped up beside her. She yelped, nearly jumping out of her skin. ¡°What the hell¡ª?!¡± She whipped her head toward me, eyes wide. ¡°What is wrong with you?!¡± I gave her my best innocent expression. "What are you talking about?" She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. ¡°Mark¡­ Where are you even going?¡± ¡°Lunch.¡± She blinked, then pointed over her shoulder. ¡°The cafeteria¡¯s that way.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I wanted to eat with you.¡± She eyed me suspiciously, like I was pulling some kind of elaborate trick. I unzipped my bag, pulled out a plain-looking lunchbox, and held it up. ¡°See?¡± I said. ¡°Totally normal.¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes darted between the lunchbox and my face. She hesitated, then huffed, turning on her heel. ¡°Fine,¡± she said begrudgingly, walking ahead. Mission accomplished. We reached the rooftop and settled near the partition wall, away from prying eyes. The wind was cool up here, carrying the faint chatter of students from the courtyard below. I placed my lunchbox on the table. Mirai did the same. Then, she just¡­ stared at me. ¡°¡­What?¡± I asked. She crossed her arms. ¡°Open yours first.¡± I sighed and flicked open the lid. Inside, there was only rice. Just plain, white rice. Mirai blinked. Then, slowly, she turned her head to look at me. ¡°¡­That¡¯s it?¡± I shrugged. She let out a deep, suffering sigh. ¡°Fine. Just this once, I¡¯ll share my side dishes.¡± She picked up a small container from her lunchbox and slid it toward me. ¡°You better be grateful.¡± I peered into her lunchbox. Scrambled eggs, hotdogs, and rice. Simple, but decent. Food was food. I wasn¡¯t picky. But honestly, we could do better. ¡°Thanks, but I think you misunderstood,¡± I said, pushing her container back. She frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I pulled out a second lunchbox from my bag. Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. I flipped it open, revealing its contents¡ªa perfectly arranged assortment of food. Grilled salmon with crispy, golden skin. Stir-fried vegetables with glossy soy glaze. Tamagoyaki, neatly sliced into thick, even pieces. A small serving of karaage, deep-fried and perfectly crunchy. And on the side, pickled radish and miso-glazed eggplant, tucked neatly into compartments. Mirai stared. ¡°Of course, I wasn¡¯t bringing just rice,¡± I said, smirking. ¡°That¡¯d be sad.¡± Mirai let out a slow, defeated sigh and took out her chopsticks. I swore, for a moment, it looked like she was about to cry. Okay. Maybe I went a little too far. Sure, I had a mischievous streak, but this felt almost cruel. She sniffed dramatically. ¡°You are mean.¡± I chuckled. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m willing to share.¡± Her entire mood did a 180. She practically beamed at me. ¡°¡­So easy,¡± I muttered under my breath. She ignored that, happily reaching for a piece of karaage. We ate like that, exchanging jokes and making fun of each other between bites. I stole a bit of her eggs. Not bad, honestly. A little too salty, but edible. Meanwhile, Mirai acted like she¡¯d just tasted the food of the gods. "This¡ªthis is incredible,¡± she declared, eyes practically sparkling as she took another bite of my karaage. ¡°The crispy exterior, the juicy tenderness inside, the perfect balance of seasoning¡ªtruly, a work of art!" I blinked. "It''s just fried chicken." She ignored me, moving on to the tamagoyaki. ¡°And this egg! Soft, fluffy, lightly sweet but with a depth of umami¡ª¡± ¡°¡­I bought it,¡± I interrupted. ¡°And the eggs you are munching on, is yours.¡± She stopped mid-chew and stared at me. Then, without missing a beat, she switched gears. "Ah, the selection! The discerning taste! To choose the best bento available, truly a skill all on its own!" I squinted at her. ¡°You are so full of it.¡± She grinned and kept eating. Yeah. No way was I telling her I actually made that bento myself. It had taken some effort to sneak into Northstar House¡¯s kitchen, swipe a few ingredients, and cook something passable. But whatever. Let her think I just had good taste. 019 Her Luck - Part 2 - Mark’s POV 019 Her Luck - Part 2 - Mark¡¯s POV We returned to the classroom after lunch. Mirai barely had time to breathe before Anna cornered her near the door, hands on her hips and a sharp look in her eyes. "Where were you?" Anna demanded. Mirai flinched slightly, then awkwardly rubbed the back of her head. "Uh. Lunch?" Anna narrowed her eyes. "I looked for you." Mirai winced. "Well¡­ I was eating." I tuned them out, summoning my armchair from my ring. As I sat down, I noticed other students dragging chairs from outside. Huh. They were being resourceful. I overheard grumbling from the side. "The other classes don¡¯t have to deal with this shit," one student muttered. "Yeah, what kind of insane logic is this? A class without chairs?!" another complained. I reckoned they were just bitter about missing out on the armchair rings Reina had handed out. I only recently learned how to use mine properly, and I still wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about it. The damn thing turned into a ring, acted as storage, and somehow also transformed into a chair. Who even thought of this? I glanced at Mirai, who was still dealing with Anna¡¯s interrogation. She didn¡¯t seem to know how the ring worked, so I gestured for her to pay attention. "Here," I said, tapping the side of my ring. ¡°It looks like you can store stuff in it rather conveniently.¡± With a click, my armchair vanished into the small band on my finger. Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. I placed my backpack on the desk, then pressed a small button on the side of the ring. Instantly, my chair reappeared. Mirai blinked. Anna grimaced. "Damn. I regret not getting one now." Ron, who had just arrived, clicked the side of his ring and summoned his own armchair with an elegant motion, as if he¡¯d done it a million times before. He sat down beside us, looking smug. Honestly, this was peculiar technology. The person who invented it? Definitely smelled like crazy. I looked around. The seating arrangement was a mess, but the professors didn¡¯t seem to care. When the next one walked in, it was clear that the professors didn¡¯t really give a shit about the seating arrangement. I had a suspicion it had something to do with Master Reina¡­ and this professor. He had a tired look, messy hair, and wore a loose tie like he couldn¡¯t be bothered to look presentable. He trudged to the front of the room, grabbed a piece of chalk, and lazily wrote his name on the blackboard. Merrick. No last name. "Alright, settle down," he said, voice flat. Some students were still pulling chairs from outside, but the class quieted down. I sat just behind Mirai this time. Anna had dragged an armchair from the next classroom and plopped down beside her. Ron was on Mirai¡¯s left, as usual. Merrick clapped his hands once. The sharp crack echoed through the room, and the last bits of murmuring died. "Ground rules," he began. "One: don¡¯t talk when I¡¯m talking." That was it. No extra rules, no nonsense about attendance or assignments. Just that one statement. I felt nervous for the first time. This guy was way more tyrannical than I expected. Mom¡¯s notes hadn¡¯t done him justice. "Now that we have that out of the way," Merrick continued, "let¡¯s talk about what to expect in my class. ESP dueling, battle formations, enemy profiling, mind games¡ªyou name it, we¡¯ll cover it. If you¡¯re looking for a theory-based class where you can just write notes and coast by, you¡¯re in the wrong place." I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. Yep. This was going to be a pain. Merrick didn¡¯t waste any time. "There will be a ranking match in this class," he announced. "I expect all of you at the Combat Zone this Saturday. I¡¯ve reserved a room for us." A few students exchanged glances, but no one spoke up. Maybe they were too scared to break his one rule. He reached into his coat and pulled out a thick wad of tickets. Then, with a flick of his fingers, the tickets zipped through the air, one for each of us. I caught mine without trouble. It was a ticket for a shared room. I frowned. Shared room? Was this just for the ranking match, or were we expected to actually stay in the Combat Zone? Mom¡¯s notes didn¡¯t say anything about this. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Mirai studied her ticket, brows furrowed. "Shared room¡­?" she muttered. Anna, sitting beside her, groaned. "Ugh, I hope I don¡¯t get stuck with someone loud." Ron, as usual, looked completely unbothered. He twirled his ticket between his fingers and shrugged. "This should be interesting." Merrick didn¡¯t waste any time moving forward. ¡°If you want to get a better grasp of tactical theory, I recommend reading The Art of ESP Warfare by Adrian Falkner,¡± he said, writing the title on the board. ¡°It¡¯s not required, but if you struggle, don¡¯t come crying to me.¡± A few students scribbled the title down, while others leaned back like they had no intention of reading anything extra. He continued, ¡°This semester, expect battle formations, real-time strategy exercises, and ESP dueling scenarios. I won¡¯t tolerate tardiness. If you¡¯re late, don¡¯t bother coming in.¡± No one dared to make a sound. Then, just like that, class was over. And then he walked back in. ¡°Alright, settle down,¡± Merrick said, not even pretending to leave. ¡°I also teach Mathematics and Physics, so don¡¯t go anywhere.¡± I sighed. Great. This was probably my worst subject. I listened, I really did. But the formulas, equations, and theoretical concepts? Yeah, my brain didn¡¯t like those. No amount of dungeon survival or combat training helped me with this. When the class started, Merrick had us take a pre-test. It was a disaster. Mirai looked at my paper and gave me the most pitiful look. ¡°Oh¡­¡± she whispered, like she just saw a kitten get run over. ¡°Hey,¡± I muttered. ¡°Stop that.¡± Anna? She straight-up laughed. ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± I grumbled. Ron, being the ever-gracious prince, patted my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll do better next time.¡± Screw them both. Merrick barely spent fifteen minutes wrapping up Tactics & Strategy before diving straight into Mathematics & Physics. Which meant we had a full hour and forty-five minutes of academic torture. The pre-test was already bad, but now? We were expected to apply the concepts. The man wasn¡¯t playing around. He handed out another set of test questions, and the moment the papers landed on my desk, I felt my soul leave my body. I stared at the equations. I stared harder. Yeah, no. My brain refused. Drop me into any dungeon. Make me fight any kind of cryptid. Make me punch stuff. I¡¯d manage somehow. But this? This was actual suffering. Across from me, Mirai was writing away, no hesitation. Ron looked focused, scribbling his answers with that same princely composure. Anna, for all her smugness, had her head propped on one hand, lazily solving problems like they were no big deal. Meanwhile, I was still on question one. I tapped my pencil against my desk, debating whether brute force could somehow solve math. Spoiler: it couldn¡¯t. Esper Ethics & Psychology was next. We were greeted by a familiar face¡ªProfessor Brady Collins, in all his bald-headed glory. The man grinned at us, radiating enthusiasm as he held up a stack of papers. ¡°Alright, class! We¡¯ll start things off with a pre-test!¡± I groaned. Another one? This bald f¡ª Seriously, why was every professor like this? To be fair, it wasn¡¯t everyone. There was the crazy exception after all. We were handed the test, and I flipped through the questions, my confidence evaporating by the second. I was failing ethics. How in the world was I failing ethics class? Mirai peeked over at my answer sheet and sighed. ¡°Wow. You really suck at tests, huh?¡± Ron patted my shoulder like some wise older brother. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mark. You¡¯ll do better next time.¡± Jerk. Anna, on the other hand, was laughing¡ªway harder than before. She even pointed at one of the essay questions, tears in her eyes. The prompt was simple: ¡°You see an old woman walking down a pedestrian lane. A mugger attacks her. What do you do?¡± Easy. I had real-life experience with this. I confidently wrote down my answer:
  1. Incapacitate the mugger.
  2. Frisk the grandma to check if this was a scam or trap.
  3. If it wasa trap, beat up the grandma too.
  4. If it wasn¡¯ta trap, ask the grandma for a reward before helping her cross the street.
Anna wheezed. Mirai buried her face in her hands. Ron just stared at my paper like he was witnessing a tragedy. ¡°Mark.¡± Mirai¡¯s voice was muffled. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± ¡°What? That¡¯s just common sense.¡± Mirai groaned. Anna was still laughing. Ron cleared his throat. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how it works.¡± Professor Collins suddenly loomed over my desk, reading my answer out loud to the class. There was silence. Then, he slowly nodded. ¡°Well, Mr. Valentine¡­ I appreciate your unique approach to ethics. But for the record, maybe don¡¯t assault grandmothers. Even if you suspect them of fraud.¡± I slumped in my chair. This was gonna be a long class. I had already started the grandma essay. Might as well finish it. So, I added a final note.
  1. If the grandma turned out to be a cryptid, slaughter her.
There. Perfect. Satisfied, I breezed through the remaining essay questions. By the time I got back to the multiple-choice section, I felt more confident. Maybe I wasn¡¯t totally doomed after all. Professor Collins collected our test papers and started grading them right in front of us. Five minutes later, he returned them. I glanced at my score. ¡­I failed. Anna peeked at my paper, took one look at my score, and guffawed. ¡°Oh my god, Mark, how do you even¡ª¡± I snatched her test before she could react and flipped to her grandma essay. Then, with the most dramatic voice possible, I read it aloud. ¡°¡®If I saw a grandma getting mugged, I would step in to protect her. However, I must consider the possibility that this is a psychological test. If I intervene too soon, I may be disrupting a controlled experiment. If I intervene too late, I would fail this question. Thus, I must analyze all factors and¡ª¡¯¡± I squinted at the bottom of the page. ¡°¡®¡ªultimately decide that I should tackle the mugger first, and then, just to be safe, tackle the grandma too.¡¯¡± The class went silent. Anna¡¯s entire face turned red. I smirked. ¡°Wow, Anna. You also failed the grandma question. What a coincidence.¡± She lunged for her paper. ¡°Give that back, you asshole!¡± I dodged easily, spinning my chair away. Anna tried to kick me under my desk. She missed. I grinned at her. ¡°A hundred years too early to land a hit on me.¡± Anna groaned in frustration, while Mirai just sighed and muttered, ¡°You¡¯re both idiots.¡± I smirked. Mom would be proud. Mirai sighed, shaking her head. ¡°It was obvious. You have to tackle the grandma first.¡± I blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°It was a test of reverse psychology. If they¡¯re asking you about helping a grandma, then obviously, the real answer is to suspect the grandma first.¡± I frowned. ¡°Okay, now I have to see your test paper.¡± Before Mirai could react, Anna snatched it from her hands. ¡°Hey!¡± Mirai protested. Anna grinned like a cat that caught a canary. ¡°Let¡¯s see how our little moral compass did, shall we?¡± I peeked over Anna¡¯s shoulder as she flipped through the pages. Mirai had a decent score¡ªway better than mine. Except¡­ the essay section. I smirked. ¡°Oh? What do we have here?¡± Anna burst into laughter. ¡°No way!¡± Mirai turned red. ¡°Give it back!¡± I leaned closer. ¡°Wait, wait. Did you also fail the grandma essay?¡± Mirai tried to swipe her paper back, but Anna held it high above her head. ¡°¡®If I saw a grandma getting mugged, I would assume it was a distraction tactic and tackle her first to neutralize the potential threat. Then, I would restrain the mugger, verify all possible hidden accomplices, and¡ª¡¯¡± Anna paused. ¡°¡®¡ªdemand the grandma explain herself before deciding whether to help her cross the street.¡¯¡± I burst out laughing. Ron, who had been minding his own business, finally looked over. ¡°Wait. You guys all failed the same question?¡± Anna cackled. ¡°Not all of us. Just the idiots.¡± ¡°You are one of those idiots,¡± I added. Mirai finally wrestled her paper back and buried her face in her arms. ¡°I hate this class.¡± I patted her shoulder. ¡°Hey, at least we¡¯re in this together.¡± She groaned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make it better.¡± 020 Her Luck - Part 3 - Mirai’s POV 020 Her Luck - Part 3 - Mirai¡¯s POV ¡°How did you do, Ron?¡± I asked, turning to the ever-goofy golden retriever of a prince. Ron beamed and held up his test paper. A perfect score. Anna whistled. ¡°As expected of His Imperial Highness.¡± Mark scoffed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Yeah, yeah. We get it. The prince is a genius.¡± Ron just laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that hard.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What did you even write for the grandma question?¡± Ron blinked. ¡°Oh, that? It was easy. I wrote, ¡®I would first call the authorities while making sure the grandma was safe. If possible, I would de-escalate the situation and prevent unnecessary violence. The well-being of the victim takes priority.¡¯¡± There was silence. Anna and I stared at him. Mark groaned and facepalmed. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Anna buried her face in her arms, shoulders shaking. ¡°I can¡¯t believe¡­ it was that simple.¡± Ron added, ¡°Yeah, it is that simple.¡± Anna groaned, stretching her arms over her head. ¡°What¡¯s the next class?¡± Before anyone could answer, the door slammed open with a loud bang. ¡°Heyo~ kids!¡± Oh no. Master Reina stood at the doorway, grinning like a fox who just found an unattended henhouse. Her lab coat swayed as she stepped in, hands on her hips, radiating pure chaos. ¡°Guess what? It¡¯s Combat Sparring II!¡± A collective groan echoed through the classroom. More like not because of the subject, but the person involved. ¡°Miss me, kids?¡± she continued, completely ignoring our misery. ¡°Now, settle down! I know everyone¡¯s thrilled about the ranking match with Professor Merrick¡ªcuz that dude loves numbers¡ªbut I have my own way of establishing a hierarchy within my class.¡± Mark leaned toward me, whispering, ¡°We¡¯re gonna suffer.¡± I elbowed him. ¡°You more than me.¡± Reina clapped her hands. ¡°Normally, Combat Training I is about theory, and Combat Training II is for sparring, but I do things differently! I¡¯ve already seen what you guys could do this morning, and now, we¡¯re gonna see what you can do when under pressure.¡± A bad feeling curled in my stomach. Reina¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Get out!¡± Nobody moved. ¡°Did I stutter?¡± She pointed to the door. Chairs scraped as we scrambled to our feet. ¡°Good! I have a bus waiting outside, and it¡¯s going to be fun¡ªwhether you like it or not!¡± We filed into the bus, still shell-shocked from Master Reina¡¯s enthusiasm. There were seventeen of us in total, so space wasn¡¯t an issue. The seats were two-seaters, meaning I had to make a quick decision. Before I could react, Mark grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the seat next to him. I blinked. ¡°You¡¯re sitting with me?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯d rather take my chances with you than someone else,¡± he muttered. Fair enough. Ron plopped into the seat behind us with Anna beside him. ¡°Why is there no driver?¡± Ron asked, peering toward the empty driver¡¯s seat. I didn¡¯t even have time to process his words before Master Reina stepped forward, cracked her knuckles, and stomped on the accelerator like a maniac. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The bus lurched, shooting forward with the force of a rocket. A chorus of yelps and screams filled the bus as we were slammed into our seats. I barely had time to grab onto Mark before my face nearly hit the window. Mark, meanwhile, sat perfectly still, arms crossed, looking unfazed. I gripped his sleeve. ¡°How are you this calm?¡± He turned his head slightly toward me. ¡°No matter what, hold onto me¡ª¡± Before he could finish, the entire bus shook violently, bouncing like we were on some uneven terrain. My stomach dropped. ¡°DID SHE JUST DRIVE THIS BUS OFF A CLIFF?!¡± I screamed. Mark closed his eyes, sighing. ¡°Worse.¡± ¡°WORSE THAN A CLIFF?!¡± He opened one eye. ¡°A dungeon.¡± The moment the bus came to a screeching halt, Master Reina kicked the door open like a lunatic and hopped outside. ¡°Alright, kids! OUT!¡± she hollered, hands on her hips. I was still reeling from the fact that we had just crashed into a dungeon, but Mark grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me out of my seat. I stumbled after him, stepping onto rough terrain. The air smelled damp, like moss and earth, and there were eerie, glowing crystals embedded in the cave walls. Yep. Definitely a dungeon. The others filed out behind us, muttering complaints and looking just as disoriented as I felt. Master Reina clapped her hands together. ¡°Okay! Rules!¡± We all tensed. She grinned, all teeth. ¡°We are deep in a pretty low-level dungeon. Nothing too dangerous. There¡¯s only one way out, and guess what? We¡¯re making it a race.¡± A murmur rippled through the class. ¡°The rankings will be determined based on who gets out first! If you fall behind? Too bad! If you get incapacitated? Eh, don¡¯t stress it. The local patrols will fish you out eventually,¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°What happens if we don¡¯t make it out?¡± someone asked warily. Master Reina¡¯s grin widened. ¡°You flunk out of the Pioneer Class.¡± Silence. I gulped. ¡°Now¡ª¡± she cracked her neck, bouncing on her heels. ¡°Try to keep up!¡± And then¡ª She took off, sprinting into the depths of the dungeon at full speed, leaving us completely speechless. We all just stood there, watching her dust trail vanish into the darkness. ¡°...What?¡± Anna croaked. ¡°Did she just¡ª?¡± Ron started. ¡°She really just left us,¡± Mark finished, pinching the bridge of his nose. And then¡ª The ground rumbled. Somewhere in the distance, something howled. Mark grabbed onto me, his grip firm but not painful. ¡°Use your luck,¡± he said, his voice calm despite the growing panic around us. ¡°Wish that we stay together.¡± I blinked at him. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Just do it.¡± Well¡­ what could go wrong? I was a very good listener, and sometimes I instinctively acted on things people told me. So, without overthinking it, I focused. And then¡ª Light erupted from below us. My vision warped, my stomach dropped, and suddenly the ground wasn¡¯t ground anymore¡ª I landed with a hard thud, knees hitting solid rock. The world spun for a second before settling, and I realized I was in some kind of cave-like passage. Dimly lit. Narrow. A single path forward. And¡ª ¡°Mark, you¡¯re heavy,¡± I groaned. There was a whole person weighing down on me. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Mark muttered, shifting off me. He helped me up, steadying me as he stood himself. I dusted myself off, glancing around. ¡°¡­Where are we?¡± Mark exhaled through his nose, already in thought. ¡°It was a random warp,¡± he said, scanning the cave. ¡°This dungeon¡¯s main aspect.¡± ¡°Random warp?¡± I repeated, my brain catching up. Meaning¡­ the others were probably not here. Meaning¡­ I was alone with Mark. Great. Just great. Mark, unfazed as ever, continued, ¡°The cryptids around here should be at the level of a low-geared goblin¡­ and maybe a hobgoblin as a final boss.¡± I rubbed my temples. ¡°I don¡¯t like the maybe in that sentence.¡± A distant growl echoed from deeper within the cave. I really didn¡¯t like the maybe. Mark and I stood in the dimly lit cave, surrounded by damp stone walls and eerie silence. I still wasn¡¯t over the fact that we had just been randomly warped into some underground cryptid-infested dungeon. Mark turned to me. ¡°Have you ever gone dungeon hunting before?¡± I huffed. ¡°One time. Just to test my luck.¡± His eyebrows raised slightly. ¡°And?¡± ¡°It was a very educational experience,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Taught me a lot about how different I am now.¡± Mark nodded, as if that made perfect sense. ¡°Good to know.¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°Too bad I don¡¯t have a weapon.¡± He shot me a glance. ¡°Fighting isn¡¯t the main priority. Running is. This is a race, remember?¡± Right. Rankings. Getting out of here first. Still, running sounded horrible. Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a butterfly knife. He flicked his wrist, and the blade snapped open in one smooth motion. I blinked. ¡°Where did you get that?¡± He twirled it between his fingers like it was a toy. ¡°Mom¡¯s gift.¡± ¡­Of course, it was. Before I could respond, a growl echoed through the tunnel. A small, hunched figure skittered from the shadows. Goblin. It was about knee-height, with sickly green skin, long claws, and a face that looked like it had been hit by bad evolutionary luck. Beady red eyes locked onto us, and it bared its jagged teeth, hissing. Mark didn¡¯t hesitate. He moved faster than my eyes could track. A quick step forward. A flick of his wrist. The goblin crumpled before it could even react. Mark stood over the body, flipping his knife closed like it was nothing. I stared. ¡°Sheesh. Such a show-off.¡± He smirked. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± I nudged the goblin¡¯s corpse with the tip of my shoe before looking up at Mark. ¡°So, any plans?¡± Mark twirled his butterfly knife once before tucking it away. ¡°Oh, I have a winning strategy right from my pocket.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t keep it to yourself then.¡± He held out a hand toward me, palm up. ¡°How about boosting me with a steady stream of luck while we run this whole obstacle course?¡± I stared at his hand, then at him. ¡°How? This is the first¡ªno, the third time I¡¯d be applying my power in such an external manner.¡± Mark tilted his head. ¡°You tell me.¡± I sighed. ¡°Great. That¡¯s helpful.¡± Still, I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his without thinking. A beat of silence. Then I grinned. ¡°Holding hands while walking then?¡± Mark scoffed, but he didn¡¯t pull away. ¡°Try running.¡± 021 Super Duo - Part 1 - Mark’s POV 021 Super Duo - Part 1 - Mark¡¯s POV I held onto Mirai¡¯s hand gently as she took the lead. ¡°For your luck to work, you need to actively guide it, right?¡± I said. ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirai nodded, her grip tightening around mine. ¡°Then you lead,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll cover our rear.¡± She didn¡¯t argue. Instead, she pulled me forward, picking up speed as we navigated through the cave-like pathway of the dungeon. The air was damp, the stone uneven beneath our feet. From the distant echoes of guttural snarls, I could tell we weren¡¯t alone. The first goblin lunged from the shadows¡ªrusted dagger in hand, snarling with rows of jagged teeth. I flicked my wrist, sending my butterfly knife spinning in a flash of steel. The blade buried itself between the goblin¡¯s eyes, its body crumpling to the ground with a dull thud. ¡°Knife,¡± I said. Mirai yanked it out in one fluid motion and we kept moving. Another goblin appeared at a fork in the path, standing between us and the correct route. It had a club, bigger than its arm, and it raised it high. Mirai didn¡¯t hesitate. She threw the knife toward me, and I caught it midair. Without breaking stride, I slashed across its exposed gut, and the goblin howled as it collapsed. More footsteps. Three goblins from the left tunnel. One from behind. Mirai tugged at my hand, and without needing to look, I knew she wanted me to throw it back. I flipped the butterfly knife toward her. She caught it by the handle and spun on her heel, jamming the blade into the throat of the nearest goblin. I swung my free hand backward, catching the ambusher behind me with an elbow. It staggered, hissing, just in time for Mirai to plant a foot on its face and shove it backward. ¡°Knife,¡± I called. She tossed it, and I turned, slashing through the last two goblins in a single downward motion. Silence followed. For now, at least. We were both breathing hard, still holding hands. Mirai gave me a side glance. ¡°This is working way better than I expected.¡± I smirked. ¡°Guess we make a good team.¡± Mirai gave me a sideways glance. ¡°Why¡¯s your nose twitching?¡± I took a deep breath, inhaling slowly through my nostrils. Something was off. ¡°I¡¯m smelling something,¡± I muttered. Mirai raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah? What is it?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure. It wasn¡¯t blood, wasn¡¯t sweat, wasn¡¯t even the rotting stench of goblins. Just something faint, something clinging to the air like an afterthought. I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead. Why was I feeling so tired? Fighting goblins shouldn¡¯t have drained me this quickly. I had trained for years under Mom. This level of exertion should be nothing. It wasn¡¯t exhaustion from earlier classes either. No. There was something in the air. I came to a stop. Mirai pulled up short beside me, her eyes scanning my face. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Something¡¯s off. The air¡­ It¡¯s not right.¡± Mirai reached into her pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief. ¡°You got one too?¡± I nodded and took out mine, still crisp and clean from this morning. She dug into the waistband of her skirt and produced a tiny vial of alcohol. Before I could question her, she popped it open and doused her handkerchief, then reached over and did the same to mine. I stared at her. ¡°What the hell?¡± She didn¡¯t even look up as she folded the cloth over. ¡°Cover your mouth with it.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°You think that¡¯ll work?¡± She smirked. ¡°Of course. It¡¯s like movie magic.¡± I blinked. ¡°What¡¯s a movie?¡± Mirai paused, then slowly turned to face me with the most pitying stare I had ever seen. I frowned. ¡°What¡¯s up with that look?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± she said, her tone thick with secondhand embarrassment. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Yeah, that doesn¡¯t feel like nothing.¡± She sighed, tying the handkerchief over her mouth. ¡°Look, it¡¯s my own twist on plot armor and luck. In some media, heroines pull off the craziest, most improbable things and still succeed. This is just one of those moments.¡± I exhaled through my nose, feeling like I was missing something important, but I tied my handkerchief in place anyway. Whatever was in the air, I wasn¡¯t taking any chances. Mirai crouched down and picked up a crude wooden club from one of the goblins I had just taken down. She gave it an experimental swing, frowning at the weight before nodding to herself. ¡°Good enough,¡± she muttered. ¡°We¡¯re still holding hands,¡± I pointed out. She smirked. ¡°Yeah? So?¡± I sighed. ¡°So, this is going to get messy.¡± We took off running, still clasping hands. Goblins emerged from the dark, their beady eyes gleaming under the flickering torchlight. Their jagged blades glinted, rusted and chipped from years of neglect. The first one lunged at us from the right. I yanked Mirai closer, twisting my body to toss the butterfly knife into my left hand before driving it straight through the goblin¡¯s throat. Warm blood sprayed, and I kicked the corpse away. Another one shrieked from the left. Mirai swung her club with wild strength, cracking its skull open like a dropped watermelon. She turned to me, looking a little too proud. ¡°See? Told you I didn¡¯t need a fancy knife.¡± Yeah, and your face and skirt was splattered with blood. Of course, I wasn¡¯t able to complain to her. A third goblin tried to rush us from behind. I spun, still holding onto Mirai¡¯s hand, and used the momentum to throw my knife. The blade embedded itself in the goblin¡¯s forehead with a sickening thunk. It collapsed instantly. I tugged Mirai forward. ¡°Keep moving.¡± More goblins poured in from the narrow passage ahead. Mirai kicked one in the chest, sending it staggering backward into another. Without hesitation, I tossed her the knife I plucked from the dead goblin. She caught it awkwardly but managed to stab one of the goblins in the shoulder before kicking its legs out from under it. ¡°Give it back,¡± I said. Mirai huffed, yanking the blade free and flicking it back toward me. I snatched it out of the air just in time to slash across the gut of another charging goblin. ¡°Not bad,¡± I admitted. ¡°Not bad?¡± she echoed, swinging the club into another goblin¡¯s side. ¡°I¡¯m doing amazing.¡± A goblin tried to grab my ankle. I stomped down hard on its fingers, then finished it off with a quick slice to the throat. Mirai bashed another one over the head so hard the club splintered in half. She clicked her tongue. ¡°Damn. I liked that club.¡± ¡°Then get another one,¡± I said, pulling her forward as more goblins started shrieking from deeper in the cave. With our free hands wielding a knife and a broken club, and our other hands still stubbornly clasped together, we tore through the goblins like a whirlwind. It wasn¡¯t the most conventional way to fight, but somehow, it was working. ¡°Oh, a club¡­¡± She picked up a new club as we made haste. We cut, crushed, and carved our way through the goblins, leaving behind a trail of bodies. The flickering torchlight barely illuminated the narrow path, but we kept moving forward, our hands still clasped together. It was ridiculous, but we were making good time. ¡°We¡¯re actually doing great,¡± Mirai huffed between swings of her broken club. ¡°Yeah,¡± I admitted, wiping some goblin blood off my cheek with my sleeve. ¡°At this pace, we might just¡ª¡± A sudden wave of pressure filled the cave. It was subtle at first, like the air had gotten thicker, heavier. A deep, raspy cackle echoed ahead, bouncing off the cavern walls. Mirai and I slowed to a stop. ¡°¡­That¡¯s not a hobgoblin,¡± I muttered. ¡°No kidding,¡± Mirai said. We stepped forward into a wide chamber, and there¡ªstanding at the very end¡ªwas something far worse than the hobgoblin I had expected. A Hobwitch. She was hunched over, her frame towering over the goblins we had faced before. Her skin was a mottled green, sagging in places but stretched tight over gnarled bones in others. Blackened claws curled from her knobby fingers, each one as long as a dagger. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, and gleamed with an unnatural yellow glow. Strands of greasy, tangled white hair clung to her face, partially obscuring a twisted grin filled with black, needle-like teeth. Her tattered robes, stitched together from the skins of unfortunate adventurers, dragged against the ground as she swayed, moving with an unnatural fluidity. The air around her shimmered with miasma¡ªthick, swirling, and reeking of rot. Then, she threw her head back and let out another shrill, piercing cackle that sent shivers down my spine. Mirai tightened her grip on my hand. ¡°I really don¡¯t like that laugh.¡± ¡°Same.¡± I exhaled slowly. ¡°But we have to go through her to get out.¡± The Hobwitch suddenly stopped laughing and stared at us. Then, she raised one of her clawed hands and pointed directly at me. Her voice was a rasping whisper, but it carried through the chamber like a curse: "Boy¡­ you smell like Death.¡± Of course, it had to be sentient too. As if a regular hobgoblin wasn¡¯t bad enough, this one could talk. Worse, it could see me. That meant my ESP, Nth Person, wasn¡¯t foolproof against it. That was dangerous. ¡°Mirai,¡± I muttered. ¡°Split.¡± I let go of her hand and surged forward, my butterfly knife flashing in the dim torchlight. The goblins clustered around the Hobwitch hissed and chattered, but they were slow. Sloppy. I wove between them, flipping my knife from my left to my right hand in fluid motions, cutting through flesh with practiced ease. A goblin lunged¡ªI ducked under its swipe and sliced across its throat. Another tried to grab me from behind¡ªI twisted and drove my knife into its eye socket. Behind me, I heard Mirai grunting with effort as she swung her club. I stole a glance over my shoulder¡ªshe was doing fine. Better than fine. She crushed a goblin¡¯s skull with a brutal overhead swing, then pivoted and bashed another in the ribs. A thunk echoed as her club connected with another goblin¡¯s gut. The thing wheezed and crumpled. Then, the Hobwitch moved. She reached into her ragged robes and pulled out a small vial filled with a thick, bubbling liquid. I saw the way the fumes twisted and warped the air around it. ¡°Shit.¡± She threw it. Mirai caught me by the waist before I could react. We rolled, her grip tight as she pulled me toward the thinnest part of the goblin horde. Heat flared behind us as the vial shattered, coating several goblins in a searing, bubbling substance. Their screams were short-lived¡ªwithin seconds, they were nothing but burning husks. Mirai held me by my shoulders as we crouched, catching our breath. Then she whacked the side of my head¡ªlightly, but enough to make me wince. ¡°Are you stupid?¡± she scolded. ¡°Don¡¯t try to be a hero!¡± I blinked. ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± She stepped in front of me, brandishing her club. ¡°That¡¯s my job,¡± she declared. Mirai didn¡¯t hesitate. She swung her club with brutal efficiency, smashing one goblin¡¯s head after another in rapid succession. Bones cracked. Bodies crumpled. A goblin lunged¡ªshe sidestepped and brought the club down hard on its skull. It twitched once before going still. She was relentless. Almost reckless. I grabbed her wrist just as a runt of a goblin darted in from her blind spot, its jagged stick aiming for her side. The moment my fingers closed around her, I smelled it¡ªsomething sharp, metallic, wrong. Poison. I yanked her back, twisting to kick the goblin square in the chest. It let out a pathetic squeak as it flew back into the crowd. ¡°Cheeky and corny,¡± I muttered. ¡°You have to practice your lines¡­| Mirai turned to glare at me, her ears tinged red. Gotcha. She punched my shoulder¡ªnot hard, but enough to make her point. ¡°Shut up.¡± She stepped beside me, club still at the ready. We stood shoulder to shoulder, watching as the goblins regrouped in front of the Hobwitch, their numbers growing. The Hobwitch cackled, shifting behind them like a shadow, her beady eyes gleaming. This was going to get messy. 022 Super Duo - Part 2 - Mark’s POV 022 Super Duo - Part 2 - Mark¡¯s POV The Hobwitch cackled again, a shrill, jagged sound that scraped against my nerves. Her hunched form swayed behind the mass of goblins, her gnarled fingers twitching as she clutched a bundle of crude vials, each filled with something unpleasant. I narrowed my eyes. How do we kill a Hobwitch? Think. What did I know? Hobwitches weren¡¯t just stronger goblins¡ªthey were smarter, crueler. Unlike their mindless grunts, they actually knew how to fight. And worse, they used tricks. Alchemy, hexes, cheap-shot magic. I scanned the battlefield, forcing my breath to steady. The goblins weren¡¯t the real problem. We could cut through them. The problem was her. As long as she stood, she¡¯d keep throwing spells, tossing poison, and screwing us over. ¡°Any bright ideas?¡± Mirai asked, her back pressed against mine. I twirled my butterfly knife between my fingers, the blade catching the dim torchlight. ¡°Yeah. We kill the boss.¡± ¡°Oh, brilliant, why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡± ¡°Hold your applause,¡± I said dryly. ¡°I need an opening.¡± Mirai exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. ¡°Fine. What do you need?¡± I glanced at her, then at the club she gripped tightly. ¡°A distraction.¡± Her lips curled into a smirk. ¡°Say no more.¡± She lunged forward. The Hobwitch cackled again, her beady eyes tracking me too well. I clenched my jaw. She could see me. Not fully¡ªbut enough. Enough to make my usual tactics useless. My ESP, Nth Person, worked as a form of psychic invisibility. If my opponent couldn¡¯t register me, I could move however I wanted. But this damn goblin hag had some kind of resistance. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was a passive ESP of her own. Either way, she knew I was here. So how could I kill something that could track me? I rolled my knife between my fingers, watching as Mirai tore through the goblins like a force of nature. She kicked, punched, swung her club¡ªbreaking bones, caving in skulls, laughing all the while. The Hobwitch kept hurling vials at her, but Mirai¡¯s luck let her swat them aside just in time. When she couldn¡¯t parry, she¡¯d throw a goblin into the projectile¡¯s path, sabotaging the attack entirely. Fine. If I can¡¯t be unseen¡­ I¡¯ll make her blind instead. I exhaled and tapped into the Second Perspective. It wasn¡¯t something I could use reliably. Not yet. But when my luck was high, when the pressure was real, I could slip into it for a few seconds. A feeling washed over me¡ªa shift, like stepping into someone else¡¯s skin. Suddenly, I wasn¡¯t just me anymore. I could feel what the Hobwitch was feeling. The anticipation of her next move, the nervous twitch of her fingers before she grabbed another vial. I wasn¡¯t reading her mind¡ªjust feeling her. And that was enough. I sharpened the focus. Pushed harder. What if I could make her ESP turn against her? What if I could make her stop perceiving anything at all? Sensory Blackout. I felt something click. The Hobwitch stiffened. Her smug grin twitched into confusion. She couldn¡¯t see me. No¡ªshe couldn¡¯t see anything. Her breath hitched, her fingers flexing wildly as she groped at the air. She staggered, her goblin minions noticing her hesitation. It worked. It actually worked. ¡°More,¡± I muttered more to myself than anyone else. ¡°I could do more.¡± Mirai¡¯s voice cut through the chaos. ¡°What¡¯s taking you so long?! I don¡¯t have infinite luck!¡± I gritted my teeth. She wasn¡¯t wrong. My focus was stretched thin, and my body was running on fumes. But this wasn¡¯t just about speed¡ªit was about precision. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± I muttered. ¡°This takes a lot of my concentration¡­¡± I inhaled deeply and summoned every bit of mental training drilled into me by Mom. The patience. The control. The ability to shut out everything except my target. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I raised my hands, forming a rectangle with my fingers as if framing the Hobwitch into a picture¡­ or, in this case, a portrait. I locked her in. ¡°Gotcha.¡± Then I pushed. Nth Person activated, pulling me into Second Perspective. The world twisted slightly, my consciousness shifting until I wasn¡¯t just observing the Hobwitch¡ªI was inside her perspective. I could feel her instincts screaming, her subconscious trying to fight back. But I had a foothold. I clenched my fists. Her body stopped moving. No more vial-throwing. No more cackling. No more twitching fingers. She was trapped in her own mind¡ªher motor functions completely shut down. A deep breath. Hold it. Maintain it. Don¡¯t let go. ¡°MIRAI! GO FOR THE HOBWITCH!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Mirai barely had time to process what I said, but her body moved before her brain caught up. She reacted. With the opening I created, she decimated the goblins blocking her way. Her club swung like a sledgehammer, splintering bones, crushing skulls, sending bodies flying. The luck on her side ensured her swings hit harder, landed cleaner, and avoided getting tangled in the mess. The goblins that weren¡¯t immediately smashed into paste turned their attention to me. Some of them broke through my psychic invisibility. Their beady eyes locked onto me, their instincts overpowering my suppression. Shit. I couldn¡¯t drop my hold on the Hobwitch¡ªnot yet. Mirai reached her target. Her club cracked through the Hobwitch¡¯s skull in one brutal swing. That was my cue. I let go of Second Perspective just as the goblins lunged at me. Everything snapped back into place. My awareness, my movement, my control. I flicked my butterfly knife open and slaughtered the goblins in front of me. Slash. Stab. Dodge. Pivot. I felt every movement in my bones, cutting them down with efficiency. By the time I exhaled, it was over. The Hobwitch was dead. The goblins were scattered. Mirai and I stood in the carnage, catching our breath. This seriously sucked big time. Mirai groaned, rolling her shoulders as she looked around at the mess we had made. ¡°This test feels way tougher than it should be,¡± she complained. ¡°Like, come on. A Hobwitch? Seriously?¡± I wiped my butterfly knife on the ragged cloak of a dead goblin, flicked it closed, and stuffed it back into my pocket. ¡°Yeah, I have a feeling it¡¯s because we¡¯re cheating.¡± She gave me a side glance. ¡°What do you mean cheating?¡± I gestured vaguely at the cave around us, now littered with goblin corpses and bits of shattered vials. ¡°Think about it. This was supposed to be a solo test, but we¡¯re running it as a duo. While everyone else is probably struggling through this on their own, we¡¯ve been covering each other¡¯s backs the whole time. If the dungeon is reacting dynamically to us, it might be cranking up the difficulty.¡± ¡°That¡¯s so unfair,¡± Mirai frowned. ¡°Wait¡­ this is totally your fault then.¡± I gave her a dry look. ¡°You¡¯re literally using plot armor and probability manipulation to survive. And this is what you think is unfair? And F-Y-I¡­ it is not my fault you are so gullible.¡± She crossed her arms and pouted. ¡°That¡¯s different. That¡¯s just, you know, natural advantage. And I am not gullible.¡± I snorted. ¡°Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.¡± Despite the complaining, I could tell she was still riding the adrenaline rush. Her stance was loose but ready, like she was expecting another wave of enemies any second. I glanced down the single path leading forward. ¡°No point standing around. If this dungeon is scaling up to match us, then the best thing we can do is get out of here before it throws something even worse our way.¡± Mirai sighed dramatically. ¡°Fine, fine. Lead the way, whitey.¡± I rolled my eyes and started walking, my senses on high alert. This was far from over. The fresh air hit me like a slap to the face as Mirai and I stepped out of the dungeon. The cool night breeze carried the scent of damp earth and grass, a stark contrast to the blood and burnt chemicals we had been breathing inside. My shoulders finally loosened, though exhaustion clung to my limbs like dead weight. Waiting for us, leaning casually against a boulder, was none other than Master Reina. ¡°Lookie, lookie. Who do we have here?¡± she drawled, spinning a combat baton between her fingers. Mirai wiped the sweat off her forehead. ¡°The others¡­ aren¡¯t here yet¡­¡± she panted, catching her breath. Her expression brightened. ¡°Did we get first place?¡± That would make sense, right? We had pushed through nonstop, barely pausing, and I hadn¡¯t sensed anyone ahead of us. Master Reina smiled. That was the first red flag. And then¡ª WHACK! A sharp pain thudded against my skull as her hand came down in a karate chop. Mirai yelped beside me, holding her own head after receiving the same treatment. ¡°Nope!¡± Master Reina said cheerfully. ¡°The two of you were dead last!¡± I blinked. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± Mirai looked just as dumbfounded. ¡°What? But that doesn¡¯t make sense! We fought so hard¡ª¡± ¡°And the others?¡± I cut in, rubbing my sore head. ¡°Where are they?¡± Master Reina pointed a thumb over her shoulder. ¡°Sent ¡®em home already, of course.¡± Mirai¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Then why are we still here?!¡± Master Reina grinned, cracking her knuckles. ¡°Because I have something special planned for you two.¡± My body tensed. I had a bad feeling about this. ¡°How about a punishment?¡± Mirai recoiled. ¡°Punishment?! Why are we even being punished?!¡± I¡¯d like to argue too, but I remembered something important¡ªthis woman was probably just as insane as Mom. Master Reina folded her arms. ¡°Oh? You guys don¡¯t want a reward? Of course, I''ll only give you the reward if you accept the punishment!¡± Mirai and I exchanged wary glances. ¡°A¡­ reward?¡± I asked slowly. ¡°Yep! After all, the two of you beat a Hobwitch by yourselves! Meanwhile, everyone else needed my help to deal with theirs. That¡¯s a pretty big achievement, kiddos.¡± That caught me off guard. Wait. Hold on. Did that mean¡ª ¡°Wait, there was more than one Hobwitch?!¡± Mirai exclaimed. Master Reina winked. ¡°Dungeons shift and balance themselves, y¡¯know. It¡¯s not like I threw every group against a Hobwitch, but~¡±¡ªshe shrugged¡ª¡°some of ¡®em got lucky.¡± Mirai groaned. ¡°Unbelievable¡­¡± It all made sense now. The dungeon had been scaling up against us, treating us as one unit instead of two separate students. It wasn¡¯t just that we had been fighting together¡ªit was that the dungeon knew we were pushing beyond what a solo student should be capable of. And because of that, we got the worst possible outcome. Which meant¡­ ¡°This was a test within a test,¡± I muttered under my breath. Master Reina¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Maybe.¡± I sighed. ¡°So, what¡¯s this ¡®reward¡¯?¡± She cracked her knuckles. ¡°Give me a hundred laps around the training field.¡± Mirai made a strangled noise. ¡°A hundred?!¡± ¡°Hey, you wanted first place, right?¡± Master Reina smirked. ¡°You two got something better¡ªpersonalized training. Now, hop to it! Your classmates might be sleeping, but you two? You get to build character! This is a punishment and a reward in one! That¡¯s like a buy-one-take-one deal!¡± No! That wasn¡¯t how buy-one-take-one worked! Mirai groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. I just sighed in resignation. I really hoped Mom had written something about this in my journal¡­ but clearly, she hadn¡¯t and didn¡¯t. Life wasn¡¯t so easy I could have cheat sheets just about everything. 023 Night Shift Hustle - Part 1 - Mirai’s POV 023 Night Shift Hustle - Part 1 - Mirai¡¯s POV School was tough. Not tough enough to stop me from making money, though. The past few days had been hectic¡ªtests, training, stupid punishments from Master Reina. But I was settling into a routine. Wake up, survive school, endure training, avoid getting scammed by Mark, then head to work. Because, unlike certain white-haired freeloaders, I actually had a job. The automatic doors slid open with a chime as I stepped into the convenience store, the cool air brushing against my skin. The scent of instant noodles, cheap coffee, and disinfectant filled my nose¡ªfamiliar, almost comforting in a way. I adjusted the cap of my uniform and strode inside. ¡°Good evening, Matt.¡± Behind the counter, Matt barely looked up from his phone. His uniform was wrinkled, his eyes half-lidded with boredom. ¡°You¡¯re two minutes early. Who are you, and what have you done with Mirai?¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m turning over a new leaf.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Matt snorted. ¡°You¡¯re either up to something, or you need the extra time to raid the expired snacks bin.¡± I gasped. ¡°I would never¡ª¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°¡­Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°Maybe.¡± ¡°Figured.¡± He yawned, stretching before shoving his phone into his pocket. ¡°Anyway, my shift¡¯s over. You know the drill. Try not to let the drunks knock over the ramen display again.¡± ¡°No promises.¡± Matt waved me off and headed out the door, leaving me alone with the gentle hum of the refrigerators and the flickering fluorescent lights. I took my place behind the counter, resting my elbows against it. The night shift was usually quiet, aside from the occasional late-night shoppers or weirdos who wandered in. The pay wasn¡¯t great. But money was money. And money meant independence. I had plans¡ªbig plans. ESPer Academy was a means to an end, not just some elite school to show off my skills. I needed funds. Connections. And most of all, leverage. I wasn¡¯t just going to graduate. I was going to win. I drummed my fingers against the counter, my mind already drifting to the next step in my grand plan. But for now, I had a shift to finish. The convenience store wasn¡¯t exactly the most exciting place to work, but at least it was predictable. Clock in, deal with customers, restock shelves, pretend to be busy when the manager walked by¡ªsame routine every night. Which is why I noticed immediately when something was off. Matt was humming. Not just humming¡ªsinging under his breath while refilling the ice cream fridge. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Someone¡¯s in a good mood.¡± Matt flinched, nearly dropping a tub of vanilla. ¡°Huh?¡± I smirked, leaning against the counter. ¡°There¡¯s more pep in your step now. What changed?¡± Normally, Matt was quiet, awkward, and about as lively as the store¡¯s fluorescent lights¡ªdim and buzzing under pressure. But lately, he¡¯d been throwing out quips, making comebacks, and now this? It was weird. Matt scratched the back of his neck. ¡°Uuuh¡­ nothing¡­¡± I folded my arms. ¡°Oh, come on. Spill.¡± He hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Maybe¡­ because it¡¯s my last day?¡± I blinked. ¡°Wait. What?¡± He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. ¡°Yeah. I put in my notice a while ago. This is my last shift.¡± I frowned. ¡°Since when?¡± ¡°A couple weeks ago?¡± He winced. ¡°Sorry. Thought you knew.¡± I did not know. The store always had two people on shift, which meant someone had to be replacing him. ¡°Who¡¯s your replacement then?¡± I asked. Matt sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ sorry.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t know? Shouldn¡¯t management have told you? Wait, do we have a ¡®management¡¯ or maybe an ¡®HR¡¯ or stuff?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Probably, but I didn¡¯t ask.¡± He shut the ice cream fridge and straightened up. ¡°All I know is that this is the last time I have to wear this stupid hat.¡± He flicked the brim of his uniform cap, looking way too smug about it. I leaned on the counter, processing the news. It wasn¡¯t like I was close to Matt or anything, but we¡¯d been working together for a while now. His awkward presence had become part of the routine. ¡°So, what¡¯s next for you?¡± I asked. ¡°New job? Winning the lottery? Becoming a full-time ice cream fridge stocker at a fancier store?¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Matt snorted. ¡°Nah. I can¡¯t tell.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Huh? Won¡¯t or can¡¯t?¡± ¡°Family business,¡± he clarified. ¡°Huh.¡± I nodded. ¡°Guess that explains the good mood.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he admitted. ¡°Kinda nice knowing I won¡¯t have to deal with weirdos at 3 AM anymore.¡± I scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s the best part of the job.¡± Matt rolled his eyes. ¡°You say that now. Wait till some guy tries to pay for cigarettes with Monopoly money again.¡± I snorted. ¡°Okay, fair.¡± The bell at the front chimed as a customer walked in, ending our conversation. Matt glanced at the clock. ¡°Welp. One more hour, then I¡¯m free.¡± I watched as he grabbed a mop and started cleaning up an imaginary mess just to kill time. Something about the whole thing felt weird. Matt leaving meant change. And change? I wasn¡¯t sure if I liked that. The convenience store smelled like burnt coffee and artificial lemon cleaner¡ªan odd mix that had somehow become familiar over the past few days. My hands worked on autopilot as I refilled the coffee machine, tapping the buttons to start a fresh brew. I was just about done when the store¡¯s bell chimed. I turned my head and immediately frowned. Karl. Just my luck. He strolled in like he owned the place, hands stuffed into his pockets, wearing that smug expression I wanted to slap right off his face. I sighed, straightening up. ¡°What do you want?¡± Karl raised an eyebrow, pretending to look innocent. ¡°That¡¯s a cold welcome.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t here to pick a fight.¡± Karl smirked. ¡°Me? Never.¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°And no, you can¡¯t have beer.¡± He clicked his tongue, making a show of looking around. ¡°Wow. Can¡¯t even browse in peace? What kind of customer service is this?¡± ¡°The kind that knows you¡¯re full of crap,¡± I muttered, watching as he wandered toward the fridge section anyway. Karl wasn¡¯t exactly a regular, but he showed up often enough to be a headache. Most of the time, he was just annoying, lurking around, making snide comments. Other times, he pushed his luck¡ªtrying to sneak drinks past the register, harassing customers, and generally being a pain. Tonight, he seemed to be in a mood. He grabbed a can of energy drink and spun it in his hands. ¡°Relax. I¡¯m not here to cause trouble.¡± ¡°That¡¯d be a first.¡± Karl chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way to the counter. He placed the can down and leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. ¡°You always this hostile, or am I special?¡± ¡°You¡¯re special, alright,¡± I muttered, scanning the drink. Karl just grinned. ¡°You wound me.¡± I ignored him and told him the total. He tossed some cash on the counter, then lingered, cracking open the can and taking a sip. For a moment, he just stood there, watching me like he was waiting for something. I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What?¡± Karl tilted his head. ¡°You always work nights?¡± I stiffened slightly. The question seemed too casual, like he was fishing for information. ¡°Why?¡± I asked. He smirked. ¡°Just curious.¡± I didn¡¯t like that answer. Before I could say anything else, the bell chimed again, and another customer walked in. Karl took that as his cue to leave, flashing me a lazy salute before heading out the door. Karl Brandt. Pyrokinetic. Anger issues. And last time I checked, currently ranked third in our class. Elena was second. No surprise there. But Ron? He was unexpectedly first. That part still baffled me. Meanwhile, Mark and I were comfortably stuck at the bottom. For reasons. Not that I cared. Rankings were just numbers, and numbers didn¡¯t pay the bills. I was still mulling over Karl¡¯s visit when Matt spoke up from the counter. ¡°Oh, my replacement¡¯s here.¡± I turned, expecting some random new hire. Instead, walking in with a ratty hoodie and a dumb grin was¡ª ¡°Heyo~!¡± What the fuck? Mark. Mark Valentine. I stared at him like he was an anomaly, which¡ªlet¡¯s be real¡ªhe was. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a rich kid?¡± Mark wiggled his fingers in a vague who-knows gesture. ¡°Hey, I can be poor too while being rich.¡± I squinted at him. ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Doesn¡¯t have to.¡± Jackass. I wasn¡¯t sure what annoyed me more¡ªthe fact that he got a job here or the fact that he was standing in front of me with that smug expression like he was enjoying my reaction. Was he stalking me? I folded my arms. ¡°Why are you here?¡± Mark placed a hand on his chest, looking offended. ¡°I needed a job. Is that so hard to believe?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Matt excused himself to change out of his uniform, leaving me alone with Mark. Which would¡¯ve been fine, except Mark just stood there. Staring at me. Like. Just. Staring. I shifted uncomfortably. ¡°W-what? You¡¯re making me nervous.¡± Mark smirked. ¡°You look cute, by the way.¡± I scoffed. Heh~ Cute. Nice try. I had long since grown immune to his dumb flirting attempts. He was shameless, but that wasn¡¯t news to me. What was news was that he somehow thought getting a minimum-wage job here was a good idea. I watched him carefully. I¡¯d always known him as a psycho, but this guy really had a screw loose. What was his angle? Was he really just here to work? Before I could interrogate him, Matt walked back out, now in his casual clothes. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m out. Mirai, take care of the noob for me.¡± Then, to my absolute horror, he and Mark exchanged a fist bump. What the hell? Since when did these two become bros? Mark noticed my confusion and smirked again. ¡°What? You think I don¡¯t make friends?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Matt laughed, throwing his bag over his shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s alright. Anyway, later!¡± And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone with Mark. I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was going to be an even longer night than I thought. Sure, me and Mark made an unstoppable team during tag matches. We were an absolute horror to deal with¡ªour classmates even called us a super duo. And yeah, we exchanged dumb jokes like we weren¡¯t at each other¡¯s throats half the time. We also went home together. And, fine, maybe I was kind of obligated to teach him how to ride a bicycle. Which, honestly, was entertainment in its own right. The guy had zero balance. Watching him struggle, wobble, and nearly eat dirt every five minutes was the best free comedy show I had ever witnessed. But this? This was new. Mark, in a convenience store uniform. Mopping the floor. And worse¡ªhe looked¡­ good doing it. I leaned against the counter, watching him work. The uniform fit him surprisingly well, and that focused look he had as he moved the mop around¡ªsheesh¡­ Wait. What was I thinking? I shook my head violently. Nope. Not going there. To distract myself, I cleared my throat and crossed my arms. ¡°So. Since when did you decide to become a minimum-wage worker?¡± Mark glanced up at me with an easygoing smile. ¡°Since I realized I needed pocket money. A man¡¯s gotta have funds, you know?¡± ¡°You¡¯re literally rich. I saw your dormhouse¡± ¡°Hey, I can be poor and rich at the same time.¡± I groaned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡± Mark just grinned. ¡°It does if you don¡¯t think about it too hard.¡± I was so going to regret this shift. Or maybe not? Meh¡­ Who knew? For someone who had probably never worked a day in his life, Mark was doing rather well. He mopped the floor without issue, restocked shelves without knocking anything over, and even handled the register with a decent level of competence. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI had underestimated him. Then he got to the shaved ice dispenser. I turned just in time to see him struggle with the syrup bottle, tipping it too far and splat¡ªa cascade of sticky red liquid splashed all over the counter. He flinched, stepping back, only to bump into the beverage dispenser. His elbow hit one of the levers, and suddenly, a steady stream of soda was spilling onto the floor. Mark froze. I froze. A solid three seconds of silence passed before he slowly turned his head towards me. "You didn¡¯t see that," he said, voice completely deadpan. I let out an exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Idiot¡­ Of course I saw it!" Mark looked between the mess he made and me, before giving an exaggerated shrug. ¡°In my defense, this job is harder than it looks.¡± I scoffed. ¡°No, you¡¯re just terrible at it.¡± ¡°Rude.¡± ¡°Truth.¡± He sighed and grabbed the mop again, muttering something about workplace hazards. I crossed my arms, watching him clean up his mess. This guy¡­ He was an absolute menace to society. And yet, somehow, I wasn¡¯t even surprised. 024 Saturday with Merrick - Part 1 - Mark’s POV 024 Saturday with Merrick ¨C Part 1 ¨C Mark¡¯s POV I woke up feeling off. Not sick¡ªjust that heavy, groggy feeling that comes from being way too tired. I never thought working part-time could be this draining. It wasn¡¯t the work itself. I¡¯d fought cryptids, survived brutal training, and faced way worse than a few hours at a convenience store. No, it was the monotony. Standing still, repeating the same actions, scanning barcodes like a robot¡ªthat¡¯s what wore me down. At least in combat, there¡¯s adrenaline. A sense of urgency. Something. I rolled out of bed with a groan and checked the time. Saturday. Professor Merrick had us on a strict schedule. No rest for the wicked, I guess. After a quick cold shower to shake off the fog, I threw on a pair of joggers, rubber shoes, and a hoodie. Simple. Comfortable. Functional. I stretched, yawned, grabbed my phone, and stepped outside. The morning air was crisp but not unpleasant. A few other students were already out¡ªsome heading for morning runs, others just loitering. I ignored them and flagged down a cab. ¡°Where to?¡± the driver asked without looking up. ¡°The Combat Zones.¡± He glanced at me through the rearview mirror¡ªprobably wondering if I was some dumb kid biting off more than I could chew¡ªbut said nothing. The car pulled away from the curb, and I settled in for the ride. The Combat Zones were massive. A towering wall surrounded the whole facility, reinforced with layers of steel and some kind of ESP-enhanced material. It wasn¡¯t just for show¡ªthis place needed that kind of security. From above, it was shaped like a hexagon, divided into different sectors for various combat scenarios. Urban warfare with narrow alleyways and abandoned buildings. Dense forests and uneven terrain. Even extreme environments¡ªdesert heat, tundra cold, deep water simulations. A playground for battle. I knew that because I¡¯m cool like that. And Mom would kill me if I skipped my assignment. The cab slowed near the entrance, where students were already gathering. I paid through my phone and stepped out, stretching to shake off the lingering drowsiness. My body still ached from last night¡¯s shift at the store. Who knew standing behind a counter could be more exhausting than fighting cryptids? I yawned. It had only been a week since classes started, but man, it was rough¡ªeven for me. Not to sound cocky, but yeah¡­ I had an ego. I could admit that. I¡¯d spent my whole life training to be a fighter, surviving in conditions most people wouldn¡¯t last a day in, and yet¡­ this school still managed to kick my ass on a daily basis. And the worst part? I wasn¡¯t even at the top. I still couldn¡¯t get over the fact that I¡¯d fought a Hobwitch last Monday. A Hobwitch. That wasn¡¯t normal for a first-year. But then again, nothing about my life was ever normal. I sighed, rolling my shoulders as I approached the entrance. Wonder what Professor Merrick had in store for us today. I flashed my ticket at the scanner. Beep. A staff member waved me toward the left hall, where students were already filing through. A lot of them were older. It made sense. The Combat Zones weren¡¯t just for first-years¡ªupperclassmen trained here all the time, refining their techniques, testing their ESP against stronger opponents, or just blowing off steam. Most of them had that sharpened look, like they¡¯d been through it all. They walked with confidence, bodies honed from constant battle. I had a long way to go. My steps echoed against the polished floor until I reached the reserved room for my class. A small scanner sat by the door. I slid my ticket under the serial number, and the door clicked open. Inside, only a few students had arrived early. I spotted Matt near the back. We exchanged a silent nod. Polite. Non-confrontational. Something Mom drilled into me as an essential social skill. So how did we become acquaintances? Well, it was thanks to Strategy No. 4: Convenience Store Clerk. So yeah, I¡¯m buddy-buddy with Matt now¡­ ¡­Though the real reason I even interacted with Matt was because I¡¯d paid him to quit his job at the convenience store. That was the essence of Strategy No. 4: the key to befriending him. Mom always said money was a tool¡ªuse it efficiently. So, when I found Mirai¡¯s work place, I immediately went to work and bribed Matt to step aside. The excuse? That I liked Mirai and wanted to work with her. Total lie, but a believable one. Yeah¡­ life was complicated. Hopefully, Matt didn¡¯t think I was some creepy stalker. Hopefully, Mirai never found out. Matt gestured to the side, drawing my attention to Mirai. She was chatting with Anna. I listened in. Cats. They were talking about cats. I liked cats. Never had one, though. Mom wouldn¡¯t let me. According to her, cats were psychopaths¡ªunpredictable little demons that would kill me in my sleep if I wasn¡¯t careful. She was completely serious about it, too. Instead, she said I could have a pet only if it was either a dog or a crocodile. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Yeah, no thanks. I wasn¡¯t about to deal with something that could maul me or drag me into a death roll. That was way too close to my childhood trauma for comfort. Mirai was still chatting with Anna, and I was debating whether to join in when¡ªbam¡ªsomeone slammed into me. I turned, already annoyed, and found myself face-to-face with Karl Brandt. Red hair. Permanent scowl. Third-ranked in our class. Pyrokinetic. Anger issues. Ugh¡­ I¡¯m already tired of this guy. He looked at me like I owed him money. I raised an eyebrow. What¡¯s his problem now? ¡°What?¡± I asked flatly. Karl stepped closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. ¡°I know your secret,¡± he whispered. My breath hitched. Just for a second. Karl smirked. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there. What the hell was that supposed to mean? I stayed in place, leaning against the wall as Karl¡¯s words echoed in my head. I know your secret. It was probably nothing. Just him being a jackass. Probably. Still, I caught myself tensing up. ¡°You look tense,¡± a voice commented. I turned my head slightly. Elena. I¡¯d barely even noticed her standing there¡ªwhich was weird. She had that same presence-dampening effect as me, but hers came from her shadow demon. Honor student. Highly skilled. Secretive. Mom had written about her in my journal. She was also the only one Karl actually seemed to respect. That said a lot. Karl would pick a fight with Roy without blinking. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let your guard down during the exam,¡± I told her. Elena scoffed, arms crossed. ¡°Cute.¡± Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mirai watching us. I glanced at her. She glanced at Elena. Elena scoffed again, then turned and walked away. I exhaled. What¡¯s with people being cryptic today? The door slammed open. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late¡ª!¡± Ron burst into the room, huffing. Mirai waved him over. ¡°Professor Merrick isn¡¯t here yet.¡± Ron sighed in relief and picked up his pace¡ªonly to trip over absolutely nothing and faceplant onto the floor. I barely had time to process his fall before I noticed something behind him. A foot. Still stretched mid-kick. It belonged to a guy with messy green hair, freckles, and a way-too-bright smile. I checked my mental notes. Moss head. Oh. Oh no. Mom¡¯s journal had way too many notes on this guy. Apparently, he was one of Mirai¡¯s supposed love interests. His name was¡ª ¡°I¡¯m Greg Green!¡± he shouted, arms wide like he was expecting applause. Ron groaned from the floor, but Greg grabbed his arm and yanked him up in one quick motion. Then, without skipping a beat, he shook Ron¡¯s hand furiously. ¡°We¡¯re friends now!¡± Ron, still dazed, blinked at him. Then Greg went down the line, shaking hands with everyone. Except me. I almost suspected him of having super speed¡ªjust from his ADHD alone. For every new student that arrived, Greg would shake their hand like a maniac. And after every handshake, he handed them¡­ a cactus. A tiny potted cactus. Where was he even keeping them? His pockets? A bag? A bottomless void of plant-based generosity? I didn¡¯t get one, though. Because I kept myself invisible at all times. More students trickled in, Greg greeting them with the same overenthusiastic handshake-and-cactus combo. The room, once quiet, grew livelier as students exchanged confused and amused glances. Then, the last student walked in. Orange hair. Black face mask. John Craig. With his arrival, I realized something. Greg hadn¡¯t been here on the first day. That meant our class actually had eighteen students, not seventeen like I originally thought. Meh¡­ Who even kept count? Master Reina and the professors, probably. ¡°Good, everyone¡¯s here.¡± I nearly jumped out of my skin. Professor Merrick was standing right beside me. How? When? My ESP practically made me a ghost in social situations, and yet he¡¯d slipped in without me noticing. A prickle of nervousness ran down my spine. Cold sweat beaded at my forehead. Mom had very few notes on this guy, which was already concerning. Instead of detailed observations, she¡¯d scrawled theories and speculation. Fan theories, she called them¡ªlike Merrick was some cryptid no one could pin down. Merrick the Magician. That was his title. An ESPer with an unknown specialization, a teaching style that bordered on theatrical, and a combat record full of victories that made no sense. And right now, he had just out-stealthed me. Such a creep¡­ Professor Merrick clasped his hands together, his sharp, almost mischievous gaze sweeping across the gathered students. His eyes lingered on a few of us before he spoke. ¡°Your¡­ Master Reina had a way of doing things.¡± His tone was light, laced with amusement¡ªbut there was an edge to it. ¡°I bet she had you spar on the very first day, watched you use your ESPs, and made her assessments in the manner she always liked to do so¡­¡± He paused for effect, then smirked. ¡°Like a brute.¡± I heard Karl scoff under his breath. Elena¡¯s lips twitched upward in mild amusement. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was because of the insult or the accuracy of the statement. Professor Merrick continued, unfazed. ¡°I, on the other hand, am different. I like my numbers.¡± He pulled a small tablet from his coat pocket and tapped on it. ¡°I¡¯ve given you tickets, gathered all of you here this Saturday, and taken a portion of your weekend because I want to study you. And the fact that none of you skipped? Commendable.¡± My eyes flicked around the room. A few students looked wary, but no one dared to complain. ¡°This is what¡¯s going to happen.¡± Merrick swiped on his tablet, and the massive screen at the front of the room flickered to life, displaying a bracket system. ¡°A tournament-style sparring match. We¡¯re going to establish a hierarchy in this class through battle.¡± Murmurs broke out immediately. A few students straightened up, eager at the idea of proving themselves. Others, like Mirai, leaned back with a sigh, already seeing through the professor¡¯s game. ¡°But!¡± Merrick raised a finger, silencing the noise. ¡°There will be points. And unlike a simple win-or-lose system, the point system I¡¯ll be using¡­¡± A sly smile crept across his face. ¡°¡­will only be known to me.¡± That shut everyone up. "Obviously," Merrick went on, pacing now, "the champion who rises from this sparring tournament will have the highest points. But that does not mean that simply winning fights will be enough." His eyes gleamed with intrigue. "How you fight, what you prioritize, and how well you adapt¡ªall of it will be taken into account." I frowned. So this wasn¡¯t just about brute force. There was a hidden criterion here. One of those tests where thinking outside the box would be just as important as actual combat ability. Great. "As a bonus," Merrick added, "I will make sure that the points you earn in this extracurricular exercise will be converted into merit points. And trust me¡­" He smiled now, sharp and knowing. "The merit points will have a lot of uses in your time at the academy. The more you have them, and the earlier you get them in your academic career, the more useful they will be." I crossed my arms. Merit points. I¡¯d read about them in my notes. They were basically currency¡ªused for everything from access to high-level training facilities to permission for off-campus activities. Some students even used them to bribe their way out of certain punishments. And Merrick was dangling them in front of us like a carrot. A tournament where the criteria were unclear, but the rewards were undeniable. Mirai sighed next to me. "Well, this is going to be a pain." She snuck up to me pretty well¡ªnot good enough, but I appreciated the effort. It was¡­ endearing. I smirked. "No pain, no gain, right?" She rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t deny it. Across the room, Karl cracked his knuckles. Elena¡¯s smirk deepened. Greg was vibrating in place like an over-caffeinated hummingbird. Matt cracked his knuckles too, probably trying to copy Karl and failing miserably. And Ron? Ron was glaring at me like I¡¯d personally insulted his bloodline. What¡¯s up with you, Ron? Since when did I have beef with you? 025 Saturday with Merrick - Part 2 - Mark’s POV 025 Saturday with Merrick - Part 2 - Mark¡¯s POV The first match was¡ªsurprisingly¡ªme against Ron. I had barely processed the announcement when Professor Merrick clapped his hands, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Alright, the rest of you, to the sidelines," he said, already herding the others away like a well-practiced shepherd. "Fighters, get on the stage." Ron and I exchanged a glance before stepping onto the elevated platform. The combat stage was made of reinforced material, its surface polished yet marked with faint scratches¡ªevidence of countless battles fought before us. I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders. Fighting Ron wasn¡¯t exactly what I had in mind for today, but I¡¯d take it. He was ranked first in the class, after all. If I beat him, maybe that would give me a ton of points. "Alright, gentlemen," Professor Merrick called out. "Get ready." I adjusted my stance, shifting into something balanced but non-committal. I wanted to see what Ron would do first. But before the fight could start, I asked, "What¡¯s your problem, man?" Ron blinked, then tilted his head slightly, as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Then, just as nonchalantly, he said, "Stay your hand out of her." I narrowed my eyes. "Who?" Ron¡¯s face was unreadable¡ªstern, unwavering. And then, just as quickly as he had said something concerning, he smiled. Like he hadn¡¯t just dropped an ominous line right before we were about to fight. My mind raced. Her? Did he mean Elena? Mirai? Someone else? Ron was a friendly guy, always a bit goofy, but something about this moment made me uneasy. He was giving me mixed signals¡ªacting all buddy-buddy one second, then turning aggressive the next. I exhaled sharply. Not my lucky day. Professor Merrick stepped between Ron and me, raising his hands to get our attention. "Alright, listen up," he said, voice carrying easily over the murmurs of the class. "Victory conditions are simple: knock your opponent out, land a decisive fatal blow¡ª" Anna let out a small gasp. Merrick ignored her. "¡ªor force them out of bounds. Surrender is always an option, though I doubt any of you are going to take it. Any questions?" Anna hesitantly raised her hand. "...Is there a guarantee we won¡¯t, you know, get hurt?" Her voice was uncharacteristically meek. This wasn¡¯t the usual sharp-tongued, no-nonsense Anna I knew. Merrick, on the other hand, looked completely unimpressed. "If you¡¯re expecting me to coddle you like Reina, then you¡¯re in for a rude awakening," he said. "Your Master handed you next-level, confidential storage rings and probably forced you all to wear her magical bracelets that prevented injuries." Okay. I take it back. All my complaints about Master Reina? Retracted. Professor Merrick? New Worst. He raised one hand. "Get ready." Ron clenched his fists, taking a low stance. I exhaled. My ESP was already active, wrapping me in an aura of forgettability. But against someone like Ron¡ªwho was fast, strong, and could nullify ESP¡ªit wouldn¡¯t be enough. Merrick swung his arm down. "Fight!" Ron had an ESP nullification ability, which meant this fight would be a contest of pure skill. That was a problem for me¡ªI thrived in misdirection, deception, and making people forget I existed. A full-on brawl? Not happening. Worse, Ron was good at hiding his real trump card: short-burst precognition. He liked to pretend it was uncontrollable, that he couldn¡¯t use it in a real fight. But I knew better. The truth? He could see three to four seconds into the future clearly. That was more than enough to be broken in single combat. So, I needed to counter that. I raised both hands, palms open, assuming a stance most would mistake for a surrender. But this was far from that. Wing Chun. Mom told me once that it was a martial art from another world, designed for quick, efficient counterattacks¡ªsuited for women, she claimed. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t use it. I might not be on Mom¡¯s level, but I knew enough. Ron, on the other hand, had a textbook-perfect stance of the Imperial Military Arts¡ªthe academy¡¯s combat foundation. His posture was solid, his fist angled at a precise ninety degrees. A perfect stance. But perfection had its weaknesses. We locked eyes. I stayed still. Calm as a cucumber, my focus honed to the max. Ron was sweating a little. Good. That meant he hadn¡¯t had a breakthrough in his ESP yet, still simulating how to beat me. If he did, I¡¯d be screwed. His precognition would break me down until I¡¯m toast. I took a deep breath, my muscles loose. Patience. I wasn¡¯t going to be the first to attack. Ron¡¯s serious expression sharpened, his muscles coiling like a spring. He was studying me, waiting, anticipating my first move. I gave him nothing. For a long, stretched-out second, it was a battle of patience. Then, finally¡ªhe relented. And attacked. Ron launched forward with perfect footwork. His right fist shot toward my ribs, a textbook feint to bait a reaction. I didn''t take the bait. Instead, I pivoted, letting the attack graze past as I twisted to his left. He followed up instantly. A short left hook¡ªfast, compact. I barely had time to lean back before his knee came up, aiming for my gut. I intercepted. My palm caught his knee just in time, redirecting the force away from my body. But Ron adapted¡ªhe used the push to pivot into a spinning elbow strike. I ducked. His elbow whizzed past my head. I used the opening to slip inside his guard, aiming a quick palm strike at his sternum. Blocked. Ron slammed my arm away and countered with a jab. I tilted my head to the side just in time, but the attack clipped my cheek. My skin stung. I had no time to recover. Ron pressed forward, his strikes coming faster now. A straight punch. A low kick. A backhand strike. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I blocked the punch. Sidestepped the kick. Parried the backhand. He was fast. Precise. Almost unreadable. But not quite. His precognition was undoubtedly working. I could see it in how he adjusted¡ªhow his body reacted just a little too fast to my movements. If I kept going like this, I¡¯d eventually lose. I needed a breakthrough. Think. Ron¡¯s nullification ability made ESP powers useless in direct combat. But what if I used my ESP on itself? ESP directed against my ESP? If Ron couldn''t perceive my ESP for even a microsecond¡­ that would be my opening. I felt my ESP click¡ªthe sensation of shifting between existence and obscurity. I vanished. Not literally. Not like teleportation. But for Ron, for the way his ESP interacted with me¡ªjust for a moment, I ceased to exist in his senses. And then I reappeared at his flank. Ron¡¯s body stiffened, but he was a fraction of a second too late. I struck. A solid hit to his throat¡ªenough to disrupt his breathing. A follow-up strike to his jaw¡ªrattling his focus. And then, with one final push, I sent him flying off the stage. He landed with a heavy thud. Professor Merrick raised his hand. ¡°Victory: Mark Valentine.¡± I exhaled, my body slick with sweat. My pulse pounded in my ears. That¡­ had been close. I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders as I stepped back. My body still buzzed with the aftershocks of the fight, but my mind was already analyzing it. When it came to ESP mastery, I had the edge. But I had no delusions that Ron wouldn¡¯t catch up to me soon. He wasn¡¯t the type to accept defeat easily. Give him time, and he¡¯d figure out a counter for what I did today. Admittedly, Wing Chun hadn¡¯t been my best card¡ªjust the most fitting one for this clash. If I had gone all out with mixed martial arts, the fight could have gone a completely different way. But against someone like Ron, who had both experience and a strategic mind, a direct approach was too risky. I had to outmaneuver him instead of overpowering him. Still, I had the feeling this wouldn¡¯t be our last match. Professor Merrick stepped between us, separating me from Ron before I could see his expression. With a casual wave of his hand, he turned toward the rest of the class. "Next fighters, step forward." I took that as my cue to walk away. Ron stayed kneeling on the ground for a few seconds before picking himself up. He wasn¡¯t looking at me¡ªhe was just staring at the spot where I had hit him last. Yeah¡­ He¡¯s definitely going to have a counter next time. I exhaled and turned my focus elsewhere. Mirai was already stepping up to the stage. Her opponent? Anna. Amd then¡­ Mirai¡¯s fight ended before it even began. Anna barely had time to react before Mirai closed the gap and clocked her. Two, maybe three moves, and it was over. Damn. If I hadn¡¯t known how her ESP worked, I would¡¯ve chalked it up to sheer speed and precision. But this was just how Mirai fought. Her luck guided her, her instincts sharpened by an unseen force, making her movements feel inevitable. Even with all the training I had, even with everything I had studied, I wouldn¡¯t want to fight her seriously unless I had a plan. Anna lay sprawled on the stage, dazed. Professor Merrick sighed, shaking his head. "Winner, Mirai." Mirai grinned, offering Anna a hand. Anna took it, still looking a little disoriented, and dusted herself off. The crowd barely reacted¡ªmost had expected it. The next matches, though? They had more fanfare. Karl Brandt fought against Hannah Maine, a geokinetic. On paper, this should¡¯ve been an absolute disaster for Karl. Fire versus earth? Bad matchup. But somehow, he still pulled a win. He fought like a brawler, staying aggressive and keeping Hannah from using her terrain advantage effectively. In the end, he barely edged out a victory, but a win was a win. Then there was John Craig versus Tom Wick. I barely have any notes about them. John Craig? Tom Wick? Who the hell even were these guys? Tom Wick was an aerokinetic, which gave him an insane mobility advantage. Theoretically, he should¡¯ve been untouchable. And yet, John won. John¡¯s ESP, Copycat was rather powerful and with a tactical mind, he had proven himself more than powerful enough. I sighed and leaned back against the wall, watching as more matches played out. Alright, fine. Maybe I should stop thinking of them as side characters like Mom had advertised. Mom¡¯s notes had been useful, sure, but they weren¡¯t gospel. She had referred to them as background characters in Mirai¡¯s story, people barely worth mentioning. But right now, standing here, watching them fight¡ªI knew better. This wasn¡¯t just Mirai¡¯s story. I took a deep breath and started memorizing. The more data, the better. There were eighteen of us, which meant nine matches in total. After Mirai''s quick win and the surprising victories from Karl and John, I expected the rest of the fights to go about as predicted. But then Matt stepped up against Peter Mosley, the cryokinetic, and lost. I hadn¡¯t expected that. Matt was competent¡ªtough, experienced, and smart. Moreover, to borrow Mom¡¯s words, Matt was a ¡®named¡¯ character. Still, Peter was pretty strong. Peter¡¯s ice wasn¡¯t just ice. His ESP had an almost liquid adaptability to it, flowing from defensive barriers to offensive spikes in an instant. Matt never got a proper opening, and by the time he tried to brute-force his way through, Peter had already frozen the arena beneath his feet. One misstep, and it was over. Matt hit the ground hard, skidding on a layer of frost. Professor Merrick sighed, raising a hand. "Winner: Peter Mosley." Matt groaned, sitting up with a grimace. I caught his eye, and he gave a weak shrug. Yeah, yeah, you lost. It happens. But I could tell it stung. Elena¡¯s fight was up next. She was up against a girl named Lola Hendricks, a partial shapeshifter. Partial meant she couldn¡¯t go full-on animal mode, but she could morph specific body parts¡ªclaws, fangs, longer limbs. Pretty versatile, but not enough against Elena. Elena fought like a phantom, slipping in and out of sight, her ESP blending her presence with the shadows. Lola tried to adapt, shifting her arms into elongated claws, but she never even got the chance to land a proper hit. It ended when Elena reappeared behind her and delivered a clean knockout blow. "Winner: Elena," Merrick announced. Lola groaned, rubbing her head, while Elena scoffed and walked off like it wasn¡¯t even worth her time. Greg was next. I had barely recovered from his whole bug-catching introduction fiasco before he was already bounding onto the stage like an overexcited puppy. Yep, this guy got Ron beat in the puppy energy. His opponent was Gina Morse, whose ESP was¡­ weird. Some kind of invisible, energy-like adhesive. At first, Greg seemed to be winning through sheer unpredictability. He was fast, erratic, and just everywhere at once. But then he stuck. Literally. Gina¡¯s ESP worked like an unseen glue. The moment Greg landed a hit, he suddenly found his arms stuck to her shoulder. And when he tried to move, he realized his legs were stuck to the ground. ¡°Uh.¡± Greg blinked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ unfortunate.¡± Gina smirked. ¡°Yeah.¡± She pushed him over. He tipped, still stuck to the floor, and fell flat on his face. "Winner: Gina Morse," Merrick declared. Greg muffled something into the floor before Gina finally released him. Next up: Fiona Core versus Clint Stone. Fiona had some kind of gravity ESP that allowed her to control her weight, while Clint had reinforced durability. Heavy versus unbreakable. At first, Clint seemed to have the upper hand. No matter how hard Fiona tried to knock him down, he just wouldn¡¯t budge. Every strike glanced off him like it was nothing. Then she switched tactics. Instead of hitting him, she made Clint so heavy that he couldn''t counterattack properly. His punches slowed, his dodges became sluggish. And then, when he was completely off-balance¡ªFiona made herself light as a feather and slipped past his guard. One well-placed hit to the jaw, and it was over. ¡°Winner: Fiona Core.¡± I let out a low whistle. She was smart. That was good to know. Finally, the last match of the round: Iris Touch versus Sarah Finlay. Iris had teleportation. Sarah had super speed. It was an absolute blur of a match. Sarah darted across the stage in rapid bursts, while Iris blinked from one spot to another. It was a contest of reaction time and prediction. Whoever mistimed their movement first would lose. Sarah made the mistake. She launched forward for a finishing blow¡ªonly for Iris to vanish at the last second and reappear right behind her. A well-timed chop to the back of the neck. Sarah collapsed mid-sprint. "Winner: Iris Touch." And with that, the first round was over. The last match had barely ended when Professor Merrick clapped his hands together. ¡°Alright, pay attention.¡± His voice cut through the murmurs of the class, bringing everyone¡¯s focus back to the stage. He hadn¡¯t moved from his spot, standing in the center like he owned the place. Which, in a way, he did. ¡°If any of you thought this was just about showing off your ESPs,¡± he continued, scanning the students, ¡°then you¡¯ve already lost the point of this exercise.¡± Some of the students stiffened, and I saw a few defeated ones lower their heads. Matt, in particular, still looked frustrated over his loss, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Merrick went on, ¡°My subject, Tactics & Theory, is not about the raw strength of your ESP. That¡¯s Master Reina¡¯s field in ESP Theory & Application. She makes you stronger.¡± His lips curled into a smirk. ¡°I make you smarter.¡± I felt a slight chill at the way he said that. ¡°If Master Reina is focused on refining your abilities, then I am focused on the fight itself. Victory conditions, strategic play, deception, reading your opponents. How you win a fight is just as important¡ªif not more¡ªthan how strong you are.¡± He tapped his temple. ¡°Use your brains, not just your powers.¡± I resisted the urge to scoff. As if I didn¡¯t already know that. ¡°Now,¡± Merrick continued, glancing at the ones who had lost. ¡°For those of you who were eliminated early¡ªdon¡¯t think your performance today is the end of it. You will remain here and watch the rest of the matches. I expect you to take notes and analyze everything that happens from now on.¡± His tone darkened. ¡°Because I will be asking for an essay from each of you. You will break down your own fight¡ªwhat you did right, what you did wrong, and what you would do differently next time.¡± Some students groaned, while others tensed. Merrick smirked at their reactions. ¡°If you lost early, this is your chance to make up for it. A well-written, well-thought-out analysis will affect your standing in this class. Impress me, and you¡¯ll find that a loss today doesn¡¯t necessarily mean a loss tomorrow.¡± I saw Matt¡¯s eyes narrow, considering that. So was John. Even Anna, who had been quiet since her match against Mirai, seemed to be deep in thought. Merrick crossed his arms. ¡°That¡¯s all I have to say for now. The next round will begin shortly. If you¡¯ve won your match¡ªbe prepared. If you lost¡ªstart thinking.¡± An essay, huh? Fine. I already analyzed my own fights in my head anyway. Writing it down wouldn¡¯t be too hard. But more importantly¡ªI had more matches to watch. More data to collect. 026 Saturday with Merrick - Part 3 - Mirai’s POV 026 Saturday with Merrick - Part 3 - Mirai¡¯s POV Professor Merrick¡¯s voice echoed through the training hall. "That concludes this round. One hour recess. Return on time." I exhaled sharply, brushing strands of hair away from my face. My heart was still pounding from the last match ¡ª the adrenaline hadn¡¯t worn off yet. Sweat clung to my skin, the sting of battle fresh in my limbs. But none of that mattered right now. Anna. I spotted her sitting on the bench at the edge of the training hall, her head lowered, rubbing her jaw. My gut twisted. Without a second thought, I rushed toward her. "Anna!" I called out, skidding to a stop in front of her. My breath was still ragged from the fight, but I forced myself to focus. "Hey¡ªare you okay?" Anna¡¯s head lifted slightly. Her short, blue hair stuck to her forehead, her eyes half-lidded but still sharp. There was a faint bruise forming on her jawline ¡ª the exact spot where my kick had landed. "Yeah," she said, her voice steady but her mouth twisting in mild irritation. "I''ll live." I winced. "I¡­ I¡¯m really sorry about that." I rubbed the back of my neck, my gaze dropping to the floor. "I didn¡¯t mean to hit you that hard." Anna¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly before softening. She stretched her jaw with a grimace. "Don¡¯t apologize. It¡¯s a sparring match. You were supposed to hit me." "Yeah, but¡ª" "But nothing." Anna¡¯s gaze sharpened. "I should¡¯ve blocked it." My mouth opened, then closed. I didn¡¯t know how to respond to that. Anna stood, rolling her shoulder. "Besides¡­" She met my gaze with a small, sharp smile. "Next time, I won¡¯t lose." A small chill ran down my spine at the intensity in her eyes. The competitive spark I¡¯d always admired ¡ª and sometimes feared ¡ª was still burning strong despite the bruise. "I¡¯ll hold you to that," I said, managing a small smile of my own. Anna¡¯s smile widened. "Good." Mark walked toward us, looking bored. Ron followed right behind him, a sharp contrast to Mark¡¯s stoicism. His smile was wide and a little too bright to be natural. His eyes, however, had that glint ¡ª the one that usually meant trouble. The air between them practically crackled with tension. I sighed and stepped between them before whatever silent war they were fighting could escalate into something worse. "Alright, enough of that." I crossed my arms, looking between them. "You two need to stop acting so childish." Ron¡¯s smile twitched, but Mark¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. Anna, still sitting nearby, raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Mirai," she said, her tone light and playful. "Did you just try to play peacekeeper? Between two guys? Are you sure you¡¯re not secretly trying to set them up?" My face burned. "What¡ªNo!" I spun toward her, scowling. "Get your mind out of the gutter!" Anna laughed, leaning back on her hands. "Just saying. Enemies to lovers is a pretty classic trope." I groaned. "Anna." She grinned. "Relax, I¡¯m kidding." I turned back to Mark and Ron, my scowl deepening. "Anyway," I said, "Ron, stop acting like a sore loser. Mark beat you fair and square." Ron¡¯s smile stiffened. "Sore loser?" He pressed a hand to his chest as if I¡¯d wounded him. "I¡¯m not a sore loser." "Seriously?" I deadpanned. ¡°It was pretty intense, ya know? Tried to egg him and everything?¡± Ron¡¯s hand dropped. "¡­Okay, maybe a little sore." "More than a little," Mark said flatly. Ron¡¯s smile sharpened. "Oh, lighten up, Mark. It¡¯s called bonding." Mark¡¯s brow twitched. Ron¡¯s smile widened, the tension in his shoulders suddenly easing. His usual golden retriever energy returned, practically radiating from him like sunlight. He threw an arm around Mark¡¯s shoulders ¡ª or tried to. Mark sidestepped it with practiced ease. "See?" Ron said, grinning. "Me and Mark are basically best friends now." Mark¡¯s gaze slid toward him, unimpressed. "Don¡¯t push it." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. "But you¡¯re not denying it," Ron teased. Mark¡¯s eye twitched. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You¡¯re impossible." Ron beamed. "That¡¯s why you love me." "That¡¯s a strong word," I muttered. Mark shook his head, but I didn¡¯t miss the way his mouth twitched ¡ª just slightly ¡ª at the corner. A half-smile. Almost. Progress. "Hey," Mark said, hands stuffed in his pockets, his tone as casual as ever. "I¡¯m going to grab some snacks and drinks. My treat. What do you guys want?" Anna, Ron, and I all turned to look at him. "Wait," I said slowly. "Are you¡­ sure about that?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why?" I hesitated. "Well¡­ you were just working at a convenience store recently, right? Weren¡¯t you¡­ saving up?" Mark blinked, then shrugged. "It¡¯s fine. My mom¡¯s rich." I stared at him. "¡­Seriously? Why work in the convenience store then?" "Yeah." His expression was completely matter-of-fact, like this was common knowledge. "It¡¯s just a small errand." Did he just deflect my question about the convenience store? Not cool¡­ Anna snorted. "Aw, is Mark a momma¡¯s boy?" Mark¡¯s brow twitched. "It¡¯s not like that." "Sure, sure," Anna said, grinning. "Keep telling yourself that." Mark ignored her. "So¡­ energy drink for you, Mirai?" "Yeah," I said, still processing the whole ¡®my mom¡¯s rich¡¯ thing. Anna leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. "I¡¯ll take popcorn and a chocolate drink." Ron perked up, clapping his hands together. "Oh! Let me help. I¡¯ll grab some stuff too." He grinned, golden retriever energy kicking into full force. "Might as well treat everyone while we¡¯re at it. No worries, my mom¡¯s rich too. And my dad too." It wasn¡¯t even a competition. Mark¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. "I said it¡¯s my treat." Ron waved him off. "Nah, nah, it¡¯s fine. I insist." He looked over at the other classmates sitting around the training hall. "Hey! Anyone else want something?" A bunch of heads immediately turned toward him. "Chips!" "Soda!" "Jerky!" "Candy!" "Ice cream¡ªif they have it!" Ron grinned. "Got it!" Mark sighed. "I don¡¯t mind the help, but¡­" "Great!" Ron clapped him on the back. "Team effort!" Mark just sighed again. "Fine. Could use the extra hands, I guess." Twenty minutes later, Mark walked back into the training hall ¡ª alone. And absolutely loaded with snacks and drinks. A large plastic bag hung from each hand, and another was looped around his arm. A bottle of soda rolled precariously on top of the pile. Mark¡¯s expression was a perfect storm of mild annoyance and exhaustion. "What happened to Ron?" I asked, standing up. Mark dumped the bags on the floor with a heavy thud. "He ditched me." Anna laughed, clapping her hands. "No way. Did Ron seriously make you carry all of that yourself?" "And pay for it," Mark muttered. He shot a look toward the cluster of classmates already helping themselves to the haul. "This was supposed to be my treat. I¡¯m gonna kill him the next time I see him." Anna was practically in tears now. "Wow. Ron really out-stealthed you, huh?" Mark frowned. "That¡¯s not¡ª" "I mean," Anna cut in, still laughing, "you¡¯ve got the whole calculating, strategic thing down. How did you not see that coming?" Mark¡¯s mouth tightened as he started handing out the snacks. "It¡¯s not like this was a battle." Anna wiped at her eyes. "Yeah, but it kind of was." "Not helping." "Totally helping." I bent down and grabbed my energy drink from one of the bags. "Thanks, Mark." Anna reached over and grabbed her popcorn and chocolate drink, still grinning. "Appreciate it." Mark sighed. "You¡¯re welcome." "Hey, look at the bright side," Anna said, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "At least you got some merit points for generosity." Mark handed out the last drink, his expression flat. "Do you really think Merrick¡¯s going to reward me for getting played?" Anna smiled. "Nope. But we appreciate it." Mark sat down beside me with a quiet grumble, resting his arms on his knees. I took a sip of my drink, feeling the carbonation sting my throat. "Seriously, though," Anna said, leaning toward him with a teasing smirk. "Momma¡¯s boy and outplayed by Ron? Tough day for you, Mark." Mark¡¯s jaw tightened. "Next time, I¡¯m making him carry the bags." Anna popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. "Sure you are." ¡°At least I won my fight,¡± added Mark. That got Anna to shut up. I watched as Mark handed out the last of the drinks and snacks, his expression settling back into that calm, neutral state he always wore. Then it hit me. "You didn¡¯t get anything for yourself?" I asked, tilting my head toward him. Mark blinked. "Hm?" "You went out and bought all of this stuff, but you didn¡¯t even get a drink or a snack for yourself." Mark shrugged. "I had something before I left." That¡­ didn¡¯t feel right. I narrowed my eyes at him. My ESP wasn¡¯t anything combat-focused ¡ª nothing flashy like pyrokinesis or shadow manipulation ¡ª but lately, I¡¯d been working on a new application of it. Heroine¡¯s Heart: Eloquence. Speaking through the heart with the power of luck. That was Eloquence. It was supposed to help me sense emotions ¡ª subtle shifts in tone, micro-expressions, hidden intent. Basically¡­ a lie detector. I reached out with my ESP, focusing on Mark¡¯s presence. His outward calm didn¡¯t change, but beneath the surface¡­ there it was. A flicker of hesitation. Slight tension at the corner of his mouth. He was lying. I frowned. "Here." I held out my half-filled energy drink. Mark¡¯s brow furrowed. "What?" "Drink." "You already had some." "And?" I pushed the can toward him. "Just take it." Mark hesitated for a second longer, then sighed. "Alright." He took the can from my hand and lifted it to his lips. "I appreciate it." He drank. And that¡¯s when Anna¡¯s smile sharpened. "Aw, isn¡¯t that sweet?" she said, her tone dripping with mischief. "Indirect kiss?" I shot her a look. "Don¡¯t start." Anna grinned. "Too late." But surprisingly, I didn¡¯t feel flustered. Maybe it was because of that whole rooftop incident during the entrance exam ¡ª that awkward moment between us after Mark had practically carried me up there, both of us too winded and embarrassed to say anything¡­ except throw jokes around. This was nothing compared to that. Mark was still drinking when Anna added, "Hey, Mirai, if you really wanted to kiss him, you could¡¯ve just said so." Mark¡¯s eyes widened. He choked mid-sip. "What the hell¡ª" He coughed violently, doubling over and nearly spilling the drink down his shirt. "Mark!" I reached toward him as he pounded his chest, struggling to breathe. Anna, naturally, was laughing her head off. "What the hell, Mark?" I said, exasperated. "You''re just making yourself a target!" I shot Anna a glare as Mark coughed helplessly. Anna wiped at her eyes. "Oh, this is gold. Keep going, Mark. This is quality entertainment." Mark finally managed to stop coughing, his face slightly red ¡ª probably from a mix of embarrassment and lack of oxygen. He handed the drink back to me without a word. I sighed. "Why do I even bother?" Anna leaned back, still grinning. "Because it¡¯s hilarious." Mark¡¯s shoulders slumped as he muttered, "This is why I don¡¯t drink energy drinks." "You¡¯re blaming the drink?" I deadpanned. "It¡¯s suspiciously carbonated." Anna snorted. "Yeah, sure." Mark sighed, rubbing his temple. "I should¡¯ve just let Ron carry the bags." "Too late now," Anna said, her smile practically glowing. "But hey¡ªthanks for the show." Mark just groaned. 027 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 1 - Mark’s POV 027 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 1 - Mark¡¯s POV Professor Merrick stood at the front of the training hall, arms crossed behind his back, his gaze sweeping across the class with that usual detached sharpness. "Alright," Merrick said. His tone was mild, but there was an underlying weight to it ¡ª the kind that made people sit up straighter without even realizing it. "Let¡¯s begin with a headcount. I want the winners of the sparring matches to confirm they¡¯re here." I leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching as he started the roll call. "Valeska." "Here," Mirai said, her voice calm and steady. "Morse." "Present." Gina Morse ¡ª tall, sharp-eyed, and built like a track star ¡ª raised a hand. "Core." "Here!" Fiona Core practically bounced in place. Small, fast, and lethal ¡ª one of those students you didn¡¯t want to underestimate. "Valentine." "Here." I lifted a hand. "Mosley." "Still alive." Peter Mosley, dark-haired and quiet, gave a small nod from the back of the room. "Touch." "Here," Iris Touch said. She sat with her legs crossed, looking effortlessly bored, like this was all beneath her. Merrick¡¯s gaze shifted toward the side of the room. "Faust." Elena Faust raised her hand with smooth elegance. "Here." "Brandt." Karl didn¡¯t bother looking up. He just raised his hand, scowling as usual. Merrick paused. His eyes swept the room. "Craig." Silence. "John Craig?" Merrick repeated. Still nothing. I frowned. John wasn¡¯t exactly the type to draw attention, but he was usually on time. Ditching class wasn¡¯t like him. Merrick¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. "Students who lose their matches are under no obligation to stay. However¡­" His gaze sharpened. "Those with matches remaining are expected to be present. So I¡¯ll ask ¡ª where is Craig?" The class remained silent. Then Greg Green raised his hand, his grin practically splitting his face. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were wide with unhinged excitement. "I sent him to the infirmary," Greg said cheerfully. The room went still. Merrick¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Explain." Greg¡¯s grin widened. "Well, you see¡ª" "Summarize." Greg laughed. "He challenged me to a warm-up round. It got a little¡­ intense." "Intense how?" Greg¡¯s eyes practically gleamed. "He¡¯s alive." Mirai shifted beside me, her brows knitting together. Merrick¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. "And the extent of his injuries?" Greg shrugged. "He¡¯ll walk it off. Probably." Karl snorted. Merrick considered Greg for a moment, then said, "Noted." That was it. No follow-up. No lecture. Greg sat back, still grinning. Mirai shot me a look. I lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Now," Merrick said, voice cool again. "Since we have an empty slot, the matches will either be adjusted accordingly or someone else fills up the spot. I¡¯d rather we have nine contenders though, because I¡¯d like to see how you would handle a three-way fight.¡± "Greg sent John to the infirmary?" "What the hell happened?" "Did Craig even have a chance?" ¡±Of course he did, he won his match, remember?¡± "Nah, I''d argue John''s dumb for picking a fight." "You don''t know that... Maybe he was coerced?" "By Greg? Greg seems like a nice guy." ¡±How did Greg do it? It sounds too convenient.¡± Greg, meanwhile, stretched his arms behind his head, looking supremely satisfied. I glanced at Mirai. She looked troubled. I couldn¡¯t blame her. John was one of the more balanced students in class. If Greg could send him to the infirmary just for a warm-up, it said a lot about what Greg could actually do. There¡¯s something people don¡¯t tell you about ESPers ¡ª something they don¡¯t teach you in textbooks or orientation sessions. ESPers were, at their core, functioning psychopaths. Oh, they weren¡¯t necessarily murderers or criminals ¡ª at least not openly ¡ª but the wiring of their brains was fundamentally different from an average human¡¯s. ESP didn¡¯t just give you supernatural powers. It altered how you processed the world. Emotional control, impulse management, empathy ¡ª all of it was scrambled and rewritten. That was why ESPers acted so differently, why some of them were hyper-aggressive, while others were disturbingly calm in situations that would make a normal person panic. It also explained why eccentricity and violence were so common among them. So when Greg confessed to fighting John and sending him to the infirmary, I wasn¡¯t even surprised. Greg stood in the center of the room, practically glowing under the weight of everyone¡¯s attention. His grin was sharp, bright ¡ª almost too bright. "Yeah, I fought John," Greg said, raising his hand like this was some kind of school assembly. "It was a proper duel under the versus system. Honestly, I want to take his place for the following matches¡­" The room rippled with disbelief. "The versus system?" Sarah said, her brow furrowing. "You¡¯re saying it was sanctioned?" Greg¡¯s grin widened. "That¡¯s right." Hannah looked confused. "What even is a versus system? Why was everyone looking so surprised?" "It''s suspicious, that''s why," Peter narrowed his eyes. "John¡¯s not an idiot. Why would he waste his strength on a warm-up match before the official rounds?" You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Yeah," Fiona chimed in, arms crossed. "No way John would throw away his chances like that." Greg spread his hands innocently. "Who knows? Maybe he thought he could win and bully me. Maybe he wanted to vent. Or maybe he underestimated me. Either way, it was a legitimate duel. Combat Zone rules apply. You¡¯re allowed to challenge anyone outside of formal matches ¡ª win or lose." A low murmur of protest swept through the room. "That¡¯s not the point," Gina said, eyes narrowing. "It¡¯s suspicious that John would take that risk against you of all people. Moreover, you lost to me, remember? I don''t think I''d lose to John, but I don''t think it would be so easy." "Wow, so confident," Greg tilted his head. "The point is... John challenged me. I accepted. He lost. If he wasn¡¯t prepared for the consequences, that¡¯s not my problem. Stop defending him. I thought, we''re buddies, Gina." "This isn''t looking good on you, Greg," Lola scowled, anger coloring her eyes. "You¡¯re saying John was that reckless? It¡¯s suspicious no matter how you spin it." Greg¡¯s eyes flicked toward her, and his grin sharpened. "Reckless or not, the match was valid." "And now you¡¯re proposing to take his place," Merrick¡¯s voice cut through the room like a knife. "Yep," Greg turned toward him. "So what is it gonna be, prof?" A fresh wave of disbelief followed that statement. "You can¡¯t do that!" Clint said, glaring at him. "John earned his spot. You lost your match. Why should you get another shot?" Greg¡¯s grin widened. "Because I followed the rules. Professor Merrick wants his data. You think he¡¯s going to waste a slot because someone got injured? Someone needs to fill it. Why not me?" "Because it¡¯s dirty," Peter said. "You knocked him out of the tournament without even having to win a formal match." "And?" Greg raised his eyebrows. "I¡¯m playing the game. Is it my fault you didn¡¯t think of it first? Ah, you won your match, didn''t you? No wonder you look down on the rest of us so much..." "John is my friend¡ª" "This is getting nowhere," interrupted Elena, "Professor Merrick, please handle the issue at hand already, so that we may proceed with the test." Merrick¡¯s gaze lingered on Greg for a long moment. Then, to the surprise of absolutely no one who understood how this school worked, he smiled faintly. "Impressive." Fiona¡¯s eyes widened. "You¡¯re rewarding this?" ¡°It¡¯s a strategy that works,¡± Merrick¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. "Greg followed the rules of engagement. He exploited a strategic loophole. And he secured the moral high ground in the process. I hoped none of you forgot... that what I am looking for is strategy. This applies." "Moral high ground?!" Lola snapped. "If John challenged him willingly and under the rules of the Combat Zone, Greg is within his rights to accept and take his place upon victory," Merrick said. "He acted within the system. Not liking the outcome doesn¡¯t make it invalid. It was realistic and actionable." That shut the room up fast. Greg¡¯s grin stretched even wider, his eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. "Thanks, Professor." Merrick¡¯s gaze sharpened. "Don¡¯t misunderstand. You¡¯ve only positioned yourself better. It remains to be seen whether you can maintain that position." Greg¡¯s eyes gleamed. "Looking forward to it." I leaned back, arms crossed, watching Greg bask in his victory. Mirai¡¯s expression remained troubled. "This doesn¡¯t feel right," she murmured. "Of course it doesn¡¯t," I said. "That¡¯s how the game works." "Still¡­" She glanced at Greg. "It¡¯s hard not to feel like he cheated." "He didn¡¯t," I said. "That¡¯s the problem." Greg caught me looking and shot me a wink. I scowled. ESPers weren¡¯t normal. And Greg had just proven he understood that better than anyone else. Professor Merrick¡¯s gaze sharpened, cutting through the chatter that had erupted after Greg¡¯s little stunt. The murmurs of disbelief and thinly veiled hostility were growing louder by the second. "Greg." Merrick¡¯s tone was flat, controlled ¡ª which somehow made it worse. Greg smiled brightly, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his uniform jacket. His golden hair practically glowed under the classroom lights. Merrick¡¯s eyes narrowed. "I hope you understand the long-term consequences of your strategy." Greg tilted his head. "Oh? Consequences?" Merrick¡¯s voice dropped, gaining an edge. "You may have followed the rules, but you¡¯ve also secured the resentment of your future comrades." His gaze swept across the room. "Your classmates are looking at you right now and wondering if they can trust you ¡ª wondering if you¡¯ll stab them in the back the next time you see an opening. They have no proof whether you¡¯ve done something wrong or not, but that doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t suspect you. And clearly, they do." "I don''t really care about what they think of me," Greg¡¯s smile sharpened. "Ironically enough, I understand their feelings perfectly." Merrick¡¯s eyes narrowed further. Greg¡¯s grin widened. "And that¡¯s why I loved taking advantage of them. These feelings so... malleable. They are a delicacy, I am telling you." A wave of fiery discontent surged through the room. "You arrogant¡ª!" Lola¡¯s chair scraped back as she stood up, glaring daggers at Greg. "That kind of arrogance is going to get you killed!" Anna booed loudly from the back. "Sit down, Greg! I thought you were a chill guy!" Peter scoffed. "There¡¯s no way this stands. The last spot should go to Tom Wick. He¡¯s the one John fought last. He deserves it more than Greg." Greg¡¯s eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh? Then how about a match?" Peter¡¯s mouth twitched. "What?" Greg¡¯s grin widened. "A match between me and Tom. If he wins, he takes the spot. Fair and square." The room dissolved into noise. Protests. Arguments. "That¡¯s ridiculous!" Fiona¡¯s voice cut above the others. "You already had your chance!" Gina added. "John¡¯s the one who got cheated here!" Peter growled. "SHUT UP." Merrick¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it cut through the chaos like a guillotine blade. Silence crashed down over the room. Merrick¡¯s eyes were hard. His hands were behind his back, his stance sharp and controlled. "Greg did not break any rules." "He abused the system!" Peter said. "And the system allows for that," Merrick replied coldly. He pulled out his tablet, his thumb flicking across the screen as he scanned something. Probably the records of Greg¡¯s and John¡¯s fight during recess. If it was sanctioned, there were probably video records of it. "Under the versus system," Merrick said, not bothering to look up, "challenging a fellow student outside of formal matches is permitted. If the challenged party accepts and loses, the challenger has the right to claim any benefits tied to that outcome." "That¡¯s¡ª!" Merrick¡¯s gaze snapped upward, his expression dark. "Did John accept the challenge?" Greg smiled. "He did." "Did John lose?" "Clearly." Merrick¡¯s eyes lingered on Greg for a long, heavy moment. Then he turned toward Tom Wick. Tom was sitting toward the back, arms crossed. His pink hair hung slightly over his eyes, obscuring his expression. "Tom Wick." Merrick¡¯s tone was clipped. "Do you wish to stake a claim to the last spot and challenge Greg?" Tom¡¯s gaze slid toward Greg. "Hey, Pete," Greg¡¯s smile hadn¡¯t budged. "He''s gonna say no, ya know? Wanna bet on it? So? Anyone? Clint?" "Shut up, Greg," piped Clint. "No thanks." Tom shook his head. "I¡¯d rather not fight Greg." A flicker of disappointment flashed through Greg¡¯s eyes ¡ª or maybe amusement. Hard to tell with him. Merrick gave a short nod. "Acknowledged." He turned back toward the rest of the room. "Then the decision stands. Greg Green will replace John Craig¡¯s position in this sparring tournament." Outrage bubbled beneath the surface, but Merrick¡¯s tone left no room for argument. Greg¡¯s grin widened. He raised two fingers in a casual victory sign. "Appreciate it, Professor." The tension from Greg¡¯s little stunt hadn¡¯t fully dissipated, but Merrick was already moving on ¡ª as if Greg¡¯s manipulation was a footnote, not a problem. "Settle down," Merrick said. His tone was crisp and low, but it had the weight of authority behind it. "I¡¯m moving forward with the next phase of the tournament." A ripple of confusion passed through the room. A few students shifted in their seats. Peter¡¯s hand shot up. "Wait ¡ª phase?" Merrick¡¯s gaze slid toward him. "Yes, Mosley. Phase." He tapped the screen of his tablet, and a projection flared to life above his head. A large grid appeared, dividing itself into sets of three. Names filled the slots. My name appeared next to Peter and Iris. Three-way matches. "From this point onward," Merrick said, "you will no longer be participating in one-on-one matches." His gaze swept across the room. "The next stage of the tournament will be conducted as three-way matches." "What?" Gina blurted out. Merrick¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Did I stutter?" The room went still. "Why three-way matches?" Fiona asked. "Because I need data. Do I have to keep repeating myself? Pay attention." Merrick¡¯s tone was flat and clinical. "One-on-one matches test individual combat ability. But real combat ¡ª especially the kind you¡¯ll encounter as ESPers ¡ª is rarely clean. You won¡¯t always face a single opponent. You¡¯ll need to balance attack and defense. Gauge shifting alliances. Take advantage of openings without overcommitting." He flicked his finger, and the grid rearranged itself. "Three-way matches will test your ability to adapt. If you focus too much on one opponent, you¡¯ll leave yourself open to the other. If you play too defensively, you¡¯ll be overwhelmed. If you overextend, you¡¯ll be punished." A quiet murmur spread across the room. This was going to be messy. Merrick¡¯s gaze sharpened. "The objective is simple: survival. If you eliminate both of your opponents, you win. If time runs out, the match will be decided based on combat effectiveness ¡ª points awarded for offensive and defensive performance." Someone raised their hand. "What¡¯s the time limit?" "Fifteen minutes." Gina frowned. "So¡­ you want us to play offense and defense at the same time?" "Precisely." Merrick¡¯s expression was unreadable. "Consider this an advanced test. Some of you will adapt. Some of you will crumble." His gaze darkened. "But I will know exactly where you stand by the end of it." Merrick¡¯s eyes returned to his tablet, controlling the screen just behind him. "The matches are as follows:" The grid expanded, names filling the slots. "Match One: Mirai Valeska. Gina Morse. Fiona Core." Mirai sat up straighter. Gina¡¯s brow furrowed in concentration, while Fiona crossed her arms, her mouth curling into a faint smirk. "Match Two: Karl Brandt. Greg Green. Elena Faust." Karl¡¯s scowl deepened. Greg¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift, but I caught the dangerous gleam in his eyes. Elena simply tilted her head, her eyes half-lidded with quiet amusement. "Match Three: Mark Valentine. Peter Mosley. Iris Touch." "Guess we¡¯ll see how you measure up, Valentine." Peter turned toward me, his mouth already curling into a smirk. "I''m gonna win this match and then I''ll teach that bastard Greg a lesson. Iris¡¯s face remained impassive, but her eyes sharpened beneath her glasses. ¡°No hard feelings, but I am going to crush you both.¡± ¡°My feelings are already hurt,¡± I quipped back. ¡°Just don¡¯t die on me, okay?¡± Anna whistled. "Wow, I didn''t know you have it in you, Mark." 028 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV 028 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 2 - Mirai¡¯s POV Wow. Everyone was so hyped up. The energy in the room was electric¡ªanticipation, aggression, and barely restrained chaos rolling off my classmates in waves. Thanks to my new application of Heroine¡¯s Heart¡ªEloquence¡ªI could feel it all, like standing in the middle of a raging storm with my hands outstretched. It was intense. Eloquence was a kind of empathic ability, which meant everyone¡¯s fighting spirit was practically infecting me. Their excitement, their eagerness to win¡ªit was fueling me too. And thanks to the recess before the next round, I¡¯d managed to top off my Luck energy to the max. I was feeling¡­ confident. Surprisingly so. Professor Merrick¡¯s gaze slid toward his buzzing phone. His brow furrowed for a split second before he slipped it out of his coat pocket and glanced at the screen. His eyes sharpened. ¡°I need to take this,¡± he said, voice clipped. ¡°I¡¯ll be back shortly.¡± Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the door, heels clicking against the floor with sharp precision. The door clicked shut behind him. The training room fell into an awkward silence. ¡°That¡¯s not suspicious at all,¡± Gina muttered. Matt scoffed from the back of the room, arms crossed. ¡°Why would it be? He¡¯s a teacher. He¡¯s probably handling administrative business.¡± ¡°Or,¡± Greg said with a light, almost lazy tone, ¡°he¡¯s getting called in to cover up some scandalous school secret.¡± Anna snorted. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Professor Merrick is the scandalous school secret.¡± There were a few scattered laughs. I glanced at the door where Merrick had disappeared. That call had looked¡­ serious. And for Merrick to excuse himself so abruptly ¡ª especially right after revealing the next phase of the tournament ¡ª it didn¡¯t feel normal. ¡°He¡¯s not the type to step out during class,¡± I said quietly. ¡°It isn¡¯t funny,¡± Mark said from behind me, his tone dry. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you are so clumsy, considering your ESP¡­ You spilled my drink on my shoe¡­¡± ¡°Shut up, you¡¯re not my mom, chump,¡± Anna shot back immediately. ¡°And what do you know about my ESP? People trip sometimes, jerk. Stop mansplaining to me what I already know¡­ and it isn¡¯t my fault you spilled your energy drink. Wait, you aren¡¯t thinking of keeping it as a souvenir, because you had a sshared an indirect kiss with Mira, using that thin¡­ Yuck¡­¡± ¡°Stop it, guys¡­¡± I sighed. They were standing close, faces inches apart, glaring at each other. They were bickering. Mark looked unimpressed as always, while Anna had that gleam in her eye like she was seconds away from launching a punch at his face. I was already bracing for impact when¡ª ¡°You¡¯re ugly.¡± I blinked. Greg was standing in front of me, hands stuffed into his pockets, head tilted with that big, clueless grin on his face. ¡°Excuse me?¡± I said, feeling my smile twitch. Mark and Anna stopped mid-bicker, their heads swiveling toward Greg like they couldn¡¯t believe what they¡¯d just heard either. Greg shrugged. ¡°Just saying what I see.¡± His green eyes sparkled with an unsettling amount of cheerfulness. ¡­What. Through Eloquence, I could feel his emotions radiating off him in bright, clashing bursts. Giddy, excited, positively beaming with good intentions. It was¡­ weird. Because this was the same guy who, just a few hours ago, had been handing out cacti to everyone and declaring that they were now his friends. I¡¯d felt it then too¡ªhis emotions had been genuine, bright, and bizarrely contradictory. How could someone insult me to my face and still mean well? Not to mention his schemes¡­ I think my ESP was broken. Greg turned and started walking away, arms swinging back and forth like a cartoon character. ¡°Oh, and Mark?¡± He threw a glance over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re boring.¡± Mark¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°And Gina,¡± Greg continued, strolling toward her. ¡°You smell funny.¡± ¡°You little¡ª!¡± Gina lunged, only for Anna to wrap her arms around her waist, physically holding her back. ¡°Let me go!¡± Gina shouted, her arms flailing wildly. ¡°I¡¯m gonna beat that bastard into a bloody pulp!¡± Greg skipped backward, grinning like this was all part of some big game. ¡°Love the fighting spirit, Gina!¡± ¡°What the hell is wrong with him?¡± Anna hissed, struggling to keep Gina from breaking free. I watched as Greg proceeded to trash-talk the rest of his would-be competitors with the same bizarre mix of cheerful malice. Greg was a menace. And here I thought he might be a nice guy. No, scratch that¡ªGreg was a force of chaos wrapped in a deceptively cheerful smile. I watched, half in horror, half in morbid fascination, as he continued his verbal onslaught. ¡°Fiona,¡± Greg called out sweetly, ¡°you¡¯re too fat.¡± Fiona¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°What did you just say?¡± Greg¡¯s grin widened. ¡°You heard me.¡± ¡°You little¡ª¡± Fiona¡¯s fists clenched, her aura flaring dangerously. I could feel her rage through Eloquence¡ªa bright, heated burst of anger mixed with shame. Greg ignored her, already pivoting toward Peter, who had been standing awkwardly to the side. ¡°And Peter,¡± Greg said, eyes sparkling, ¡°why don¡¯t you go swallow a dick?¡± ¡°What the hell, man?!¡± Peter¡¯s face went bright red. ¡°I swear, I am gonna kill¡ª¡± ¡°Just a suggestion!¡± Greg said, hands raised in mock innocence. My jaw dropped. He wasn¡¯t even trying to hide it anymore. Greg wasn¡¯t done. He spun toward Iris, still beaming. ¡°And Iris¡­¡± I braced myself. ¡°You should choke on lots of dicks.¡± The room collectively inhaled. Just on time, Professor Merrick returned, looking utterly flabbergasted by what he was seeing. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°What the hell?¡± Iris¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously. ¡°You want to repeat that, you freak?¡± ¡°Someone got a dirty mind~!¡± Greg sang, ¡°I actually mean ¡®Dick¡¯ as in a person¡­ You know? Dick, Tom, and Harry?¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t involve me,¡± snarled Tom. Anna shot up from her spot, looking furious. ¡°Okay, this is getting ridiculous!¡± She whirled toward Greg. ¡°Professor Merrick, are we seriously letting him get away with this? That has to be, like, a demerit for inappropriate language, right?¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Greg¡¯s grin sharpened. ¡°Oh, Anna.¡± He shook his head, looking at her like she was some naive child. ¡°You poor, simple fool.¡± Anna¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You just don¡¯t understand the depth of my strategy.¡± Greg¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°That¡¯s your problem.¡± Anna looked one second away from trying to deck him. Greg, looking pleased with himself, sauntered toward Karl. ¡°Karl!¡± Greg sang. ¡°Did you know that ginger hair is scientifically linked to a higher pain threshold? So is it true that you don¡¯t mind taking it in the rear?¡± I didn¡¯t get what Greg was saying, but I have a feeling it was meant to be insulting. Karl stared at him, dead-eyed. ¡°I¡¯m not ginger. I have red hair.¡± Greg actually stopped mid-step. His mouth opened. Then closed. His brows furrowed. ¡°¡­That¡¯s the same thing.¡± Karl shook his head slowly. ¡°No. It isn¡¯t.¡± Greg stood there, visibly struggling to comprehend this. After a moment, he scratched his head and shrugged. ¡°Okay then.¡± He walked off, looking genuinely baffled. I facepalmed. What the hell was going through Karl¡¯s head? But Greg wasn¡¯t done. He turned toward Elena. ¡°Elena,¡± he called out, voice light. Elena, who had been sitting calmly on the edge of the platform, turned toward him with her usual unreadable expression. Greg¡¯s smile turned sharp. ¡°Your nipple¡¯s showing.¡± A few gasps rang out. My heart jumped into my throat. Elena didn¡¯t blink. ¡°Greg,¡± she said flatly. ¡°Your fly¡¯s open.¡± Greg looked down. ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Do you want it to be?¡± Elena asked. Greg paused, visibly considering this. ¡°¡­Maybe?¡± Elena¡¯s lip curled in quiet disgust. ¡°Creep.¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°Hey, just trying to match the energy.¡± Before Elena could respond, Professor Merrick¡¯s voice cut through the room like a whip. ¡°Enough.¡± Silence crashed down. I turned, wide-eyed. For the first time since I¡¯d known him, Professor Merrick actually looked¡­ stressed. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowed in a way that made him look years older. His eyes opened, sharp and cold. ¡°Mirai Valeska, Gina Morse, Fiona Core¡ªstep forward.¡± Professor Merrick stood at the center. His expression was as cold and impartial as ever. His gaze swept over the three of us: me, Gina, and Fiona. "The rules are the same as previous engagements," he began. His voice was steady, precise. "Knock your opponent out, land a decisive fatal blow, or force them out of bounds. Surrender is always an option." He held up one finger. "However, this time, there will be a fifteen-minute timer for each fight. If no winner is determined by the end of the timer, the victor will be judged based on performance." A time limit meant I couldn¡¯t afford to stall or turtle up for too long. "Competitors," Merrick continued, "separate yourselves by two to three meters." I stepped back, measuring the distance. My feet slid into a familiar stance. Gina shifted to my right, crouched slightly, muscles coiled like a spring. Fiona stood further back, light on her feet, arms crossed. Her silver and black hair was tied into a ponytail, her calm expression hiding any readable intent. My eyes narrowed. This setup was bad for me. I¡¯m a melee fighter. Closing the gap was the core of my strategy ¡ª especially with my ESP. Heroine¡¯s Heart allowed me to store and manipulate luck. Most of the time, it translated into perfect execution ¡ª landing a hit at just the right angle, dodging an attack at the last possible moment, or just finding myself in a favorable position by pure coincidence. But relying too much on luck was a trap. Luck was passive. It¡¯s reactive. If I wanted to win, I had to make my own openings ¡ª not wait for fate to hand them to me. That¡¯s why I worked hard on my self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Sure, learning from internet videos wasn¡¯t exactly ideal, but with Heroine¡¯s Heart enhancing my reaction time and execution, it had been enough. As long as it was humanly possible, I could pull it off. Gina, though¡­ she was a problem. She had brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Her ESP was adhesive powers ¡ª weird but brutally effective. I¡¯d seen how she fought before. Gina was the bane of every melee fighter ¡ª if you got within her range, she could stick you in place and pick you apart piece by piece. And judging by the way she was eyeing me, she wanted to deal with me first. Great. Meanwhile, Fiona had the opposite strategy. She drifted toward the edge of the zone, maximizing the distance between us. Smart. Gina¡¯s adhesive powers would wreck Fiona¡¯s fighting style if they got too close, so keeping her distance was the safest bet. Unfortunately for me, that also meant Fiona had a clean shot at me if Gina forced me into a defensive position. Through Eloquence, my empathic sense sharpened. I could feel Gina''s and Fiona''s intentions crystal clear. Gina: I¡¯ll take down Mirai first. Fiona: Eliminate Mirai early and deal with Gina afterward. Damn it. A two-on-one setup right from the start. Professor Merrick raised his hand. His gaze sharpened. "Ready yourselves." My heart thudded. I rolled my shoulders, adjusting my stance. Gina¡¯s muscles tensed. Fiona¡¯s eyes darkened. Merrick''s hand cut through the air. "Begin." Gina lunged. Fiona¡¯s hands flicked out. And I moved. Fiona¡¯s ESP was related to gravity ¡ª or maybe it was more accurate to say weight control. I¡¯d seen her last match. She used her power in melee surprisingly well, reinforcing her own strikes and manipulating momentum to throw off her opponent. It was subtle but brutal. Even more dangerous was her ability to influence the weight of others. I hoped that her range was limited to touch ¡ª close-quarters combat would at least give me a fighting chance. Yeah¡­ wishful thinking. Fiona raised her index finger toward me, her silver and black ponytail swaying behind her. Her gaze sharpened, and then ¡ª My entire body locked up. Oh crap. It felt like I¡¯d been pinned under a boulder. My limbs turned to lead, my breath hitched, and my knees buckled. My body was impossibly heavy ¡ª like I¡¯d been turned into an anchor. So much for the touch theory. Gina¡¯s movement registered at the edge of my vision. I forced my eyes toward her just in time to see her closing the distance ¡ª fast. Her brown hair swept behind her as her fist cut through the air in a clean arc, aimed directly for my jaw. I calculated the angle. If Gina¡¯s fist connected with the full weight of Fiona¡¯s gravity pressure on me, she¡¯d break her hand. No way a simple punch could knock over something that weighed a ton. I didn¡¯t know physics that well, but that math checked out, right? Gravity well? No¡­ gravity anchor? Whatever. To surmised, Fiona must let go of her ESP on me if she intended to eliminate me first. My ESP flared. A subtle pulse in my chest. My luck stored and ready. I let it leak out, a small release ¡ª waiting for the exact moment Fiona would have to let go to keep Gina from breaking her bones. Gina¡¯s fist came within inches of my face ¡ª Fiona¡¯s pressure snapped away. Now! I jerked my neck to the left. The hook grazed my ear, the force of the swing cutting through the air with a harsh snap. Gina¡¯s eyes widened. Fiona¡¯s brows twitched, a bead of sweat sliding down her temple. Maintaining that hold must have taken serious effort. That¡¯s good to know. Time to push back. I threw a punch aimed for Gina¡¯s midriff ¡ª not her body directly, just her shirt. Contact with her skin would be a death sentence. Gina¡¯s adhesive powers were devastating if she could lock you down. Gina¡¯s arm swung upward, moving clumsily as she tried to recover from the missed hook. Her fist arced close to my face ¡ª too close. She¡¯s trying to graze me. If even a glancing blow connected, her adhesive power could activate ¡ª and then I¡¯d be glued down and completely exposed. Sorry, Gina. I canceled my punch mid-motion and dropped forward, face-first toward the floor. My luck adjusted my momentum, letting me land just right. My foot shot out in a smooth hook behind Gina¡¯s ankle. Her footing vanished. She stumbled forward ¡ª ¡ª and hit the ground face-first. There was a sickening crack. Gina¡¯s hands shot up to her face as blood began to trickle from her nose. "Ow¡ª damn it!" she hissed, clutching her face. No time to sympathize. I rolled to my feet and sprang toward Fiona. Her eyes sharpened ¡ª and she raised her hand again. Yeah, not this time. I pushed my luck. Hard. My body blurred forward, gravity bending at the edges of my awareness as I dodged Fiona¡¯s invisible attacks. Fiona¡¯s hand twitched upward ¡ª But I was already there. My fist swung toward her chest. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise ¡ª And then my luck ran out. But I wasn¡¯t done yet. Luck wasn¡¯t just some passive force that I had to wait for. I could make my own luck. It was still an experimental application of my ESP, but I¡¯d tested it enough to have some confidence in it. See, whenever I got embarrassed ¡ª flustered, humiliated, or even just emotionally off-balance ¡ª my luck would recover a little. Like my ESP was wired to compensate for social disasters. Somehow, I could recover luck if I suffer a misfortune¡­ Weird? Yeah. Useful? Absolutely. So¡­ if I needed luck back, there was a very simple solution. With heat rushing to my ears, I took a breath ¡ª ¡ªand made sure my voice was loud enough to be heard by everyone. "I really like Mark¡¯s side dishes every time during lunch!" Fiona¡¯s eyes widened. Her mouth parted slightly. The audience stilled. Somewhere in the background, I heard Anna¡¯s sharp gasp, followed immediately by a long, dramatic "Ooooooh~!" Fiona¡¯s composure cracked like glass. Her cheeks flushed red. Her mouth opened ¡ª no doubt to say something cutting ¡ª but she was too stunned. My fist opened into a palm. I lunged forward and shoved Fiona square in the chest. Her feet scraped against the ground, but her shock dulled her reflexes. She staggered backward, heels skidding against the floor ¡ª ¡ª and then crossed the white boundary line. Out of bounds. Professor Merrick¡¯s voice cut through the tension with brutal efficiency. "Fiona Core ¡ª eliminated." Fiona¡¯s gaze sharpened as she realized what just happened. She shot me a dark look, equal parts scandalized and irritated, but I caught the subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth ¡ª a smirk she was fighting back. I shrugged, smirking back. "A win¡¯s a win." Fiona exhaled through her nose, brushing stray strands of silver-black hair behind her ear. "Hmph. Lucky shot." Yeah, I wonder why. I let my gaze drift toward the audience. That¡¯s when I saw him. Mark was sitting near the back of the bleachers, looking utterly traumatized. His face was frozen in an expression of wide-eyed horror. His mouth hung open slightly like he¡¯d just been hit in the face with a brick. Anna sat beside him, viciously poking his cheek with a manic grin. "Oh my god, Mark," she gasped, poking him again and again. "Mirai likes your side dishes! That¡¯s practically a love confession!" "Wh¡ª I¡ª" Mark made a strangled noise, his face rapidly darkening to the color of a cooked tomato. Anna leaned in closer, eyes glinting dangerously. "Soooooo¡­ when¡¯s the wedding?" "I¡¯m going to die," Mark mumbled, clutching his face. Recovering luck through embarrassment? Yeah. That was definitely a reliable strategy. Professor Merrick better give me good grades. 029 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 3 - Mark’s POV 029 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 3 - Mark¡¯s POV It was killing me. Anna wouldn¡¯t stop. "Oh my god, Mark," Anna whispered, practically vibrating with malicious glee. "Mirai likes your side dishes. Isn¡¯t that so cute?" I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to force down the heat creeping up my neck. "Anna. Drop it." Anna gasped theatrically, clutching her chest. "Drop it? How could I possibly drop something so¡ª" she leaned in dangerously close "¡ªromantic?" "Anna." "Come on, Mark!" She jabbed her elbow into my ribs. "Is it true? Do you make lunch for Mirai every day?" "Sometimes," I muttered. "SOMETIMES?!" Anna¡¯s eyes went wide with mock scandal. "Wow, Mark, I didn¡¯t know you were already practically married¡ª" "Anna." I shot her a warning look. Her grin widened. "Ohhhh, you¡¯re getting flustered! That''s so adorable!" I wanted to disappear into the floor. Meanwhile, in the arena, Mirai and Gina were still locked in combat ¡ª and for some godforsaken reason, Mirai was still spouting off embarrassing things. "I-It¡¯s not like Mark¡¯s food tastes bad or anything! Actually, it¡¯s really good! I look forward to it every day!" Anna¡¯s hand shot up to cover her mouth, but her eyes were practically sparkling with sadistic joy. "Mirai!" I yelled, my voice cracking slightly. "And he always gives me the best portions too!" Anna choked. "Mark, you¡¯ve been playing favorites?!" I am going to jump off the rooftop. I forced my focus back to the fight. Gina was a grappler ¡ª and her ESP was brutal in close combat. Adhesive Manipulation ¡ª Gina could create adhesive effects by marking surfaces through physical contact. If she timed it right, it made her a nightmare for melee fighters. Mirai was holding her own ¡ª but barely. Gina lunged with a low hook aimed at Mirai¡¯s side. Mirai twisted her body, narrowly avoiding it, then launched a retaliatory kick at the back of Gina¡¯s ankle. The kick connected ¡ª ¡ªbut Mirai¡¯s other foot was stuck. Shit. It was subtle but clever. Gina must have marked the floor when Mirai¡¯s foot connected. Delayed activation ¡ª holding back the adhesive reaction until the perfect moment. Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. She tugged at her foot, but it didn¡¯t budge. Her shoe was practically fused to the floor. Gina grinned. "Gotcha." Mirai inhaled sharply ¡ª then, of all things¡ª "It¡¯s not like Mark¡¯s cooking is the only thing I like about him or anything!" What the hell was she doing?! Anna doubled over, clutching her stomach and howling with laughter. "She¡¯s trying to recharge her luck!" Oh my god, why does her power work like this? Mirai braced herself, eyes flicking toward Gina¡¯s shoulder, trying to read the trajectory and timing of her punch. Mirai yanked her foot, but the adhesive held fast. Gina¡¯s fist shot toward her face¡ª Mirai ducked. Her eyes locked on Gina¡¯s exposed side¡ª Suddenly, her legs buckled. The adhesive spread up her ankle, locking her stance. "Oh no," Mirai hesitated for a split second. ¡°Not now¡­¡± And in that second¡ª Gina¡¯s fist connected. A brutal right hook. Mirai¡¯s head snapped sideways. Her body crumpled. She hit the floor with a harsh thud. I shot to my feet. "Mirai!" She wasn¡¯t moving. Gina stepped back, shaking out her hand, breathing hard. She stared down at Mirai, expression unreadable. Sweat rolled down her face, dripping from her chin. Her hands were trembling. "I¡­ I won¡­" Gina whispered, almost like she couldn¡¯t believe it herself. Professor Merrick¡¯s mouth opened to declare the match¡ª But then¡ª Mirai¡¯s eyes snapped open, showing she was faking being knocked out. The moment Gina had let her guard down, her adhesive powers had released. In one smooth motion, Mirai swept her leg out, hooking Gina¡¯s ankle¡ªfor the third time. At this point, it was almost an insult. Gina¡¯s eyes widened. "Wha¡ª" Her foot slid out from under her. Gina flailed¡ª ¡ªand hit the floor hard on her rear. "What the hell?!" Gina gasped, scrambling to push herself up. Mirai was already moving. With eerie calm, she sat up and reached for her shoe. Her fingers worked quickly, undoing the laces in one smooth motion. It looked almost like a magic trick. Gina¡¯s eyes narrowed. "What are you¡ª" Mirai¡¯s shoe flew through the air. It spun¡ª ¡ªa blur of motion¡ª ¡ªbefore striking Gina square in the forehead. "What the hell?!" Gina recoiled, clutching her head, her balance thrown off. That was all Mirai needed. She surged forward. In an instant, she was behind Gina, one arm wrapping tightly around her neck. The shoelace slipped through Mirai¡¯s fingers, smooth and fast, before tightening around Gina¡¯s throat like a noose. Gina¡¯s body arched in panic. She clawed at Mirai¡¯s hands, trying to pry them away. Her legs thrashed wildly, but Mirai¡¯s legs were already locked around Gina¡¯s torso. Grapple secured. "Let¡­ go!" Gina choked out, twisting violently. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Mirai¡¯s grip only tightened. "Shhh¡­ go to sleep¡­ go to sleep¡­ go to sleep¡­" Gina¡¯s face twisted in furious panic. She clawed at Mirai¡¯s arm, nails digging in¡ª Mirai didn¡¯t flinch. Gina¡¯s breaths turned ragged. Her body jerked and thrashed, but Mirai¡¯s hold didn¡¯t loosen. If anything, it got tighter. Gina¡¯s lips curled back in a snarl. "F¡ªfuck¡­ you¡­" Mirai¡¯s expression was calm. "Go to sleep." Gina¡¯s face darkened. Her movements slowed. Her hands weakened. Then¡ªdesperately¡ªGina¡¯s hand slapped Mirai¡¯s thigh. Tap. Tap, tap. Professor Merrick¡¯s voice cut through the tension. "Gina Morse¡ªeliminated." Mirai immediately released the shoelace and rolled off Gina¡¯s back. She landed on the floor with a quiet thump, sitting back on her elbows. Sweat dripped down her temples as her chest heaved. Gina slumped to the ground, clutching her throat and gasping for air. She rolled onto her side, red-faced and coughing harshly. Mirai sat there, watching Gina struggle, her expression completely blank. I stared, stunned. What the hell did I just watch? Anna whistled. "Damn." Gina pushed herself up on shaky arms, her face twisted in disbelief and humiliation. Her hand wiped her mouth, trembling. "You¡­" Gina¡¯s voice was hoarse. "You used a grappling move on me?" Mirai¡¯s smile was small. "Seemed appropriate." Gina¡¯s hands curled into fists. Ironic, really. Gina, the queen of grappling in our class, beaten at her own game. Mirai leaned back on her palms, completely unfazed. "You shouldn¡¯t have let me get close." Gina¡¯s jaw tightened. Her breathing was still shaky. Mirai¡¯s eyes slid toward Merrick. "So¡­ I win, right?" Merrick¡¯s gaze lingered on Gina for a moment before his tablet beeped. He gave a short nod. "Mirai Valeska¡ªvictorious." Mirai¡¯s shoulders sagged in relief. She lay back on the floor, letting out a tired sigh. "Thank god¡­" Gina wiped her mouth again. "I hate you." Mirai just smiled. "That¡¯s fair." "That¡¯s my bebe girl!" Anna hooted, throwing her arms in the air and spinning in place like an idiot. ¡°So what reward do you want?¡± Mirai stood and walked toward me, her footsteps light and a little unsteady. Her hair was messy, her face flushed from exertion ¡ª but somehow she still managed to look¡­ adorable. And that was a problem. She stopped in front of me, hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes were wide and shining as she stared up at me, like a puppy waiting for praise. "Mark," she said softly. "I¡­ won." I scratched the back of my neck. "Yeah¡­ I saw that." Mirai beamed. Anna practically exploded next to me. "Wahoo~!" She punched the air, practically vibrating. "She¡¯s asking for a reward, Mark! Reward her! Kiss, kiss, kiss!" "Anna¡ª" "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" My face burned. "Shut up." Anna didn¡¯t. Why was romance so awkward, difficult, and disgusting? A k-kiss?! Seriously? Behind Anna, the rest of our classmates turned toward us, most of them with varying degrees of exhaustion or disinterest. A few raised eyebrows. Fiona, still wiping her mouth and looking vaguely traumatized, shot me a glare. What did I even do to her? Gina, lying on her back and still gasping for breath, didn¡¯t even have the strength to be annoyed. No one else reacted. Except Greg. "Booo~!" Greg cupped his hands around his mouth. "Power couples are overrated! Go die in a ditch!" Mirai¡¯s cheeks instantly turned red. "W-we aren¡¯t a couple!" For some reason, I suddenly found it hard to look at Mirai. And it seemed like she was having the same problem. Greg smirked knowingly. "Ah, my mistake. Star-crossed lovers, then. A tragedy in the making!" Anna shot Greg a withering look. "Mind your own business, Greg." "Sure, sure." Greg waved a hand lazily. "Just trying to balance the universe. Gotta keep all that romantic tension from tipping over, y¡¯know?" Anna¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously. "You¡¯re so lucky I don¡¯t have a knife on me." "Eh, I¡¯d just steal it anyway." Professor Merrick coughed ¡ª loudly. "Enough." His voice cut cleanly through the noise. "Prepare yourselves." I blinked. "Next match," Merrick said, his gaze sliding toward the group of waiting students. "Karl Brandt. Elena Faust. Greg Green." Greg¡¯s smile sharpened. "Oh? My turn already?" Elena¡¯s eyes opened lazily from where she had been leaning against the wall. Her shadow flickered unnaturally beneath her feet. Karl¡¯s expression was unreadable as he rose to his feet. His red hair caught the light, a burning contrast to his pale complexion. His scowl deepened as he stepped toward the arena. Greg stretched his arms behind his head. "Alright then," he said cheerfully. "Let¡¯s see how long I last." "Hopefully not long," Karl muttered. Greg winked. "Aw, don¡¯t be like that, Brandt. We¡¯re all friends here." Karl¡¯s glare could¡¯ve melted steel. Mirai tugged at my sleeve. "Mark," she whispered. "Do you think Greg will be okay?" I glanced toward the arena as Greg sauntered to his position, grinning like a fox walking into a henhouse. "I think¡­" My gaze lingered on Elena¡¯s shadow twisting unnaturally and Karl¡¯s steadily darkening expression. "...he¡¯s about to have a lot of fun." Elena smiled thinly, her arms crossed as she addressed Karl. Her blond hair shimmered faintly beneath the training hall¡¯s bright lights. "Heed my advice," she said, her tone light but sharp enough to cut. "If you still have the cacti Mr. Green here so generously gifted to everyone when he arrived¡­" Her gaze sharpened. "Discard it." Karl scowled, his expression darkening. "Don¡¯t tell me what to do." Elena''s smile didn¡¯t waver. "Of course. Feel free to keep it ¡ª if you¡¯d rather take the risk." Karl¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously. But after a long, tense moment, his hand twitched toward his jacket. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small potted cactus. It was small enough to pass for a trinket or a keychain. There wasn¡¯t anything special about Greg¡¯s cactus. At least, not visibly. Karl studied it for a second. His scowl deepened. His hand ignited. Flames crawled up his wrist and licked at the edges of the pot. With a low growl, Karl tightened his grip ¡ª and the cactus erupted into ash. Across the field, Greg winced dramatically, clutching his chest. "Ouch. That really hurts, Brandt. What did that poor cactus ever do to you?" Karl ignored him. "Interesting," Elena murmured. "You actually listened." Karl shot her a glare. "Don¡¯t push it, Faust." Greg tilted his head, still smiling. "Seriously, guys. What¡¯s with the cactus violence?" Elena chuckled softly, her eyes glinting coldly. "Greg Green ¡ª you play the overenthusiastic class clown. Always smiling. Always joking. Always just¡­ a bit too friendly." Greg¡¯s smile widened. Elena¡¯s gaze sharpened like a blade. "You skipped an entire week¡¯s worth of class. Then you showed up here¡ª this one particular extra-curricular activity ¡ª despite the fact you shouldn¡¯t have even known about it, considering your absences. And then you arrived with a collection of cacti as gifts, flashing that disarming smile. Dumb, innocent, and just hard enough to read that no one would refuse." She tilted her head slightly. "Planting a ticking time bomb." Greg clapped his hands together. "Wow. I''m impressed. You figured that all out by yourself?" Karl¡¯s brow furrowed. His gaze flicked toward the blackened remains of the cactus at his feet. Elena¡¯s smile turned razor-sharp. "You wanted to mark us. That was the plan, wasn¡¯t it? Use your ESP to implant something through the cacti. A tracer? A parasite? A connection of some kind? It¡¯s also possible your ESP is related to cactus or plants in general." Greg shrugged. "Now, now, Elena. That¡¯s a lot of heavy accusations you¡¯re throwing around." "And I suppose it¡¯s coincidence that you insisted on handing those out to everyone?" Greg¡¯s smile didn¡¯t budge. "Hey, I¡¯m just a friendly guy. Is it my fault everyone here is suspicious?" Elena¡¯s gaze darkened. "I threw mine away the first chance I got." Greg¡¯s smile twitched for half a second. "Of course you did," he said softly. Karl¡¯s flames roared to life, forming a ring around his shoulders and burning upward like a scarf of flickering light. His red hair gleamed in the glow, his scowl sharpening into something lethal. "Enough talking," Karl said. His gaze burned into Greg¡¯s. "Let¡¯s settle this." A thin, serpentine shadow curled at Elena¡¯s feet. Red eyes glinted beneath the surface of the darkness as her Shadow Demon stirred awake. "I agree." Elena¡¯s voice was light, almost playful. "Shall we take him down together first, before we settle our score, Mr. Brandt?" Greg¡¯s eyes sharpened, his smile thinning at the edges. Professor Merrick raised one hand, his gaze cool and expressionless. "Begin." "Ha ha ha ha ha~!" Greg''s laugh cut through the training hall like broken glass. High-pitched and unhinged. He was grinning ¡ª wide enough to show all his teeth. His hands were in his pockets, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His bright green eyes gleamed beneath his messy green hair. "So funny¡­" His voice was light and casual, but there was a dangerous edge underneath it. "Ms. Faust, you overestimate yourself¡­" Elena¡¯s gaze sharpened. Her Shadow Demon¡¯s red eyes glinted beneath her feet. "Give up on your bravado," Elena said coldly. "I know there¡¯s a reason why you targeted John. He could copy the ESP of others. He¡¯d hard-counter whatever scheme you were playing at and would have rendered your cactus strategy or whatever that was¡­ useless.." Greg¡¯s smile widened. Elena raised one hand. "Shadow Demon, destroy¡ª" Her eyes widened. Her body tensed. "Ugh¡­ Wha¡ªwhat¡¯s¡­ happening?" Elena stumbled forward, clutching her side. A dark stain bloomed beneath her hand ¡ª red seeping into her white blouse. Her pupils contracted. Her breath hitched. "¡­It hurts¡­" Her knees buckled. Her Shadow Demon screamed soundlessly as it dissolved into smoke. Elena¡¯s breath hitched before she fell face-first onto the floor. Dead silence followed. Greg smiled. Slow and easy. "Do you know¡­" he began, his voice light and conversational, "that cacti have spores?" Karl¡¯s flames flared higher. His teeth bared in a snarl. "What did you do?" Greg¡¯s eyes glinted. "And guess what¡­" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can do with spores?" A thin green mist curled around his fingertips. His smile widened. My stomach dropped, recalling my journals¡­ and this one particular event. This was Greg¡¯s ultimate debut, something I wasn¡¯t exactly looking forward to. Greg''s ESP was called Green Thumb. He could control any plant he had tended for a period of time. What Greg had done was monstrous. I knew just enough Greg had hidden spores under Elena¡¯s clothes ¡ª tucked into the folds, the creases, the places no one would ever think to check. And then, with surgical precision, he had accelerated their growth from beneath her skin. A ticking needle bomb, buried under her flesh. If he had wanted to, Greg could have let the cactus take root, hollow her out from the inside, and kill her on the spot. And the cactus in all of this was just his method of delivery system. "You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m in a good mood," Greg said softly. ¡°I could¡¯ve tortured, Ms. Faust, you know?¡± Karl¡¯s flames roared. His eyes burned with raw fury. "You¡ª!" Greg¡¯s gaze flicked toward him. His smile sharpened. "Careful, Brandt. Burn me too hard¡­" A vine curled beneath Greg¡¯s feet, thorns glinting under the light. "¡ªand Elena might not wake up." Karl¡¯s flames wavered. His fists trembled. Honestly¡­ even I, who had dealt with my fair share of trauma, was shook seeing Elena lying there, bloodied and unconscious. I turned to Professor Merrick, who looked like he didn¡¯t care one bit about Elena''s suffering. Mom was right. This place was tough¡­ Too tough, especially on its students, I¡¯d call it heartless. And that was saying a lot, from a guy who grew up with a Mom like mine. 030 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 4 - Mark’s POV 030 Functioning Psychopaths - Part 4 - Mark¡¯s POV Karl¡¯s flames roared to life. A ring of fire burst outward from his shoulders, the heat distorting the air around him. His jacket fell to the ground in burning tatters, and he ripped his shirt clean apart, smoke curling off the edges. His trousers ¡ª fireproof, thank god ¡ª didn¡¯t catch. Probably the same kind firefighters used. But the sight of Karl standing there, his body encased in flickering light, was like watching a bomb mid-detonation. "Ah, so the match is still on, yes?" Greg¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°Poor Elena, lying right there like some dried fish¡­ don¡¯t you feel bad for her? Karl didn¡¯t respond. He lunged. Flames surged off his fists as he threw a left hook straight at Greg¡¯s face. Greg¡¯s eyes widened. He tilted his head back, just narrowly avoiding the blow. Karl¡¯s fist carved through the air, flames licking dangerously close to Greg¡¯s hair. "Do you think I care?" Karl snarled. Another burst of heat exploded from his palm. Greg stumbled back, laughing breathlessly as he ducked away from a wild backhand. Karl¡¯s movements were fast ¡ª too fast for someone human. His flames trailed through the air like ghostly afterimages. "Ah¡ª!" Greg ducked. "Careful, Brandt! You might singe something important!" Karl¡¯s eyes were wild, feral. Another swing ¡ª this time Greg had to twist his whole body to avoid the blast of heat that followed it. His coat sleeve caught fire. Greg swore under his breath and peeled it off in one swift motion, tossing it aside where it burned into ash. "Mark!" Mirai¡¯s voice cut through the chaos. I turned toward her ¡ª she was crouched beside Elena¡¯s still form, her hands hovering uncertainly over the dark stain on Elena¡¯s blouse. "Should we¡ª?" I opened my mouth ¡ª "No need." Professor Merrick was already there, kneeling beside Elena with his sleeves rolled up. His expression was eerily calm. He pressed his hand against Elena¡¯s side, a faint force pulsing under his fingertips. Was he healing her? What exactly was Professor Merrick¡¯s ESP? "The spar will continue," Merrick said coolly. He glanced toward the edge of the field. "Matt. Lola. Come here. Pick up Elena and take her to the infirmary. The nurse should be able to take care of her." Matt and Lola hesitated only for a second before running over. Matt crouched down and lifted Elena carefully by her shoulders, while Lola took her legs. Elena¡¯s head lolled back as they carried her away, blood trailing in thin drops across the floor. Karl didn¡¯t even glance their way. "Brandt." Greg¡¯s voice was light and teasing as he sidestepped another flaming punch. "Aren¡¯t you worried about your friend?" ¡°I don¡¯t have friends.¡± Karl¡¯s fist shot out ¡ª too fast this time. Greg¡¯s smile vanished as Karl¡¯s knuckles grazed his cheek, searing the skin. The smell of burnt flesh curled through the air. "Ah¡­ ouch." Greg¡¯s hand lifted to his cheek, touching the scorched skin. He examined his fingers. "That actually hurt. But that¡¯s actually sad, you know? No friends?" Karl was breathing hard, his shoulders rising and falling beneath the flicker of his flames. His gaze was sharp, burning with pure hatred. "You should have killed me when you had the chance," Greg said softly. ¡°Uuuh,,, we can¡¯t do that, right?¡± quipped Mirai besides me. Karl¡¯s fist shot out again. Greg ducked ¡ª barely. The heat from the strike left thin red lines on his cheek. He winced. "Damn." Greg¡¯s foot shot out ¡ª a quick, precise kick aimed at Karl¡¯s knee. Karl twisted his body, absorbing the hit with barely a flinch. He retaliated immediately, flames licking up his leg as he drove a knee toward Greg¡¯s gut. Greg spun away, laughing as Karl¡¯s flames grazed his side. "You¡¯re very intense, Brandt!" Karl didn¡¯t answer. His hand shot forward, a thin arc of fire trailing behind his fingertips. Greg¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Tch¡ª" A blast of heat shot toward Greg¡¯s chest. Greg¡¯s form blurred. I blinked. Greg was suddenly behind Karl. "Fast." Karl¡¯s fist smashed into the ground where Greg had just been standing. Flames burst upward in a geyser of heat and smoke. Dust rained down over the field. Greg¡¯s laugh was breathless. "But not fast enough." Karl spun toward him, fire curling off his shoulders like wings. His red hair clung to his face, his eyes narrowed and murderous. Greg¡¯s smile widened. "All this effort¡­ for Faust?" His eyes glinted. "Come on, Karl. If you¡¯re going to be a hero, at least own up to it." Karl¡¯s flames flared higher. "Shut up." "Touchy." Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Karl lunged. His flames twisted into a roaring arc ¡ª Greg¡¯s eyes sharpened. "Got you." Karl¡¯s body suddenly froze. Thin green tendrils curled up from the floor beneath his feet. I hadn¡¯t even noticed them before ¡ª barely more than hair-thin vines, almost invisible in the smoke-filled air. They coiled upward, wrapping around Karl¡¯s ankles, his wrists. Karl¡¯s flames sputtered. His eyes widened. "What¡ª" "It¡¯s over, Brandt." Greg¡¯s eyes darkened. His smile sharpened into something twisted and vicious. "Did you seriously think, I only brought cacti in this fight? I got a whole garden for myself!" The vines tightened. Karl¡¯s flames surged wildly, burning away the tendrils ¡ª but more were already climbing his legs. "Don¡¯t feel bad," Greg murmured. "Faust was the distraction. You were my real target all along. Do you know why?" Karl¡¯s gaze sharpened. His teeth bared. "You¡ª!" "Hush." Greg raised one hand. The green mist curled around his fingers. "Sleep." Karl¡¯s flames guttered. His legs buckled. His eyes fluttered ¡ª And then Karl bit his lip so hard it bled. ¡°You know? Fuck you!¡± A burst of red light exploded between us. Karl¡¯s flames roared back to life ¡ª and this time, they burned brighter, hotter. The vines caught fire and disintegrated almost instantly. Greg¡¯s eyes widened. "Tch¡ª" Karl¡¯s fist shot out. Greg blurred ¡ª too late this time. Karl¡¯s knuckles connected with Greg¡¯s jaw in a burst of flame and bone-crushing impact. Greg¡¯s body whipped sideways. He smashed into the far wall, leaving a crater in the stone. Dust and smoke curled upward from the wreckage. Karl¡¯s shoulders heaved. His flames still burned, curling off his back like the edges of an open wound. His hand dropped to his side. Greg¡¯s laugh echoed through the smoke. "Ah¡­" Greg¡¯s outline stirred through the dust. "¡­That was a good hit." Karl¡¯s flames flared back to life. His eyes narrowed. "Stay down," Karl said coldly. Greg stepped forward, his green eyes glinting beneath the smoke. "Make me." Merrick¡¯s voice cut through the haze. "Enough." The heat evaporated instantly. Karl¡¯s flames sputtered out. Greg¡¯s smile thinned. "Brandt wins," Merrick said calmly. His gaze was as cold as ever. "This match is over." Karl¡¯s flames were still burning beneath his skin. His chest heaved as he glared through the haze. His knuckles were white, half-curled into a fist. "What?" His voice was sharp and dangerous. "We aren''t even done yet!" Greg pushed himself up from the wreckage. Dust and bits of shattered stone fell from his shoulders as he rolled his neck with an audible crack. Despite the swelling bruise already darkening his jaw, he smiled. "Yeah," Greg said, his voice lazy but with that same dangerous edge beneath it. "What he said." Merrick¡¯s gaze sharpened. "It¡¯s done." His tone cut through the tension like a knife. "Greg." Greg¡¯s smile thinned. "Your strategies are brilliant. Cruel, but brilliant." Merrick¡¯s eyes looked emotionless. "But you lost. I can¡¯t have you dying on your first spar." Greg¡¯s eyes narrowed. A dangerous flicker passed over his face. "How?!" His voice rose, sharp and shaking. "I am going to win this!" Greg¡¯s breath hitched. His green eyes gleamed beneath his messy blond hair, fever-bright. "Even with the attribute disadvantage, I am going to prove to the rest of the fucking world that I can be the strongest!" Merrick¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. His eyes were cold, clinical. "You can¡¯t fool my eyes," Merrick said calmly. "You¡¯re exhausted." Greg¡¯s pupils contracted. "I¡¯ve read your file." Merrick¡¯s gaze darkened slightly. "I know how reckless you can be. That was your limit. Do more¡­ and then you¡¯d risk your life." Everyone was looking confused, well, I wasn¡¯t. After all, I knew Greg¡¯s story. Greg¡¯s jaw tightened. His hand curled into a fist at his side. His shoulders trembled. "Fine!" Greg¡¯s voice broke. He spun on his heel, his green jacket swaying behind him as he stormed toward the exit. His steps were fast and uneven, his breath hitching just slightly. I saw the glint of moisture at the corner of his eye before he disappeared through the doors. It was¡­ ¡­kind of anticlimactic. Karl¡¯s gaze tracked Greg¡¯s retreating figure, his eyes narrowed and dangerous. His hand twitched at his side ¡ª flames flickering faintly beneath his fingertips. He started to move¡ª Merrick¡¯s hand landed on his shoulder. "Don¡¯t." Karl¡¯s body tensed. His gaze shifted toward Merrick ¡ª a hard, biting glare. Merrick¡¯s eyes remained steady. His hand didn¡¯t budge from Karl¡¯s shoulder. For a second, I thought Karl was going to hit him. But then Karl¡¯s gaze dropped. The flames guttered out. His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of his breath. "Tch." Karl shrugged Merrick¡¯s hand off and turned toward the exit. His steps were slow and heavy. Merrick watched him leave, his expression impassive. Then his gaze shifted toward me. "Mr. Valentine." I stiffened. "Yes?" "You¡¯re next." Of course I was. Of course. "Next match," Professor Merrick¡¯s voice carried through the combat zone with that usual detached calm. "Mark Valentine, Peter Mosley, Iris Touch. To the center." Finally. My turn. I stood up and rolled my shoulders, ignoring the knot of tension coiled in my chest. This was going to be rough. Peter had cryokinesis¡ªannoyingly versatile and difficult to counter. Iris could teleport, which made her a pain to track. And me? Cognitive invisibility. Useful for slipping under the radar but not exactly helpful in a direct fight. I could probably force Second Perspective if I pushed myself, but¡­ well, I wasn¡¯t eager to bleed out of my nose in front of half the class. Peter swept back his dark hair, securing his headband over his forehead. He was tall and lean, the type who didn¡¯t talk much but made people nervous just by standing too still. I remembered him from class¡ªquiet, always sitting near the windows like he was waiting for something to happen. His gray eyes sharpened when they landed on me. "I feel bad I won¡¯t be able to teach that Greg a lesson," Peter said, his voice low and steady. Iris scoffed. "You should focus on the opponents in front of you." She stood to my left, adjusting her bun. Her purple hair shimmered under the combat zone¡¯s harsh lights, and I noticed how tightly she''d tied it back¡ªprobably trying to avoid someone yanking it mid-fight. Smart. She wore fingerless gloves and an expression that suggested she¡¯d already calculated how to kill both of us three different ways. Peter¡¯s mouth curled into a slight smirk. "Greg''s overdue for a reality check." Iris rolled her eyes. "If you survive this match, you can go after him." Peter¡¯s smile widened slightly. "Count on it." ¡°Talking about someone behind their back isn¡¯t cool.¡± ¡°Mark, you serious?¡± Iris scoffed. I sighed. This was already shaping up to be a disaster. Peter was clearly looking for a fight, and Iris was already sizing up weaknesses. Me? I was calculating how many seconds I could stay invisible before one of them found a way to ice me or teleport me into a wall. Merrick¡¯s gaze slid over us, sharp and predatory. "Begin." Peter¡¯s breath misted in the air as frost spread beneath his feet. Ice shot toward me in a jagged wave. I ducked and rolled, feeling the cold bite the edge of my sleeve. Iris flickered¡ªgone one second, then behind Peter the next. Her hand shot toward his neck¡ª Peter twisted, and ice erupted from the ground, forcing Iris to teleport again or risk losing a limb. She reappeared above him, lashing out with a kick. I sank into cognitive invisibility, my body flickering out of their awareness. Peter¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he stepped back, ice spiraling from his hands to coat the floor in a slick layer. Okay. Slippery floor. Hard to move. He was trying to corner us. I circled around to Peter¡¯s side, moving quietly as Iris teleported, feinting left before appearing behind him again. Peter¡¯s foot slammed down, and the ice exploded outward in jagged spikes. Iris vanished just before one of them could skewer her midair. I slipped closer¡ª Peter¡¯s eyes tracked me. Damn. He couldn¡¯t see me, but he was feeling the air shift. I was going to have to¡ª Iris flickered to my left, her hand brushing my shoulder as she whispered, "Not bad." Before I could react, she vanished again. ¡°I won¡¯t miss next time,¡± echoed her voice. Peter''s gaze sharpened as the temperature dropped. A layer of frost crept up my boots. My breath fogged the air. He was trying to freeze me in place without bothering with accuracy. Fine. I could work with that. I lowered my stance, heart hammering. "Alright," I muttered under my breath. "Let¡¯s see how long you can keep this up." 031 Problem Students - Part 1 - Merrick’s POV 031 Problem Students - Part 1 - Merrick¡¯s POV How long had it been since I started teaching here at ESPer Academy? Roughly five years¡­ not that long, really. I¡¯d come up through the same batch as Reina, though she¡¯d been teaching for over a decade now. Still, my experience shouldn¡¯t be underestimated. I¡¯d earned my tenure with results, even if my teaching style wasn¡¯t exactly traditional. The Pioneer Class, though¡­ they were a different beast altogether. Greg Green. Karl Brandt. Elena Faust. Ronald Ardent. Matt Wentworth. Sigh. In a sense, every single one of them was a problem child. What was Reina even thinking, assembling a class like this? It was like putting a box of gunpowder next to an open flame and hoping nothing would explode. Speaking of problem children¡­ Mark Valentine might have been the most problematic of them all. Not because of anything he¡¯d done, necessarily¡ªbut because of his mother. Evelyn Valentine¡¯s reputation was¡­ complicated. And dangerous. A woman like that raising a boy like Mark? That was an equation waiting to unravel. I sighed internally and scolded myself. It wasn¡¯t fair to judge the child by the parent. Mark had proven himself adaptable and strategic¡ªhis real weakness was that he was still playing catch-up against classmates born through privilege. And right now, I could see the difference. Peter swept his hand through the air, and a wave of frost rolled across the ground, creeping up the walls and fogging the air. The mist swirled unnaturally, lingering longer than it should. Cryokinesis with atmospheric manipulation. Clever. He was using the fog not just to obscure Mark¡¯s movements, but to create a thermal gradient¡ªif Mark¡¯s body heat fluctuated or displaced the mist, Peter would sense it. Mark, of course, was already invisible. Cognitive invisibility was tricky¡ªit didn¡¯t make him physically vanish, but it disrupted perception. Iris couldn¡¯t see him directly, but the disturbed fog made him easier to track. Iris flickered into existence above Peter¡¯s shoulder and lashed out with a downward kick. Peter sidestepped, the ice beneath his feet shifting to push him aside. Iris vanished again in a shimmer of violet light, reappearing behind him. Peter twisted, sending a volley of icicles toward her midair. Iris vanished just before they struck, reappearing across the field with a sharp crack of displaced air. Peter was playing a shooting game¡ªpredicting Iris¡¯s teleport patterns, laying down fire zones. Iris was playing minesweeper¡ªdarting through Peter¡¯s attacks, trying to find a way through the danger zones without misstepping. And Mark¡­ Mark was playing hide-and-seek. The fog shifted unnaturally¡ªPeter¡¯s eyes narrowed. A spear of ice shot toward an empty spot in the mist. Mark barely twisted aside in time, the spear grazing the edge of his sleeve. A flicker of distorted air¡ªMark was repositioning, using the fog and his cognitive invisibility to mask his movements. But Peter was adjusting fast. "You''re cornering yourself," Peter said, tone cold as the frost beneath his feet. Iris reappeared behind Mark, her hand flashing toward his neck¡ªMark twisted aside, but her fingertips brushed his shoulder. "That was close," she whispered. ¡°One more, I promise, I am going to get you, Valentine.¡± Peter¡¯s eyes sharpened. He sent a spray of frost toward both of them. Iris vanished again, but Mark was forced to dive. He rolled across the slick ice, boots skidding as frost clung to his uniform. His breathing hitched. Iris reappeared, high above this time. A dozen feet in the air. Peter tracked her, eyes narrowing. His hand lifted¡ª Mark''s outline flickered. He surged forward, closing the distance¡ª Ice erupted from the ground. Mark pivoted sharply, dropping into a slide as a spike of ice tore past his face. He twisted mid-slide, one hand skimming the frost as he redirected his momentum¡ª Peter¡¯s eyes widened. For a second, Mark''s outline became sharp, distinct¡ª ¡°Second Perspective,¡± softly muttered Mark. A ripple of perception distortion. Peter¡¯s next shot veered left as Mark curved toward his blind spot¡ª Peter¡¯s back tensed. He twisted, ice forming into jagged spears. Mark dropped under them¡ª Iris reappeared just behind him¡ª Mark turned at the last second¡ªshe grabbed his wrist. The fog curled tighter. Peter¡¯s frost closed in. Three pieces, converging toward the center of the board. Interesting. Very interesting. Peter, the long-range sniper. Iris, the mobile striker. Mark, the elusive wildcard. My lips curled slightly. This kids have a whole future ahead of them. Honestly, watching Mark was challenging. My ESP, a variant telekinesis, allowed me a tactile sense of the battlefield. I could perceive objects, movements, even shifts in pressure and momentum as though they were brushing against my skin. That included Mark. His cognitive invisibility was nothing special against my ESP; I could still "feel" him through the disturbances he made in the environment. But that other thing¡­ Second Perspective. Every time Mark used it, my sense of him warped. It was like the mental equivalent of feeling something solid dissolve under your fingertips. A distortion in perception itself. And it was getting stronger. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Peter¡¯s frost spread across the ground in sharp veins of ice, Iris teleporting in and out of the fog with practiced ease¡ªbut Mark was adjusting to both of them. He was calculating. Adapting. And staying just ahead of their pace. The fifteen-minute timer finally ran out. The high-pitched chime echoed through the combat zone. The ice began to melt almost immediately, hissing as the ambient temperature returned to normal thanks to the training hall¡¯s features. Peter lowered his hands, his breath fogging the air one last time before the chill faded. Iris materialized on the ground a few feet away, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Mark stood between them, breathing hard but steady, his eyes sharp and calculating. I tapped my tablet, tallying the final scores. The data was already compiled¡ªhit ratios, evasion rates, strategic adjustments, and so on. Greg was at the top. That was expected. He understood the system better than anyone. Mirai followed him closely¡ªher empathy and emotional reading giving her a tactical edge. Mark had just edged out Karl Brandt for third place, which was¡­ impressive, considering how little formal training he had compared to the others. I wouldn¡¯t think Evelyn had it in her to even be capable of giving formal training. But that wasn¡¯t what I was judging here. I turned to the trio. "Mark wins this match." Iris¡¯s head snapped toward me. "What?!" Peter¡¯s gaze sharpened, but he remained silent. Mark blinked, shoulders tensing as if he hadn¡¯t expected it either. Iris stepped forward, her tone sharp. "I landed more hits! Peter controlled the field! How does Mark win?" "Because he played the game better." I met her glare without blinking. "Mark didn¡¯t just survive¡ªhe manipulated your patterns. He forced Peter to adjust his range, and he kept you both from overwhelming him. That¡¯s strategy." Iris¡¯s mouth opened as if to argue, but I cut her off with a slight lift of my hand. "I¡¯ll send you the full evaluation privately, including your scores. You¡¯ll find my decision justified." Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she stepped back. Peter didn¡¯t even react. His eyes were already elsewhere, probably recalculating the whole fight in his head. Mark, for his part, just nodded slightly. Calculating as always. A hand shot up from the crowd. Hannah. "Professor Merrick!" I sighed. "Yes?" She stood, her expression tense. "What about Greg? He nearly killed Elena. Isn¡¯t there going to be some kind of punishment for that much level of violence?" I raised an eyebrow. "Define ¡®violence.¡¯" Hannah hesitated. "He¡­ manipulated a duel with John Craig. And Elena¡­ She didn¡¯t even see it coming. I can¡¯t imagine suffering the way she did¡­ ugh¡­ cactus? Really?" Clint cut in from across the room. "Greg took care of Elena in a too violent manner. Doesn¡¯t holding back necessary for strategy too? If you¡¯re rewarding strategy, shouldn¡¯t Greg be penalized for¡ª" "For what?" I interrupted. My gaze swept over them. "Elena¡¯s loss was her responsibility. This is a combat school, not a playground. If you make a mistake in the field, there isn¡¯t a safety net waiting to catch you. Losing is a learning opportunity. And in the field, if you lose¡­ you die." Silence. Anna¡¯s voice cut through it. "But the thing with John¡­ Greg did something shady. Everyone¡¯s here is suspicious of him¡­" I shook my head. "It¡¯s baseless suspicion, brought by a series of narratives that Greg introduced himself. Something he will have to answer to me eventually. But the way it is now, there is no evidence." Anna¡¯s brows furrowed. "Doesn¡¯t that make it more suspicious?" "It makes it unprovable." My tone sharpened slightly. "And until there¡¯s proof, Greg¡¯s tactics remain within the rules of engagement." I understood their frustration. Greg wasn¡¯t just manipulative¡ªhe was dangerous. But there was a reason I let him get away with it. Strategy mattered more than brute force. In the real world, your ability to outthink your opponent mattered more than raw power. And Greg understood that better than anyone. I glanced at Mark. He looked bored. "That¡¯s enough," I said, straightening. "Class dismissed. Go home." The students began to shuffle toward the exit, conversations already starting to buzz between them. "Mark. Mirai." They stopped at the door and turned toward me. "You¡¯ll be working with Karl Brandt," I said. "You¡¯re a team from now on." Mark¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. Mirai visibly tensed. "In future exercises, you¡¯ll all have teams of your own." My gaze lingered on the others. "Adjust accordingly. Now, let¡¯s bring this extra-curricular activity to a close. And don¡¯t forget your essays, is that clear? Go. See you on Monday." No one even cared to listen to my words anymore... It seemed they''ve grown tired of hearing my voice, huh? I waited until the training hall was empty before moving. The sound of footsteps and scattered chatter faded down the corridor until the only thing left was the hum of the ventilation system. I yawned, stretching my arms behind my head as I stood. The day had been long. Longer than usual. I made my way down the hall, the rhythmic click of my heels echoing against the tile floor. I found my car parked at the edge of the faculty lot, unlocked it with a quiet beep, and slid into the driver¡¯s seat. My thoughts drifted back to the Pioneer Class as I started the engine. Problematic children. All of them. Karl Brandt was too violent. His aggression wasn''t the tactical kind¡ªit was the sort that spiraled out of control the moment things stopped going his way. A dangerous flaw. Matt Wentworth was too scared of his own power. I¡¯d seen it before¡ªESP as a burden, not a gift. Hesitation in battle was a death sentence. Greg Green¡­ Too cruel. And not just toward his enemies. To himself. There was something self-destructive about the way he played the game. He never sought victory for its own sake¡ªhe sought to prove something. To someone. And it was going to get him killed. I sighed and rubbed my temple as I approached an intersection. The streetlights flickered above, the road damp from the earlier rain. I was about to turn when I noticed a figure hunched over on the pavement under the pale orange glow of a streetlight. Greg. He was on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his mouth onto the pavement. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling slightly. I rolled down the window. "Need a ride?" Greg wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his usual smile twisting into something faintly bitter. He didn¡¯t even look at me. "No thanks." "Get in the car, Greg." He shook his head, his messy green hair falling over his eyes. "Don¡¯t mind me, Professor. I¡¯m just¡­ adjusting." Adjusting to what? Pushing his limits again, no doubt. Greg played his ESP like a game of chicken with his own mortality. And he wasn¡¯t afraid to lose. If his classmates knew of this side of his, would they think differently of him? "Kids these days," a sickly sweet voice crooned from behind me, "no respect for their elders." My blood ran cold. I turned my head¡ªjust in time to see my passenger-side window shatter. Glass rained over the seat as a slender hand reached through the broken frame, undid the lock, and pushed the door open. The woman slid in with predatory grace, her silver hair cascading over one shoulder, crimson eyes glittering beneath the low streetlight. "Evelyn." She smiled, legs crossed, fingers resting lazily on the dashboard. "Merrick. Did you miss me?" My jaw tightened. "What the hell are you doing here?" She gave a soft hum, tilting her head. "Oh, nothing serious. Just dropping in on an old friend." "You broke into my car." "Mm." Her red eyes gleamed as her smile sharpened. "Habit." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What do you want?" Her smile widened. "To hire you." I laughed once¡ªsharp and humorless. "No." "You didn¡¯t even hear the job." "I¡¯m a professor now," I said flatly. "That life is behind me. I don¡¯t kill anymore." Evelyn leaned toward me, her gaze half-lidded. "Pity. I was hoping to see Merrick the Magician in action again." I didn¡¯t react. I had long since grown immune to Evelyn¡¯s games. Her lips curled upward. "Maybe you just need the right incentive. I could offer you a warm meal. A cozy evening." Her eyes glittered. "Or maybe a little¡­ personal compensation." I stared at her, unimpressed. "I¡¯m not so easily flustered anymore," I said. Evelyn pouted, propping her chin on her hand. "Shame. I¡¯d love to see that composure crack." My gaze sharpened. "You have thirty seconds to get out of my car." "Or what?" I smiled thinly. "Or I¡¯ll fail your son in every subject he¡¯s under me." Evelyn¡¯s eyes widened in mock outrage. "Hey! That¡¯s abuse of power!" "Is it?" Evelyn sighed dramatically, resting her head against the seat. "You¡¯ve gotten boring, Merrick." "You¡¯ve stayed exactly the same." She laughed softly. "And yet you¡¯re still not immune, are you?" I reached across her and opened the passenger door. "Out." Evelyn¡¯s smile sharpened as she slid gracefully from the car. Before she closed the door, she leaned down, silver hair falling like a curtain around her face. "Tell Mark to be careful, Merrick," she whispered. "They are already moving." I didn¡¯t answer. She stood, giving me one last amused look before stepping back into the night. The door closed with a soft click. I sat there for a moment, hand resting on the wheel. My pulse had quickened, despite myself. Evelyn was dangerous. Still dangerous. And if she was moving, that meant trouble was already on its way. 032 Night Shift Hustle - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV 032 Night Shift Hustle - Part 2 - Mirai¡¯s POV I always hated night shifts. It was a rare experience for me¡­ hating something. The flickering neon light above the entrance buzzed faintly, mixing with the hum of the store''s old air conditioning unit. The glass doors slid open, then closed with a mechanical whirr as another customer walked out. The clock on the wall ticked, slower than it had any right to. It wasn¡¯t like working the night shift was hard¡ªmost of the customers were too tired or too drunk to cause trouble¡ªbut the quiet always made my mind wander. I sighed, brushing back a stray lock of hair as I reorganized the snack display near the register. ¡°Need help with that?¡± I glanced up. ¡°Oh, Mark?¡± My eyes widened as I spotted him behind the cashier. ¡°What are you doing here? I didn¡¯t know you worked weekends too.¡± Mark gave me a flat look as he scanned a bottle of soda for a customer. ¡°Of course I do.¡± Of course he did. I always found it weird. Why was a rich kid like him working part-time at a convenience store? He definitely wasn¡¯t hurting for cash. His family was definitely loaded, and it wasn¡¯t like he needed job experience. ¡­Maybe he liked me? I reflected on the past few days. Hmmm¡­ Mark liking me? L-like¡­ a crush? Nah¡­ I shook my head immediately, but my ESP, Eloquence, kicked in. I could feel his emotional state¡ªa calm, steady focus. Nope. Nothing romantic there. No fluttering excitement, no underlying tension. Not even a hint of a crush. Hmm¡­ maybe¡­ responsibility? That would make sense. Mark always acted older than his age¡ªtoo put together, too calculating. Still, it would¡¯ve been nice if he liked me, right? I hated the thought of misunderstanding him, but¡­ Mark treated me too well sometimes. ¡°Do you need help with that?¡± Mark asked. I blinked. He was already at my side, rearranging the chips I had half-dumped into the rack. His movements were fast and efficient, his hands brushing against mine as he straightened the bags. ¡°I got it,¡± I said quickly. ¡°I¡¯m already here,¡± he replied. His expression was neutral, but I could feel the quiet steadiness beneath it. I sighed. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t expect me to thank you.¡± A small, amused huff escaped him. He didn¡¯t smile exactly, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward. He was probably laughing at me in that quiet Mark way of his. A customer shuffled toward the counter, setting down a basket full of energy drinks and instant noodles. Mark stepped away from me and rang them up with that same calm focus. ¡°You sure you¡¯re not working too hard?¡± I asked after the customer left. Mark¡¯s brow lifted slightly. ¡°Says the girl covering back-to-back shifts.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°At least I¡¯m not doing it to punish myself.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not punishing myself,¡± Mark said, deadpan. ¡°Really?¡± I leaned over the counter, my hands propping up my chin. ¡°Because it sure looks like you are.¡± Mark didn¡¯t answer right away. He slid a pack of gum into a plastic bag and handed it to another customer before glancing at me. ¡°I have my reasons,¡± he said. Responsibility. That was the feeling I got from him. Heavy and quiet. ¡°Yeah?¡± I asked. ¡°And what reasons are those?¡± He glanced at me, his dark eyes steady. ¡°Just making sure everything stays under control.¡± I frowned. ¡°That sounds suspiciously ominous.¡± He didn¡¯t respond. We worked in silence for a while. Customers came and went. The clock ticked. A guy tried to buy alcohol without ID and left grumbling when Mark refused to sell it to him. A pair of high school girls took too long picking out snacks and left giggling. Finally, Mark leaned back against the counter. ¡°Tired?¡± he asked. ¡°Exhausted,¡± I admitted. ¡°Go sit down,¡± he said. ¡°And let you handle the store alone? Not happening.¡± ¡°You¡¯re stubborn.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been told.¡± Mark¡¯s mouth twitched. He opened his mouth to say something else when the door jingled open. A guy in a hoodie stepped in, hands in his pockets. His eyes scanned the store. I stiffened. Mark¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but I could feel his focus sharpen. He was watching the guy carefully. ¡°Be right back,¡± Mark said quietly, stepping away from the counter. ¡°Wait¡ª¡± He ignored me and started walking toward the guy. Mark¡¯s back was straight, his pace measured. He wasn¡¯t giving off any hostility, but I could feel it beneath the surface¡ªa quiet, controlled tension. The guy didn¡¯t do anything. After a moment, he turned and left. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Mark waited a few seconds, then walked back to the counter. ¡°What was that about?¡± I asked. ¡°Nothing,¡± he said. ¡°It didn¡¯t feel like nothing.¡± Mark didn¡¯t answer. ¡°Seriously, Mark¡ª¡± ¡°Mirai.¡± I blinked. He didn¡¯t look at me as he said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± My ESP told me he was¡­ calm. Maybe a little guarded. Definitely not scared. Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that whatever Mark was protecting himself from¡­ It wasn¡¯t over yet. No way it was just my imagination that he was acting paranoid. We settled back into the rhythm of work after that. It was quiet for a while. The only sounds were the mechanical hum of the refrigerators and the occasional rustling of a plastic bag. A couple of high schoolers wandered in, spent too long debating over which candy to buy, and eventually left with nothing. ¡°So,¡± I said, sliding a can of iced coffee into the cooler, ¡°what do you think about the whole team-up nonsense?¡± Mark glanced at me from behind the counter. He was leaning back against it, hands tucked into his apron pockets. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought. ¡°You mean Karl?¡± ¡°Obviously.¡± Mark hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Why?¡± I sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly looking forward to teaming up with Karl Brandt.¡± Mark snorted. ¡°Yeah, I can¡¯t imagine why.¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± I rolled my eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense, though. Merrick¡¯s supposed to be studying us, right? Gather data? That¡¯s why he gathered us, set up that sparring tournament, and made us fight¡­ Why did he stop it when it became our turn?¡± Mark¡¯s eyes sharpened slightly. ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°I mean, think about it.¡± I straightened up and gestured toward him. ¡°I won my match. You won your match. And Karl won his match. We¡¯re practically the finalists.¡± Mark¡¯s brow lifted. ¡°Pretty bold of you to rank yourself that high.¡± I scowled at him. ¡°Don¡¯t act like you disagree.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± he admitted. His mouth curved slightly. ¡°I just didn¡¯t realize you had such an ego.¡± My eye twitched. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re asking for it.¡± Mark¡¯s mouth twitched upward into that half-smile of his¡ªthe one that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time. Hug? Ah, forget it¡­ Get your mind off the gutter, Mirai! ¡°Answer properly,¡± I said, jabbing a finger in his direction. ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Mark¡¯s expression smoothed out, but I could feel the trace of amusement beneath it. ¡°The professor probably has a plan in mind to balance everyone out.¡± I frowned. ¡°Like how?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Easy solution would be adjusting the team sizes. Give the next team one extra member. Keep adding until the odds even out.¡± Huh. I stared at him. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ surprisingly reasonable.¡± Mark shot me a flat look. ¡°Thanks?¡± ¡°I mean,¡± I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder, ¡°you¡¯re not exactly known for being good at general subjects.¡± ¡°You wound me,¡± Mark said, deadpan. I ignored him, thinking it over. He wasn¡¯t wrong. If the professor added more people to the next team, that would technically balance things out¡­ but it also meant we¡¯d be outnumbered. I didn¡¯t like that. ¡°Still,¡± I muttered, crossing my arms. ¡°That¡¯d put us at a disadvantage.¡± ¡°Mm.¡± Mark¡¯s gaze darkened slightly. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s the point.¡± I frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°If we¡¯re the strongest,¡± Mark said slowly, ¡°then putting us at a disadvantage would force us to adapt.¡± That sounded like something Professor Merrick would pull. ¡°So, what?¡± I said. ¡°Just have us fight until we collapse?¡± ¡°Not exactly,¡± Mark said. ¡°It¡¯s probably more complicated than that.¡± ¡°Great.¡± I sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡± Mark chuckled under his breath. ¡°You¡¯re taking this awfully well,¡± I said suspiciously. ¡°I don¡¯t mind a challenge,¡± Mark said simply. Of course he didn¡¯t. Psycho. But honestly, Professor Merrick wasn¡¯t even the biggest problem. That honor went to Master Reina. I wasn¡¯t exactly excited about what fresh hell was waiting for us this Monday. Merrick¡¯s tournament was already pushing us to the limit, but Reina? She didn¡¯t care about pushing limits¡ªshe broke them and laughed while doing it. Thinking about that made me want to sink into the floor and never resurface. ¡°Hey,¡± Mark said, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I blinked at him. ¡°Yeah, yeah, just¡­ mentally preparing myself for death.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll survive.¡± ¡°Says the guy who won his match by hiding.¡± ¡°It worked, didn¡¯t it?¡± I opened my mouth to retort, but then¡ª THUNK. A sound like metal striking wood. My instincts screamed at me. I slipped. My heel caught the edge of the floor mat, and I stumbled. Then¡ª FWIP. A silver blur cut through the air. A cleaver. A floating cleaver. ¡°AHHHH!¡± I yelped, twisting mid-fall as the cleaver sliced past my face, close enough that I felt the breeze from the blade. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± I shouted, heat rushing to my ears. My luck kicked in at the last possible second, pulling me just far enough out of range that the cleaver embedded itself into the floor tiles instead of my skull. ¡°Mirai!¡± Mark¡¯s voice was sharp, and suddenly he was moving. He grabbed a basket of snacks off the shelf and hurled it. The basket exploded midair, scattering candy bars and chips everywhere. ¡°Are you kidding me?!¡± I shrieked. ¡°Move!¡± Mark snapped. I crawled¡ªrolled¡ªbehind a shelf as the cleaver jerked free from the floor with a hideous scraping noise and shot toward me. It missed my head by inches, slamming into the shelf with a dull thud. ¡°What the hell is that?!¡± I gasped. Mark didn¡¯t answer. His eyes narrowed, sharp and focused. He reached for the nearest object¡ªa bottle of soda¡ªand flung it hard. It vanished midair with a wet crash. ¡°Did you hit something?¡± I asked, peeking out from behind the shelf. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mark said tensely. WHAM. Something slammed into Mark¡¯s side, and he staggered. ¡°Mark!¡± I scrambled out from behind the shelf, but Mark was already moving. He twisted, bracing himself, as something invisible tackled him to the floor. ¡°Ah¡ª!¡± The thing pinned him down, pressing hard enough that the floor tiles beneath him cracked. Mark¡¯s teeth bared. He wrenched one arm free and jammed his elbow into the air. A grunt. Something solid reacted. ¡°Got you,¡± Mark growled. He rolled, his muscles tensing, and slammed his fist into thin air¡ªexcept it wasn¡¯t thin air. There was resistance. A shape, blurred and distorted, flickered for half a second. ¡°What the hell is that?!¡± I cried. Mark¡¯s gaze shot toward me, dark and focused. ¡°I think,¡± he gritted out, ¡°it¡¯s an assassin.¡± My stomach dropped. ¡°¡­Oh,¡± I whispered. The cleaver trembled in the air¡ªthen yanked itself free from the shelf with a horrible shrieking noise. ¡°Okay,¡± I said faintly. ¡°This is bad.¡± Mark¡¯s thing was usually invisibility. But the assassin? Yeah, the assassin had him beat. Not because of power levels or anything complicated like that. No¡ªthis was simpler. The cleaver whirled in the air, gleaming under the convenience store¡¯s harsh lights, and sliced toward my head. I twisted¡ªmy instincts screaming¡ªand grabbed the nearest thing within reach. A toothbrush. Empowered by luck, I parried the flat side of the cleaver with the toothbrush. It¡­ worked. The impact sent vibrations down my arm, but I stayed on my feet. The cleaver was flung back, spinning through the air. ¡°What the hell?!¡± I gasped. Mark was struggling with the assassin, his arms locked as he tried to pin down something invisible. The problem was that Mark was lacking in the sensory department. His invisibility-based ESP made it hard for him to sense enemies¡ªit was more about removing himself from perception than reading his opponents. That¡¯s where I came in. I reached out with Eloquence¡ªthe empathic threads of my ESP unraveling into the air. I couldn¡¯t see the assassin, but I could sense them¡ªtheir emotions, their intent. The quiet, controlled malice radiating from the corner of the room. ¡°There!¡± I yelled, expressing to Mark¡¯s heart what I could see via Eloquence. Mark adjusted his grip and drove his knee upward. He hit something. A sharp grunt echoed through the store. But the cleaver was already moving again. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± I hissed, darting sideways as the cleaver whizzed toward me. I ran toward the snack aisle. The cleaver followed. Mark and I exchanged a glance. I gestured vaguely, hoping he¡¯d get it. He did. Mark threw a feint at the assassin¡ªpivoted¡ªand ran for me. I reached out. We clapped hands. A warm pulse spread from my fingertips. I let out a thread of my luck, while Mark brushed me with his cognitive invisibility. According to Mark, sharing his power was tricky. It didn¡¯t make you vanish exactly¡ªbut it softened the mind¡¯s ability to track you. It blurred the edges of perception. Together, luck and invisibility¡­ It wasn¡¯t obvious. But it was enough. I darted toward the assassin. The cleaver shot toward my head. I veered left. Feinted right. My luck¡ªactualizing the movement I wanted¡ªlet me pivot with unnatural precision. Mark was already moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him draw his butterfly knife, flipping it with an effortless motion. SLICE. The cleaver split in half, shards of steel scattering across the floor. At the same time¡ª I thrust with the toothbrush. It was so ridiculous, so absurd¡ªbut I could feel the assassin¡¯s intent shifting, panicking. The toothbrush connected. It hit something soft. Blood splattered across my face. I staggered back. My breath caught in my throat. Mark stood beside me, his knife still gleaming. The assassin stumbled backward, still invisible¡ªbut I could feel their pain radiating through Eloquence. ¡°Nice shot,¡± Mark said, breathing hard. I wiped the blood from my cheek, my heart pounding. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, gripping the toothbrush tightly. ¡°Nice cut.¡± 033 Night Shift Hustle - Part 3 - Mark’s POV 033 Night Shift Hustle - Part 3 - Mark¡¯s POV I flipped my butterfly knife, the blade spinning between my fingers with a smooth metallic click, before sliding it back into its sheath. The metal was made of some sharp and tough stuff¡ªMom had gone out of her way to get me the best gear possible. So it was no surprise that it had cut through the cleaver. Mirai was still breathing hard, her eyes wide. Blood splattered her cheek and strands of her black hair stuck to her face. But she was standing. That was what mattered. I brushed my hand over her shoulder, checking for injuries. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. Mirai blinked, her eyes refocusing. ¡°What¡¯s happening, Mark?¡± I sighed. That was the problem. I didn¡¯t know how to explain this to her. This was the first ¡®dangerous¡¯ event of the game. According to Mom, Mirai would be targeted by an assassin early in the story. It was supposed to be some kind of pivotal moment, but Mom didn¡¯t tell me why. Neither did she write anything about it in the journals she gave me. I crouched down, picking up the severed cleaver. Its edges gleamed with a faint, unnatural sheen. The blade wasn¡¯t normal steel¡ªit had this deep, polished look, like dark glass threaded with veins of silver. I ran my thumb along the edge. Yeah. I¡¯d felt this before. ¡°Dungeon tech,¡± I muttered. Mirai tilted her head. ¡°Huh?¡± I held up the cleaver. ¡°It¡¯s not normal. Made with dungeon materials. Cryptid parts, probably. And¡­ this edge¡­¡± I squinted at the faint silver glint running through the core of the blade. ¡°I think it¡¯s mythril.¡± ¡°Mythril?¡± ¡°Yeah. High ESP synchronicity.¡± I turned the cleaver in my hands. ¡°It reacts well to ESP users. Holds enchantments. Stronger and sharper than normal steel.¡± Mirai folded her arms, her brow furrowing. ¡°Okay, but why are you inspecting it like that? More importantly¡ªwhat the hell was that thing? And what do you mean ¡®assassin¡¯?¡± I stayed quiet for a second too long. ¡°Mark.¡± I sighed. ¡°Look, calm down.¡± ¡°Calm down?!¡± Mirai glared at me. ¡°An assassin just tried to kill me in our workplace! I think I¡¯m allowed to freak out a little!¡± ¡°¡­Fair.¡± She stomped toward me. ¡°Now tell me what¡¯s going on!¡± I scratched the back of my neck. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡± ¡°Try me.¡± I took a deep breath. ¡°My upbringing was¡­ different from most.¡± Mirai narrowed her eyes. ¡°And?¡± ¡°And¡­ yeah.¡± I tapped the severed cleaver against my palm. ¡°I know an assassin when I see one.¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth opened and closed. ¡°You¡ªwhat?¡± I smiled thinly. ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it sounds.¡± ¡°Oh, it sounds plenty bad.¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± I looked back down at the cleaver, letting its weight settle in my hand. ¡°But the point is¡ªwe¡¯re alive. And now we know someone¡¯s after you.¡± Her eyes softened. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously saying you¡¯re used to this kind of thing?¡± ¡°¡­I¡¯m saying I¡¯ve seen worse.¡± She crossed her arms, lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°And you¡¯re just casually dropping this now?¡± ¡°Would you have believed me if I told you earlier?¡± ¡°¡­No.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± I set the cleaver down on the counter with a soft clink. ¡°Mark.¡± Her voice was quieter now. ¡°If you¡¯ve dealt with this before¡­ then what happens next?¡± I looked her in the eye. ¡°We figure out who sent the assassin.¡± ¡°And if they try again?¡± I smiled. ¡°They won¡¯t get that far.¡± ¡°Why are you so sure the assassin was targeting me?¡± Mirai asked. I gave her the look. She avoided my gaze, her arms wrapping around herself as her mind probably replayed the attack. Yeah, she¡¯d figured it out already¡ªhow the assassin hadn¡¯t gone for me despite how exposed I was. How the cleaver had almost taken her head off. How the guy had only attacked me when I¡¯d gotten between them. I watched her expression harden as the realization sank in. Suddenly, a wet, choking sound filled the air. The assassin stirred. Blood spurted in a messy arc. Mirai and I both whipped toward the source. Slowly, the invisibility peeled away like smoke dissolving in the air¡ªrevealing a middle-aged man sprawled on the ground. Pale skin, rough stubble on his jaw, wiry muscles under a thin frame. And completely naked. ¡°Seriously?¡± I muttered. Guess his ESP required skin contact with the air to stay invisible. That was¡­ unfortunate. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Mirai whispered. ¡°Oh my god, oh my god, what have I done!?¡± Her hands flew to her mouth as her knees buckled. I followed her gaze. The naked guy had a whole toothbrush embedded in his eye. A dark pool spread beneath his head, mixing with the blood still leaking down his face. The bristles were jammed so deep that I didn¡¯t even want to think about how much pressure that must¡¯ve taken. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I murmured. Mirai stumbled back, eyes wide, hands shaking. ¡°Oh god. I¡ª I¡ª¡± I walked toward the body, crouched down, and pressed two fingers against the guy¡¯s neck. One weak pulse. Then nothing. ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± I said. Mirai¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°No. No, no, no¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Her head snapped toward me, eyes burning. ¡°Fine?!¡± ¡°It was self-defense.¡± I stood up and wiped my hand on my pants. ¡°He attacked you. What did you think was going to happen?¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°You survived,¡± I said calmly. Mirai¡¯s hands balled into fists at her sides. ¡°I just killed a man!¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t have a choice.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make it better!¡± Her breath hitched. Her whole frame was shaking now. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. I frowned, realizing I must¡¯ve said something wrong. ¡°You were in danger,¡± I said carefully. ¡°You did what you had to do. That¡¯s¡­ normal.¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth dropped open in disbelief. ¡°Normal? Mark, do you hear yourself?!¡± I didn¡¯t answer. Because, honestly¡­ yeah. I heard myself. And the fact that it sounded normal¡ªthat was the problem. Mirai stumbled back, hands trembling. Tears were spilling down her cheeks now. She let out a shaky breath, then wiped at her face with the sleeve of her uniform. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. Mirai didn¡¯t answer. Her gaze lingered on the body. The dark pool of blood soaking into the floor. The broken cleaver discarded nearby. The toothbrush¡ªa freaking toothbrush¡ªstill sticking out of the man¡¯s ruined eye socket. She swallowed hard. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to kill him,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t want to¡ª¡± ¡°I know.¡± She wiped her eyes again. ¡°Why was he after me?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°¡­You¡¯re lying.¡± I sighed. ¡°No, I am not.¡± Mirai closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°I need answers, Mark.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll get them,¡± I promised. Her eyes opened again, sharp and searching. ¡°Promise?¡± ¡°¡­Promise.¡± I hugged Mirai. Her head rested lightly against my shoulder, her arms still hanging uncertainly at her sides. But she didn¡¯t pull away. She didn¡¯t even flinch. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around her back, resting my chin on the top of her head. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I murmured. ¡°You¡¯re okay.¡± Her breath was shaky against my chest. Her hands clenched the fabric of my uniform as though letting go would make the world collapse. I stayed like that for a while¡ªjust holding her. Letting her catch her breath. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± I whispered. ¡°I promise.¡± I felt her exhale against me, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. The moment almost felt¡­ peaceful. Until the glass door slid open with a soft ding. Mirai stiffened in my arms. ¡°We¡¯re closed!¡± she blurted out, still half-pressed against me. Her face burned red as she realized how close we were. ¡°Ah, I mean¡ªuh¡ª¡± She tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip slightly. Another pair of arms wrapped around us. ¡°What the¡ª?!¡± I tensed immediately. A hand ruffled my hair. A too-familiar scent of gun oil and roses filled my nose. ¡°Wow,¡± a teasing voice purred in my ear. ¡°My baby boy Mark really knows how to handle his woman. Hugging so affectionately¡ªwithout your mommy watching?¡± My whole body stiffened. Mirai froze. Her head jerked toward the new arrival. ¡°¡­No way,¡± I whispered. ¡°Yes way.¡± That smug, singsong tone could only belong to one person. My blood ran cold. ¡°Mom?¡± ¡°Oh, Mark~¡± My mother¡¯s voice practically dripped with mischief. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d see me so soon, did you?¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth opened and closed in stunned silence. I turned my head slowly. And there she was. Evelyn stood behind us, one arm coiled possessively around my shoulder while the other reached around Mirai¡¯s waist, pulling both of us against her. She was dressed casually, a long-sleeved black turtleneck tucked into a pair of fitted slacks, her silver hair perfectly combed and loose over her shoulders. Her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. ¡°Mom,¡± I said flatly. ¡°Mark,¡± she crooned back. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± ¡°I was in the neighborhood,¡± she said breezily. ¡°You live two cities away.¡± She smiled. ¡°And?¡± Mirai¡¯s face had gone pale. ¡°M-Mark¡­ this is your¡­?¡± ¡°M-my mom.¡± ¡°Hi, sweetheart,¡± Evelyn purred at Mirai, her crimson gaze sweeping over her. ¡°You must be Mirai. My son¡¯s been talking about you.¡± I absolutely had not. Mirai¡¯s face turned redder. ¡°I¡ªuh¡ª¡± Mirai stammered. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be shy.¡± Evelyn¡¯s hand slid from Mirai¡¯s waist to her cheek. She leaned in close, studying Mirai¡¯s face with a predatory smile. ¡°Hmm. You really are cute. No wonder Mark likes you so much.¡± ¡°Stop,¡± I said. Evelyn ignored me. ¡°You¡¯re trembling, darling. First time killing someone?¡± Mirai¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Mom,¡± I growled. ¡°She handled herself well,¡± Evelyn continued, running a finger down Mirai¡¯s cheek. ¡°I¡¯m impressed. Normally a girl would be screaming or throwing up. But you?¡± She smiled wider. ¡°You only cried a little. How mature.¡± Mirai¡¯s face twisted. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡± ¡°I know,¡± Evelyn purred. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Really.¡± Her gaze sharpened. ¡°But you¡¯re going to need to toughen up fast if you want to survive this world.¡± I grabbed Evelyn¡¯s wrist. ¡°Enough.¡± Her smile sharpened at the edges. ¡°Well,¡± she said sweetly, ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. It¡¯s not my place to lecture your girlfriend.¡± Mirai made a choking sound. ¡°We¡¯re not¡ª¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Then why were you two practically glued together when I walked in?¡± ¡°Mother,¡± I hissed. ¡°Mother?¡± She laughed. ¡°Relax, Mark. I¡¯m only teasing.¡± Evelyn stepped back, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. Mirai¡¯s breathing was still shaky. I could feel the tension radiating off her. ¡°You¡­ seriously just showed up out of nowhere?¡± I said. ¡°I had business in the area,¡± Evelyn replied smoothly. ¡°What kind of business?¡± She smiled faintly. ¡°We¡¯ll talk later.¡± ¡°Mom¡ª¡± ¡°Later,¡± she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. I scowled. Evelyn smiled. ¡°Anyway, you two should probably clean up the mess. Someone¡¯s going to start asking questions.¡± Her gaze slid to the dead assassin on the floor. Mirai flinched. ¡°Relax, sweetheart,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡± She turned, walking toward the door. ¡°Oh, and Mark?¡± ¡°What?¡± Evelyn looked over her shoulder, eyes glittering. ¡°Nice work,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re learning.¡± Then, with a sharp ding, the glass door slid shut behind her. The glass door slid open with another soft ding. Two people entered the store¡ªa man and a woman, both dressed in black suits. They carried themselves with the cold efficiency of professionals, their eyes sharp as they surveyed the scene. Neither of them spared a glance for Mirai or me. The man¡ªa tall, broad-shouldered guy with close-cropped blond hair¡ªmoved straight toward the body. He crouched down, pulling a large black bag from inside his suit jacket. Without hesitation, he grabbed the assassin¡¯s limp body by the arm and started stuffing him into the bag. The sound of bones bending unnaturally under pressure made Mirai flinch. The woman approached us. She was tall and slender, with dark hair tied back into a sleek ponytail. Her fitted suit and white gloves were pristine¡ªtotally untouched by the mess around us. Her expression was calm but calculating. She smiled. ¡°Young Master.¡± My stomach twisted. ¡°Mark,¡± she said smoothly, ¡°it¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you.¡± I stared at her. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± The woman placed a gloved hand over her chest and gave a shallow bow. ¡°My name is Shirley,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s Cox.¡± She tilted her head toward the man, who zipped the body bag closed with a grim finality. ¡°We work for your mother.¡± Mirai stiffened. ¡°Wait¡ªMark¡¯s mom sent you?¡± Shirley smiled faintly. ¡°Naturally.¡± The sound of liquid splattering against the floor made me glance toward Cox. He had pulled a small spray bottle from his jacket and was methodically misting the bloodstains on the floor. The blood sizzled faintly as the chemical reacted, dissolving the stains into nothing. Cox worked silently, like a machine, his expression blank. ¡°You¡¯re cleaning this up?¡± I asked. ¡°Of course,¡± Shirley replied. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want anyone asking inconvenient questions.¡± I frowned. Shirley¡¯s gaze slid toward Mirai. ¡°And you must be Mirai.¡± Mirai hesitated. ¡°...Yeah?¡± Shirley¡¯s smile deepened. ¡°It¡¯s an honor to meet you, young mistress.¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth opened and closed. ¡°Young¡ªwhat?¡± ¡°I understand this was a stressful situation,¡± Shirley continued smoothly. ¡°We apologize for the disturbance. We¡¯ll do our best to accommodate you moving forward¡ªbut I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll need your cooperation.¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Cooperation for what?¡± ¡°For the cleanup.¡± Shirley¡¯s eyes darkened slightly. ¡°And the aftermath.¡± Mirai¡¯s face paled. Her hand brushed against my sleeve. ¡°Mark?¡± I didn¡¯t answer immediately. My gaze shifted toward Cox, who had finished erasing the last of the blood. He zipped up the body bag and rose to his feet, lifting the corpse onto his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Shirley smiled politely. ¡°You should both take a shower and change your clothes. The chemicals Cox used are¡­ strong. It wouldn¡¯t be good to have residue left on you.¡± Mirai¡¯s hand gripped my sleeve tighter. I exhaled slowly. ¡°I trust my mom.¡± Mirai stared at me. ¡°¡­Seriously?¡± I nodded. ¡°If she sent them, it¡¯s fine.¡± Mirai hesitated, then slowly relaxed her grip. ¡°¡­Okay.¡± Shirley¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Good. We¡¯ll handle the rest.¡± Mirai still looked rattled as we headed toward the back of the store. My shoes left faint prints on the floor¡ªsome of the spray residue still clinging to them. I paused before turning the corner, glancing back toward Cox as he hoisted the body bag onto his shoulder. The dead man¡¯s face was partially visible beneath the zipper¡ªa smear of blood still trickling from the ruined socket where the toothbrush had been lodged. Mirai¡¯s work. I forced myself to keep walking. I stood beneath the shower, feeling the hot water pound against my back. Mirai was in the stall next door. I could hear the faint rush of water and her quiet breathing through the thin wall. I scrubbed the back of my hand, but the feeling of blood wouldn¡¯t leave. My mind drifted back to the assassin. He¡¯d attacked Mirai without hesitation. He¡¯d been aiming to kill her, no question. Why? Mom said this would happen. The first event of the game. But why target Mirai specifically? Mom never explained that part. She just told me to be ready when it happened. And Mirai¡­ She killed him. I closed my eyes, remembering the moment the toothbrush sank into the assassin¡¯s eye socket. The sound. The way the man¡¯s body stiffened before collapsing. It was clean. Effective. Mirai had been fast. But that was the problem. She wasn¡¯t supposed to be fast. She wasn¡¯t supposed to kill. I rubbed my forehead. I tried to remember the first time I killed someone. ¡­but nothing came to mind. Because I hadn¡¯t. Every job Mom gave me¡ªevery time we had to eliminate someone¡ªit had always been her. Mom had done all the dirty work. I¡¯d fought before. Hurt people. Made them bleed. But the final blow? The actual kill? That had always been Mom. My hand tightened against my forehead. Why? Why had Mom kept me from crossing that line? I couldn¡¯t sympathize with Mirai. Offering her words of comfort felt selfish. I changed into my clothes. The glass door to the shower opened. Mirai stepped out, clutching a towel to her chest. Her hair was still dripping, sticking to her cheeks. ¡°Mark?¡± I blinked. ¡°¡­Yeah?¡± She hesitated. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I nodded slowly. She didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°You¡¯re not¡­ upset?¡± ¡°Why would I be upset?¡± ¡°I killed someone.¡± I sighed. ¡°¡­It was self-defense.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what you keep saying.¡± Mirai¡¯s voice sharpened. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t make it right.¡± I looked at her, at the way her eyes were still red from crying earlier. Her hands trembled faintly. I stepped toward her. ¡°Mirai,¡± I said quietly. ¡°You survived.¡± She swallowed. ¡°That¡¯s all that matters.¡± Her lip trembled. ¡°You really think that?¡± I hesitated. ¡°¡­Yeah.¡± She stepped closer. Her hand brushed against my wrist. I didn¡¯t pull away. Mirai¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Mark, what¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± But I had a feeling we¡¯d find out soon. 034 Night Shift Hustle - Part 4 - Mark’s POV 034 Night Shift Hustle - Part 4 - Mark¡¯s POV Fifteen minutes later, Mirai and I were sitting in the backseat of a sleek black car. The interior smelled like leather and disinfectant. The engine purred softly beneath us, a low, steady hum. Cox sat in the driver¡¯s seat, hands resting on the wheel like he was already bored. Mirai stared out the window, her brow furrowing. ¡°What is she doing?¡± I glanced toward the window. Outside, Shirley was crouched near the store¡¯s entrance. She had several large plastic containers lined up beside her¡ªindustrial-sized gallons of gasoline. With practiced efficiency, she unscrewed the cap of one and started pouring it over the threshold. The sharp, chemical scent of gas hit me even through the closed window. ¡°What the hell?¡± I muttered. Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. She fumbled for the door handle and tugged. It didn¡¯t budge. ¡°What¡ª¡± Mirai yanked harder. ¡°It¡¯s locked!¡± I tried my own handle. Nothing. Mirai twisted toward Cox, her face pale. ¡°What is she doing?! She¡¯s¡ªshe¡¯s gonna burn the store down!¡± Cox didn¡¯t even look at her. Mirai¡¯s voice sharpened. ¡°You can¡¯t¡ª! The owner¡¯s a nice guy! He¡ªhe¡¯s always been good to us! He¡¯s going to be devastated!¡± Cox remained silent. I stared at the gasoline sloshing across the pavement, soaking into the cracks. Shirley reached for a second container. She was thorough¡ªcovering every corner, every edge. My jaw tightened. I flipped my butterfly knife open. The blade caught the dim light of the car¡¯s ceiling. Click. Cox¡¯s eyes shifted toward me in the rearview mirror. ¡°Unlock the door,¡± I said. Cox¡¯s mouth curled faintly. ¡°No.¡± I leaned forward, pressing the knife against the side of his neck. ¡°I said,¡± I repeated, ¡°unlock the door.¡± A thin line of blood welled up beneath the blade. Cox¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t fade. ¡°You don¡¯t have the guts,¡± he said. My hand didn¡¯t waver. Cox¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I know what your mother¡¯s like. I know how far she¡¯d go for you. But you?¡± His voice lowered. ¡°You¡¯ve never killed anyone before.¡± I pressed the blade harder. The line of blood widened. Cox chuckled. ¡°Go ahead. Prove me wrong.¡± I gritted my teeth. ¡°Mark!¡± Mirai¡¯s hand closed over my wrist. Her fingers trembled against my skin. ¡°Stop,¡± she whispered. ¡°Please.¡± Her eyes were wide¡ªpleading. I hesitated. Cox smiled faintly. ¡°Thought so.¡± I inhaled sharply through my nose and pulled the knife away. Cox wiped his neck with his sleeve, smearing the blood across the fabric. ¡°Cute,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯re not like her.¡± I flipped the knife closed with a sharp click and shoved it back into my pocket. My hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists. Mirai glanced toward the window. Shirley had finished pouring the gasoline. She straightened and pulled a silver lighter from her pocket. ¡°Wait¡ªno!¡± Mirai pressed her hands against the glass. ¡°You can¡¯t¡ª!¡± Shirley¡¯s face remained impassive. She flicked the lighter open. A tiny flame sparked to life. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡± Mirai gasped. I gritted my teeth. She would. The lighter dropped from Shirley¡¯s hand. Fire erupted across the ground. The gasoline ignited instantly, a wall of flames racing up the side of the store. Smoke coiled into the night sky. Mirai pressed both hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. ¡°She¡ªshe¡¯s burning it down,¡± she whispered. Cox¡¯s eyes were cold in the rearview mirror. ¡°No loose ends.¡± My jaw tightened. The owner had nothing to do with this. He was a good guy. He¡¯d given me the job when I needed it¡ªnever asked questions, never gave me trouble. He didn¡¯t deserve this. But I already knew how this worked. I exhaled slowly. ¡°You¡¯re cleaning up the scene,¡± I said. Cox smiled faintly. ¡°You catch on quick.¡± Mirai¡¯s hands curled into fists. ¡°But this isn¡¯t right!¡± ¡°Was it right when the assassin tried to kill you?¡± Cox¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°Or would you have preferred to die in a tidy, undamaged store?¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth snapped shut. I leaned back in my seat. The fire glowed through the window, casting orange light across the interior of the car. My face felt hot from the reflected heat. ¡°Just following orders,¡± Cox said lightly. I didn¡¯t answer. Mirai sat back, pressing her hands over her face. I closed my eyes. The store was gone. The owner would lose everything. But it wasn¡¯t just about protecting Mirai. Mom was cleaning up her loose ends¡ªsevering any connection that could lead back to us. That¡¯s how it worked. And it pissed me off. Not because it was wrong. But because I understood it too well. Shirley slipped into the passenger seat with the same calm, effortless grace she¡¯d shown while setting a building on fire. She adjusted her seatbelt and smoothed down the front of her suit like she hadn¡¯t just committed arson. ¡°We¡¯ll have the body inspected by our house-call forensic,¡± she said casually, like this was standard procedure. ¡°It¡¯s tough to fit him in the rear trunk though.¡± ¡°Of course, that was like the third body and we only have one trunk,¡± Cox huffed from the driver¡¯s seat. He shifted gears, and the car rolled away from the burning wreckage of the store. The rearview mirror reflected the growing orange glow as the fire swallowed everything. Shirley clarified, ¡°It wasn¡¯t a lone assassin. I¡¯m sorry we weren¡¯t able to deal with all of them¡­ and soemthing like that had to happen.¡± Mirai¡¯s arms were crossed tight over her chest. Her gaze stayed fixed on the burning store until the flames were nothing more than a flickering light in the distance. ¡°Someone owned that store,¡± Mirai said coldly. Shirley didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°If it¡¯s any comfort, Lady Evelyn already purchased the property. No need to worry about the owner.¡± Mirai¡¯s head snapped toward her. ¡°You¡ªwhat?¡± ¡°It was necessary,¡± Shirley continued, as if this explanation was enough. ¡°Burning down the scene muddies the waters. It ought to buy us time to trace who issued the hit.¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°The hit? That¡¯s what this is about?¡± Cox snorted. ¡°What else would it be?¡± Mirai¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°And the¡­ body?¡± Cox didn¡¯t bother looking back at her. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of it.¡± ¡°¡®Take care of it,¡¯¡± Mirai repeated slowly. ¡°Call in the forensic expert,¡± Cox said, drumming his fingers on the wheel. ¡°Then we¡¯ll dispose of it. Like how we used to.¡± Mirai¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Used to?¡± Cox didn¡¯t elaborate. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Mirai turned toward me, her eyes sharp. ¡°Mark?¡± I stiffened. She leaned closer. ¡°Are you¡­ a gangster?¡± ¡°What?¡± My voice cracked slightly. ¡°No!¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Because this¡ª¡± She gestured toward Shirley and Cox. ¡°¡ªthis feels very organized crime!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a gangster,¡± I repeated, heat rising to my face. ¡°This is¡ªthis is new to me.¡± ¡°New?¡± Mirai¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I mean, I didn¡¯t know Mom even had people like this. Subordinates.¡± Cox laughed. ¡°Subordinates, huh? Cute.¡± I shot him a glare. Shirley smiled faintly. ¡°It¡¯s not our place to say, but¡­ Cox and I owe our lives to Lady Evelyn.¡± Mirai¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Shirley¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter, but there was a weight behind her gaze. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t be here if it weren¡¯t for her.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain anything,¡± Mirai said. Shirley¡¯s expression softened. ¡°It¡¯s not my story to tell.¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°Convenient.¡± ¡°Regardless,¡± Shirley continued, ¡°Lady Evelyn would prefer to explain it herself.¡± Mirai¡¯s hands curled into fists. ¡°Then why was I targeted?¡± Cox shrugged. ¡°Not our department.¡± Shirley¡¯s tone remained calm. ¡°Lady Evelyn will tell you when it¡¯s time. We were only instructed to intervene.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Mirai said flatly. My gaze dropped to my hands. They were still shaking. I curled them into fists. Mom had set all of this up. She knew this would happen. She sent Shirley and Cox in advance. And still¡ª ¡°She¡¯s always ten steps ahead,¡± I muttered. So why did she let that assassin even reach Mirai? Shirley¡¯s eyes flicked toward me. ¡°That¡¯s why she¡¯s Lady Evelyn.¡± Mirai crossed her arms tighter. ¡°And we¡¯re supposed to just¡­ accept this?¡± ¡°Unless you have a better plan,¡± Cox said, his tone almost amused. Mirai¡¯s glare could¡¯ve cut steel. I rubbed the back of my neck. ¡°Look, I¡­ trust my mom.¡± Mirai¡¯s gaze snapped toward me. ¡°You trust her?¡± ¡°¡­Yeah.¡± Mirai¡¯s expression twisted. ¡°Because she¡¯s never been wrong,¡± I added. ¡°And¡­ we¡¯re still alive.¡± Mirai stared at me for a long moment. Then she turned away and sank deeper into the seat. Her arms stayed crossed. I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Outside, the city lights blurred past. The reflection of the fire still burned behind my eyes. I was used to Mom cleaning up after me. Covering my tracks. Pulling strings to keep me safe. But this time¡­ This time it was Mirai. Mom wasn¡¯t just protecting me anymore. And that scared me more than the assassin. However, there was a lingering suspicion this wasn¡¯t all about Mirai¡¯s protection. ¡°Where are you taking us?¡± I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. Shirley and Cox exchanged a glance. The car slowed to a stop in front of a hotel. Not just any hotel¡ªa posh one. Polished marble exterior, golden trim on the revolving doors, and a uniformed valet already stepping forward. I frowned. ¡°Seriously?¡± Shirley turned toward us with that polite, empty smile of hers. ¡°Lady Evelyn booked a room. You¡¯ll be safe here for the night.¡± ¡°A hotel?¡± Mirai¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we go to the police? I just¡ª¡± Shirley¡¯s smile didn¡¯t even flicker. ¡°That would be unwise.¡± Mirai¡¯s lips parted. ¡°Unwise? I just killed a man!¡± Her voice was rising now. ¡°And you¡¯d like to inform the authorities?¡± Cox¡¯s tone was dry as sandpaper. ¡°File a report? Sign a confession? Let them take a statement?¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth opened¡ªthen closed. ¡°You think you¡¯d walk away from that?¡± Cox scoffed. ¡°At best, you¡¯d lose your only chance of becoming a real ESPer. You¡¯d lose your place here on ESPer Island. At worst, you¡¯d be marked as a criminal. Maybe even expelled from the academy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not fair!¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. Cox leaned his elbow on the wheel. His expression darkened. ¡°No. It¡¯s not fair. Welcome to how the world works.¡± Mirai¡¯s face crumpled. Her trembling hand clutched the seatbelt across her chest. ¡°Let me guess.¡± Cox¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°You thought ESPers played by the same rules as everyone else? You thought killing in self-defense would be enough?¡± Mirai¡¯s hands curled into fists. Her eyes were wide, shining with unshed tears. ¡°Wake up, girl,¡± Cox said coldly. ¡°The person who put that hit on you is still out there. And if you think they¡¯ll stop just because you feel bad about it¡ª¡± Enough. My hand slid down the side of the seat, finding the latch for the seat¡¯s recliner. I pulled it back¡ª Then kicked with both legs. The seat in front of me lurched forward with a sharp metallic crunch. Cox¡¯s head slammed into the wheel, hard enough to set off a sharp honk from the horn. He cursed under his breath, clutching his forehead. ¡°Mark!¡± Mirai gasped. I let go of the latch and reached for the door handle. Still locked. I swore and elbowed the window, but the glass didn¡¯t even crack. Cox groaned and pushed his seat back into position. He rubbed the side of his head where a red welt was already forming under his eye. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot,¡± Cox muttered. ¡°Bulletproof glass.¡± I leveled a glare at him. ¡°Next time,¡± Cox said darkly, ¡°I won¡¯t be so forgiving.¡± I pointed at the bruising under his eye. ¡°Next time you talk to Mirai like that,¡± I said coldly, ¡°I¡¯ll give you another.¡± Cox¡¯s mouth curled into a dangerous smile. Shirley¡¯s hand reached out and pressed a button on under the dashboard. The door locks clicked open with a quiet pop. ¡°Enough,¡± Shirley said calmly. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Mirai unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze still wide and unfocused¡ªthen climbed out. I followed close behind. The valet stepped toward us. His eyes flicked briefly toward the bruising on Cox¡¯s face, then quickly away. Shirley stepped out after us, her smile polite. ¡°Your room number is 1408. Your key cards are already prepared.¡± Mirai stood stiffly under the glowing hotel lights. She looked small. Fragile. I stepped to her side and brushed my hand against hers. She didn¡¯t pull away. Shirley inclined her head. ¡°Shall I have the concierge bring up room service?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mirai said softly. ¡°As you wish,¡± Shirley said smoothly. Cox leaned out of the driver¡¯s seat, still rubbing his forehead. ¡°Try not to do anything stupid,¡± he called out. I shot him a sharp glare. ¡°Pleasant dreams,¡± Cox added with a mocking smile. Mirai turned and stalked toward the hotel entrance without a word. I followed, just half a step behind her. Shirley¡¯s voice carried after us. ¡°Goodnight, young master.¡± I didn¡¯t look back. ¡°This way, please,¡± the attendant said, stepping ahead of us toward the elevator. Mirai and I followed in silence. The elevator ride was smooth, almost unnervingly quiet. The soft jazz playing over the speakers felt completely out of place considering the night we¡¯d had. The attendant led us down a long, polished hallway with a thick, cream-colored carpet. The lights were soft, the walls lined with expensive-looking art. She stopped in front of a door marked 1408 and handed each of us a key card. ¡°Please enjoy your stay.¡± I gave her a brief nod. Mirai didn¡¯t respond. Once the attendant left, Mirai stared at the key card in her hand. Her brow furrowed. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked. She turned the card over, frowning. ¡°How does this work?¡± I blinked. ¡°Maybe¡­ you slide it into the hollow line?¡± Mirai suggested. ¡°Maybe.¡± I swiped the card. Nothing. I tried again, flipping it the other way. Click. The door unlocked. ¡°Huh.¡± ¡°I guess that works,¡± I said, stepping back. Mirai looked at the card in her hand like it had personally insulted her. I pushed the door open. Please¡­ no heart-shaped bed. No dim red lights. No tacky mirrored ceilings. Just give me one normal room¡ª Two normal-sized beds. Thank god. I sighed in relief and stepped inside. Mirai followed, her gaze sweeping over the room. It was nice¡ªspacious, cream-colored decor, soft lighting, and a huge window with a view of the city. Normally, I¡¯d be impressed. But after the night we¡¯d had¡­ I just felt tired. Mirai sat on the edge of one of the beds. She touched the cotton sheets, then slid down until her face was pressed into the pillow. ¡°This is¡­ nice,¡± she said quietly. Her voice sounded hollow. I sat down on the edge of the other bed, leaning back on my hands. ¡°Yeah.¡± Mirai didn¡¯t move. A shaky breath escaped from her throat. ¡°Mirai?¡± I sat up. She curled in on herself. Her shoulders trembled. Was she¡­ crying? I hesitated. My hand hovered over her back. Slowly, I lowered it and began to rub her shoulder in soft, slow circles¡ªthe way Mom used to do when I was a kid. Back when I¡¯d lock myself in my room and stare at the ceiling for hours, feeling like my chest was collapsing inward. Mirai¡¯s back tensed. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± she snapped, jerking away from my hand. I pulled back immediately. ¡°Sorry.¡± Her breath hitched. A muffled sob escaped from the pillow. Then silence. A few seconds passed. She sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I couldn¡¯t look at her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have lashed on you like that.¡± Trash. That¡¯s what I felt like. I was supposed to like this girl. It was part of the mission. For Mom. And yet¡ª I didn¡¯t even know how I really felt. Was I supposed to comfort her? Was I supposed to pull away? I couldn¡¯t even tell if this was guilt or¡­ something else. But right now, she was sitting there, quiet and shaking and miserable, and I¡ª I clenched my fists. ¡°¡­Mirai,¡± I said. She glanced at me, her eyes glassy and red. ¡°I¡­ I want to confess something to you.¡± Her expression tightened. ¡°¡­What?¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°My mom,¡± I said quietly. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ not a normal person.¡± Mirai¡¯s gaze sharpened. I rubbed the back of my neck. ¡°You probably figured that already.¡± Mirai didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°But I guess¡­ you need to understand that I¡¯m not normal either.¡± Her eyes widened slightly. I inhaled slowly. ¡°You asked earlier if I was a gangster.¡± Mirai¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I said. ¡°But¡­ growing up with my mom¡­ let¡¯s just say I learned a lot about this kind of life.¡± Her hands tightened in her lap. ¡°I¡¯ve seen her take down people like that assassin before.¡± My voice was flat. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ ruthless. Scary. And she¡¯s trained me to be the same. I have training, but not like the one our classmates have¡­ Mine stemmed from experience.¡± Mirai¡¯s mouth opened¡ªbut no sound came out. ¡°I don¡¯t know why someone targeted you,¡± I admitted. ¡°But...¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes lowered. ¡°¡­So what are you saying?¡± I forced myself to meet her gaze. ¡°I¡¯m saying¡­ I¡¯ll protect you.¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. I didn¡¯t know why I said it. Maybe it was just instinct. Or maybe it was because I could still see the way her hands were shaking, and I hated that I couldn¡¯t stop it. Her mouth opened¡ªbut no sound came out. After a long moment, she said, ¡°¡­Mark.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Her hand brushed against mine. Just barely. ¡°¡­Why?¡± she whispered. ¡°¡­Because I want to.¡± Mirai¡¯s lips trembled. Then she leaned in¡ªjust enough for her forehead to brush against my shoulder. I stayed still. I didn¡¯t pull away. And this time¡­ she didn¡¯t either. I¡¯m such a coward. I should have told her. Right then and there. About my mom. About her insanity. About the way she¡¯d woken up from her coma spouting nonsense about memories from another world. About how she insisted¡ªdemanded¡ªthat I romance Mirai. To me, Mirai had always been a mission. Nothing more. A task. An objective. Something I had to do, had to succeed at¡ªbecause if I failed, the consequences would be catastrophic. Mom made that clear enough. But sitting there, with Mirai leaning against my shoulder¡ªshaking and quiet¡ªI couldn¡¯t bring myself to say it. I couldn¡¯t tell her that I¡¯d been lying to her from the start. Her hair tickled my neck. Her breathing was soft and shallow. Her hand, still trembling, brushed against mine and lingered there. She was vulnerable. And for the first time, I realized¡ª I didn¡¯t know what to do with that. Because Mirai wasn¡¯t supposed to matter this much. She was supposed to be a goal. A stepping stone to survival. An obstacle to clear so that I wouldn¡¯t die like Mom said I was destined to. That was all she was supposed to be. Then why does this feel different? ¡°Mark?¡± Mirai¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°Yeah?¡± Her fingers curled around the fabric of my sleeve. She didn¡¯t say anything else. She didn¡¯t have to. The weight of her trust, the quiet vulnerability in her posture¡ªit made something in my chest tighten. I couldn¡¯t do this. I shouldn¡¯t do this. But¡­ I shifted slightly, my hand brushing over hers. She didn¡¯t pull away. Instead, her hand tightened around mine. ¡°¡­Are you okay?¡± I asked. It was a stupid question. She shook her head. ¡°No.¡± A long silence stretched between us. ¡°¡­But you¡¯re not alone,¡± I said. Mirai¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°I know that doesn¡¯t fix anything,¡± I added quickly. ¡°And I know you probably hate me for dragging you into this, but¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± I turned toward her. Her eyes were glassy and red, her cheeks blotchy. But her gaze was steady. ¡°I don¡¯t hate you,¡± she said softly. ¡°¡­Even after all this?¡± She nodded. Slowly. I looked away. I couldn¡¯t tell her the truth. Not now. Not when she was looking at me like that. Because if I told her that this whole thing started as a calculated strategy, as part of my mom¡¯s insane attempt to rewrite destiny¡ª If I told her that¡­ Would she still look at me this way? I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to find out. Mirai let go of my hand. I immediately missed the warmth of her touch. ¡°¡­You should sleep,¡± I said. She glanced toward the bed, then back at me. ¡°What about you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll stay up.¡± Mirai frowned. ¡°You need rest too.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll sleep later.¡± She hesitated. Then she sighed and pushed herself off the bed. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡± I shrugged. She lingered for a second longer, then pulled back the covers and slid under them. I watched her settle in, her eyes drifting half-closed. I should have felt relieved. I didn¡¯t. Instead, I sat there, replaying the night in my head. The assassin. Shirley and Cox. The burning store. The knife in my hand. And Mirai¡ª Mirai, standing between me and the blade. I leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling. At some point, Mirai¡¯s breathing slowed into the soft, steady rhythm of sleep. I sat there, still awake, my thoughts spinning in slow, ugly circles. ¡°Mom,¡± I thought. ¡°What the hell have you gotten me into? This is¡­ so much¡­¡± 035 The Truth - Part 1 - Mirai’s POV 035 The Truth - Part 1 - Mirai¡¯s POV I woke up to the soft hum of the air conditioner. The sheets beneath my fingers were smooth¡ªtoo smooth. The bed was too soft. The air smelled faintly of expensive linen and disinfectant. It wasn¡¯t a dream. I sat up, brushing my hair away from my face. My smartphone sat on the nightstand, charging. I picked it up and checked the time. Sunday. My heart sank. That meant yesterday really happened. I killed someone. My stomach twisted painfully. I had actually done it. Driven a toothbrush into a person¡¯s skull. Watched the blood that pooled beneath his head. Smelled the iron of his blood that seeped through the air. I¡­ I¡¯m a murderer. I wanted to cry right there and then. My throat closed up and my chest tightened. But I couldn¡¯t let myself break down now. I swallowed hard and forced myself to breathe evenly. I turned toward the other bed. Empty. ¡°Morning, sunshine.¡± I nearly jumped out of my skin. Across the room, lounging at the small table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of breakfast in front of her¡ªwas Mark¡¯s mom. Evelyn. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so surprised.¡± She smiled, her chin propped on one hand. ¡°Mark¡¯s off doing¡­ well, whatever he does. He¡¯s not exactly a morning person.¡± My heart pounded. ¡°Mark¡¯s mom!¡± She laughed. ¡°Please. Just call me Evelyn.¡± Her tone was light¡ªcasual, even¡ªbut something about the way her gaze sharpened made me feel like I was standing in front of a predator. I hesitated. ¡°¡­Where¡¯s Mark?¡± Evelyn didn¡¯t answer right away. She cut into a piece of toast and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°Come sit,¡± she said, gesturing toward the seat across from her. ¡°Breakfast is still warm.¡± I hesitated. Evelyn smiled. ¡°Or would you rather starve?¡± Reluctantly, I climbed out of bed. My legs felt shaky beneath me. I was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday¡ªmy civilian clothes. Yesterday¡­ It slowly started coming back to me. The assassin. The store. The blood. Cox¡¯s mocking voice. Mark pulling a knife. I slid into the chair across from Evelyn, my hands tightening into fists on my lap. ¡°Where is Mark?¡± I repeated. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry,¡± Evelyn said breezily. ¡°He¡¯s around.¡± That¡¯s when I noticed it. Near the closet, against the wall¡ª Familiar bags. Familiar shoes. My bag. My things. ¡°¡­What are my things doing here?¡± I asked slowly. ¡°Oh, that.¡± Evelyn took a sip of her coffee. ¡°You¡¯ll be staying here for the time being.¡± My heart thudded painfully. ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s for your protection.¡± Protection. I thought of the dead man. The blood on the floor. The store burning to the ground. My breath quickened. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s already arranged.¡± Evelyn¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change. Calm, smooth, detached. ¡°Until the hit on you is dealt with, you¡¯ll be safer under my care.¡± ¡°I¡ª But¡ª¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°You want to survive, don¡¯t you?¡± I froze. My hands curled into the hem of my skirt. ¡°¡­I can still attend classes?¡± I asked weakly. ¡°Of course,¡± Evelyn said, her smile returning. ¡°You¡¯re not a prisoner. Think of this as¡­ insurance.¡± Insurance. Because someone wanted me dead. I forced myself to breathe through the rising panic. Evelyn nudged the plate toward me. ¡°Eat.¡± My eyes dropped to the food¡ªscrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. My stomach turned. ¡°I¡¯m not hungry,¡± I whispered. Evelyn¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade. ¡°Eat anyway.¡± Her gaze darkened slightly. I hesitated¡ªthen picked up the fork. My hands were shaking as I forced down a bite of egg. It tasted like nothing. Evelyn watched me with sharp, quiet interest. ¡°Good girl,¡± she said. I swallowed down the last bit of egg, even though it sat like lead in my stomach. My hands were still shaking. ¡°Why?¡± I asked. My voice was quiet, but I knew Evelyn heard me. She lifted an eyebrow. ¡°Why what?¡± ¡°Why am I being targeted? Why are you helping me? Who sent that¡­ man?¡± Evelyn smiled faintly and dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. ¡°Easy, tiger. One at a time.¡± My fists tightened under the table. ¡°Where¡¯s Mark?¡± Evelyn¡¯s gaze sharpened. For a moment, she studied me with that calculating expression of hers, like she was deciding how much to say. ¡°Just a small errand,¡± she said finally. ¡°What errand?¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Oh, nothing of the sort you¡¯re thinking.¡± That didn¡¯t make me feel any better. ¡°My boy is a good kid,¡± Evelyn added. ¡°He¡¯s rough around the edges, but he turned out well considering what he¡¯s been through.¡± Her tone was light, almost fond, but it made my skin crawl. I didn¡¯t know whether to be furious or horrified as Evelyn¡ªcalmly, vividly¡ªbegan recounting the training she¡¯d put Mark through. ¡°¡­I used to leave him alone in a dungeon,¡± Evelyn said, swirling her coffee as if she were describing a vacation. ¡°Surrounded by cryptids. No food. No weapons.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. My blood ran cold. ¡°And you know what?¡± Her eyes glinted. ¡°He survived.¡± I couldn¡¯t breathe. Through Eloquence, I could feel her insanity. Evelyn smiled, eyes half-lidded. ¡°There¡¯s something about near-death experiences that bring out the potential in a person.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± My voice shook. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Evelyn said smoothly. She leaned her chin on her hand, her eyes glittering with dark amusement. ¡°Oh,¡± she added, ¡°and I did make him watch me kill a man once.¡± I stood up so fast the chair scraped back, tipping over with a loud clatter. ¡°You what?¡± ¡°He needed to understand how the world works,¡± Evelyn said, completely unbothered by my reaction. ¡°The first time you take a life is always the hardest. It¡¯s better to learn young.¡± ¡°You¡¯re disgusting,¡± I whispered. Evelyn¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°And yet, my son is alive.¡± My hands curled into trembling fists. ¡°Do you even care about him?¡± ¡°Oh, I care,¡± Evelyn said, tilting her head. ¡°More than you know.¡± I hated her. It wasn¡¯t even the way she spoke about killing like it was nothing. It wasn¡¯t her casual bloodthirstiness or her complete lack of remorse. It was the way she knew how horrifying she sounded¡ªand didn¡¯t care. She was deliberately painting herself as the villain. And honestly? It was working. I hated her already. And then Evelyn smiled¡ªsharp and playful¡ªand said, ¡°Congratulations on your first kill, by the way.¡± My breath hitched. ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± Evelyn said lightly. ¡°Your form could use work, but you showed initiative.¡± ¡°You were there? You saw everything?¡± ¡°Oh, yes, I did¡­ you could use some character growth, my sweet protagonist¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°I¡¯m not that kind of person,¡± I said, my voice sharp and shaking. Evelyn¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°Aren¡¯t you now?¡± I clenched my fists. ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy killing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you believe that,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°But instincts are instincts. And when the time comes, you¡¯ll do it again.¡± I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Evelyn smiled and sat back. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± My heart hammered painfully in my chest. I turned toward the door¡ªtoward anywhere but here¡ªthen stopped. A memory resurfaced. Cox¡¯s words. ¡°You¡¯ve never killed anyone before.¡± That was Cox''s words to Mark when they almost came into a confrontation. I turned back toward Evelyn. ¡°Is it true?¡± I asked. Evelyn raised an eyebrow. ¡°Mark,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s never¡­ killed anyone? He¡¯s not like you?¡± Evelyn¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± ¡°Cox,¡± I said. ¡°He said something like that when Mark had a knife to his throat. He said Mark didn¡¯t have the guts.¡± Evelyn¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. And that was weird. Because if what Evelyn said was true¡ªif Mark grew up in dungeons and watched her kill people¡ªthen why would Cox say that? Why would Mark hesitate? Evelyn¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade. But her eyes narrowed just slightly. ¡°Well,¡± she said softly. ¡°So what? It doesn¡¯t change anything...¡± The words sent a chill through me. "Let¡¯s talk about the more important questions," Evelyn began, cutting off any chance for me to press about Mark. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs, her posture completely relaxed. The playful glint in her eyes hadn¡¯t faded. ¡°I¡¯m a busy gal, so let¡¯s use our time more meaningfully, okay?¡± I frowned. ¡°What questions?¡± Evelyn smiled faintly. ¡°How much do you know about precogs?¡± ¡°Precogs?¡± I hesitated. ¡°Not a lot. Just that they¡¯re rare. And dangerous.¡± ¡°Correct,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°Extremely rare. Extremely dangerous.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°And?¡± ¡°And nothing,¡± Evelyn said, taking a sip of her coffee. ¡°I was simply curious.¡± My fingers curled into my sleeves. ¡°What¡¯s the point of this?¡± ¡°The point?¡± Evelyn¡¯s lips curved. ¡°Curiosity is the point, darling. Think of it as a leading question to a very important sub-plot to a story¡­¡± I scowled. ¡°Please stop with the cryptic nonsense¡­ You want to ask questions other than Mark? Fine. Let''s talk. First, I couldn¡¯t afford a place like this.¡± I gestured at the luxury around me. The hotel room. The marble floors. The sheer, oppressive feeling of wealth pressing down on me. ¡°Second, I don''t like you. Lastly, what exactly are you getting out of this?¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°A good question.¡± ¡°And why are you so focused on me?¡± I leaned forward, voice sharp. ¡°If you¡¯re so worried about Mark¡¯s safety, why are you deflecting every time I bring him up?¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°Because this conversation isn¡¯t about Mark.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± ¡°What¡¯s more important?¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes glittered. ¡°Mark? Or your life?¡± I stared at her. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here,¡± Evelyn continued smoothly. ¡°I came to enjoy my breakfast and, while at it, discuss the hit put on you. Mark is not part of this conversation for a reason.¡± My jaw tightened. ¡°I came to enlighten you,¡± Evelyn added. ¡°Because it seems you¡¯re woefully under-informed about why you¡¯ve become so¡­ valuable.¡± I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. ¡°Mark,¡± I said without hesitation. ¡°Mark is more important.¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes widened in mock surprise. And then she laughed. A low, pleased sound that sent chills down my spine. ¡°Oh my,¡± Evelyn said, setting her coffee cup down with a delicate clink. ¡°Look how far you¡¯ve fallen for him. My boy¡¯s doing a good job.¡± My face heated. ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª¡± ¡°Of course it is.¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes glinted. ¡°You¡¯re a bright girl, Mirai. You know exactly what you¡¯re feeling.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like that!¡± I shot back. ¡°Besides¡­ that¡¯s not how Mark feels about me.¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Oh?¡± She snapped her fingers. ¡°Ah. Empath. I almost forgot about that part¡­¡± I froze. My heart skipped painfully. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table. ¡°What?¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile was all teeth. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Did I hit a nerve?¡± My mouth dried. No one was supposed to know about that. Master Reina knew. Professor Merrick probably suspected. But I hadn¡¯t exactly advertised my ability. My power¡ªEloquence¡ªwas a new ability born from my Heroine¡¯s Heart. ¡°How did you know?¡± I demanded. Evelyn¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Darling,¡± she said lightly. ¡°I make it my business to know things.¡± I swallowed hard. This wasn¡¯t normal. She wasn¡¯t just perceptive. She was¡­ too perceptive. ¡°You¡¯re bluffing,¡± I said. Evelyn¡¯s eyes narrowed with amusement. ¡°Am I?¡± I focused¡ªtrying to feel her heart, the way I could sense everyone else¡¯s. The subtle undercurrent of emotions beneath their words. Nothing. I couldn¡¯t sense anything from her. Absolutely nothing. Like trying to hear sound in a vacuum. I shivered. Evelyn¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°Conflicted, aren¡¯t you?¡± I stiffened. ¡°You¡ª¡± ¡°You don¡¯t trust me,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°Smart girl.¡± I opened my mouth, but Evelyn lifted a hand. ¡°I¡¯ll make this easy for you,¡± she said, voice low. ¡°You don¡¯t need to trust me. But you do need to listen.¡± My hands clenched into fists beneath the table. ¡°What exactly are you trying to tell me?¡± I asked. Evelyn¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°That people don¡¯t put hits on ordinary girls.¡± My breath caught. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten stronger,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°Fast. Too fast.¡± ¡°I¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t bother denying it,¡± Evelyn cut in smoothly. ¡°And that¡¯s why someone wants you dead.¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°Don¡¯t bother trying to read my heart.¡± Evelyn¡¯s voice was calm, almost amused. My fingers curled under the edge of the table. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, you are,¡± Evelyn said smoothly, eyes half-lidded as she swirled her coffee. ¡°You¡¯ve been trying this whole time. It¡¯s instinctive for an empath.¡± I opened my mouth to argue, but Evelyn¡¯s gaze sharpened, cutting me off. ¡°I can see the distance between cause and effect,¡± Evelyn said. Her tone was casual, but the weight behind her words made my pulse spike. ¡°If I don¡¯t want you to read me, then you won¡¯t.¡± My chest tightened. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± I challenged. Evelyn smiled faintly. ¡°Because I¡¯m not a puzzle for you to solve, dear.¡± My teeth clicked together. ¡°Now,¡± Evelyn said, setting down her cup with a soft clink, ¡°let¡¯s talk about you.¡± A chill ran down my spine. ¡°The reason you¡¯re being targeted,¡± Evelyn continued, ¡°is because of an age-old prophecy.¡± I stared at her. ¡°A prophecy?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Evelyn¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°Made by a very powerful precog about two centuries ago.¡± My throat tightened. ¡°What kind of prophecy?¡± Evelyn¡¯s lips curled into a smile. ¡°The birth of a child of destiny,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°One who would end the world of dungeons.¡± My heart stopped. ¡°¡­What?¡± Evelyn¡¯s eyes glittered. ¡°And guess what, Mirai?¡± I shook my head slowly. ¡°No,¡± I whispered. ¡°Yes,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°That child of destiny¡­ is you.¡± My breath hitched. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s impossible.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s entirely possible,¡± Evelyn said, her tone light. ¡°Do you know how ESPers awaken their powers?¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°¡­Three ways.¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°Luck,¡± she said. ¡°Talent. Enlightenment.¡± My mouth felt dry. ¡°And you,¡± Evelyn said, ¡°have all three.¡± I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°Abnormal,¡± Evelyn finished. ¡°Very.¡± I stared at her. ¡°My boy, Mark,¡± Evelyn continued, ¡°woke his up through enlightenment.¡± Her gaze softened slightly. ¡°From near-death experiences. It took him three or four years to manifest his.¡± I felt my breath stutter. ¡°The scions at the Academy?¡± Evelyn smiled. ¡°The noble bloodlines? They awaken their ESP through talent. Something that can be inherited by blood.¡± ¡°And you?¡± I asked, before I could stop myself. Evelyn¡¯s eyes glinted dangerously. ¡°Luck,¡± she said. ¡°After I was dropped into the abyss.¡± My eyes widened. ¡°But ah¡ª¡± Evelyn chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m derailing.¡± I watched her warily. ¡°The point is,¡± Evelyn said, ¡°you¡¯re special.¡± I stiffened. ¡°In the short span of a year,¡± Evelyn said, ¡°that you manifested your ESP.¡± I opened my mouth¡ª Evelyn held up a hand. ¡°You¡¯ve gained enough power to contend with my son,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°With your classmates. With scions whose pedigree was leagues above yours.¡± Her smile widened. ¡°And you even managed to put up a fight against my dear friend Reina.¡± My stomach twisted. ¡°She was holding back.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Evelyn agreed. ¡°And yet¡ªit was still incredible.¡± My hands curled into fists. ¡°So what do I want?¡± Evelyn said lightly. ¡°Why am I helping you?¡± Her eyes darkened. ¡°What¡¯s in it for me?¡± I met her gaze, heart thudding painfully. ¡°Mirai Valeska.¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°I want to cut a deal with you.¡± I froze. ¡°A deal?¡± I repeated slowly. Evelyn leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. ¡°You¡¯re valuable,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°Powerful. Dangerous. But still young. You would need the support. My support. And I can help you.¡± My pulse hammered painfully in my ears. ¡°I can protect you,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°From whoever wants you dead.¡± I swallowed hard. ¡°And what do you want in return?¡± Evelyn¡¯s gaze turned razor-sharp. ¡°You,¡± she said. My breath hitched. ¡°What?¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I want you to protect Mark.¡± I stared at her. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ it?¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°But it¡¯s a good place to start.¡± My stomach twisted. ¡°Why would I¡ª¡± ¡°Because you¡¯ve already chosen him,¡± Evelyn said. "Moreover, you wanted to make it about Mark, didn''t you? Fine, let''s make it about Mark." My breath hitched. ¡°You¡¯re already willing to die for him,¡± Evelyn said. ¡°That much is obvious.¡± I hated how easily she said it. How easily she read me. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± ¡°You are.¡± I bit my lip. ¡°And let¡¯s not forget,¡± Evelyn said, eyes glinting. ¡°If the prophecy is true¡ªif you really are the one destined to end the world of dungeons¡ª¡± She smiled. ¡°¡ªthen there are far worse people than me who¡¯ll want you dead.¡± A cold chill raced down my spine. ¡°You need protection,¡± Evelyn said. My hands trembled. ¡°And in exchange for protecting you¡­¡± Evelyn¡¯s smile softened. ¡°¡­you protect my son.¡± My breath stilled. ¡°Of course,¡± Evelyn added. ¡°You¡¯re free to refuse.¡± I knew better than that. ¡°I¡­¡± My voice faltered. Evelyn¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to decide right now,¡± she said smoothly. ¡°However, I¡¯d love it if you just say yes. That way, I could get to work immediately¡­ As a bonus, I¡¯ll even give you an allowance. Better yet, I can give you a salary! That sounds good enough to you?¡± My chest tightened. I wanted to argue. To reject her. To tell her that Mark didn¡¯t need protecting. But the truth was¡­ Evelyn wouldn¡¯t be offering this deal if Mark didn¡¯t need protecting. And if there really was a prophecy¡ªif I really was the child of destiny¡ª Then the people after me¡­ ¡­Wouldn¡¯t stop until I was dead. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said quietly. 036 The Truth - Part 2 - Evelyn’s POV 036 The Truth - Part 2 - Evelyn¡¯s POV Mark stepped into the room, his brows furrowed in that familiar way that meant he was already trying to figure out what had just happened. He glanced between me and Mirai, clearly sensing the tension in the air. He hesitated near the doorway, his hand tightening around the plastic bags he carried. ¡°¡­What¡¯s going on?¡± Mark asked, his gaze flicking between us. His voice was steady, but I caught the subtle edge of suspicion beneath it. I smiled. It was an easy, practiced smile¡ªthe kind that disarmed people without them even realizing it. "Nothing to worry about," I said lightly, standing up from my chair. My heels clicked softly against the floor as I crossed the room toward him. Then I hugged him. Mark tensed for a second, clearly not expecting it, but he didn¡¯t pull away. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my chin against his shoulder. His scent was familiar¡ªclean detergent mixed with a faint trace of sweat from training. Beneath that, though, I could feel the steady, grounding presence of him. Stronger than when we started. Better. I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes searched mine, confused but cautious. "I¡¯ll have to go now," I said. Mark¡¯s expression tightened. "Go where?" I smiled wider and ignored the question. Instead, I reached for one of the plastic bags hanging from his wrist. He let me take it without protest, his gaze sharpening as I peeked inside. Shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, a few other essentials. I nodded approvingly. Mirai, who had been sitting stiffly across the room, finally spoke up. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I turned toward her. She was watching me with that careful, guarded expression she always had when she wasn¡¯t sure whether to trust me or not. "Essentials, of course!" I said brightly, holding up the bag. Mark¡¯s brows knitted together. "Yeah, they were in the list¡­" I nodded. "Of course. I gave you a list of things a girl needs." "¡­Things a girl needs?" Mark repeated slowly. His gaze darkened with suspicion. Mirai flushed slightly, her eyes flicking to the bag with dawning realization. I laughed softly. "Don''t worry, it¡¯s nothing scandalous." Mark sighed, clearly too tired to press the issue further. I handed him back the bag and stepped toward the door. ¡°Well then,¡± I said, turning toward them with an easy wave. ¡°I¡¯ll be going now. Don¡¯t forget what we talked about, Mirai.¡± Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. Smart girl. Mark watched me with narrowed eyes. "You¡¯re being weird." I smiled one last time. "That''s nothing new, dear." And with that, I left, leaving the weight of the room behind me. I didn¡¯t make it far. "Remember, always use protection!" I shouted over my shoulder, my voice echoing down the hall. I heard Mark choke. Mirai made a soft, horrified sound that was halfway between a gasp and a squeak. Oh, that was satisfying. I grinned to myself as I stepped around the corner. I couldn¡¯t believe I had just tried to gaslight a kid into thinking she loved my son. I mean, really¡ªwhat kind of terrible person does that? Apparently, me. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I walked toward the elevator. This was low, even by my standards. But it was necessary. Mirai was the key to everything. She just didn¡¯t know it yet. Still¡­ I had to give it to Mark. His loyalty to his psychotic mother was truly phenomenal. Not many sons would tolerate being roped into a multi-dimensional chess match orchestrated by their unhinged parent. The fact that Mark not only put up with it¡ªbut followed through¡ªmeant I had raised him right. Kind of¡­ Maybe? Meh¡­ I knew I¡¯m a terrible mother. Judging by the way Mirai had hovered and crooned over him, she was already attached. She wasn¡¯t aware of it yet, but I could see the cracks forming. The way her eyes softened when Mark spoke. The way her body angled toward him, unconsciously seeking his presence. Not romantic yet¡ªbut so far, so good. I sighed. God, I felt disgusted with myself. But I didn¡¯t have the luxury of feeling guilty. If I wanted to protect Mark from his doomed fate, I needed to play dirty. Because I hadn¡¯t told Mirai the whole truth about the prophecy. Everyone knew about the prophesied hero¡ªthe destined savior of the world, blessed with extraordinary power, fated to end the age of dungeons and monsters. That hero was Mirai. But what they didn¡¯t know¡ªwhat I knew¡ªwas that stories like this always had a balancing force. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. A hero. And a devil. And the prophesied devil just so happened to be my son. I knew in my heart there was no stopping it. Prophecies in this world were irreversible, coded into the very foundation of reality. Even with my meta-knowledge from the game, I could only do so much. That¡¯s why I had to be so harsh on Mark. I had to make him strong. Give him the tools he¡¯d need to fight fate. But strength alone wouldn¡¯t be enough. Mark needed Mirai. She was the one variable the story hadn¡¯t accounted for. The hero and the devil¡ªintertwined. If Mirai fell for Mark, if she made him her reason to fight¡­ Well, then maybe fate could be cheated after all. The elevator dinged softly as it arrived. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the highest floor. The ride was quiet, just the soft hum of the machinery as the numbers ticked upward. When the doors opened, I stepped out into a dimly lit hallway. The air felt colder here. Staler. The Academy¡¯s upper floors were restricted to faculty and authorized personnel¡ªexcept I had long since stopped letting rules get in my way. I walked down the corridor, heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The hallway was empty, lined with dark wooden doors and softly glowing wall sconces. It reminded me of a hotel¡ªcold, elegant, and impersonal. At the end of the hall, I stopped in front of a door marked with a single brass plaque: REINA. I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and knocked. "Come in," Reina¡¯s voice called from within. I opened the door and smelled blood. Reina stood near the window, silhouetted against the night sky. Her long brown hair flowed down her back, and her reddish brown eyes gleamed in the low light. She didn¡¯t turn around as I entered. And then blood. It was everywhere¡ªslick and wet on the marble floor, splattered across the walls in jagged streaks, and pooling beneath the dismembered bodies scattered around the room. The metallic tang of it filled the air, sharp and nauseating. The dead men and women lay at odd angles, limbs twisted unnaturally. Some were missing arms, others their heads. One poor bastard¡¯s torso had been nearly cleaved in two, his internal organs spilling out onto the floor in a steaming mess. I stepped over a severed hand, heels clicking softly against the blood-soaked floor. A few of the bodies twitched¡ªnervous system misfires, or maybe a lingering trace of life that would soon fade entirely. "Busy night?" I said dryly. Reina stood near the window, framed by the city lights beyond the glass. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, the reddish brown of her eyes glinting faintly in the low light. She didn¡¯t even bother to look at me as she wiped blood off her gloved hand with a crisp white cloth. "Necessary cleanup," she replied coolly. My gaze swept the room. Some of the dead wore uniforms¡ªmercenaries, from the look of them. Professionals. Others were dressed in black tactical gear with no identifying marks. That meant they were probably from one of the underground syndicates. The kind you didn¡¯t hire unless you had serious money to burn. "Assassins?" I asked. Reina¡¯s mouth curled slightly. "Naturally." I let out a low whistle. "That''s bold. To send them here." "They were after me, that¡¯s for sure." Reina¡¯s tone was calm¡ªmatter-of-fact, like she was discussing the weather. "Seems the higher-ups have stopped playing games." My eyes narrowed. "And Merrick?" "I told you, he was done with that life¡­ he won¡¯t involve himself with this silliness anymore!" I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Great. That¡¯s just fantastic." Reina finally turned, her gaze cold and assessing. "You look tired, Evelyn." I laughed under my breath. "Oh, I''m exhausted." She tilted her head. "Do you want to sit down?" I stepped over a corpse and leaned against the wall instead. "No, thanks. I¡¯d rather not stain my clothes." Reina¡¯s smile sharpened. "Probably wise." I gestured toward the nearest corpse. "Any survivors?" "One," Reina said, her eyes darkening. "In the next room. He¡¯s sedated. For now." "I assume you¡¯ll be handling the interrogation?" Reina¡¯s smile widened into something sharp and dangerous. "Of course." I sighed. "Just don¡¯t kill him too quickly. We need information." Reina¡¯s reddish brown eyes gleamed. "I¡¯ll try to restrain myself." I let my gaze drift across the carnage one last time before pushing off the wall. "You know this means they''ll escalate, right?" "Of course," Reina said. "They¡¯ve already crossed the line. It¡¯s only a matter of time before they stop using hired help and come for him directly." I closed my eyes briefly, trying to tamp down the rising anger in my chest. Mark had enough to deal with. He didn¡¯t need this too. "They¡¯re accelerating the timeline," I muttered. "Yes," Reina agreed. "Which means we¡¯ll have to accelerate our own plans." I opened my eyes and smiled grimly. "Looks like it¡¯s going to be a long year." "You know," Reina began, voice light, almost bored, "this arrangement of ours is rather convenient, isn¡¯t it?" I arched a brow. "Because you get to use me as a weapon?" Reina¡¯s smile widened. "I meant because we both have someone to protect." My gaze darkened. "Mark." "And Ron." Reina¡¯s tone softened, just slightly. ¡°I still don¡¯t have an idea how Mark fits into this, but whatever.¡± I sighed. "Yes." For all our differences, that was the one thread that bound us¡ªour desperate, ruthless need to protect them. Mark was my son; Ron was Reina¡¯s little cousin. It wasn¡¯t mere sentimentality. Reina tilted her head. "Did you ever figure it out yet? The cure to insanity?" I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the weight of her stare. "No." "Hmm." Her eyes sharpened. "Still hiding it from me?" I dropped my hand and sighed. "I¡¯m not a precog." Reina¡¯s eyes narrowed. "You¡¯re suspiciously good at playing the game for someone who¡¯s not seeing ahead." "I¡¯m already insane," I said bluntly. "You can¡¯t cure what¡¯s already broken." Reina laughed under her breath, eyes glittering. "Fair point." That was why she was cooperating with me. Reina thought I was one of them¡ªone of the cursed few gifted with precognition¡­ just like Ronald Ardent. The truth was simpler and so much crueler. I wasn¡¯t seeing the future. I was surviving it. Over and over and over again. Reina pushed off the wall, arms stretching above her head. "So why Merrick?" I stiffened. Reina¡¯s smile sharpened as she prowled closer. "Why are you so obsessed with him?" "I¡¯m not obsessed." My voice was colder than I intended. Reina¡¯s lips twitched. "You sure about that?" I narrowed my eyes. "Merrick¡¯s the only one who can kill him." Her smile slipped, just slightly. "In every playthrough," I continued, "in every outcome I¡¯ve seen¡­ it¡¯s always Merrick. He¡¯s the key. If I want to end this, I need him." ¡°And you say, you are not a precog,,,: Reina studied me, head tilted in quiet amusement. Then her smile returned¡ªsharp, playful, dangerous. "Maybe he¡¯d agree to your whims if you let him shag you," she suggested casually. I blinked. Then, despite myself, I considered it. "Hmmm¡­" Reina¡¯s expression froze. Her lips twitched. "You¡¯re joking." "Am I?" Her smile faltered. "You¡¯d seriously¡ª?" "No," I said, laughing. "But it¡¯s not the worst leverage." Reina groaned, rubbing her face. "I was joking." I smirked. "So was I." Her eyes narrowed. "You¡¯re dangerous." "You¡¯ve known that for a while." Reina¡¯s eyes gleamed. "Yes. And I¡¯m starting to think it might be contagious." 037 Problem Students - Part 2 - Anna’s POV 037 Problem Students - Part 2 - Anna¡¯s POV I woke up feeling groggy. My head was heavy, and my limbs felt like lead. I guess Mirai really did me good¡ªclocked me out so hard I was still feeling rattled. Honestly, I wasn¡¯t even mad about it. She was so sweet about it afterward, all apologetic and worried, even though I told her it was nothing. And it really wasn¡¯t. Except¡­ maybe it was. Because even as I lay there, staring at the ceiling and letting the morning light filter through my curtains, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little¡­ jealous. Mirai had it so easy, didn¡¯t she? A cute guy like Mark paying attention to her, actually noticing her. And Ron, despite his usual finicky attitude, looking out for her in that quiet, protective way of his. That kind of luck¡ªbeing the center of someone¡¯s world like that¡ªit just didn¡¯t happen to girls like me. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Jealousy was such an ugly emotion, and I hated that I felt it. I knew Mirai wasn¡¯t doing anything wrong. It wasn¡¯t like she was trying to rub it in my face or anything. But still, sometimes I wished I had even a fraction of that kind of attention. I forced myself to sit up and shook off the feeling. Dwelling on it wouldn¡¯t change anything. After my usual morning routine¡ªshower, brushing my teeth, running a comb through my hair¡ªI went downstairs for breakfast. Mom had already set the table, and Dad was reading the paper, as usual. The smell of eggs and coffee filled the air. ¡°Morning,¡± I mumbled as I slid into my seat. ¡°Morning,¡± Dad said without looking up from the paper. He flipped a page. ¡°How¡¯s school?¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I stabbed at my eggs with my fork. Mom sat down across from me, coffee cup in hand, studying me like she always did. ¡°How¡¯d you get that bruise?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± My hand shot up to my cheek before I could stop myself. My skin was still tender where Mirai had hit me. Not on purpose, of course. It was just sparring practice. It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d meant to¡ª ¡°I fell on the stairs,¡± I said quickly. Mom¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°You should be more careful.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, looking down at my plate. Dad glanced over the top of his paper. ¡°You sure it was just the stairs?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I repeated. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± They didn¡¯t press. They never really did. After breakfast, I cleaned up and got ready for school. My mind wandered back to Mirai and Mark and Ron as I brushed my hair. I knew it was pointless to compare myself to her, but some part of me couldn¡¯t stop wondering: why couldn¡¯t I be that lucky? I sighed, tying my hair back. Another day. Another bruise. Another feeling I wasn¡¯t sure how to shake. I changed into my academy uniform¡ªa plain black set with sharp lines and stiff fabric that never quite sat right on my shoulders. It wasn¡¯t exactly flattering, but I guess that was the point. We weren¡¯t there to look good. We were there to survive. When I came back downstairs, Mom handed me a duffel bag. It was heavier than I expected, and I could hear the clinking of metal and plastic inside. ¡°What¡¯s in here?¡± I asked, unzipping the side to peek inside. ¡°Stuff you can keep in your locker,¡± Mom said, adjusting her glasses. ¡°Extra water, first-aid supplies, some protein bars¡ª¡± ¡°Do you think I¡¯m gonna get into a fight or something?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s the Academy,¡± Mom said flatly. ¡°You never know.¡± She had a point. Not everyone in my class even used their lockers. Most of them had those stupid magical rings, the ones that could store anything they needed in some kind of pocket dimension. Others meanwhile were so sure they would get there¡¯s soon, especially the recent exercise with Professor Merrick. Ugh¡­ I didn¡¯t get any merit points from that exercise, so no magical rings for me. ¡°I want a magical ring too that transforms into a chair¡­¡± It was the sort of convenient, overpowered nonsense that made me roll my eyes every time I saw someone pull a whole sword out of thin air. Must be nice. But not me. My family wasn¡¯t rich enough to afford something like that, and I wasn¡¯t lucky enough to have ESP that could let me bypass the system. No fancy rings or magical storage for me¡ªjust an overstuffed duffel bag and a locker that squeaked every time I opened it. Dad stood by the door, adjusting his tie. ¡°Ready?¡± I nodded, swinging the bag over my shoulder. Dad drove me to the Black Tortoise facility, the massive complex that taught the first-years at ESPer Academy. The ride was quiet, except for the low hum of the car¡¯s engine and the soft patter of rain against the windows. ¡°We might be a bit late coming home,¡± Dad said, breaking the silence as we pulled into the drop-off lane. ¡°Why?¡± I asked, looking over at him. ¡°The research institute had a breakthrough,¡± Dad said, his mouth curling into a small smile. ¡°Your mother and I have to stay late to go over the findings.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± I wasn¡¯t exactly sure how to respond to that. Dad was a researcher through and through, and Mom was just as dedicated. Their work had always been¡­ important, I guess. Too important for me to understand most of the time. ¡°Here.¡± Dad reached into his pocket and handed me a few ESP bills¡ªcrisp and marked with the Academy¡¯s sigil. ¡°Daily allowance.¡± I took them, folding them carefully into my pocket. ¡°Thanks.¡± Dad¡¯s smile softened as I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He patted my head¡ªsomething he hadn¡¯t done in years¡ªand I felt a flicker of warmth despite the cold drizzle outside. ¡°Be careful today,¡± he said. ¡°I will.¡± I hopped out of the car, the duffel bag digging into my shoulder as I adjusted the strap. The heavy steel gates of Black Tortoise loomed ahead, guarded by ESP glyphs that shimmered faintly in the damp morning light. I could already feel the hum of power beneath my feet, the telltale sign that the whole facility was laced with protective wards. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I took a deep breath and stepped through the gates, bracing myself for another day. ¡°Anna!¡± I turned around just in time to see Dad jogging toward me, one hand holding his tie down against the wind and the other waving something bright and colorful over his head. ¡°Your umbrella!¡± he said, slightly out of breath as he handed it to me. ¡°Oh,¡± I said, trying to keep my expression neutral. I definitely didn¡¯t forget it on purpose. The design was¡­ well, embarrassing. Pastel blue with pink stars and a smiling cat face plastered across the top. It looked like something a six-year-old would carry. Not exactly the kind of vibe you want to give off at the ESPer Academy. Still, Dad looked so pleased with himself for remembering, and I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell him I¡¯d "accidentally" left it behind. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, smiling as I took it from him. He gave me a quick pat on the head. ¡°Try not to forget it next time.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Dad grinned, heading back to the car. I watched him go before shoving the umbrella into my duffel bag. Hopefully, no one would ever see it. I made my way through the school¡¯s courtyard, the gray stone path glistening from the drizzle. The Black Tortoise facility was already buzzing with activity¡ªstudents moving in and out of buildings, the faint hum of ESP wards activating as students tested their powers. I ignored most of it. Just another Monday. My locker was in the hallway adjacent to our classroom. I slid my duffel bag into the narrow space, making sure it didn¡¯t stick out too much. The last thing I needed was someone rifling through my stuff. Lockers weren¡¯t exactly sacred territory here¡ªif someone wanted to get into yours, ESP or not, they¡¯d find a way. Once my hands were free, I made my way toward the classroom. The Pioneer Class. The "elite" first-year class. When I stepped inside, I was surprised to see Greg. He¡¯d been absent for the past week¡ªrumor was that he¡¯d gone too hard during the last tournament match and ¡®planned¡¯ to remain absent for the following week. Of course, no one really knew for sure because Greg wasn¡¯t exactly the type to explain himself. But there he was, sitting near the back, legs propped up on an the wall, holding a handheld game console. And sitting next to him¡ªwhat the hell?¡ªwas Karl. Karl Brandt. Scowling, red-haired, third-ranked Karl. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed at the screen as his fingers worked the buttons at lightning speed. Greg¡¯s posture was more relaxed, but his expression was just as focused. ¡°Come on, you pyromaniac¡ªstop spamming the guard button!¡± Greg growled. ¡°It¡¯s called strategy, you unhinged freak!¡± Karl shot back. ¡°Guarding is not a strategy! You¡¯re just being a coward!¡± ¡°Says the guy who keeps button-mashing¡ª Oh, you little¡ª!¡± Karl¡¯s character on the screen burst into flames and Greg¡¯s character knocked him off the edge of the stage with a finishing combo. Greg leaned back, grinning wide as Karl tossed his console onto the desk with a frustrated growl. ¡°You suck, Brandt.¡± Karl¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Best of three.¡± ¡°Bring it.¡± I blinked. Okay, that was¡­ weird. I mean, I knew Greg got along with pretty much everyone (in the most annoying way possible and when he was being sly), but Karl? Karl didn¡¯t really ¡°get along¡± with anyone. I walked over to Mirai¡¯s desk. She was sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, watching the exchange with mild curiosity. ¡°What¡¯s up with them?¡± I asked, nodding toward the back of the room. Mirai¡¯s lips curved into a small smile. ¡°They¡¯re settling old scores.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Via¡­ fighting game?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Apparently they are both idiots.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± It was probably the most normal thing I¡¯d seen Greg and Karl do. Still, watching the two of them cuss each other out over a video game was¡­ unsettling. Mirai giggled. ¡°It¡¯s kind of cute, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°If you say so,¡± I muttered, crossing my arms. Karl¡¯s growl of frustration cut through the air as Greg leaned back with that insufferable grin of his. ¡°Better luck next round, Brandt!¡± Karl¡¯s hand ignited with a brief flicker of flame. Greg¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°No powers.¡± Karl¡¯s flames sputtered out. ¡°Tch. If you think my ESP could be used in video games, then you are one huge idiot!¡± Fiona Core walked into the classroom, and the energy shifted immediately. The other girls practically swarmed her, fussing over her like she was some kind of celebrity. ¡°Fiona! Oh my god, how did you do that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s so cute!¡± ¡°That braid is amazing!¡± Mirai leaned toward me, her voice soft but impressed. ¡°Wow¡­ that¡¯s awesome.¡± I glanced over at Fiona. Yeah, it was pretty awesome. Fiona¡¯s hair was naturally half black and half white, split clean down the middle like some kind of manga character. Something about parts of her hair lacking melanin¡ªgenetic, I guess. But the way she¡¯d braided it today? Alternating strands of black and white, creating this intricate, swirling pattern? It was kind of genius. Fiona smiled serenely as one of the girls leaned closer to touch the braid. Her pale eyes glinted slightly. Fiona was one of those types who didn¡¯t need to try hard to look ethereal¡ªit just came naturally. Some people got all the luck. Eventually, the classroom filled with familiar faces. Karl and Greg were still going at it over their game in the back, cursing at each other like old friends. Mirai sat down at her usual spot, and I settled beside her. Mark showed up not long after, sliding into the seat next to Mirai like it was the most natural thing in the world. He gave her a quick nod, and she smiled faintly back at him. Of course. Of course, Mark would sit next to Mirai. I was distracted from that irritating thought when Matt wandered in and¡ªget this¡ªsat down next to Mark. Matt. Mark actually acknowledged him with a brief nod. Not exactly friendly, but not outright hostile either. That was¡­ new. Mirai tilted her head, brows knitting together. ¡°Anyone know why Ron¡¯s absent?¡± ¡°None of your business,¡± Elena¡¯s sharp voice cut through the chatter from the front row. Mirai¡¯s smile twitched, but she didn¡¯t react otherwise. I shot Elena a glare. Seriously, what was her problem? Elena was sitting primly at her desk, arms crossed. Her long, blond hair framed her face perfectly, not a strand out of place. The honor student aesthetic. But her eyes were cold as ever. She always had a way of making it sound like Mirai had done something wrong just by existing. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s sick,¡± Matt offered, though he didn¡¯t sound like he cared much. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s finally giving up,¡± Greg called from the back without looking up from his game. Karl swore at him. Before Mirai could say anything else, the classroom door flew open with a loud BANG as it was kicked inward. ¡°Good morning, class!¡± Master Reina strode in with her usual brand of dramatic flair, the heels of her knee-high boots clicking sharply against the floor. A long brown coat billowed behind her as she stopped at the front of the room, hands on her hips, surveying us like we were a bunch of recruits at boot camp. ¡°Guess what fresh hell I¡¯ve prepared for you lot today!¡± Greg clapped enthusiastically like a trained seal. If Mark was your ¡®no common sense¡¯ psycho and Karl was your ¡®violent¡¯ psycho, then Greg was absolutely your ¡®ADHD¡¯ psycho. Master Reina snapped her fingers, and the blackboard behind her slid open with a mechanical hum, revealing¡ª Weapons. Racks of swords, spears, daggers, staves, and other deadly implements lined the wall. Everything was polished and gleaming under the artificial lights. Some of the blades glowed faintly, which meant they were probably empowered with ESP or were byproducts of dungeon technology. There was a quiet ripple of excitement through the class. Karl¡¯s eyes sharpened immediately, and Greg sat up straighter, game forgotten. Even Mark¡¯s expression darkened with focus. I frowned. ¡°Are we¡­ actually picking weapons?¡± Master Reina grinned. ¡°Oh, yes. Today¡¯s class will be dedicated to weapons selection.¡± I glanced at Mirai. ¡°Do ESPers even need weapons?¡± Mirai smiled faintly. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± Of course it was. ESPers could generate flames, crush things with telekinesis, read minds, and summon shadows¡ªwhy would they need something as primitive as a sword? Master Reina¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°ESP is useful, but not always reliable. Power runs out. Abilities have cooldowns. You¡¯d be surprised how often it¡¯s the steel in your hands that decides whether you live or die.¡± That was¡­ kind of ominous. Greg shot up from his seat, practically vibrating with energy. ¡°Do we get to keep them?¡± Master Reina¡¯s eyes glinted. ¡°You¡¯ll have to earn that privilege.¡± Greg grinned wide. Karl rolled his eyes. ¡°Form a line,¡± Master Reina ordered. ¡°First come, first served.¡± I watched as Karl and Greg practically vaulted over their desks to get to the front. Mark followed at a steadier pace, eyes scanning the weapons thoughtfully. Mirai stayed seated for a moment, then stood and gave me a smile. ¡°You coming?¡± I hesitated. I wasn¡¯t exactly a fighter. ESP wasn¡¯t my strong suit, and I didn¡¯t have the killer instincts of Mark or Karl. But¡­ Mirai reached out, hand extended. I sighed and took it. ¡°Fine. But if I stab myself, you¡¯re paying my medical bill.¡± ¡°Deal,¡± Mirai laughed. ¡°Uuuh¡­ I take it back. I am sorry. I forgot I¡¯m poor.¡± 038 Weapons Selection - Part 1 - Mark’s POV 038 Weapons Selection - Part 1 - Mark¡¯s POV There were three lines. Master Reina stood in front of the weapons rack, arms crossed, her usual sharp smile in place. The racks behind her were still gleaming under the lights¡ªrows of swords, spears, staves, and other deadly things lined up like this was some kind of RPG shop menu. ¡°Each weapon is tagged with a number,¡± Master Reina announced, her voice cutting through the chatter. ¡°I sent you all an email this morning¡ªthere¡¯s an app attached that gives you detailed specs on each weapon. Ore composition, cryptid parts, dungeon tech enhancements¡ªbasic stuff. Check it.¡± I glanced down at my smartwatch. Sure enough, a new notification was sitting there from Master Reina. I tapped it open, and an app I¡¯d never seen before booted up. A sleek, black interface appeared, and the list of weapons loaded instantly, each one cataloged with stats, descriptions, and compatibility markers. I scrolled through it absently. Hellfire Blade ¨C Infused with pyrokinetic residue. Moderate handling, high cutting power. Weak against water-type ESP. Bone Claw Gauntlets ¨C Crafted from Class A cryptid remains. Enhanced with reaction-based feedback. High compatibility for sensory-type ESP. Stormpiercer Lance ¨C Conductive material for electrical ESP. Excellent penetration. Requires advanced handling. Huh. Seemed overkill for a training session, but then again, this was Master Reina. ¡°Certain ores, cryptid parts, and specific dungeon tech work best with different ESP affinities,¡± Master Reina continued. ¡°Take your time. I don¡¯t expect you to find a perfect match today¡ªbut I do expect you to start understanding your natural fit.¡± She swept her gaze over us, her reddish-brown eyes gleaming. ¡°Each person in line gets five minutes to inspect the weapons. If you need more time, get back in line. That way, everyone gets a fair chance for some window shopping.¡± Clint raised his hand. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t this technically be more like blackboard shopping?¡± A piece of chalk flew through the air and nailed Clint right in the forehead. ¡°Ow¡ªwhat the hell!¡± ¡°Be quiet,¡± Master Reina said coolly, already turning away from him. The room went dead silent after that. Clint rubbed his forehead, muttering under his breath. ¡°Jeez¡­ it was just a joke.¡± ¡°Keep talking and you¡¯ll be shopping for a coffin next,¡± Master Reina said without looking back. I almost smiled. Almost. Greg was at the front of the line, practically bouncing on his heels as he scrolled through the app on his watch. Karl stood behind him, arms crossed, glaring at the back of Greg¡¯s head like he was already calculating how to murder him. Behind Karl was Elena, looking as impassive as ever, her gaze locked on the weapons rack. Mirai was farther back in the line, chatting quietly with Anna. She smiled at something Anna said, her eyes lighting up for a second. I clicked my tongue and looked away. Karl¡¯s turn came up. He walked up to the rack, eyes narrowed. He barely glanced at the app, reaching out and picking up a curved, single-edged sword with a dark red tint to the blade. The moment his hand closed around the hilt, faint red lines flared along the metal. Pyrokinetic enhancement. Naturally. Karl gave the sword a casual swing, and the blade flared with heat. A sharp whoosh of superheated air followed, raising the temperature in the room by at least a few degrees. ¡°Show-off,¡± Greg muttered. Karl ignored him, returning the sword to the rack before walking away without a word. Greg stepped up next. He hummed to himself, scrolling through the app while his eyes flicked rapidly between the descriptions and the actual weapons. Finally, his gaze landed on a pair of short, metallic claws mounted on a dark leather frame. Bone Claw Gauntlets¡ªthe ones with the cryptid remains. High sensory feedback. Dangerous. Greg picked them up, and the claws flexed like they were alive. He slipped them onto his hands and made a slashing motion. The claws moved with eerie smoothness, almost too natural. Greg grinned wide. ¡°I like these.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll like you back,¡± Master Reina said, tone light but edged with something deeper. Greg flexed his fingers again, then set the gauntlets down and strolled back toward the line. ¡°Mark,¡± Master Reina said. ¡°You¡¯re up.¡± I walked toward the rack, scrolling through the app as I approached. My eyes flicked over the list of weapons. Swords, spears, daggers, whips¡ªenhanced for ESP, reinforced with dungeon tech. But none of them stood out. My hand hovered over a short sword with silver engraving. An all-rounder type. Balanced handling, moderate cutting power, minimal ESP enhancement. But when I reached for it, I felt nothing. No pull. No sense of connection. My hand drifted to a pair of weighted gauntlets reinforced with Class B cryptid bone. The stats were decent, but¡­ still nothing. ¡°You¡¯re not going to find a perfect match on stats alone,¡± Master Reina said, her voice low enough for just me to hear. I frowned. ¡°Then how am I supposed to¡ª¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Instinct,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ll know when it¡¯s the right one.¡± Her eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Unless you¡¯re afraid of that.¡± I exhaled sharply. My hand dropped from the gauntlets. Instinct. Right. Like I had that. Anna raised her hand. ¡°Master Reina,¡± she said, ¡°can we¡­ ask for a custom weapon?¡± Reina sighed, already looking like she regretted giving us the chance to speak. ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s not that simple.¡± She placed a hand on her hip. ¡°If you want a custom weapon, you¡¯ll need to submit a proposal report detailing exactly what you want¡ªmaterials, enhancement compatibility, ESP integration. You¡¯ll also need convincing points on why this weapon would benefit you more than a standard issue one.¡± Anna¡¯s hand lowered slowly. ¡°In other words,¡± Reina added, ¡°if you¡¯re not serious about it, don¡¯t waste my time.¡± Anna slumped back in her chair, while scrolling on her smartphone. Finally, it was my turn again. I walked toward the weapon rack, scrolling through the app on my smartwatch. Sharp. Something sharp. I wanted something that could give a boost to external ESP casting. The problem was¡­ nothing on the rack really stood out to me. I already had the butterfly knife Mom gave me¡ªlightweight, balanced, easy to conceal. But it lacked power or the range I wanted. And that was the problem. My ESP was focused on stealth, subtlety. Infiltration and deception, not overwhelming strength. Still¡­ it wouldn¡¯t hurt to have a bit more range. A bit more impact. I scanned the weapons again. Daggers. Swords. Spears. Most of them enhanced for elemental ESP¡ªfire, electricity, ice. Not really my style. I could feel my gaze drifting toward the back of the rack¡ªtoward the corner where the more unconventional weapons were stored. And then I saw it. It was resting at the far end of the rack, hanging from a reinforced mount like even the storage frame didn¡¯t trust it. A boomerang. It was sleek¡ªblack metal with silver etching running along the curve. Compact. Lightweight. The edges were sharpened, and I could see faint ESP channels engraved into the surface. My first thought had been a gun¡ªbut, of course, there was nothing like that here. Then I¡¯d considered a bow¡ªbut I didn¡¯t have any training for it. And honestly, bows were too bulky to carry around. But this¡­ It was easy to carry. Had range. Could double as a melee weapon if necessary. And it was fast. I reached out and grabbed it. The metal felt cool against my palm. The weight was good¡ªheavier than I expected, but not unmanageable. I turned it over in my hand, feeling the balance. Perfectly even. ¡°Interesting choice.¡± Master Reina¡¯s voice came from behind me. I glanced back at her. ¡°Yeah?¡± She smiled faintly. ¡°Not many people pick that one. It¡¯s hard to master.¡± I flipped the boomerang in my hand. ¡°I¡¯m not really looking for easy.¡± Her smile widened. ¡°Good answer.¡± I turned the boomerang over again. My ESP wasn¡¯t meant for direct combat¡ªbut if I could channel it into something fast and sharp¡­ Yeah. This could work. I stepped away from the rack, the boomerang resting easily in my hand. Behind me, the line moved forward. Tom raised his hand. ¡°Master Reina,¡± he said, tilting his head, ¡°why aren¡¯t there any guns?¡± Reina raised an eyebrow. ¡°You want a gun?¡± Tom shrugged. ¡°I mean¡­ it¡¯d be useful, right? Fast, powerful, easy to aim.¡± Reina sighed and crossed her arms. ¡°Guns are designed to kill people.¡± Tom blinked. ¡°¡­Okay?¡± ¡°They don¡¯t work on most cryptids,¡± Reina continued. ¡°Sure, low-tier ones might go down with enough bullets, but tougher cryptids have magical resistances, regeneration, and protective barriers. A gunshot might stagger them¡ªbut it won¡¯t kill them.¡± My mom was probably the only exception to that rule. Tom frowned. ¡°So¡­ what does work?¡± Reina gestured toward the weapon rack. ¡°Artifacts.¡± She started pacing in front of us like she was preparing for a lecture. ¡°Every weapon you see here is an artifact¡ªcrafted from dungeon ores, cryptid parts, and specialized dungeon tech. Unlike human-made weapons, artifacts are infused with otherworldly properties that bypass natural resistances. And they have one key advantage¡ªESP channeling.¡± Greg raised his hand lazily. ¡°So what grade are we talking about here?¡± ¡°Good question.¡± Reina stopped walking. ¡°Artifacts are divided into five categories based on quality and craftsmanship: Fine, Exceptional, Superior, Masterpiece, and Perfect.¡± I heard Greg mutter, ¡°Sounds like a gacha ranking.¡± Reina ignored him. ¡°All of the artifacts presented to you today are Superior grade.¡± A few students exchanged surprised looks. ¡°Superior?¡± Karl¡¯s voice came from the back. ¡°Aren¡¯t those¡­ expensive?¡± ¡°Very.¡± Reina smiled faintly. ¡°Even Superior-grade artifacts are out of reach for the average ESPer. That¡¯s why you better make use of this opportunity. Weapons of this caliber don¡¯t come cheap.¡± Karl¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°So what¡¯s the catch?¡± ¡°No catch,¡± Reina said smoothly. ¡°You¡¯ve earned this through the Academy¡¯s sponsorship. But¡­¡± Her smile sharpened. ¡°If you break it, you pay for it.¡± A low murmur ran through the class. ¡°Anyway,¡± Reina said, clapping her hands. ¡°You have until Friday to decide on a weapon. Test it. Train with it. See if it suits you. If you change your mind, you can swap it out¡ªonce. After Friday, your choice is locked in.¡± I glanced down at the boomerang in my hand. It felt good. Balanced. But was this really what I wanted? Maybe I should try a few other weapons before settling. Or maybe¡­ I¡¯d stick with it. I¡¯d think about it. Greg was already eyeing the next spot in line, his gaze drifting toward a different pair of gauntlets lined with glowing silver veins. Mirai stood nearby, looking thoughtful as she held a slim rapier. Anna was holding¡­ a war fan? I turned the boomerang over in my hand. Yeah¡­ I¡¯d think about it. Hannah raised her hand. ¡°Master Reina?¡± Reina arched an eyebrow. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°What exactly are the artifacts for?¡± Hannah asked. ¡°Are we¡­ sparring with them?¡± A few students perked up at that. Karl¡¯s eyes gleamed dangerously. Greg¡¯s mouth curled into a sharp grin. Mirai looked serious. Elena seemed she didn¡¯t mind. Reina¡¯s response was a sharp, amused laugh. ¡°Oh, no,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°You lot lack the restraint to even think about sparring with real weapons.¡± Greg snorted. ¡°Wow. No faith in us?¡± ¡°None whatsoever,¡± Reina said flatly. ¡°The last thing I need is to write an incident report because some overconfident first-year got their arm sliced off in a ¡®friendly match.¡¯¡± Karl clicked his tongue. ¡°So what are they for, then?¡± Reina¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°By Friday,¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯ll be using them for your own dungeon hunts.¡± The classroom fell dead silent. ¡°¡­Dungeon hunts?¡± Hannah echoed. ¡°Yes.¡± Reina leaned back against the blackboard, arms crossed. ¡°Real hunts. Real cryptids. Real consequences. It¡¯s not like the last dungeon where I was babysitting you. This time, it will be for real.¡± Someone cursed under their breath. ¡°We¡¯ve been training you for this since day one,¡± Reina continued. ¡°ESP combat. Strategy. Tactical awareness. All of that was preparation for this.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been barely over a week!¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Moreover¡­ aren¡¯t dungeon hunts second-year curriculum?¡± Reina¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Under normal circumstances, yes. But this year isn¡¯t normal. Professor Merrick signed off on it himself.¡± The class rippled with uneasy whispers. ¡°Why?¡± Karl asked, his tone sharp. Reina¡¯s smile turned thin. ¡°Cryptid activity has been increasing. Dungeons are forming faster than expected. We need more active ESPers¡ªand we need them fast.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t like we¡¯d graduate fast, because we accelerate the curriculum, right? After all, in paper, our curriculum are supposed to last for¡­ four years¡­¡± slowly lost Clint¡¯s voice as Reina gave him the stare down. My grip tightened around the boomerang. Mirai¡¯s hand rose. ¡°Are we¡­ ready for this?¡± Reina shrugged. ¡°Some of you are. Some of you aren¡¯t. That¡¯s what this week is for. Test your weapon. Get familiar with it. Figure out how it works with your ESP.¡± Karl¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°And if we aren¡¯t ready?¡± ¡°Then you die,¡± Reina said lightly. ¡°Or worse.¡± The room stiffened. ¡°I¡¯m kidding,¡± Reina added after a pause. ¡°Mostly.¡± ¡°Master Reina,¡± Mirai said softly. ¡°What kind of dungeon?¡± Reina¡¯s smile didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll find out Friday.¡± That didn¡¯t make me feel any better. Karl¡¯s gaze flicked toward the weapon rack. He wasn¡¯t the only one. Tension hung in the room, sharp and heavy. ¡°Any other questions?¡± Reina¡¯s tone was light, but her eyes were cold. No one raised their hand. ¡°Good.¡± Reina pushed off the blackboard. ¡°Then get to work. You¡¯ve got a lot to prepare for.¡± Greg was already grinning. Mirai¡¯s hand tightened on her rapier. Karl¡¯s expression was unreadable. I turned the boomerang over in my hand again. The faint thrum beneath my fingers hadn¡¯t faded. A dungeon hunt. This was going to get ugly. 039 Problem Students - Part 3 - Mark’s POV 039 Problem Students - Part 3 - Mark¡¯s POV Professor Collins¡¯s class ended without much fanfare. His subject, Survival & Field Operations, was a cinch for me. The guy¡¯s a decent instructor, but when it comes to hiding, well¡­ I¡¯ve had years of practice. We were playing a version of hide and seek in the academy¡¯s training forest. Professor Collins had scattered the class around and told us to stay hidden or get ¡°captured.¡± Easy enough. I¡¯d been under a thick layer of mud and half-buried in a patch of mossy groves for the past hour. My ESP wasn¡¯t exactly combat-focused, but for stealth and misdirection? I was untouchable. I heard footsteps crunching through the underbrush. Voices followed. ¡°Mark! Where are you?¡± That was Anna¡¯s voice. ¡°Come on, class is over!¡± Hannah called. Tom¡¯s heavier footsteps were slower, more deliberate. ¡°Professor Collins said we¡¯re done! Get out here already!¡± I stayed still, half-submerged in the mud. No way class was over this early. It wasn¡¯t even lunch yet. Was it? My smart watch was missing¡ªI¡¯d taken it off before going into the exercis¡ªand I wasn¡¯t exactly about to fish through wet dirt to find it. The watch was new, too. Mom had gotten it for me after my last watch got smashed during sparring. The voices faded as Anna, Hannah, and Tom wandered past my hiding spot. I waited for the crunch of their steps to disappear completely before crawling out from under the mud. The cool air bit into my skin as I peeled off the leafy cover I¡¯d used for camouflage. A quick jog through the forest trail, and I made it back to the boy¡¯s locker room in about five minutes. My gym tracksuit was caked with dirt and sweat, and there was no way I was sitting through the rest of the day like that. I hit the showers, rinsing off the mud and grime while trying not to think too hard about how many other guys had used this stall today. A few minutes later, I was back in my black uniform, freshly changed and considerably less gross. The gym tracksuit was stuffed into a plastic bag I¡¯d deal with later. By the time I got back to the training grounds, Professor Collins was standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed as he delivered his closing remarks. He had that serious, vaguely disappointed look he always wore when half the class had underperformed. Which was often. ¡°¡­and that concludes today¡¯s lesson,¡± Professor Collins said, his gravelly voice cutting through the post-training chatter. ¡°Some of you demonstrated basic survival instincts. Most of you¡­ did not.¡± His eyes skimmed across the crowd. ¡°Next time, try not to make enough noise to wake the dead.¡± Greg chuckled somewhere in the back. Elena gave him a withering glare, but he just smiled wider. ¡°Dismissed,¡± Professor Collins said. The class began to scatter, students talking among themselves as they gathered their gear. I was about to head toward the locker room again when Anna caught up with me, looking a little annoyed. ¡°You really didn¡¯t hear us?¡± she asked, frowning. ¡°I heard you.¡± Anna gave me a look. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you come out?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t trust it,¡± I shrugged. Anna rolled her eyes. ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Hey, I was right,¡± I pointed out. She sighed. ¡°Next time, just trust that we aren¡¯t setting you up, okay?¡± ¡°Maybe.¡± She narrowed her eyes at me but didn¡¯t press it. Tom wandered by and shot me a thumbs-up. ¡°Nice hiding spot, man. Hannah practically walked over you.¡± ¡°I aim to please,¡± I said. Hannah herself was a few steps behind, her arms crossed. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be a team, you know,¡± she huffed. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± She scowled. ¡°Next time, don¡¯t make us come looking for you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡± Hannah shook her head and walked off, muttering something under her breath about antisocial weirdos. Anna had been on the seeker side earlier, so I knew exactly who to avoid. Her strategy was decent¡ªshe had a good sense for tracking¡ªbut once you know someone''s rhythm, it''s easy to slip out of their grasp. Especially when stealth was basically my thing. Speaking of seekers¡­ ¡°Where¡¯s Mirai?¡± I asked Anna as we headed toward the building. Anna shrugged. ¡°No idea. She was supposed to be a seeker too.¡± That was odd. Mirai wasn¡¯t the type to slack off during a survival drill. But before I could think too hard about it, there was a rustling from the treeline. Mirai stumbled out of the forest, her face absolutely caked with dirt. Her uniform was a disaster¡ªmud splatters on her skirt, her white blouse stained a faint green from grass, and her knee socks were wrecked. Some of the other seekers had worn their gym tracksuits for the drill. Mirai, though¡­ not so much. Anna raised an eyebrow. ¡°What happened to you?¡± This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Mirai gave a shaky laugh, brushing dirt from her sleeves. ¡°I, um¡­ don¡¯t have a tracksuit yet.¡± Anna¡¯s mouth curled into a smile, and she started laughing. ¡°That¡¯s your excuse?¡± Greg, who looked just as filthy, was leaning casually against a tree. He was wearing a tracksuit, of course¡ªit was stained with mud, but the difference between him and Mirai was obvious. Greg was smirking. ¡°You¡¯re such an idiot,¡± Greg said, pointing at Mirai and grinning like a maniac. Mirai flushed, her cheeks turning pink beneath the dirt. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault!¡± ¡°Sure it¡¯s not,¡± Greg teased. ¡°You¡¯re lucky Professor Collins didn¡¯t fail you on principle.¡± Anna¡¯s laugh cut off abruptly. ¡°Greg, shut up.¡± Greg just laughed harder. ¡°What? I¡¯m just saying what everyone¡¯s thinking.¡± ¡°Then stop thinking,¡± Anna snapped. Greg winked at her. ¡°Can¡¯t stop perfection, babe.¡± Anna¡¯s hand curled into a fist. Greg wisely took a step back. Before Anna could escalate things, another figure emerged from the forest. Elena. Her uniform was just as much of a mess as Mirai¡¯s¡ªskirt streaked with mud, blouse rumpled, and her hair a little windblown. She was scowling, eyes narrowed beneath golden bangs. But unlike Mirai, Elena made it look¡­ intentional. Anna leaned toward me and whispered, ¡°She didn¡¯t wear a tracksuit because, let me guess¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s too elegant for that,¡± I finished. ¡°Exactly.¡± Elena¡¯s gaze swept the clearing, cold and calculating as always. Her eyes locked onto Greg, who was still grinning like an idiot. Greg¡¯s expression lit up as he nudged Karl, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed and looking particularly annoyed. ¡°Hey, Karl!¡± Greg said, patting Karl¡¯s back. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got a pair of potted plants that need replanting!¡± Karl¡¯s scowl deepened. His eyes flicked toward Greg¡¯s hand on his shoulder, then toward Elena and Mirai. He didn¡¯t say anything, but the look he shot Greg could have set the forest on fire. ¡°Touch me again and you¡¯ll lose that hand,¡± Karl muttered. Greg¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Kinky.¡± Karl looked about two seconds away from decking him. Elena sighed and adjusted her skirt with a flick of her wrist. ¡°You¡¯re disgusting.¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°Takes one to know one.¡± Elena¡¯s glare sharpened. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s not start a fight,¡± I cut in. ¡°Save it for the sparring grounds.¡± Greg gave me a toothy grin. ¡°Mark¡¯s right. We should play nice.¡± Karl¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°You don¡¯t know the meaning of the word.¡± Greg¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I think you¡¯re starting to like me, Karl.¡± Karl¡¯s hand curled into a fist. I watched his knuckles whiten. Yeah, this was going to get messy fast. ¡°Karl,¡± Mirai said brightly, ¡°let¡¯s talk.¡± Karl¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°About what?¡± Mirai turned to me, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. ¡°We should have lunch together. What do you think, Mark?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sure.¡± Karl¡¯s lip curled. ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck.¡± Mirai smiled sweetly. ¡°It¡¯s about Professor Merrick¡¯s subject. And the team-ups.¡± Karl didn¡¯t say anything, but his jaw tightened. Anna perked up. ¡°Team-ups, huh? I wonder what the other teams are going to be like.¡± Peter, who had been sitting nearby, leaned back on his hands. ¡°I¡¯d want John on my team.¡± Greg¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°Me too.¡± Anna shot him a look. ¡°Seriously?¡± Greg shrugged, all innocent smiles. ¡°What? John¡¯s solid.¡± The others gave him a weird look. John, who had been sitting off to the side, pushed his mask up slightly so it rested on the top of his head. His orange hair was slightly damp from sweat. He shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t. I already have a team.¡± Anna blinked. ¡°You do?¡± John nodded. ¡°Professor Merrick talked to me about it. Said he had plans for me.¡± Greg leaned forward, eyes glinting. ¡°What kind of plans?¡± John¡¯s expression remained neutral. ¡°Can¡¯t say.¡± ¡°Cryptic,¡± Greg said approvingly. ¡°Suspicious,¡± Karl muttered. John smiled faintly, then lowered his mask back into place. When the others started talking among themselves, I stood and stretched. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you outside,¡± I told Mirai. She nodded, brushing dirt from her skirt. I left the training grounds and stood outside the building. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting a pale orange hue over the courtyard. A soft breeze carried the faint scent of grass and dirt. Eventually, Mirai and Karl emerged from the building. Karl looked about as thrilled as someone being led to an execution. ¡°Come on,¡± Mirai said brightly, no longer with a messy uniform. She probably had a spare. Karl didn¡¯t resist exactly¡ªbut he also didn¡¯t look particularly interested in cooperating. ¡°We¡¯re going this way,¡± I said, pointing toward the rooftop staircase. Karl¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Why the rooftop?¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s quiet,¡± I said. ¡°Because it¡¯s our spot,¡± Mirai added with a smile. Karl sighed, but he didn¡¯t protest as we climbed the stairs. He could have left if he wanted to¡ªbut he didn¡¯t. When we reached the rooftop, Mirai sat cross-legged on the ground. I leaned back against the railing, while Karl stood stiffly near the edge, arms crossed. His red hair was tousled from the wind, and his sharp blue eyes were focused on the horizon. Mirai rummaged through her bag and pulled out a bento box. ¡°I¡¯ve got extra, if you want some.¡± Karl glanced at her. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Mirai opened the box, revealing neatly packed rice balls and fried chicken. I pulled out a convenience store sandwich from my bag and unwrapped it. ¡°I think I got the better deal.¡± I didn¡¯t have time to pack up my lunch, so sandwhich it was. Mirai grinned. ¡°I made this myself.¡± Karl snorted. ¡°Explains a lot.¡± Mirai¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t offer you any.¡± Karl didn¡¯t respond, but he sat down, legs stretched out in front of him. Greg¡¯s words earlier stuck with me. John already had a team. That was¡­ unusual. And Merrick personally set it up? That meant it was important. ¡°You think Merrick¡¯s planning something with John?¡± I asked. Mirai hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Probably.¡± Karl¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Merrick¡¯s always planning something.¡± Mirai handed me a rice ball. I took it without thinking and bit into it. It was surprisingly good. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°But why John?¡± Mirai nudged my arm as I finished the last bite of my sandwich. ¡°You should eat more,¡± she said, her tone light but insistent. ¡°A sandwich isn¡¯t enough.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± She smiled knowingly and opened her bento box again. ¡°I brought extra.¡± I hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t have utensils.¡± Mirai pulled out a spare pair of chopsticks from her bag with a flourish. ¡°Problem solved.¡± ¡°¡­Convenient,¡± I muttered, but I took them anyway. She pushed the bento toward me. ¡°You shared your side dishes with me last time. Now we¡¯re even.¡± I picked up a piece of fried chicken and popped it into my mouth. It was good¡ªbetter than I expected. Mirai¡¯s cooking had improved. Beside us, Karl was sitting with his arms crossed, looking vaguely pissed off. His scowl deepened as Mirai handed me another rice ball. Mirai noticed. ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± Karl scoffed. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°You¡¯re glaring,¡± I said. Karl¡¯s sharp blue eyes flashed toward me, then toward Mirai. ¡°Just wondering how long I have to sit here before I start growing moss.¡± Mirai¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Do you feel like a third wheel?¡± Karl¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Maybe.¡± Mirai tilted her head. ¡°That¡¯s funny. Because I don¡¯t remember inviting you. You came on your own.¡± Karl¡¯s lip curled into something almost resembling a smile. ¡°I don¡¯t remember agreeing to a team lunch. Stop twisting your words, that isn¡¯t¡­ like you¡­¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°We dragged you here.¡± Karl scoffed. ¡°Exactly.¡± Mirai closed her bento box and leaned forward slightly. ¡°So. What do you think about doing some team-building activities?¡± Karl¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°What?¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to be on the same team for Professor Merrick¡¯s class,¡± Mirai said cheerfully. ¡°It makes sense to work on our coordination, right?¡± Karl¡¯s brow furrowed. He didn¡¯t respond immediately, which was already unusual. I expected him to lash out or make a snide remark, but instead¡­ he looked thoughtful. Mirai¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Come on, it¡¯ll be fun.¡± Karl¡¯s gaze darkened. ¡°Fun?¡± ¡°Or productive,¡± Mirai amended. Karl¡¯s mouth twisted into a nasty smile. ¡°Alright.¡± Mirai blinked. ¡°¡­Alright?¡± Karl¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I¡¯m willing to cooperate.¡± Mirai¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Really?¡± Karl¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°But I get to decide the activity.¡± I frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like teamwork.¡± Karl¡¯s grin turned feral. ¡°Oh, but it will be. You¡¯ll see.¡± Mirai glanced at me. I sighed. This was going to be a problem. Just what did Karl have in mind? 040 Team Ups - Part 1 - Mirai ‘s POV 040 Team Ups - Part 1 - Mirai ¡®s POV I had no idea Mark could look so disappointed. We were walking down the hallway toward our classroom, the echo of our footsteps filling the empty space. Most of the other students had already filtered into their own rooms, leaving the hallways oddly quiet. Mark''s expression was hard to read¡ªhis brow slightly furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just¡­ resigned. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, brushing my shoulder lightly against his arm. Mark sighed. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± ¡°Liar.¡± I smiled. ¡°Come on, tell me.¡± He hesitated, his hand brushing against the strap of his bag. ¡°It¡¯s this team-up.¡± I frowned. ¡°We didn¡¯t really have a choice.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Mark said, glancing toward the row of classroom doors as we passed them. ¡°That¡¯s not the problem.¡± ¡°Then what is?¡± Mark¡¯s mouth tightened. ¡°It¡¯s Karl.¡± I blinked. ¡°Karl?¡± Mark gave me a look, the kind that said you already know the answer. ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°¡­The team-building activity?¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± I laughed. ¡°What, you think he¡¯s going to make us do something horrible?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mark¡¯s tone was flat. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Come on. He agreed to cooperate. That¡¯s progress.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what worries me,¡± Mark muttered. I smiled. He wasn¡¯t wrong to be wary¡ªKarl agreeing to something without putting up a fight was suspicious. Still, I was trying to be optimistic. If Karl was willing to work with us, maybe things would go smoothly. ¡­Or maybe it would completely backfire. ¡°Besides,¡± I said, nudging Mark¡¯s arm again. ¡°If it¡¯s something awful, we¡¯ll just team up against him.¡± Mark¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°And you think that¡¯ll work?¡± ¡°Absolutely.¡± Mark finally smiled, just a little. I grinned back. ¡°See? Problem solved.¡± Mark¡¯s smile faded as we approached the classroom door. ¡°Unless Karl¡¯s idea of team-building involves murder.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll just have to beat the sense out of him,¡± I said, pushing open the door. Mark sighed. ¡°Great. That¡¯s encouraging.¡± But he didn¡¯t stop following me. We entered the classroom, and Mark went to his usual corner near the back without a word. I followed him with my eyes for a moment before dragging my own seat to him. The classroom was still filling up, students talking in low voices and swapping gossip before class officially started. Anna slid into the seat next to me, practically vibrating with excitement. ¡°Did you see the new rankings?¡± she asked, leaning in. I blinked. ¡°New rankings?¡± Anna pulled out her smartphone and shoved it in front of my face. ¡°Look!¡± The screen displayed the latest inner-class rankings, which shifted every week depending on performance and evaluation by the professors. The Master oversaw the entire system, but the individual professors contributed their own points based on performance in class and combat. It was a cutthroat system, and it reflected the unspoken hierarchy among the students. Karl had dropped two ranks. Anna had risen one rank. Mark had dropped three ranks. Elena and Ron had each dropped a rank. And sitting smugly at rank one¡­ ¡°Greg?¡± I frowned. ¡°How is Greg at number one?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Anna hissed. ¡°He was absent for the entire first week! How did he even do that?! It¡¯s like magic!¡± Right on cue, Greg entered the classroom¡ªwearing a paper crown. He spread his arms wide and spun dramatically as he walked down the aisle between the desks. ¡°Bow before your king!¡± Greg sang, his voice echoing across the classroom. ¡°Oh god,¡± I muttered, rubbing my temple. ¡°Long live the king!¡± Clint called out sarcastically from the back of the room. Greg turned toward him, grinning. ¡°Why, thank you, loyal subject.¡± Lola, sitting two seats over, flared her nostrils. ¡°How the hell did you get to rank one?¡± Greg leaned on the back of her chair, his grin widening. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t mind sharing my secret to success.¡± ¡°Please enlighten us,¡± Anna deadpanned. Greg straightened, raising a single finger like he was making a grand proclamation. ¡°I simply paid Master Reina with the merit points I earned from Professor Merrick¡¯s extracurriculars to give me perfect points and retroactively fill in my attendance for the first week.¡± There was a beat of silence. ¡°¡­You what?¡± Lola demanded. ¡°We can do that?¡± Greg beamed. ¡°My farming merit points strategy worked so well! The system allows it, after all.¡± Clint rubbed the back of his head. ¡°How is that even possible when we¡¯re barely getting any merit points to begin with?¡± Greg¡¯s grin turned sharp. ¡°That¡¯s because you guys are doing it wrong.¡± Anna scowled. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. Merit points aren¡¯t supposed to be easy to farm.¡± ¡°Oh, they¡¯re not,¡± Greg said smugly. ¡°But the loopholes are there if you know how to look for them.¡± Mark, still sitting by the window, finally looked up from his notebook. ¡°You bribed the system.¡± Stolen story; please report. Greg¡¯s eyes twinkled. ¡°Legally.¡± ¡°That¡¯s still bribery.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± Greg said, tilting his paper crown, ¡°the system accepted it.¡± Karl, sitting a row away, scoffed. ¡°Figures.¡± Greg flashed him a grin. ¡°Don¡¯t hate the player, hate the game.¡± ¡°You are the game,¡± Karl muttered darkly. Greg laughed, dropped into his seat, and crossed his legs on the desk. ¡°Come on, you all just need to be more creative.¡± Anna glared at him. ¡°Or the professors need to close the loopholes.¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°If they close them, I¡¯ll just find new ones.¡± I sighed. ¡°Greg, you can¡¯t just game the system forever.¡± Greg¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Why not?¡± I opened my mouth to respond¡ªbut then the classroom door swung open. Professor Merrick walked in, his clipboard tucked under one arm. His eyes swept across the room with that usual unreadable gaze, the type that seemed to peel back layers of your mind without giving anything away in return. The chatter died almost instantly. Greg sat up straighter, adjusting his paper crown with a little smirk. Professor Merrick¡¯s eyes drifted toward him for half a second before he started walking toward the blackboard. He picked up a piece of chalk and began writing in clean, sharp strokes. TEAMS ¡°Like I said last time,¡± Professor Merrick began, his voice as crisp and cold as ever, ¡°it is permitted to take advantage of the system, provided you do not obstruct or violate any regulations, policies, or ethical barriers.¡± Greg¡¯s smirk deepened. He crossed his arms behind his head like he was sitting on a throne. ¡°That means,¡± Professor Merrick continued, ¡°if you find a loophole and exploit it within the framework of the system, it¡¯s fair game.¡± I heard Anna mutter, ¡®Of course it is.¡¯ ¡°However,¡± Merrick¡¯s eyes flashed dangerously, ¡°don¡¯t think that means the system is incapable of adapting.¡± Greg¡¯s smile twitched. Merrick finished writing the word TEAMS and underlined it with a swift, sharp line. He turned to face the class. ¡°Settle down,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll begin.¡± The room shuffled as everyone straightened in their seats. I could feel the tension crackling beneath the surface. Merrick¡¯s classes were never simple, and whatever he had planned today was probably going to leave us regretting our life choices. ¡°We¡¯ve discussed strategy. We¡¯ve discussed individual performance.¡± Merrick¡¯s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on Mark, then Karl, then Greg. ¡°Now we¡¯re going to talk about team dynamics.¡± I felt a small weight settle in my chest. Team dynamics. Right. ¡°In a controlled environment, your individual strength is measured by the system,¡± Merrick continued. ¡°But out in the field, strength alone won¡¯t save you. Coordination will.¡± He tapped the chalk against the blackboard. ¡°So, we¡¯re doing team exercises?¡± Anna asked, resting her chin on her hand. ¡°Correct,¡± Merrick replied. ¡°But not just any team exercises.¡± Professor Merrick turned back to the blackboard and began writing beneath TEAMS in neat, sharp strokes: Team A: Mark, Mirai, Karl Team B: John, Peter, Iris, Gina Team C: Elena, Fiona, Greg, Matt, Anna Team D: Ron, Hannah, Tom, Sarah, Clint, Lola I stared at the board, my eyes narrowing at the combination under Team A. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± I muttered. Beside me, Mark''s expression remained neutral, but I could tell from the slight tension in his shoulders that he wasn¡¯t thrilled either. Karl, on the other hand, scoffed loudly from across the room. ¡°Well, isn¡¯t this cozy,¡± Karl drawled, slouching back in his chair. Greg, sitting on the other side of the room, whistled. ¡°Oof. That¡¯s rough, buddy.¡± ¡°Remember our little exercise this recent weekend?¡± Merrick¡¯s chalk clicked against the board as he turned toward us. ¡°The teams were configured based on the results of the tournament.¡± That explained the weird combinations. ¡°The tournament-structured sparring match had three segments,¡± Merrick continued. ¡°Each segment tested different aspects of team coordination, strategy, and adaptability.¡± Anna raised her hand. ¡°What were the criteria for winning?¡± Merrick¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°That depended on the segment.¡± ¡°And what happened if a team lost?¡± Merrick¡¯s smile was faint and not at all comforting. ¡°Losing carried certain¡­ consequences.¡± A low murmur spread through the room. ¡°The ranking adjustments,¡± I realized aloud. Merrick nodded. ¡°The higher the rank, the fewer members on the team. Team A, for example, has three members.¡± He gestured toward the board. ¡°Team D, at the lowest ranking, has six.¡± A ripple of understanding spread through the class. ¡°That¡¯s not exactly fair,¡± Clint muttered. ¡°It wasn¡¯t about fairness,¡± Merrick said. ¡°It was about adaptation. High-ranked teams had to rely on precision and coordination. Lower-ranked teams had the benefit of numbers¡ªbut they needed to manage that advantage effectively.¡± Greg¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°That¡¯s pretty cutthroat.¡± Merrick¡¯s gaze slid toward Greg. ¡°Naturally.¡± ¡°So,¡± Greg continued, his grin widening, ¡°you¡¯re saying it was possible to sabotage higher-ranked teams and make it harder for them to operate with fewer members?¡± Merrick didn¡¯t answer. His smile was slight and dangerous. Greg chuckled. ¡°Nice.¡± I glanced toward Mark. His brow was furrowed slightly, his hand resting against his chin. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. Anna leaned closer, her voice low. ¡°So Team A¡¯s basically got the worst odds, huh?¡± I sighed. ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°We get it,¡± Karl said, voice cutting through the room. ¡°We¡¯re the high-ranked targets. What else is new?¡± ¡°You sound confident,¡± Merrick said. Karl¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°I¡¯m not worried.¡± ¡°That makes one of us,¡± Mark muttered under his breath. Karl¡¯s gaze slid toward Mark. His smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes. Merrick ignored them both. ¡°The configuration was designed to reflect real-world conflict,¡± he said. ¡°Success in the field rarely comes from individual strength alone. Even the strongest ESPers cannot survive alone. You need to trust your team.¡± Trust. Right. ¡°Your first match as a team will be tomorrow,¡± Merrick said. ¡°You have the rest of the day to plan your strategy. Dismissed.¡± The class erupted into conversation as Merrick turned toward the door. Anna turned toward me. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°Survive,¡± I muttered. ¡°Wait, we aren¡¯t on the same team!¡± Across the room, Karl¡¯s gaze lingered on Mark. His scowl deepened as Mark stood and calmly adjusted his uniform. Greg stretched, yawning. ¡°Well, this¡¯ll be fun.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one word for it,¡± Mark said flatly. ¡°Relax,¡± Greg said, flashing a smile. ¡°You¡¯ve got Mirai. And Karl. And¡­ y¡¯know, the power of friendship or whatever.¡± Karl¡¯s scowl deepened. Mark sighed. ¡°We¡¯re so screwed.¡± Just as the chatter in the room was dying down, the door swung open again. Professor Merrick strode back in, this time carrying a neat stack of papers under one arm. The room quieted almost immediately. That was the effect Merrick had¡ªhe didn¡¯t demand attention; it simply gravitated toward him. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve settled the matter of teams,¡± Merrick said, placing the stack of papers on his desk with a sharp clap, ¡°let¡¯s move on to the next order of business. But before that, I have something to add. In the spirit of transparency, I believe it¡¯s time to reveal a certain¡­ arrangement.¡± A murmur passed through the room. ¡°I mentioned earlier that John Craig was allowed to choose his team.¡± Merrick¡¯s gaze slid toward John, who sat with his arms crossed and head tilted slightly down. ¡°That was not a random privilege. It was earned.¡± I blinked. Earned? ¡°John performed exceptionally during the tournament,¡± Merrick continued. ¡°Despite¡­ the complications that a certain student caused, I¡¯ve decided to give him the opportunity to choose his team from a pool of selected candidates between Teams B and C.¡± That was¡­ enlightening. John had said he already knew his team¡ªbut I didn¡¯t think it was because of that. ¡°Interesting,¡± Greg said, his grin sharp. ¡°So you¡¯re saying John had insider privileges?¡± Merrick¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°I am saying that John was rewarded for his strategic performance.¡± Greg chuckled. ¡°Semantics.¡± John shrugged, his expression unreadable. ¡°It¡¯s not that deep,¡± he said. ¡°It just means you aren¡¯t the only one who knows how to game the system¡­ In my case, I got myself the opportunity to pick my team.¡± Peter, sitting a seat away from John, raised an eyebrow. ¡°You picked me?¡± John gave a single nod. ¡°You¡¯re reliable.¡± Peter looked faintly surprised¡ªbut pleased. Greg leaned back in his chair. ¡°Man, and here I thought you didn¡¯t care about social dynamics.¡± John¡¯s eyes slid toward Greg. His expression remained blank. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Could¡¯ve fooled me,¡± Greg muttered, eyes glittering. Merrick ignored the exchange and lifted his hand. The stack of papers on his desk rose into the air in perfect formation, then fanned out across the room. With a flick of his fingers, the papers darted toward each desk, landing in front of each student with crisp precision. ¡°Whoa,¡± Anna whispered beside me. I grabbed my sheet before it could slide off the desk. It was a multi-page handout¡ªequations, complex graphs, and what looked suspiciously like physics problems that were way above my pay grade. ¡°Since you¡¯re all going to be working in teams, I¡¯ve prepared some¡­ collaborative exercises,¡± Merrick said. Greg groaned. ¡°With Math and Physics? Does that make sense?¡± Merrick smiled thinly. ¡°Consider it an early team-building activity.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t Karl already promise us one of those?¡± Mark muttered. Karl, sitting at the opposite end of the room, shot Mark a cold look. Merrick began pacing at the front of the classroom. ¡°Mathematics and physics form the backbone of strategic combat. Understanding trajectory, velocity, and force is not optional¡ªit¡¯s a necessity. Improper calculation leads to failure. Failure leads to death.¡± A heavy silence settled over the room. ¡°Lovely,¡± Anna muttered. Merrick tapped the blackboard with his knuckles. ¡°The handouts contain a mix of individual and group problems. You will be graded both individually and as a team.¡± Greg propped his chin on one hand. ¡°This sounds like a scam.¡± ¡°It is not a scam,¡± Merrick said. ¡°It is preparation.¡± Elena flipped through her handout, her brow furrowing. ¡°This is combat math.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Merrick¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Projectile arcs. Kinetic force. ESP augmentation. Energy expenditure.¡± Greg made a face. ¡°I miss Master Reina already. Boring.¡± 041 Weapons Selection - Part 2 - Mirai ‘s POV 041 Weapons Selection - Part 2 - Mirai ¡®s POV Classes finally ended. Esper Ethics & Psychology had been boring as usual, filled with dry discussions about moral dilemmas that barely applied to the real world. Combat Training II, on the other hand, was just as brutal as always. My muscles ached, and I was pretty sure I had a bruise forming somewhere, but at least I could leave now. I wasn¡¯t part of any club, so when given the opportunity to head out, I took it without hesitation. Of course, Mark was tagging along. The moment we stepped outside, stretching under the fading sunlight, I turned to him with a grin. "Alright, time for your biking lesson." Mark groaned. ¡°Can¡¯t we just¡ª¡± ¡°Nope.¡± I grabbed his sleeve and started dragging him toward the open courtyard where a couple of abandoned bikes sat, leftovers from some other students. "You promised. A deal¡¯s a deal." Mark sighed, muttering something under his breath, but he followed anyway. Once we reached the bikes, I motioned for him to grab one. "Okay, let¡¯s see if you remember anything from last time." Mark picked up the bike hesitantly, positioning himself on the seat with all the grace of a baby deer on ice. I watched as he tried to push forward¡ªand immediately wobbled to the side, his foot slamming onto the ground before he could completely tip over. I crossed my arms. "Are you sure there¡¯s nothing wrong with your sense of balance?" Mark exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on the handlebars. "Yeah, I have a terrible sense of balance." I raised an eyebrow. "Like, how terrible?" Mark leaned the bike back into place and sighed. "I¡¯m bad at a lot of things that require coordination. Ice skating, rollerblading, anything involving walking in a straight line¡ª" "You seem fine in combat, though," I pointed out. "I mean, you literally fought Ron in a full-on sparring match. You didn¡¯t seem like you were struggling with balance then." Mark shrugged. "I was trained by a very strict instructor." I tilted my head. "How strict?" Mark hesitated for a moment before deadpanning, "If I didn¡¯t move correctly, I¡¯d get hit." I blinked. "...Hit?" Mark gave me a flat look. "Yes." "With what?" "Sticks. Wooden swords. Sometimes rocks." I stared. "...Rocks? Is it your Mom?¡± ¡°Mom? No¡­ She hired, okay?¡± Mark sighed again. "Look, the point is, I learned how to fight because not doing it correctly had consequences." I processed that for a moment before smirking. "Got it." Mark narrowed his eyes. "Got what?" I patted the bike. "If strict training worked for you, then I just have to be strict too." Mark stared at me. "That¡¯s not what I¡ª" I reached down, grabbed a pebble from the ground, and tossed it lightly into the air. Mark¡¯s expression turned deadpan. "You¡¯re not serious." I smiled sweetly. "Get on the bike, Mark." Mark wobbled on the bike again, his foot slamming onto the ground just before he lost balance entirely. I sighed. "You¡¯re supposed to pedal." "I¡¯m trying," Mark grumbled, gripping the handlebars like they were going to betray him at any moment. I tapped my chin. "You know, for someone who fights pretty well, you¡¯re really bad at this." "Yeah, thanks for the observation," he muttered. I watched him struggle for a bit longer before deciding to change the topic. "By the way, what are you picking for the Weapons Selection assignment? The one Master Reina gave us?" Mark pushed forward on the bike again, managing a shaky two meters before nearly tipping over. He sighed and propped his foot down. "Boomerang." I blinked. "Boomerang?" "Yeah," he said, adjusting his grip on the handles. "A bit unorthodox, but it should be fine. Works for both ranged and melee situations, and if it¡¯s made well, I can probably incorporate it into my fighting style." I tilted my head, imagining Mark throwing a boomerang in the middle of a fight. It was... weird, but considering how adaptable he was, I could see it working. "Sounds cool," I admitted. "But... what about me?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "What about you?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I huffed. "I mean, what do you think I should use? I can¡¯t really imagine myself wielding any particular weapon." Mark gave me a thoughtful look. "I want something that really resonates with me," I continued, "but I got nothing. That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking for advice." Mark didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he sat back on the bike, tapping his fingers on the handlebars in thought. I could tell he was actually considering the question instead of just brushing it off. "Well," he finally said, "it depends. Do you want something that compliments your ESP or your fighting style?" "Both," I answered without hesitation. "Can I get the best of both worlds?" Mark hummed, looking thoughtful. He slowly rolled the bike forward with his foot, eyes scanning the pavement like the answer was written there. After a moment, he finally spoke. "Why not just learn the orthodox weapon in general?" he suggested. "Start from the basics, work your way up, and go to a new level. Become a weapon master." I blinked. "A weapon master?" Mark shrugged. "Yeah. A lot of people use weapons, and there¡¯s plenty of knowledge shared online. You could research anything, find fighting styles that work for you, and develop from there." I frowned. "That sounds... really complicated." "Not for you," Mark said flatly. I tilted my head. "What do you mean?" He sighed like it should¡¯ve been obvious. "You can do anything you¡¯ve seen once, right? If you apply your luck when performing an action, you rarely do something wrong. If you seriously incorporate studying into your ESP, you could drastically shorten the learning curve of any learnable skill available to you." I blinked again. Then I thought about it. He... wasn¡¯t wrong. It was easy to dismiss my ESP, Heroine¡¯s Heart, as something that just let me ¡®understand¡¯ people. But it wasn¡¯t just that¡ªit was intuition, an uncanny knack for doing things right. I¡¯d always had an easier time learning something when I saw it demonstrated first. Even before my ESP was enhanced, I had moments where I just knew what to do. If I seriously applied myself... "...That¡¯s actually not a bad idea," I muttered. Mark smirked. "Of course it isn¡¯t. I came up with it." I frowned, resting my hands on my hips. "The problem is, we¡¯re only allowed to pick one weapon for the assignment. I don¡¯t really have the luxury of studying multiple weapons at once." Mark nodded. "Yeah, makes sense." "And honestly¡­" I sighed. "It kind of feels like a waste of time if I don¡¯t commit to a single weapon. Like, I get the appeal of being able to wield a bunch of different weapons, but wouldn¡¯t that just make me mediocre at all of them?" Mark tilted his head. "Not necessarily. But if you just want to start somewhere, why not pick something hard to master?" I raised an eyebrow. "And what do you think fits me?" He thought for a moment, then said, "A longbow or a whip." I blinked. "...What?" "A longbow," Mark repeated. "It gives you range. And¡ª" He smirked. "¡®She never misses¡¯ could actually become a thing." That made me snort. "You think I¡¯d be that good?" "With your ESP? Probably." I shook my head, still smiling. "And the whip?" Mark gestured vaguely. "It¡¯s unpredictable. The way it moves, the way it flows¡ªit looks random, but if you¡¯re good at it, randomness becomes intentional. You could attack from weird angles, change directions mid-swing, and people wouldn¡¯t see it coming." I considered it. A longbow and a whip were completely different weapons, but he made a good case for both. The idea of never missing was hilarious. The idea of confusing the hell out of people with a whip was also hilarious. I laughed. "I don¡¯t know if I should be flattered or concerned." Mark smirked. "Both?" I shook my head again, but I was still grinning. "I¡¯ll think about it." Mark¡¯s dorm came into view, and I slowed my pace. "Alright, I¡¯ll see you tomorrow," I said, waving at him. Mark gave a lazy wave back. "Try not to stress too much about the weapon thing." I rolled my eyes. "I won¡¯t." As I turned and walked away, my mind wandered. Longbow or whip, huh? Both were interesting choices, but I still wasn¡¯t sure. Without thinking, my feet carried me home. Or at least, what I thought was home. I blinked up at the familiar apartment building. My old place. For a second, I hesitated, then walked up the stairs and tried the door. Locked. Of course it was. I wasn¡¯t living here anymore. The missing furniture inside, the empty shelves¡ªit all felt wrong. Like I¡¯d walked into someone else¡¯s space, even though this had been mine. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I almost went to the convenience store next. That had been my routine, hadn¡¯t it? Home, store, school, repeat. But now? Now, I wasn¡¯t going back to this apartment. I exhaled sharply and turned away, retracing my steps. The hotel wasn¡¯t far. The one Mark¡¯s mom had set me up in. I entered my room, tossing my bag onto the chair. My fingers absently traced the edge of the desk as I sat down with a sigh. Evelyn¡¯s deal¡­ She wanted me to protect Mark. But from what? Nothing was happening. There was no threat. No immediate danger. So why did I feel so uneasy? Back in my room, I flopped onto the bed and pulled out my phone. Mark¡¯s words stuck with me. ¡°If you apply luck when you perform an action, you¡¯ll rarely do something wrong.¡± That made sense. So why stop at weapons? I opened a video on lockpicking. The narrator¡¯s voice droned on about tension wrenches and pin tumblers, but as I watched, I felt something click in my brain. I understood it, like I¡¯d done it before. I switched to videos on mechanical engineering, knots, survival tricks¡ªanything that required technical skills. With my ESP, these weren¡¯t impossible skills to learn quickly. Luck might not make me a master, but it could smooth out the gaps in my learning. A few hours passed before I leaned back, stretching. I exhaled. Alright. Enough stalling. I picked up my pen and started sketching. What kind of weapon felt right to me? Mark had suggested a whip¡ªunpredictable, adaptable. A bow¡ªranged, precise. But¡­ neither felt completely right. What I needed was something that could function both mid-range and long-range. Something that could be used for both control and offense. The idea hit me suddenly. Chains. Not just any chains. A custom-made set where I could magically detach and reattach the links. Each link could be thrown like a projectile, then rejoin seamlessly when I needed it to function as a whip or restraint. I grinned and quickly wrote down the details. The flexibility of a whip. The reach of a ranged weapon. The adaptability to change forms. (eventually) I stared at my sketch, excitement bubbling in my chest. This was it. This was my weapon. I spent the next hour browsing through different types of chains online, looking at designs, materials, and weights. I needed something sturdy yet light, something that wouldn¡¯t slow me down but still had enough weight for momentum. After some research, I settled on high-carbon steel¡ªstrong, durable, and resistant to breaking. The links couldn¡¯t be too thick; otherwise, they¡¯d be too heavy to control. But they also couldn¡¯t be too thin, or they¡¯d snap under pressure. I adjusted my sketch accordingly. A chain that was light enough to maneuver yet strong enough to hold its shape mid-swing. Then another thought hit me. What if I could attach different weapons to it? I grabbed my pen and started drawing variations of my design. The more I thought about it, the more I realized¡ªbecoming a Weapon Master wasn¡¯t off the table. Instead of just one weapon, I could have multiple functions in a single tool. This wasn¡¯t just a weapon. It was a system. I felt a rush of excitement as I finalized the details, carefully writing out notes on what materials I¡¯d need and how it could function. Satisfied, I set my sketchpad aside and lay back on my bed. The room was silent, the only sound being my steady breathing. My mind buzzed with possibilities, but my body was exhausted. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it¡ª I fell asleep. 042 Team Ups - Part 2 - Mark‘s POV 042 Team Ups - Part 2 - Mark¡®s POV New day. New class. It was only Tuesday, but I already felt jittery. And there was only one reason for that¡ªKarl. I still hadn¡¯t figured out what kind of ¡°team-building activity¡± he was planning. And the fact that he was being quiet about it made it even worse. Mom¡¯s journal had an entire quest storyline involving him, which made me extra wary. And then there was Ron. Still absent. I wasn¡¯t particularly close to him, but it was strange for someone as stubborn as Ron to skip class for days. I wondered what happened to him. But whatever. I had class to focus on. ESP Theory & Application. Master Reina kept the lecture simple today. No sudden tests, no live demonstrations¡ªjust a straightforward lesson on ESP energy efficiency and mental strain. Which, honestly, was a relief. But then came Combat Training I. And my relief vanished. Sparring. With training weapons. Master Reina had us pair up, though she made sure we weren¡¯t matched against our usual partners. I ended up sparring with Gina, a brown-haired girl whose ESP gave her adhesive powers. She was a pain to deal with. Too clingy¡­ It took everything I had just to keep up, and even then, I was barely managing. By the end of it, I was sweating, panting, and feeling like I had just barely survived. Before she left, Master Reina dropped some news. ¡°I won¡¯t be attending Combat Training II today.¡± There was a brief pause. Then, a quiet cheer from some students who thought they were being stealthy. I was definitely not one of them. Survival & Field Operations. Professor Collins¡¯ class was a case study this time. We analyzed a failed mission report from a past ESPer operation, pointing out what went wrong and how it could have been avoided. It was interesting, though not exactly engaging since it was all theory-based. Still, it kept my mind off Karl and his potential schemes. And then Lunch Break¡­ As usual, I ate with Mirai. But today, we had a plus one. Anna. ¡°Ugh, I can¡¯t believe Greg is still wearing that paper crown.¡± Anna muttered, stabbing at her food with unnecessary aggression. ¡°I swearm something is wrong with that guy¡­¡± Finally, lunch finished, and we were back on our class schedule. Professor Merrick adjusted his glasses and looked over the class with his usual unreadable expression. "Normally," he began, his voice carrying across the room, "there wouldn¡¯t be much sparring for this subject. Tactics & Strategy is, after all, primarily a theoretical course¡­ in essence. But like I said, I intend this class to focus on improving combat ability." Some students looked relieved. Others looked bored. Then, he smiled. That wasn¡¯t a good sign. "However," he continued, "seeing your potential, I¡¯ve decided to fast-track my lessons." Beside me, Mirai sighed. "Great," she muttered. "More bruises." Karl, on the other hand, just grinned. Merrick motioned for us to follow him. With his usual calm efficiency, he led us out of the classroom and toward the sparring area within the facility. The Combat Zone-style stage was already set up. Unlike the usual empty sparring rooms, this one was designed to simulate real-world conditions¡ªuneven terrain, obstacles, and changing environmental factors. Professor Merrick gestured to the field. "For today, you¡¯ll be running the gauntlet¡ªround-robin style." Some students straightened at that. Others exchanged looks. A round-robin gauntlet? That meant constant battles. "Team A and Team B," Merrick continued, "take your respective sides." Mirai, Karl, and I moved to one side of the field. John, Peter, Iris, and Gina took the other. Merrick clapped his hands, and the air buzzed as the sparring field¡¯s barrier system activated. "Stand no less than forty centimeters apart," he instructed. We adjusted our stances. Merrick waited for us to settle before he began explaining the rules. Professor Merrick clapped his hands together, drawing our attention. ¡°The rules of engagement are simple,¡± he said. ¡°The first one to fall, one hand touching the ground, loses.¡± Mirai tilted her head. ¡°So¡­ something like sumo?¡± I frowned. ¡°What¡¯s sumo?¡± Mirai looked at me, shocked. ¡°You don¡¯t know sumo?¡± Karl scoffed. ¡°You uncultured idiot.¡± What? Even Karl knew what was sumo! Professor Merrick ignored our exchange and continued. ¡°This will be a round robin format¡ªeach of you will face multiple opponents. The time limit is five minutes per match. If neither contender meets the conditions for defeat, both lose.¡± He smirked. ¡°So don¡¯t think you can just turtle your way through.¡± I exhaled slowly, my gaze shifting toward Team B¡ªJohn, Peter, Gina, and Iris. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. John stood with his usual neutral expression, unreadable as ever. Peter rolled his shoulders, his stance loose but ready. Gina adjusted her gloves, nodding to herself as if already strategizing. Iris, arms crossed, looked indifferent. Either she wasn¡¯t worried, or she didn¡¯t care. On my side, Team A, there was Mirai, Karl, and me. A strange mix. Mirai had the most potential, but she was still figuring things out. Karl was powerful, but unpredictable. And me? I was just hoping not to embarrass myself. Professor Merrick tapped his clipboard again. ¡°Each team, decide on your first fighter.¡± Before Mirai or I could even say anything, Karl stepped forward, arms crossed, a cocky smirk on his face. ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡± I sighed. ¡°Yeah, of course you will.¡± Mirai shot me a look but didn¡¯t argue. It wasn¡¯t like we could stop him. On Team B¡¯s side, they actually huddled together, whispering among themselves. Unlike Karl, they actually believed in teamwork. After a few moments, they broke apart, and Iris stepped forward, adjusting her gloves. Karl¡¯s smirk dropped into a scowl. ¡°Hah? I thought you¡¯d send Peter to counter my fire.¡± Iris shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m more than enough.¡± Karl cracked his knuckles, flames flickering between his fingers. ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡± Professor Merrick grinned. ¡°Alright then. Karl versus Iris. Take your positions.¡± Both of them stepped onto the battlefield, the atmosphere shifting. Sparks flickered between Karl¡¯s fingertips, while Iris remained calm, simply rolling her shoulders in preparation. This was going to be good. Professor Merrick clapped his hands, drawing our attention back to him. ¡°Since Team A has three members and Team B has four, we¡¯ll be adjusting accordingly. That means this will be a three-match series. One of Team B¡¯s members will sit out.¡± John, Peter, Gina, and Iris exchanged glances. After a moment, Gina sighed and took a step back. ¡°I¡¯ll sit this one out,¡± she muttered. Merrick nodded. ¡°Good. Now, let¡¯s begin.¡± The moment Merrick signaled, Karl exploded forward, flames bursting from his fists. A straightforward, overpowering assault¡ªclassic Karl. Iris, on the other hand, vanished. Karl¡¯s punch hit nothing but air. A flicker¡ªshe reappeared behind him. A sharp kick lashed out at his side, but Karl twisted mid-motion, dodging just barely. ¡°Tch,¡± Karl clicked his tongue and whirled around, launching another flame-infused punch. Gone again. This pattern repeated again and again and again. Karl would launch an attack¡ªIris would disappear. Karl would counter¡ªIris would reappear just out of reach. Five minutes of pure frustration. By the time Merrick called the match, Karl was fuming¡ªliterally. His flames crackled around him, his breathing was heavy, and his scowl could have burned a hole through the floor. Across from him, Iris was perfectly fine. She dusted off her sleeves and crossed her arms, the smuggest look on her face. Merrick raised a hand. ¡°Neither contender met the victory condition. Draw.¡± Karl clenched his fists, looking one second away from exploding. Then, Merrick¡¯s gaze landed on him. It wasn¡¯t hostile. It wasn¡¯t even particularly intense. But there was something in it¡ªa quiet, firm pressure. Karl stiffened. For a second, I thought he was going to ignore it. That he¡¯d lunge at Iris anyway, consequence be damned. But then, with a sharp exhale, Karl closed his fists, extinguishing his flames. ¡°...Tch.¡± He turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. ¡°Whatever.¡± Merrick nodded approvingly. ¡°Good. Now, next fighters, step up.¡± I cracked my knuckles and stepped forward. ¡°I¡¯ll go next.¡± Gina smirked and rolled her shoulders. ¡°I was hoping you would.¡± She stepped up, casual but confident. ¡°Been looking forward to this.¡± I didn¡¯t doubt that. Gina wasn¡¯t as flashy as Karl or as tricky as Iris, but she was dangerous in a different way¡ªone that was more subtle but just as frustrating. Her ESP: Adhesive Touch or something like that. She could stick things together with a touch. Skin, weapons, clothing¡ªdidn¡¯t matter. Worse, she could delay the effect, so you wouldn¡¯t even notice you were stuck until it was too late. If I let her land a hit on me, I¡¯d be trapped in an instant. Which meant I had to avoid all skin contact. I adjusted my gloves and settled into a boxing stance. My usual brawler-style or other sorts of martial art approach wouldn¡¯t cut it here¡ªI needed machinery precision. My only real advantage was that Gina didn¡¯t know the extent of my martial ability, much less my psychic invisibility. Maybe I could use that to outmaneuver her. Merrick clapped his hands. ¡°Alright. Begin.¡± I took a step forward¡ª And Gina rushed me. Fast. Faster than I expected. I barely managed to slip to the side as her palm shot past my shoulder, fingers just grazing the edge of my sleeve. Shit. Did she activate her ability? Was I already glued to¡ª No. Nothing. She didn¡¯t activate it. She was baiting me. I exhaled, reset my stance, and threw a jab. Gina twisted away at the last second, bringing her forearm up to brush against my wrist. I yanked my hand back immediately. Nope. Not falling for that. She grinned. ¡°Smart.¡± She was testing me. Trying to see how I reacted, how much I knew about her power, how careful I¡¯d be. I had to change the rhythm. So I flickered out of sight. Gina¡¯s grin froze. I lunged in¡ªaiming a quick, sharp cross straight for her chin. She didn¡¯t see me. Didn¡¯t dodge. My fist connected¡ª And stuck. Shit. ¡°Gotcha.¡± Gina¡¯s smirk returned as she grabbed my other arm, making sure I was completely glued to her. This was bad. I needed to break away now before the energy-like adhesive hardened. I twisted sharply and flickered back into view, using the sudden visual reappearance to distract her. At the same time, I lifted both knees and threw all my weight backward, dragging Gina with me¡ª And slamming my head straight into hers. The impact knocked both of us backward, but the shock was enough to break her focus. My fists came unstuck. I stumbled back, free. Gina, on the other hand, was still reeling. She shook her head, trying to refocus¡ª I didn¡¯t give her the chance. I pivoted on my heel and threw a sharp, precise right hook. Her head snapped to the side. She staggered. Then, slowly¡ªfell to the ground. Victory. Merrick clapped once. ¡°Knockout. Mark wins.¡± I exhaled, stepping back. That was way too close. Peter stepped forward immediately, adjusting his headband. ¡°I¡¯ll take her,¡± he said, glancing at Gina¡¯s unconscious form. Merrick gave him a nod, crouched down, and placed a hand on Gina¡¯s forehead. A faint pulse of restorative energy rippled outward¡ªbasic ESP healing of sorts. Enough to stabilize her, but nothing fancy. Merrick wasn¡¯t a healer, but he somehow knew how to do it. After a moment, Gina¡¯s breathing evened out, though she remained out cold. ¡°Alright,¡± Merrick said, standing up. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. So any volunteers to take her to the infirmary.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do it, professor. We¡¯ve decided on who would be our last fighter.¡± Peter bent down, carefully slinging Gina over his back in a fireman¡¯s carry. ¡°Light as a feather,¡± he muttered with a chuckle before walking off. I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. One win for our team. One draw. That meant the next fight would decide the match. John stepped forward. ¡°Guess it¡¯s me, then.¡± He adjusted his face mask, glancing at Mirai. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be a surprise.¡± Mirai cracked her knuckles and stepped into the sparring zone, stretching. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± Merrick gestured between them. ¡°Standard rules. Five minutes or until one of you falls. Begin.¡± John was a wild card. His ESP, Copycat, let him replicate abilities he¡¯d seen before. There were limits¡ªduration, strength, how many he could hold at once¡ªbut it was absurdly versatile. Mirai knew that. Which was why she immediately attacked first. She lunged forward, pivoting into a spinning kick aimed straight for John¡¯s ribs. But he was already moving. He sidestepped with perfect precision, slipping just outside her range. Mirai didn¡¯t let up. She twisted mid-motion, using her momentum to throw an elbow strike. John ducked. Mirai clicked her tongue and threw a fast palm strike aimed for his chin. If she landed it, she could use her ESP ¡ª Heroine¡¯s Heart ¡ª to disrupt his rhythm. But John¡­ Was faster. The moment her fingers brushed his skin, he shifted his stance and smirked. ¡°Oh,¡± he mused. ¡°Interesting.¡± Then Mirai¡¯s eyes widened as she felt it. The flow of her luck¡ªher natural, absurd fortune¡ªsuddenly dulled. How could I see all of that? Let¡¯s just say my perception was heightened to incredible levels. John flicked his wrist¡ªdodging a fraction too perfectly. ¡°Copycat,¡± Mirai muttered. ¡°You stole my luck?¡± John shrugged, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Not completely. Just¡­ balanced the scales.¡± He didn¡¯t need her full power. He just needed to negate the absurd advantage her ESP gave her. And with that¡­ John started winning. Mirai threw a rapid series of jabs, aiming to overwhelm him with sheer speed. John mirrored her movements perfectly. Mirai pivoted into a feint¡ª John saw through it instantly. She tried to bait him into a counterattack¡ª John didn¡¯t fall for it. For the first time in a while, Mirai felt like she was fighting someone on completely equal footing. No unfair advantages. No lucky saves. Just skill vs. skill. And the problem? John was bigger. Stronger. He closed the distance suddenly, slamming his knee into her stomach. Mirai choked, staggering back. John didn¡¯t hesitate. He swept forward, aiming a sweeping leg kick. Mirai tried to dodge¡ª But her movements were just slightly off. She stumbled¡ªjust for a second¡ª And John capitalized instantly. He twisted, shifting his weight and slammed an open palm against her shoulder. Mirai¡¯s balance failed. Her hand hit the ground. Merrick clapped his hands. ¡°Winner¡ªJohn Craig.¡± Mirai groaned, rubbing her shoulder. ¡°Damn it.¡± John offered her a hand. ¡°Not bad.¡± She clicked her tongue but took it, letting him pull her up. I sighed. That was a clean loss. But¡­ the way I saw it, Mirai hadn¡¯t just lost because of skill. John¡¯s Copycat let him neutralize part of her luck. And once he did that, his physical advantages as a guy¡ªheight, reach, weight¡ªbecame the deciding factor. Mirai could still win. Just not today. I walked over as she dusted herself off. ¡°You did fine.¡± She gave me a look. ¡°I lost.¡± I shrugged. ¡°For now. You¡¯ll get him next time.¡± Mirai sighed, shaking her head. But I saw it¡ªthe tiny, determined glint in her eyes. She wasn¡¯t the type to stay down. 043 Team Ups - Part 3 - Mirai‘s POV 043 Team Ups - Part 3 - Mirai¡®s POV Merrick clapped his hands together, calling attention back to him. "Alright, next match." The students groaned. Some were still recovering from the last set of fights, but Merrick was unmoved. He adjusted his messy tie, exhaling like he was running on two hours of sleep and too much caffeine. "Same rules," he continued. "Round robin. First one to touch the ground with their hand loses. If five minutes pass without a clear winner, both contenders lose. Simple enough?" No one answered. "Good." Merrick gestured to the new teams. "Team C, Team D, step forward." Team C Elena (Shadow Demon Summoner/Tamer?) Fiona (Gravitakinesis) Greg (That Cheater) Matt (??? ESP, some kind of wolf shapeshifting, but not using it) Anna (Accuracy and thread conjuration ESP, but surprisingly stubborn) Team D Ron (Absent) Hannah (Geokinesis) Tom (Aerokinesis) Sarah (Super Speed) Clint (Enhanced Durability) Lola (Partial transformation¨C Mostly Complains) Since Ron was absent, Team D got a small disadvantage. However, there one advantage was they probably had more cohesion than Team C. It was already obvious that Team C was a mess. Elena and Greg were arguing before the match even started. "Let me go first," Greg said, flipping a cactus keychain in his hands like a coin. Elena scowled. "You''re insufferable. I¡¯ll go first." "Hey, hey," Greg smirked. "No need to be so aggressive. You know, I kinda like¡ª" Elena punched him in the shoulder before he could finish. Merrick ignored them. Matt, meanwhile, was just standing awkwardly at the edge of the group, looking like he was thinking about leaving. As for Team D? They weren¡¯t doing much better. Sarah was trying to corral them together. "Okay, okay, let¡¯s just focus¡ª" Lola sighed, flipping her hair. "Does it matter? We don¡¯t have a plan, and I don¡¯t even want to be here." Tom yawned, barely listening. Clint was just cracking his knuckles, uninterested in strategy. Sarah sighed. Yeah, no unity here either. Merrick looked unimpressed. "First match. Elena vs. Hannah. Step forward." Match One ¨C Elena vs. Hannah The two girls faced off, stepping into the ring. Hannah had geokinesis, meaning she could manipulate stone and earth. Elena, on the other hand, had a literal shadow demon that she could summon. So, yeah. This was a little one-sided. "Fight," Merrick announced. Hannah stomped the ground. The arena rumbled, and spikes of stone shot toward Elena. Elena didn¡¯t move. A dark shadow swirled beneath her feet. Her demon rose from it like an ink-black specter, glowing eyes fixed on Hannah. The stone spikes stopped mid-air. Then¡ªthey shattered. Hannah cursed, trying to pull up another wave of rock¡ª The shadow demon lunged. It engulfed Hannah in a twisting mass of darkness. A moment later, she was on the ground, her hand pressed against the floor. Merrick nodded. "Winner¡ªElena." Hannah groaned. Match Two ¨C Greg vs. Tom Greg sauntered forward, flipping that stupid cactus keychain. Tom followed, looking completely uninterested. "Begin," Merrick announced. For five minutes, Greg danced around, dodging. He barely attacked, just moving in ways that made it really hard for Tom to land a hit. Tom finally won with a last-second wind blast that knocked Greg¡¯s foot out from under him. But¡­ Something felt off. I narrowed my eyes. The way Greg moved felt deliberate. And the way Tom hesitated before knocking him down? Yeah. This was staged. Merrick didn¡¯t comment. He just nodded. "Winner¡ªTom." Greg grinned as he walked back to his team. I had a bad feeling about that. Match Three ¨C Lola vs. Anna I cheered for Anna. Lola complained the entire time. Anna kicked her in the shin. Lola complained harder. Anna kicked her again. Lola fell. Merrick sighed. "Winner¡ªAnna." Lola sat on the ground, nursing her bruised leg. "I swear, that was illegal." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Nope," Merrick said flatly. I gave Anna a thumbs-up. Match Four ¨C Matt vs. Clint So this was pretty obvious, no? Guy Who Won¡¯t Use His ESP vs. Walking Brick Wall? Clint cracked his knuckles, stepping forward. "I¡¯ll end this quick." Matt¡­ sighed. He looked completely unmotivated. The fight started, and¡ªyeah, it was over fast. Matt threw some weak punches. Clint barely flinched. Then, Clint tackled him, and Matt hit the ground. Merrick rubbed his temples. "Winner¡ªClint." Matt just walked off without a word. Match Five ¨C Fiona vs. Sarah Sarah zipped across the field immediately, turning into a blur. Fiona didn¡¯t move. Instead, she just raised a hand. The air around Sarah shifted. Suddenly, Sarah tripped over nothing. Fiona smirked. Sarah tried to get up¡ªand tripped again. Then again. Then again. Fiona wasn¡¯t stopping time or anything. She was just altering Sarah¡¯s sense of balance. Sarah tried to brute-force her way through it¡ªbut one more misstep sent her face-first into the ground. Merrick barely looked up. "Winner¡ªFiona." Final Score Team C: 3 Wins Team D: 2 Wins Team C won by a single match. Some students cheered. Others looked relieved it was over. I just crossed my arms, still thinking about Greg¡¯s match. Yeah. That was staged. Which meant Greg was up to something again. Professor Merrick adjusted his tie¡ªwell, attempted to. It was still loose, still messy, still adding to the overall image of a man who lived off caffeine and spite. "That concludes today¡¯s session," he said, rubbing his temples like dealing with us had drained his last bit of patience. "Reflect on your performance. Some of you need to improve. Some of you need to touch grass. I won¡¯t say which category you belong to." There were a few muttered complaints, but no one challenged him. "Dismissed." And that was that. The rest of the school day? Dull. General subjects were the usual mix of barely paying attention and staring at the clock. Math, history, ESP theory¡ªit all blurred together. After the intense sparring matches, sitting still and listening to lectures felt torturous. At least today, we didn¡¯t have Combat Class II. Which meant early dismissal. Which meant freedom. By the time classes ended, I was practically floating out of the building. Mark and I walked together, making our way toward the park where I left my bicycle. The air was cool, the sky tinged with the warm hues of a setting sun. It was a peaceful moment. Until¡ª A figure stood waiting by the park entrance. Karl. Arms crossed. Scowl deeper than usual. The kind of stormy expression that made it look like he was about to either pick a fight or deliver a dramatic monologue. His sharp eyes flicked between me and Mark. "So the rumor was true." Mark tensed slightly beside me. "...What rumor?" Karl exhaled through his nose, like he¡¯d been holding back frustration for hours. "That you two were together." What. What?! I stared at him, blinking rapidly. "Wait¡ªtogether? What are you¡ª?" Karl gave me a flat look. "You should¡¯ve just told me you had a boyfriend already." What. "I wouldn¡¯t have embarrassed myself by asking you out," he added, voice tight with irritation. WHAT. My brain short-circuited. My mouth opened, but no words came out. Mark blinked. "...Huh." Karl scoffed, running a hand through his hair like this was somehow my fault. "You could¡¯ve just said something instead of letting me find out through gossip." I finally managed to speak. "W-Wait! It¡¯s not like that!" Karl narrowed his eyes. "Really? Because it sure looks like it." I frantically waved my hands. "We¡¯re not¡ª! I mean¡ª! Mark isn¡¯t¡ª!" Mark, the traitor, just watched with amusement. Karl still didn¡¯t look convinced. This was a disaster. I was still frantically trying to untangle Karl¡¯s misunderstanding when I decided to do the only logical thing¡ªchange the subject. I cleared my throat. "A-Anyway! What did you even want?" Karl¡¯s expression didn¡¯t ease up, but at least he seemed willing to drop the topic. He crossed his arms, the tension in his posture shifting into something else¡ªsomething calculated. "It¡¯s about the team-building activity," he said. "I have an idea." I frowned. "What kind of idea?" Mark gave him a wary look. "The way you¡¯re saying that... it sounds dangerous." Karl¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. "That¡¯s because it is." Oh no. I sighed. "You could¡¯ve just waited until tomorrow to talk about this, you know." Karl shrugged. "Nah. No point in waiting." "Alright, then." I raised an eyebrow. "When were you planning to do it?" Karl reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a set of clothes¡ªstill neatly folded in their original plastic. And then¡ªhe tossed them at us. I barely caught mine before it smacked me in the face. "What¡ª?" I unfolded it slightly, my stomach dropping as I took in the details. The fabric was white. Crisp. Formal. Mark, already inspecting his, narrowed his eyes. "...This is the uniform of the Second Years from the White Tiger building." Wait. What?! My head snapped up. "Karl¡ªwhat do you want with the Second Years?" Karl grinned. A slow, sharp, predatory grin. "We¡¯ll be picking a fight with them." "No," I said immediately. Karl tilted his head, as if amused by how fast I rejected the idea. "Really now? That¡¯s your first instinct?" "Of course it is!" I snapped, gripping the White Tiger uniform like it was a cursed artifact. "Do you have any idea how much trouble we¡¯ll get into for this?" Karl smirked. "That depends. If we don¡¯t get caught, there¡¯s no trouble at all." I glared. "That is a terrible way to look at things!" Karl chuckled, but then his expression turned serious. "Look, I¡¯ll make you a deal. If you play along, I¡¯ll listen and follow any decent strategy you come up with. I¡¯ll even treat you as the leader for this one." That... gave me pause. I turned to Mark, hoping for backup, but¡ª "What are you looking at me for?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Don¡¯t look at me, leader.¡± ¡°Wait, I¡¯m the leader of this group now?" Ugh. Karl¡¯s gaze never left me. He was waiting¡ªwatching to see if I¡¯d fold. I exhaled sharply, running through the potential consequences in my head. ¡ªIf we got caught, we¡¯d probably be facing disciplinary action. Best case scenario? A warning. Worst case? Suspension. Expulsion. ¡ªIf we somehow pulled it off, we¡¯d still be making enemies of the entire Second-Year division. There were some monsters among them. Older, stronger students who¡¯d been in the Academy longer, with refined ESP abilities and actual experience. ¡ªOh god. What if they held grudges? What if one of them was petty? I could see it now¡ªupperclassmen shadowing us in hallways, waiting to get back at us for embarrassing them. ¡ªWhat if I ended up being labeled as a delinquent just by association?! My reputation¡ª!! ¡ªAnd why, why was I even considering this? This was Karl''s ridiculous idea! I buried my face in my hands. "Ugh¡­" Reluctantly, I agreed. "Fine," I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Who are we picking a fight with?" Karl¡¯s grin widened. "No takebacks." Before I could process what he meant, he clicked a pen twice. A horrible sense of foreboding crept up my spine. "What¡­ was that?" I asked, slowly. Karl held up the pen smugly. "A recording device. I just captured you agreeing to this." My stomach dropped. Karl continued, "Now, if you back out, I¡¯ll make sure everyone knows how untrustworthy you are. Your credibility with our classmates? Tanked. And depending on how I phrase it, some might even start treating you like¡ªoh, I don¡¯t know¡ªGreg?" I gasped. "You wouldn¡¯t dare." Karl just smirked. Oh my god, he would. Before I could even start panicking, Mark stepped forward. There was no hesitation in his movements¡ªjust quiet, deliberate menace. "You do realize," Mark said, voice calm but cold, "that your threat holds no substance? Just form?" Karl¡¯s smirk twitched. Mark continued, "What exactly are you threatening her with? That she agreed to this stupid idea? As if people wouldn¡¯t take one look at you and assume you strong-armed her into it." I blinked. Oh. Oh. That¡­ was a good point. "Besides," Mark added, crossing his arms, "if you really think this is blackmail material, then you¡¯re not half as smart as you think you are. You¡¯re just plain stupid." Karl¡¯s eyelid twitched. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." Karl''s expression darkened. "Well then, Mark. If you¡¯re so confident, maybe I¡¯ll just spill your secrets instead." My breath hitched. For a moment, I actually felt the temperature drop. Mark didn¡¯t even blink. Instead, he smiled. It wasn¡¯t a nice smile. It was his I¡¯m-ready-to-throw-hand-psychotic-exclusive-Mark -kind-of-smile. "Go ahead," Mark said casually. "I¡¯m curious too. What secret do I have?" Silence. Karl¡¯s jaw tightened. I frowned. "Karl¡­ I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d stoop this low," I said honestly. Karl clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tch. If you¡¯re gonna be like that, forget it. I¡¯ll find someone else." He turned to leave. I caught his arm. "We¡¯ll do it," I said. Mark sighed loudly. Karl turned back, looking satisfied. "Good. We¡¯re fighting a standard class." I frowned. "¡­Which one?" Karl shrugged. "Dunno the section code." My frown deepened. "What do you mean by ''section code'' and standard class?" There was an awkward silence. Even Karl looked a little nervous under Mark¡¯s scrutiny. Mark slowly turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "You want us to fight an entire class?" Karl looked away. "...Maybe." 044 Problem Students - Part 4 - Karl’s POV 043 Problem Students - Part 4 - Karl¡¯s POV I adjusted my collar, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The White Tiger uniform fit snugly¡ªnot quite perfect, but close enough. Not bad for a stolen uniform. I took a moment to roll my shoulders, getting a feel for the fabric. It was stiffer than ours, the cut sharper. More elite. The second-years from White Tiger carried themselves like they were untouchable. Arrogant bastards. Stuffing my original uniform into my bag, I leaned against the wall outside the locker rooms. Mark and Mirai were taking too damn long. I scowled, tapping my fingers against my arm. I wanted to tell them to hurry the hell up, but I knew better than to rush this. Patience. This wasn¡¯t the kind of thing I could force. If we were going to pull this off, we had to blend in. Act the part. White Tiger wasn¡¯t just another building¡ªit was a fortress. Their students were elites who had survived the first year. First and foremost, we have to be careful. If we were caught before we even got inside, this whole thing would be over before it began. I knew that. Thus, the uniform. ¡­Still, the waiting made me itchy. Too much time to think. Too much time to remember. A bitter taste filled my mouth. "You think you¡¯re better than us, don¡¯t you?" The voice was mocking, sickly sweet. I could still hear it. My older sister¡ªtall, strong, proud¡ªwas on the ground. I saw the blood first. A dark smear against her white uniform. A White Tiger uniform. "Come on, say something," another voice taunted. "Didn¡¯t you say you were gonna be number one?" I saw the way her hands trembled as she pushed herself up. She should¡¯ve stayed down. But that wasn¡¯t who she was. She stood¡ªeven when they knocked her down again. Again. And again. Until she wasn¡¯t standing anymore. I had been too young. Too weak. I could only watch. I could only listen as they laughed¡ªas if it was all some kind of joke. As if she wasn¡¯t even a person. I clenched my fists, shaking the memory off. Not today. Today, I wasn¡¯t a helpless little brother. Today, I wasn¡¯t just going to watch. I was going to give them a taste of their own damn medicine. Mark and Mirai finally stepped out of the locker room. Took them long enough. Mirai was pulling at her skirt, an expression of absolute misery on her face. "This is too short," she complained, tugging at the hem as if that would magically make it longer. I gave her a flat look. ¡°Deal with it.¡± It wasn¡¯t like I had options. The uniforms were stolen, sure, but at least the plastic wrapping was new. "If you want my cooperation on future team efforts, you better play along," I added. "Consider this part of our team-building." Mirai let out a suffering sigh. Mark, on the other hand, was checking his sleeves, adjusting the fit. "So?" Mirai asked, still trying to fix her skirt. "What¡¯s your motive for picking a fight with an entire class?" I paused. How much should I tell them? I didn¡¯t see myself as manipulative. But if I wanted them to have my back, I had to phrase this carefully. Mirai was a righteous type. She wouldn¡¯t go along with this if she thought it was just some random revenge stunt. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. As for Mark¡­ He was a simp. If Mirai agreed, he¡¯d follow. I exhaled, crossing my arms. "It¡¯s to teach someone a lesson. Someone did something bad, and I need to give them payback." Mirai narrowed her eyes. "That¡¯s¡­ vague." I shrugged. "I only need to deal with the one responsible. But the problem is¡ªthe entire class might try to stop me. That¡¯s why I need backup." Mark frowned. I could practically see the gears in his head turning. Doubtful. Suspicious. Mirai, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. Then she nodded. "I did promise to help you. And I¡¯m not against giving payback where it¡¯s deserved." Mark fake-coughed. Mirai turned to him, grinning. "Don¡¯t be such a stick in the mud, Mark. We of Pioneer Class look after our own." I blinked. Huh. I honestly didn¡¯t expect Mirai to say something like that. The three of us piled into a cab. I took shotgun. Because I could. Mark and Mirai squeezed into the back seat while I stretched my legs and relaxed. The moment the cab started moving, I casually said, "By the way, I don¡¯t have money, so one of you has to pay." I turned to Mirai. Mirai turned to Mark. Mark let out a slow breath. "Karl, why don¡¯t you pay? Your dad¡¯s a professor here, isn¡¯t he?" I froze. How the hell did Mark know that? I glanced at him, but his face was unreadable. Mirai cut in, "I just lost my part-time job, so I don¡¯t have the money. If you could pay, Mark. I¡¯ll owe you. Pwetty please?" Mark sighed, pulling out his wallet. "Fine." I couldn¡¯t believe that worked. Such a simp. I smirked but didn¡¯t push my luck. The cab driver dropped us off a few blocks away from White Tiger. Mark had suggested it. "Why aren¡¯t we going straight in?" Mirai asked, stretching her legs. Mark looked at me. "Because I need to hear Karl¡¯s plan first." That got me quiet. The ESPer Academy was divided into four major facilities, one for each year level: Each facility functioned as a self-contained system, with its own unique buildings, security protocols, and even separate dormitories. That meant the ID system wasn¡¯t universal. Our Black Tortoise IDs wouldn¡¯t work here. The White Tiger building, in particular, was known for its unorthodox security measures. Instead of relying on faculty or automated systems, they employed their own student body as security. It was both a sign of trust in their discipline and a power play¡ªonly the strongest second-years got the role, and they weren¡¯t shy about throwing their weight around. Which meant sneaking in was going to be a problem. Mark frowned. "So, you¡¯re telling me we came all the way here without a working plan?" Mirai turned to me, arms crossed. "Karl, don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t think this through." I grinned. "Of course, I have a plan." Mark raised an eyebrow. "Let¡¯s hear it." I pointed at them. "I recruited you two. Now, deal with it. The two of you¡­ are the rest of the plan." Mirai deflated. Mark just stared at me. Mirai sighed, exasperated. "That¡¯s it. I¡¯m calling this off." I smirked. "Are you sure about that?" She hesitated, just a fraction of a second, which was enough for me to know she wasn¡¯t completely sold on abandoning this. Mark sighed for the nth time today. "I have an idea." Mirai raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" Mark rubbed his temple like he was already regretting speaking. "I can share my psychic invisibility, but it¡¯s difficult to maintain. However..." He glanced at Mirai. "It¡¯d be much easier if you shared your luck." Mirai snapped her fingers. "Oh! I should be able to do that." I scowled. "What does that even mean?" Mark extended a hand toward me. "Just hold my hand." I recoiled. "Why?" Mirai sighed. "Just trust him, Karl. Why? Scared of physical contact?" I grimaced. Everything in my being rejected the idea of willingly touching Mark, but if this was what it took to get in... Fine. After some trial and error, we figured out how to combine Mark¡¯s invisibility with Mirai¡¯s luck distribution. It took some focus, but eventually, the three of us stood in a triangle, holding hands in a ridiculous circle formation. I scowled at our posture. "This is embarrassing." Mirai snickered. "We probably look really stupid." "Picking a fight with second-years is stupid." Mark didn¡¯t even hesitate. "I¡¯ll steer. Just follow my lead." I grumbled but didn¡¯t argue. At this point, I had to admit Mark¡¯s ability was useful, even if the way we had to use it made me want to punch something. We moved carefully, our awkward circle slowly inching forward as we synchronized our steps. It was like some bizarre ritual, but as we walked, I could feel the strange sensation of Mark¡¯s invisibility wrapping around us, layered with the unnatural ease Mirai¡¯s luck granted. The White Tiger gates loomed ahead. Unlike the Black Tortoise building, which had a massive iron gate, the White Tiger entrance was sleek and modern, with towering reinforced glass panels and polished steel beams. A row of twelve booths lined the front, each equipped with a scanner for student IDs. Security monitors hung overhead, tracking every person who passed through. This place was too clean. Too orderly. Too rigid. Yet, something strange caught my eye. The guard outpost, usually manned by two students, was undergoing a shift change. The previous guards had just left, and instead of two replacements, only one student took over. Weird. Security here was supposed to be strict¡ªwhy was there only one? But hey, that just worked to our advantage. I smirked. "Guess it''s our lucky day." Mark stared at me. "It¡¯s going to be a problem if we don¡¯t have an ID." I raised an eyebrow. He was clearly waiting for me to produce something. I sighed and jerked my wrist toward Mirai. "Hold this." Mirai blinked in confusion but did as I said, gripping my wrist lightly, so as not to cut her luck and mess our invisibility. With my barely freed hand, I reached into my jacket and plucked out a student ID. Mark¡¯s eyes narrowed. "And where exactly did you get that?" Mirai leaned in to examine it and then immediately recoiled. "Wait¡­ is that blood?" I clicked my tongue. "It¡¯s mine," I lied smoothly. Mirai frowned, unconvinced. "Are you hurt?" "Nope. All good." I stuffed the ID into the scanner before she could ask more questions. Mark was still eyeing me. "You really expect us to believe you just happened to bleed all over a second-year¡¯s ID?" I groaned. "Look, the guy picked a fight with me first, alright? It¡¯s not like I go around mugging students for fun." Mirai crossed her arms. "You literally did that, though." I ignored her. Mark sighed. "Whatever. Just get in the booth already." We squeezed inside the tiny scanning booth. It was meant for one person, and we were three people holding hands. Naturally, it was uncomfortable as hell. "Move over!" I grunted, elbowing Mark. "I can¡¯t move over," Mark shot back. "That¡¯s your knee in my side!" Mirai huffed. "Both of you, shut up! And Karl, stop breathing on my neck!" "I can¡¯t help it! You¡¯re in my space!" "We¡¯re all in each other¡¯s space!" Mark groaned. The scanner beeped. The ID was accepted. We all froze. Then Mark muttered under his breath, "I hate that this is actually working." We stepped out of the scanning booth, finally past the gate, and I was about to bask in my own genius when I felt it¡ª Someone was watching us. A girl stood right in front of us. She had silver hair that cascaded down her back, crimson eyes that gleamed under the sun, and an expression that was far too amused for my liking. Mirai let out an exasperated groan. "How were we found out already?!" I grinned and nudged Mark. "Hey, she kinda looks like you. Maybe you two are long-lost cousins." Mark did not look amused. "This isn¡¯t funny." I could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he recognized her. "That¡¯s the Rank One of White Tiger," Mark said grimly. "Student President of the Second Years. The Bloody Queen of White Tiger¡ªGwendolyn Quentin." Mirai gulped audibly. "Wait, the Bloody Queen?" Gwendolyn smiled, slow and deliberate, her crimson eyes shining with something dangerous. "Oh, please. Just call me Gwen." She took one step forward. "As for how I found you¡­ well," Gwen tilted her head, "that¡¯s why CCTVs exist." My stomach dropped. Mark cursed under his breath. Mirai tensed. Gwen¡¯s smile widened. "So, tell me¡­" She placed a delicate hand on her hip. "Who wants to die first?" 045 Trashy Trio - Part 1 - Mark’s POV 045 Trashy Trio - Part 1 - Mark¡¯s POV Mirai stepped forward. "I''ll stay back and hold Gwen down," she volunteered, standing tall despite the clear danger. I didn¡¯t think so. Her luck was overpowered, sure. She had a decent chance of holding her own. But decent wasn¡¯t good enough. Since we were already neck-deep in trouble, we might as well put 110% effort into seeing this through. I stepped in front of Mirai. "Go. I''ll handle this." Karl raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You¡¯re kinda weak." "Shut up and run." Gwendolyn scoffed. "You? Handle me?" She crossed her arms, crimson eyes gleaming with derision. "Alone?" I grinned, letting my stance loosen just enough to appear careless. "I¡¯m too much for you already." Gwen''s ESP revolved around blood manipulation¡ªspecifically her own. She had masterful control, allowing her to achieve superhuman feats with a thought. She moved. Fast. A fist aimed straight for my face¡ªor at least, where my face was. But instead of impact, her knuckles sailed right through air. An afterimage. I couldn¡¯t help but smile. My training was paying off. I had been refining my ability to switch on and off my cognitive perception so rapidly that it created a delayed visual effect. Her eyes widened¡ªjust for a second. That was all I needed. With a snap of my leg, I drove a kick toward her abdomen. She caught my leg. Of course, she did. But she didn¡¯t expect Karl¡¯s fist, wreathed in fire, barreling toward her face. She twisted, barely avoiding the burning punch, but the movement sent her stumbling¡ª Right into Mirai¡¯s knee. The sickening crunch of impact met my ears. Blood splattered from her nose. Gwen staggered, disoriented, and I took full advantage. A sweep to the back of her heel and she went down hard. Karl and Mirai didn¡¯t waste time. They ran. Deep into White Tiger territory. I turned back to Gwen, who was already pushing herself up, nose bloody but eyes burning with fury. "See?" I taunted, tilting my head. "You wouldn¡¯t be able to handle all three of us at once. How about you just be happy with me, sweetheart?" She froze. Then she laughed. Low and amused. "You¡¯re smiling like a lunatic," she remarked, wiping the blood from her nose. I blinked. And then¡ªrealized. I was. My fingers brushed against my lips, feeling the unconscious, almost manic grin stretching across my face. I had seen this expression before. On Mom. I groaned internally. I needed to think of better lines in the future and stop copying Mom. Seriously, sweetheart? What was I even thinking? If I kept this up, I''d be giving Evelyn unnecessary hope that I was finally embracing my "villainous bloodline" or whatever nonsense she believed in. That wasn¡¯t my biggest problem, though. My biggest problem was Gwen. I had no idea how to fight her exactly, but I knew what she could do. That made all the difference. She was stronger, faster, and had a supernatural mastery over her own blood. I couldn¡¯t match her in a direct fight, and grappling was out of the question. If she got ahold of me, I¡¯d be in for a world of hurt. My best bet was to avoid, counter, and delay. I shifted into a boxing stance¡ªlow, steady, and mobile. I wasn¡¯t a boxer, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. Gwen cracked her knuckles, her crimson eyes locked onto me with something between amusement and mild irritation. "You¡¯re wasting my time," she said, rolling her shoulders. "I¡¯ll beat you in under a minute and catch up to your classmates." I kept quiet. No need to give her the satisfaction of a response. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She moved. A hook flashed toward my temple¡ªfast, precise. I activated my afterimage technique, making her punch phase through empty space. Her eyes widened slightly. She probably hadn¡¯t expected to be fooled twice by the same technique.. Then her expression sharpened. Thin, red veins stretched from the corners of her eyes, pulsing with a sickly glow. Probably enhancing her perception¡ªtracking my real position. She kicked at my shin, aiming for where she thought I¡¯d be. Unfortunately for her, she was still tracking an afterimage. I flanked her from the opposite side and aimed a precise chop at her carotid artery. A clean strike there could knock someone unconscious. My aim was good. My speed was decent. But Gwen wasn¡¯t second-year Rank One for nothing. An elbow struck my wrist before I could connect. Pain flared up my arm. Then she shifted her stance, her center of gravity lowering as her leg snapped out in a sweeping motion. I tensed. Thought fast. Then rolled. The moment my back hit the ground, a stomp crashed down where my ribs had been. The impact was powerful enough to send cracks through the pavement. If I had been half a second slower¡ªif I hadn¡¯t read the motion in time¡ªI would¡¯ve been coughing up blood. I scrambled to my feet. The White Tiger uniform was already a mess, torn at the sleeves and dirtied from my roll. Gwen tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with interest. "Not bad. You¡¯re actually putting up a fight." I stretched one arm out, casually dangling a familiar piece of fabric between my fingers. Gwen¡¯s suit jacket. She blinked, then looked down at herself¡ªstill clad in her blouse, but missing the jacket. Her crimson eyes snapped back to me, her brows furrowing slightly. "When¡ª?" "During our little scuffle," I answered, twirling the jacket before letting it rest over my shoulder. "My ESP allows me to distort perception and muddle awareness. So while we were trading blows, I just¡­ borrowed this." Gwen snorted, unimpressed. "So what?" I smirked, tossing the suit jacket off to the side. Then I lowered my posture, preparing to attack. "Mini-mini-minimo," I started, my voice light and teasing. "Which of your clothes should I strip first?" Gwen¡¯s expression froze. "The blouse?" I mused aloud. "The skirt? Maybe your shoes? I could work my way up to the leggings." Her face turned a furious shade of red. Her entire posture tensed, and for the first time since this fight started, she actually looked caught off guard. "You¡ª!" she sputtered, her voice a mixture of outrage and embarrassment. She took a step forward, probably to murder me. "Oh, don¡¯t stop there," I continued, utterly enjoying myself. "Please, tell me how my Professor in Tactics & Theory would be proud of me." Gwen clenched her fists. "Your Professor in Tactics & Theory must be so damn proud of you right now." I shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really." Gwen inhaled sharply, regaining her composure. Her red eyes burned with restrained fury as she straightened her posture. "This is your last chance to surrender," she said, her voice ice-cold. "If you do, I might even put in a good word to the Student Council to make your punishment lighter." She punctuated her words with a series of lightning-fast punches. I barely dodged, each blow grazing the air dangerously close to my face. Yeah, no thanks. I locked in, shifting my focus. More afterimages¡ªI needed to create more afterimages. If she wanted to track me, then I¡¯d make it as miserable for her as possible. I let my mind flicker between full focus and feigned sluggishness, moving in just the right way to leave behind blurred illusions. At the same time, I let my words do their magic. "You know, for someone called the Bloody Queen, you sure seem a little¡­" I paused dramatically. "Flustered." Her jaw twitched, but she didn¡¯t bite back. Good. That meant it was working. I channeled my inner-Greg. "Your ESP lets you control your blood, right?" I mused, narrowly avoiding a sharp jab to my ribs. "But what happens if your blood pressure is too high? If you get too angry? If you lose control?" Gwen¡¯s fist sailed just past my nose. "You make mistakes," I answered my own question, ducking beneath her kick. "And then more mistakes. And then I see more openings." Her next punch was faster, sharper, but I had already committed to my plan. With the flick of my wrist, my butterfly knife slipped into my palm, hidden against my body. I snapped it open in a fluid motion¡ªjust for a moment¡ªthen pocketed it just as fast. No need for her to notice. Then, I moved. A feint to the right. A sprint to the side. A roll to the left. And then¡ª Rip. I twisted out of the roll, fabric clenched in my fist. Gwen¡¯s eyes widened as she staggered back, her blouse now missing from her body. Pale, pristine white skin and a simple top underneath were now fully exposed to the open air. Silence. A slow blink. Then Gwen looked down. Then she looked at me. And then¡ª "You little¡ª!" I bolted. "You are a fucking trash!" That was Gwen¡¯s lovely, heartfelt opinion of me. Objectively speaking? Fair. Actually, though¡ªif we were talking about trash, Greg deserved that title. I knew that because I had read Mom¡¯s journal. She had an entry dedicated to one of Greg¡¯s fights, where he pulled the exact same tactic¡ªstripping a girl mid-fight. And here I was, doing the same thing. Yeah, I knew I was being a hypocrite. But that wasn¡¯t the point. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a very familiar flip phone. Karl¡¯s flip phone. I swiped it from him back when we were all stuffed together in that tiny booth, practically suffocating each other. He didn¡¯t even notice. "What the fuck¡ª?" Gwen started. Click. I took a picture. Gwen, standing there in her top and underwear, still reeling from the shock of losing her blouse. Click. I took another. That did it. "What the fuck?!" she screeched, rage distorting her elegant face as she lunged for me. I dodged, rolling out of her path. And in the same motion¡ª Rip. Her skirt joined her blouse in the realm of missing clothing. "FUCK YOU, ANIMAL!" she bellowed, face burning red. I grinned, flicking through Karl¡¯s phone camera. Click. Click. Click. "You¡¯re having way too much fun with this!" she accused. "I¡¯m not," I replied, still taking pictures. "This is just work." Gwen¡¯s hands twitched, and I could feel her about to explode. So I laid it out for her. "Now, here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen," I said, casually flipping through Karl¡¯s contacts. "You¡¯re going to stay completely still, or I¡¯m going to send these pictures to a number of Karl¡¯s friends." That made her freeze. Karl was just a first-year, but he had raised enough of a ruckus that everyone knew his name. And what was the stereotype for someone with his reputation? Delinquent. And what kind of friends would a delinquent have? Exactly. Gwen¡¯s face contorted with rage, realization, and just a tiny hint of panic. I tilted the phone slightly, showing her the screen. "So, what¡¯s it gonna be, Bloody Queen?" A crimson streak shot through the air. Karl¡¯s flip phone exploded into pieces, the remnants of its screen sizzling with the faint scent of burnt plastic. I slowly turned my gaze back to Gwen. Her index finger was still poised like a gun, a faint red glow fading from the tip. "You just lost your leverage," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Internally? I was half panicking. Externally? I kept my poker face on. "Did I?" I asked smoothly, shoving my hands in my pockets like I wasn¡¯t having a minor heart attack. "How do you know that for sure?" Her smug expression faltered just a fraction. I pressed forward. "Let me enlighten you," I continued, my voice taking on a casual, almost bored tone. "I just sent your risqu¨¦ photos to an email. Set up in a way that if I don¡¯t return with my friends in a set period of time, they¡¯ll automatically upload to the internet." Gwen¡¯s entire body tensed. I took a step forward, tilting my head. "You know, this is totally your fault. If you¡¯d been cooperative from the start, you could¡¯ve lived your days in blissful ignorance of just how nasty I could get." Her crimson eyes flickered with something dangerous, something unstable. But beneath that¡ª Panic. "Do you really want to continue this fight?" I asked, my voice soft, almost coaxing. Gwen bit her lip, fists clenching at her sides. For a second, it looked like she was about to cry. Wasn¡¯t she supposed to be my senior? I barely held back a sigh. Yep. I am definitely and certifiably trash. I just really hoped she was buying my bluff. 046 Trashy Trio - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV 046 Trashy Trio - Part 2 - Mirai¡¯s POV Karl led the way, his pace brisk and focused. I kept close to his six, trying not to trip over my own nerves. My mind was still stuck on the fact that we¡¯d left Mark behind with her. Gwendolyn Quentin. The Bloody Queen of the Second Years. And Mark, being Mark, was probably antagonizing her as we spoke. I bit my lip before finally breaking the silence. "What do you think of Mark¡¯s chances?" Karl barely glanced at me. "Against Rank One?" "Yes, Karl, against Rank One," I repeated, exasperated. He shrugged. "No clue." I nearly tripped. "What do you mean you have no clue?!" "Exactly what I said. No clue. I don¡¯t know how she fights." I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. Was he serious? I thought I was ignorant about ESPer matters, but even I knew more than Karl did¡ªand Mark swore up and down that Karl had a professor for a dad. "Wait, hold on," I grabbed his wrist, making him stop. "Calm down. And stop running in the hallway. We already look suspicious enough as it is." He scowled. "We''re loitering during class hours, Mirai. We are suspicious." "Right, so let¡¯s not make it worse by looking like we just committed a crime." Karl sighed, but didn¡¯t shake off my grip. "Fine. But we still need to hurry." "I know." I released him with a nod. "Let''s just¡­ not make it obvious." We resumed walking, slightly more composed, but my mind still lingered on Mark. He better not do anything too stupid. Karl had finally calmed down, leading the way with a determined stride. I followed, still trying to wrap my head around everything. "Are you sure this is worth it?" I asked, my voice quiet. Karl didn¡¯t even look at me. "Yeah." That wasn¡¯t good enough. I reached out again, this time not just with my hand, but with my Eloquence. My ESP let me feel the emotions in his words, the conviction behind them. "Karl." He finally stopped and turned, his usual scowl softening just a little. "Is this really worth it?" For a moment, there was silence. Then, through my ESP, I felt it¡ªthe pain in his heart. Deep, real, genuine. Not anger, not some fleeting grudge. Something much older, something that ached. That was one of the reasons I had agreed to all this. Karl¡¯s expression shifted, something uncharacteristically gentle passing over his face. "I¡¯m going to avenge my big sister." I nearly tripped. "Wait, hold on. Your big sister?" That wasn¡¯t what I expected. Who in their right mind would pick a fight with Karl¡¯s big sister? "How old is she even?" I asked, dumbfounded. ¡°And we are about to throw hands with Second Years¡­ Ugh¡­ What am I even thinking for agreeing to this?¡± Karl didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he sighed, rolled his shoulders, and¡ªwithout another word¡ªstarted taking off his shoes. "Karl?" Then went his suit jacket. "Karl, what are you¡ª" He cracked his neck. And then¡ª BOOM. Karl kicked the door down. With fire. I stood there, utterly speechless, watching as Karl stormed inside. Then he punched a professor in the face. "KARL!" He didn¡¯t even flinch. I rushed in after him, eyes wide. "You didn¡¯t say anything about a professor being one of the people you wanted to pick a fight with!" Karl barely spared me a glance. "I said the entire class." "YOU DIDN¡¯T SAY IT INCLUDED THE PROFESSOR!" Chapter 46 (Mirai¡¯s POV, Past Tense) The moment Karl¡¯s fist connected with the professor¡¯s face, I knew we were doomed. The professor, a man with curly red hair, a stubbled jaw, and an even nastier scowl than Karl¡¯s, barely flinched before punching right back. And his fist? On fire. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Karl didn¡¯t even hesitate. He met the flaming fist head-on with his own fire, shouting¡ª "DIE, YOU SHITTY DAD!" ¡­What? Wait. What? The two¡¯s fists clashed, and in an instant, the entire room was engulfed in a roaring explosion of flames. The heat forced me to shield my face, and around us, students screamed as they scrambled away. Half the class retreated to the edges of the room, while the other half¡ªbraver, stupider, or just used to this sort of madness¡ªrushed forward, trying to separate the two. "Karl!" I yelled over the chaos. "You didn¡¯t tell me this was family drama!" "Back me up!" Karl shouted back, not even looking at me. "Keep my dad¡¯s lackeys off me!" That¡¯s when one of the students, a boy with glasses and an exasperated look, raised his voice. "I am NOT Professor Brandt¡¯s lackey!" ¡­Wait. "Did you just say Brandt? Ugh¡­ I am still in disbelief¡­" It finally clicked. Karl Brandt. Professor Brandt. Oh. OH. This was his dad?! This family drama was off the charts. And here I thought Mark¡¯s family was unique. Okay. I think my brain just short-circuited. First came denial. Then acceptance. And then back to denial. "Restrain her!" shouted the glasses-wearing senior as Karl and his father exchanged flaming punches like some kind of dysfunctional fireworks display. I gritted my teeth, dodging the senior¡¯s grab¡ªonly to immediately trip on my own feet and slam face-first onto the floor. "Ow¡ª!" Before I could get up, a girl tackled me down, pressing me against the ground. Above me, Professor Brandt¡ªKarl¡¯s dad¡ªactually paused mid-fight to glance my way. "Cute girlfriend," he remarked, tone casual as if he wasn¡¯t currently fighting his own son. "You sure you want to show that nasty temper of yours?" Karl, predictably, reacted with all the grace of an enraged bull. "DIE!" Professor Brandt dodged Karl¡¯s flaming fists and actual fireballs with an ease that was honestly insulting. He moved through the room like a breeze, dancing around his students, using them as shields while his son burned through the air like a human torch. "Shit, god, Prof¡¯s gone crazy!" one of the second-years yelped. "Don¡¯t use us as human shields, you old bastard!" another added. Karl, meanwhile, was literally flying, using his flames to propel himself midair like a crazed phoenix. His offense was manic, wild, overwhelming¡ªsending the second-years into a hasty retreat. And yet, his father looked¡­ Bored. Like he was just taking it easy. In fact, he actually took the time to step back from the chaos and introduce himself to me. "Hello," he said, smiling as if he wasn¡¯t actively dodging his son¡¯s murder attempts. "The name¡¯s Carl Brandt. Carl with a C." I took a deep breath and tried my best to keep my voice steady. "I hope we could¡¯ve met under better circumstances, Mr. Brandt," I said. "I thought we¡¯d be picking a fight with fellow ESPer prospects, not, uh¡­ causing trouble for you." Carl dodged a spear of flames that Karl hurled at him, caught it with one hand, and threw it right back. Right into Karl¡¯s gut. With a sickening crunch, Karl was impaled to the ground. "FUUUCK!" he howled, writhing. I stared, stunned. Was that even allowed? How was that even possible? Carl, completely unfazed, turned back to me and asked in a polite tone, "Are you aware of the consequences of fighting fellow students?" Honestly? No. Not really. I had¡­ not looked into how these things were handled. Greg had pulled something similar when he fought John, and he was still here, so that meant we¡¯d be fine¡­ right? I blinked, piecing my thoughts together. "I mean, this is just the equivalent of a schoolyard brawl in the backyard, right?" Carl stared at me. Then he facepalmed. The glasses-wearing senior sighed and actually took the time to explain. "Unauthorized fights between year levels are prohibited," he said. "This could get you a serious demerit." Oh. Yeah, I did know about that part. I crossed my arms. "I don¡¯t really care about demerits this early in my academic career. What¡¯s more important is getting Karl¡¯s participation." Carl raised an eyebrow. "Participation?" I nodded. "I have to cater to Karl¡¯s request if I want him to play ball with the team-building activities." At that, Carl snapped his fingers. "Ah," he said, as if something had just clicked in his head. "So there is team function in the first years. I understand my son isn¡¯t exactly a team player, so I appreciate you trying to put him on the straight and narrow path." Meanwhile, Karl was still flailing on the ground, desperately trying to pull the spear of flames out of his torso. "You fucking bastard!" he roared, still trying to rip the spear of flames out of his gut. "You didn¡¯t even show up to Sis¡¯ birthday¡ª" He growled, his entire body trembling with rage. "And those bastards who ruined her? They¡¯re still fucking breathing." His breath hitched. His voice turned raw, bitter. "You lied to me." Carl Brandt remained silent. "You told me they were done for¡ª" Karl¡¯s flames flared, heat distorting the air around him. "That they were punished for what they did!" His eyes burned with something deeper than anger. Something sharp. Wounded. "Fucking piece of shit!" I felt my lips twitch. Karl wasn¡¯t just mad. He was seething. "You let them walk away like nothing happened. You let them live their lives while my sister¡ª" Karl gritted his teeth, his breath heavy. "She¡¯s crippled because of you!" The atmosphere shifted. The second-years¡ªwho had up until now been treating this as some insane classroom brawl¡ªwent quiet. The glasses-wearing senior hesitated before speaking up. "Karl, that¡¯s not¡ª" But Professor Carl Brandt simply raised a hand. The senior shut up immediately. Carl¡¯s usual lazy, amused expression had faded, replaced with something¡­ harsher. "You¡¯re being immature." His voice was calm. Cold. "It¡¯s been ten years since that happened." For a moment, Karl didn¡¯t react. Then his flames flared. "Bullshit." With an explosion of heat, Karl ignited the fiery spear impaling him¡ªblasting it apart with his own flames. He staggered forward, shoulders heaving, body drenched in sweat, looking both exhausted and murderous. "Heartless bastard." Karl¡¯s flames still crackled in the air, but his breathing was heavy. Even so, he glared at his father, the raw hatred in his eyes refusing to fade. Carl, in contrast, looked completely unimpressed. "If I¡¯m so heartless, then why is your sister still alive?" he said flatly. I froze. Karl did not. "Oh, fuck you." He spat onto the floor, embers flickering from his lips. "Yeah, because that¡¯s the only reason you give a shit, huh? The academy?" His voice dripped with venom. "Your cripple of a daughter who lost her ESP? She¡¯s a disgrace, right? That¡¯s what you think, isn¡¯t it?" Carl¡¯s expression remained unreadable. Karl¡¯s voice broke. "She would¡¯ve died if she kept using her power. And you¡ª" His fists trembled at his sides. "You couldn¡¯t let her stop. You just had to push her past her limit¡ª" Karl sucked in a sharp breath. "Now what? She¡¯s a fucking vegetable¡ª" His fingers dug into his palms, nails biting into his skin. "And you couldn¡¯t even bother to visit her on her birthday¡ª" Karl took a step forward, flames licking at his heels. "And then I find out¡ª" His voice turned hoarse, almost desperate. "The people who did this to her? The ones who ruined her? They¡¯re doing fine¡ª" His head snapped up, eyes burning. "Despite the incident." Silence. Even the second-years who had been watching from the sidelines weren¡¯t saying a word. And then, the glasses-wearing guy decided to speak up again. "That¡¯s no way to talk to a tenured professor¡ªor your father¡ª" Karl¡¯s response was immediate. "Oh, fuck off, four-eyes." The senior visibly flinched. "Four-eyes?" he repeated, sounding genuinely offended. For some reason, that was the moment I realized that this whole fight was completely, absolutely, spiraling out of control in a direction I never imagined possible. The tension in the room was unbearable. Karl stood rigid, flames still smoldering at his feet. His father, Carl Brandt, remained composed, but his sharp eyes betrayed something I couldn''t quite name¡ªexasperation? Frustration? Or something deeper? Then Carl spoke. "Class dismissed." No one moved. The second-years hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. Some of them looked to the glasses-wearing senior for guidance, others to their professor, as if silently asking if he really meant it. Carl sighed, then repeated, "Class. Dismissed." This time, there was no room for argument. His voice had dropped into something cold, final¡ªan order, not a suggestion. The grip on my arms loosened, and I was finally let go. One by one, the students began to file out. Some left reluctantly, glancing back at Karl and Carl like they were leaving behind a ticking time bomb. Others practically sprinted for the door, clearly eager to escape the family drama before it got any worse. I turned on my heel, ready to follow them. "You stay." I stopped. Carl Brandt¡¯s gaze was on me. I swallowed. 047 Trashy Trio - Part 4 - Karl’s POV 047 Trashy Trio - Part 4 - Karl¡¯s POV The Pioneer Classroom wasn¡¯t big on windows. It wasn¡¯t big on much, really. No decorations, no distractions¡ªjust desks, walls, and the faint hum of the air conditioning. Functional. Efficient. Cold. This place was different. The classroom where my old man actually taught had a window, wide enough to let in sunlight, but the way he moved¡ªcalmly shutting it, sealing us both inside¡ªmade it feel just as closed-off as the Pioneer Classroom ever was. I leaned against a desk, arms crossed, my jaw tight. My knuckles still ached from earlier, from throwing the first punch, from throwing so many punches. But Carl Brandt stood there like none of it mattered. Like I hadn''t just tried to burn him alive in front of a room full of second-years. ¡°What¡¯s my old man thinking?¡± I muttered, more to myself than him. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. Then, in that calm, measured voice of his, he asked, ¡°Are you happy, Karl?¡± I blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Being like this,¡± he said. ¡°Always angry.¡± I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. ¡°What the fuck kind of question is that?¡± He didn¡¯t answer right away. He just turned back to the window and finished closing it, slow and deliberate. As if the air outside was some kind of problem. ¡°I used to be like you,¡± he said. I felt my lip curl. ¡°Oh yeah? You used to want to punch your dad in the face too?¡± His hands rested on the window frame for a second longer before he turned back to face me. ¡°Yes.¡± There was something in his eyes¡ªsomething I didn¡¯t like. A quiet weight, like he wasn¡¯t just saying it for the sake of it. He exhaled through his nose. ¡°How¡¯s school been for you?¡± I stared at him. ¡°Why do you care?¡± He met my gaze, unwavering. ¡°Because you¡¯re my son.¡± I scoffed, but there was something ugly twisting in my chest. ¡°And because I¡¯ve been here before,¡± he continued. ¡°Where you are now. Angry. Pissed at my parents. Thinking no one was on my side. That it was just easier to throw a punch than to¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± My flames surged to life before I could stop them, crawling up my arms, bathing the classroom in flickering orange light. The heat pulsed with my breathing, hot and alive, ready to burn. ¡°If you really want to talk,¡± I said, voice low, ¡°then let¡¯s talk with our fists.¡± ¡°Follow me.¡± That was all he said before turning his back on us, expecting us to just fall in line. Like always. I wasn¡¯t about to just let that happen. I lunged forward, closing the distance between us in an instant. My fist was already blazing, heat rippling off my knuckles as I swung at the back of his head. A clean shot. No way he could¡ª Snap. Pain shot through my wrist as his fingers closed around my fist like an iron vice. He didn¡¯t even look back. I gritted my teeth, pushing more heat into my flames, but his grip didn¡¯t loosen. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, voice maddeningly calm. ¡°You¡¯ll need more than technique, brute power, or talent if you ever want to measure up to me.¡± Then, without warning¡ª Wham. His leg swept mine out from under me. I barely had time to register the shift in balance before my back slammed onto the cold floor. My breath hitched. The world tilted. By the time I managed to suck in air, he had already let go of my fist and was walking away. Walking away. ¡°Come on,¡± he said, not even looking back. ¡°Follow.¡± I hated him. Hated the way he was always five steps ahead. Hated how effortless it was for him to put me down. A hand extended into my vision. Mirai. I grumbled under my breath, but I took it, letting her pull me up. I dusted myself off and glared at my old man¡¯s back. Reluctantly, I followed. ¡°You no longer need to be here,¡± I muttered to Mirai as we walked. ¡°Our deal still works even if you don¡¯t actually fight now.¡± I expected her to roll her eyes. What I didn¡¯t expect was for her to suddenly pinch my ear and drag me forward. ¡°Agh¡ª!¡± I stumbled, swatting at her hand. ¡°Ow! Ouch! Let go, you bitch!¡± Mirai didn¡¯t even flinch. She kept walking, dragging me along like a misbehaving kid. ¡°I came here for a fight,¡± she said, voice sharp. ¡°And what do I get? Nothing. No fight, no action, just you getting slammed into the floor like a dumbass.¡± I tried prying her fingers off my ear, but she tightened her grip. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Tch¡ª!¡± ¡°I¡¯m already bummed out that I¡¯m being sidelined,¡± she continued, tone laced with irritation. ¡°So you better pick your shit up or I¡¯ll kill you myself.¡± Then¡ªfinally¡ªshe let go. I rubbed my ear, scowling. ¡°Crazy psycho¡­¡± Dad chuckled ahead of us. ¡°You have a nice girlfriend.¡± Mirai immediately stiffened. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± I snorted, shoving my hands into my pockets. ¡°She already has someone.¡± Mirai let out a deep sigh. ¡°That was a misunderstanding.¡± Dad shrugged, completely unbothered. ¡°Youths nowadays should be more bold.¡± My father wasn¡¯t looking. His back was turned, his posture loose, like none of this mattered. Like I wasn¡¯t standing behind him, fists clenched, rage simmering beneath my skin. So I threw a punch. A tight hook aimed straight for his temple. A clean shot. And then¡ª Pain exploded across my face. I barely registered what happened before I stumbled back, clutching my nose. The bastard had moved too suddenly, his elbow slamming into my face like he had eyes in the back of his head. Dad laughed. ¡°Rule number one of fighting, Karl,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Never turn your back to an enemy.¡± Mirai, who had been watching silently, stiffened. ¡°Your back was turned.¡± Dad smirked. ¡°Was it?¡± I gritted my teeth, my breath coming out sharp. He was toying with me. ¡°You should never present your back to a hostile,¡± he continued, as if he were giving a damn lecture. ¡°Unless, of course, you have a method to fake it and can actually see them even when not looking.¡± My flames flared instinctively, but he had already turned away, walking forward. I hated that. I hated how he dismissed me. How effortlessly he made me feel like a kid throwing a tantrum. We left the classroom and entered a facility that looked eerily familiar¡ªlike the training grounds in Black Tortoise, the ones designed for sparring and survival drills. The floors were reinforced, the walls thick enough to take a few explosions. Dad stepped ahead of us, exhaling as he kicked off his shoes. Then, stretching his arms over his head, he let out a yawn. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll give you an opportunity of a lifetime,¡± he continued, rolling his shoulders. ¡°You want to talk to me with your fists? Fine. Let¡¯s make it a match.¡± I clenched my fists, ignoring the dull ache from earlier. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± He smirked. ¡°There need to be stakes. Otherwise, this is just another pointless brawl.¡± I didn¡¯t like that look on his face. The one that said he had already planned this. ¡°If I win¡ªsay, I knock you out¡ª¡± his smirk widened, ¡°I¡¯ll pull you out of the academy and put you in a collegiate program instead.¡± My body went rigid. I hated school, but I despised the idea of being pulled from the academy. That wasn¡¯t just a punishment. That was exile. ¡°That¡¯s unfair,¡± Mirai said immediately. ¡°Okay, to be fair, what do you want, Karl?¡± Dad ignored her. He turned to me, expectant. ¡°What¡¯s in it for you, then? Do you want daddy to give you a kiss? A smooch?¡± I took a deep breath. The words had been buried in my throat for so long, but now they surged forward like fire through dry wood. ¡°You let me kill the bastards responsible for what happened ten years ago.¡± My voice was sharp, seething. ¡°The ones who crippled my sister.¡± The amusement in his expression vanished. ¡°No,¡± he said flatly. ¡°That¡¯s criminal.¡± I sneered. ¡°And?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not letting my son do something so stupid.¡± His voice was steady, unshaken. ¡°Revenge isn¡¯t going to¡ª¡± ¡°So you¡¯d hold me back?¡± I snapped. My flames flared again, this time in sharp, jagged bursts. ¡°You¡¯d coddle me? Lie to me? Pretend like everything¡¯s okay?¡± His expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°What? You won¡¯t fight me?¡± I took a step forward. ¡°Does your word mean nothing?¡± Dad exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°So you think I¡¯m chickening out?¡± He scoffed. ¡°No, Karl. The match is on.¡± My blood pounded in my ears as he cracked his knuckles. ¡°It just means I¡¯ll be fighting you for real, kid. Kiddie gloves off.¡± His gaze flicked to Mirai. ¡°The missy¡¯s free to join too. I¡¯m fair like that.¡± His smirk sharpened. ¡°Or as fair as I can get, because get this, Karl¡ªyou are outmatched.¡± I clenched my jaw as my flames burned hotter. Dad kept going. ¡°If I have to knock some sense into you via violence, then so be it. I¡¯ve coddled you long enough.¡± I didn¡¯t wait. I lunged. Flames burst from my feet, igniting the air as I propelled forward. Every step was an explosion, every stride fueled by combustion. My body felt lighter, faster¡ªstronger. I flanked Dad in an instant, my fist burning hotter than ever. The heat rippled through the air, distorting the space between us. This time, I wouldn¡¯t miss. And then¡ª Boom. An orb of fire appeared between us, as if willed into existence. It detonated before I could react. The force threw me back, my world flipping as heat and shockwaves blasted through the air. I crashed against the ground, rolling to a stop as smoke and dust billowed around me. I couldn¡¯t see a damn thing. But Dad could see me. I barely had time to register the incoming attack before spears of flame rained from above, their eerie glow piercing through the smoke. I dodged left¡ªone burned past my shoulder. I rolled right¡ªanother seared across my leg. No matter how I moved, the flames followed. They weren¡¯t strong enough to kill me or impale me outright, but they were hot¡ªtoo hot. I could feel my body overheating. My breaths came out ragged, dry. My flames sputtered in response. Shit. I tried to gather my strength, to force my body into motion¡ª Then someone tackled me. A pair of arms wrapped around my torso, and before I could process what was happening, I was rolling. A second later, a flaming spear twice the size of the others slammed into the ground where I had just been. The impact sent out a scorching shockwave, scorching the earth black. Mirai¡¯s voice snapped me back to reality. ¡°Karl, get your shit together!¡± I turned my head, still dazed. She was gripping my wrist tightly, her expression sharp but strained. ¡°Conserve your damn energy,¡± she said, yanking me up to my feet. ¡°You¡¯re burning yourself out.¡± I swallowed hard, my throat dry as hell. I hated to admit it, but she was right. Mirai offered her hand. ¡°Hold on. I¡¯ll lead the way.¡± I hesitated¡ªjust for a second¡ªbefore grabbing her hand. The moment I did, she took off. She zigzagged through the battlefield, dragging me along as the flaming spears kept coming. She barely avoided them, her every step skimming the edge of a fiery death. And she was cussing the entire time. ¡°Fucking¡ªshit¡ªold bastard¡ªhow the hell is this fair?!¡± Another spear nearly clipped her. Mirai yelped, then hissed under her breath. ¡°I swear to god, Karl¡ªif you don¡¯t get your head in the game, I will kill you myself.¡± Despite everything, I felt a laugh bubble up in my throat. The dust finally began to settle. My breathing was ragged, my body aching from the heat still clinging to my skin. The air reeked of scorched earth and burning embers. I clenched my fists, scanning the battlefield. Where the hell was he? Then¡ª ¡°Above.¡± Mirai¡¯s foot slammed into my side, shoving me away. A blazing impact followed immediately after. Dad landed where I had been standing, his feet igniting the ground on contact. The explosion was instant¡ªthe force sent shockwaves through the air, the very earth charring beneath him. I gritted my teeth, my flames flickering erratically. ¡°Get your shit together!¡± Mirai yelled, snapping me out of it. ¡°You¡¯re being too emotional!¡± ¡°Fuck emotional!¡± I snarled. I drew in every ember, every flickering wisp of heat left in me. Flames coiled toward my palm, compressing into a single, unstable orb. This was it. A technique I¡¯d only seen once. A technique Dad had shown me years ago. A miniature sun. It blazed in my grip, searing hot enough to distort the air around it. The power surged through me, the weight of it immense. I raised it high¡ª ¡°Supernova!¡± I crushed it. Or at least¡ªI tried. Before the explosion could ignite, before the power could detonate in my favor¡ª Dad caught it. With a single flick of his wrist, he snuffed it out. The energy I had poured everything into? Gone. Like it was nothing. I stared, stunned. My breath caught in my throat. Dad sighed. ¡°Boy, that¡¯s still too early for you.¡± I didn¡¯t even have time to react before¡ªSLAP. The sting of his hand across my face sent my head snapping sideways. ¡°Wake up, son.¡± His voice was firm. Unshaken. Cold. ¡°This is reality.¡± I clenched my fists, the heat in me boiling over. ¡°You want to kill those bastards?¡± Dad asked, his eyes sharp. ¡°The ones responsible for your sister?¡± His gaze bored into me, like he could see straight through my rage. ¡°Then listen well¡ª¡± He took a step forward, towering over me. ¡°The people you want to kill? They¡¯re true ESPers.¡± His voice was absolute. ¡°And they¡¯d be just as strong as me.¡± He paused. ¡°If not, stronger.¡± His words hit like a gut punch. A cold, unforgiving reality settling into my bones. Stronger than him? I refused to accept that. Dad had to be lying¡­ After all, he used to be called the strongest ESPer.