Emery's POV
"As you can see in this paragraph, Razumikhin understood what Raskolnikov was implying by his actions...." The teacher rambled on and on and on....
Sigh... Ever since entering the Star Class, I feel like the days have been longer. I wake up at 5 A.M., then get to school around 6. I do club duties because, apparently, Star Class students are required to join two clubs: one normal club and one specialized club meant to help around the school. Then I have classes from 7–5. After-school club activities too, and I get home around 8 P.M., where I have to help with chores, do homework, and go to sleep.
All of that against my will, by the way. I'm also unpaid. I guess I have a scholarship, but my parents were able to pay for me when I wasn't in the high honors class, so I'd rather not have it than live like this.
The teacher—I can't even remember his name—is currently talking about Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and honestly, if my lifestyle keeps going like this, I might go down the Raskolnikov plot line. You know it's getting real bad when I'm romanticizing grabbing an axe and just whacking the principal on the head or something. Maybe the vice principal too.... Why not just whack the whole school?
Oh God, no... I shouldn't think like this.
Breathe in, Emery. Okay... murder is not the answer. Be grateful that guns are illegal....
But to be honest, even if I did—obviously, this is all hypothetical, okay? Hypothetically speaking—if I did end up destroying the whole school, I'd probably still end up like this. I mean, there are a lot of problems within the system, obviously, and I absolutely hate everyone, but that really isn't the main issue.
I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I hate being in the honors class, but I also have nothing else better to do. It's not like I want to chase after a noble dream, nor do I want to be the next bringer of change. I'm just not built for that. All I have going for me are my games—and I don't think gaming can contribute anything to the world substantially.
"Alright. I think we can end our discussion of Part IV right here," the teacher announced. Suddenly, my ears perked up, and my ability to pay attention returned.
"Class dismissed. Don't forget about your essay tomorrow." The teacher dismissed the class, and everyone quickly fixed their stuff in their bags.
I just shoved my books and pens inside my backpack before rushing to the first floor. I am, unfortunately, part of the Student Council as one of their staff members, a.k.a. lackeys, because I ran out of slots for the other committees. I suppose it's fine; they just order me around, and I don't need to think too hard.
Upon entering the Student Council's meeting room, I see my classmate Lucas already playing on his phone.
Lucas is one of the few people I get along with in the Star Section. I guess I don't hate him because he doesn't ask for more than I can give. He just plays, laughs, and somehow makes this whole Star Class thing feel less like prison.
Honestly, we're polar opposites. First, just by our appearance, it's clear we're like sun and moon. His hair is black and fluffy from all the fancy shampoo and conditioner he uses, while my blond hair is whatever it decides to be. I wear thick glasses, and his eyes are so bright you can practically see his thoughts when you stare into them. I look like a random kid he picked up off the street.
Secondly, he's rich. His dad owns a hospital, and his mom's family has a pharmaceutical company. He's actively getting ready to inherit the hospital in the future. This also means he has the fanciest things money can buy. His phone is always the latest model, and he rides a car to and from school—said car followed by another to guard them. He's only in this school because the Star Section is known to be topnotchers in medical school entrance exams.
I walked over to Lucas' table and sat next to him. On his phone, he was playing the mobile version of my favorite game, Reverie Mirage.
"Emery! You took a while," Lucas greeted me without looking away from his phone. "Help me out on this boss, please! I accidentally ran out of stamina while gliding, and I fell right into the boss fight."
"Well, sorry, I wasn't part of the Red Cross Youth Committee and had to attend World Lit instead of listening to a quick meeting," I answered sarcastically. Lucas flashed me a quick peace sign before returning to the game.
As I searched for my phone in my bag, I watched Lucas frantically tap on his phone without direction or restraint. If this guy weren't rich and couldn't afford the strongest screen protector, I swear his phone would be full of cracks. He put his phone on the table and started using six of his fingers—three on each side—to randomly press buttons so he could get combos.
"Alright. Where to?" I asked, booting up my game.
"I'm in Server 3. The Swamp in the Forest of Rumor," Lucas said almost breathlessly. The tapping on his phone grew even more intense; he was now using eight fingers, as if he were playing Piano Tiles.
As soon as my game finished loading, I went to the place Lucas was at. His character was still alive, but the damage on the Pellaidh Boss was practically nonexistent. How did this even happen?
I quickly changed my weapon to Panlias' Sword and used a Fire Blast against the demon. After a few hits and burst attacks, the Pellaidh quickly fell.
"Thanks, Emery!" Lucas smiled at me and quickly gave me three burst heals in-game despite my damage being less than one-tenth of my life bar. "You're seriously so cool! I can't believe you killed it just like that—like, that's a whole monster! For the server! And you just killed it in less than a minute...."
"Hey, don't suck up to me too hard. How long were you fighting that monster anyway?" I asked. Surely, it couldn't be that long.
"About 20 minutes...?" Lucas whined and faked a sob.
Twenty minutes?! And that was the only damage he'd done?! With the piano-hands technique on the phone screen too? His screen was about to explode for a pinch of damage?
"Huh? Then how the hell were you barely able to damage it? This boss can't heal." My concern almost rolled out too naturally.
"Oh... Well...." Lucas shrugged sheepishly. "Well, don't bully me! I only have Faenikzha weapons on my guy! I'm purely a healer!!!"
"I... Dude. You need to have at least some offense." I emphasized by punching my own palm.
"But... Faenikzha is my favorite character...." Lucas pouted as he scrolled through the Faenikzha items he'd collected thus far. "The Gacha RNG hates me, so I spent more than half of my allowance on these! I should use them all the time."
I just stared at him in disbelief. Knowing Lucas, when he says half of his allowance, it means the price of my family's car—with insurance. He hasn't been playing for as long as me and he isn't competitive, so usually I don't bother him about it, but... purely a healer? While exploring alone...? Sounds like a death march, not gonna lie.
"I mean. I can't really tell you what to do but like... your life will be easier if you get offensive items." I threw out my hands in surrender. "It's just a game so have fun."
Lucas was about to something when our surroundings suddenly fell silent. We all turned to the table to see that Sasha, the President of the Student Council, had just entered the room. Just her presence fixed everyone's posture all at once. Her heels clacked as she walked across the room to stand in front, and with every step, I could feel the irregularity of my breathing intensify.
Sasha is the embodiment of charisma and intensity. Her posture is always straight; I have never seen her without her chin held high. Her movements are always fluid, which makes me wonder if she practiced traditional dance or ballet when she was younger. Her hair is pure raven, tied in a bun with her bangs gently framing her face. It might be because she's Student Council president, but her uniform is always ironed and wrinkle-free—even her blazer.
"Alright. Everyone, I've received the Principal's feedback on our proposals." Sasha nodded sharply. She handed off the pile of papers and let everyone take their piece before passing it to the next person.
"I've already put my comments in the notes on each page. Please don't hesitate to approach me if you have further questions." Sasha raised her signature light-blue sticky notepad. She then sat on her office chair and turned on her laptop to do her own work, presumably.
Lucas handed me our event proposal for Intramurals and it was full of red ink and blue sticky notes.
"The overall base is well-written; however, the details are quite vague. Try to describe your projects with quantity rather than adjectives so they'd be more understandable," was written in a delicate cursive in the note on the front page. The rest of the notes were suggested numbers for the supplies that we needed and the expected number of people needed per event.
"We barely need to do anything anymore. It's all here," I told Lucas, who was booting up his own laptop.
"Sasha is really sweet. She always knows how to support people," Lucas grinned widely. "She actually reminds me of Faenikzha sometimes!"
"Faenikzha?" I squinted hard. I mean, I guess they both have black hair, blue eyes, and a beauty mark under their left eye, but... Faenikzha wears a lot of ribbons and frilly clothes. Her hair is also always braided and sparkly... It's kinda hard for me to imagine Sasha in that light.
"Yeah.... I don't see it, dude," I sighed. "I think you're going crazy since it's been four months since the last Faenikzha event."
"While you may be the 7th best Reverie Mirage player globally, I am the number one Faenikzha fan in the entire galaxy!" Lucas said, awfully smug despite saying something really embarrassing. "Trust me. I'm the master of this."
"They have the same exact features; plus, she's really good at supporting everyone!" Lucas smiled as he swooned over his Faenikzha pencil case. "Who else is the best support? No one's better than Faenikzha!"
"Yeah, yeah. Sure." I just agreed with him. Whenever Lucas gets like this, he never stops talking. I took the laptop from him and started working on the revisions on my own. It's practically already written out for us, so I think I can finish it on my own.
"I really do wish we get another Faenikzha event; she just randomly disappeared after that Church Scene in the 'Heaven Calls' Event," Lucas sighed. "Like, okay, me missing Faenikzha is one thing but Panlias?! Dude. I just unlocked the event last night; he really jumped out of a window."
"I mean, I'd probably also do that too. This is Faenikzha we're talking about but...." Lucas let out a groan of frustration. "I don't know! I can't handle cliffhangers! Is the prophecy going to happen now? Don't tell me the devs just made Faenikzha disappear so Panlias could stay in the game! I know most people prefer playing DPS characters but COME ON."
"The prophecy says—" I was about to talk, then Lucas cut me off.
"On the Night of the 100th Blood Moon, the Chosen Child of Zesseyel would end the reign of Slebek in a land surrounded by the Holy Waters from the hand of Lord Teirnbat." Lucas recited the prophecy from memory.
"The event ended in a church," I reminded him. "The prophecy is stronger than any power, human or magic. They can't just get rid of Faenikzha like that."
Lucas played with the holographic effect of his Faenikzha pencil case and pouted. He let out a huge sigh and aggressively scratched his head.
"I miss Faenikzha!!! I'm gonna cry!!!!!" He cried out, burying his face into his hands.
As Lucas dramatically cried out for his favorite fictional character, I quickly accomplished our work on his laptop. It's an MMORPG— even if someone dies, their character will stay in the banners since they make money. I highly doubt they'd take Faenikzha out like this, especially since she's one of the main characters in the story. The story cannot go on without her.
But I won't tell Lucas any of that; it's a hassle to debate anyone about this. It's just a game. It isn't meant to be serious, nor is it meant to affect our daily lives.
With that thought, I finished our work while blocking out the small whines coming from the kid beside me.