Arden's POV
The next morning, the dorm buzzed with activity I hadn't noticed the day before.
Footsteps echoed against the marble floors. Voices murmured in quiet tones. I felt like a small fish in a tank already full of predators.
I tightened my grip on my bag and made my way to the main hall for our "first lessons."
Mira caught up with me. "Ready?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I said, though my voice felt tight.
"You'll need more than readiness," she said. "You'll need… awareness."
I frowned. "Awareness of what?"
She didn't answer. She just smiled faintly and kept walking.
The main hall was massive. High ceilings, polished floors, rows of students already seated. The higher-ranked ones watched the newcomers carefully, almost predatory.
I spotted Kian and Sylvie near the back. Mira waved them over.
We whispered quickly, leaning close.
"They pair you with seniors today," Mira said. "And not just for guidance. They're… testing you. See how you react under pressure."
I swallowed hard. "Testing? How?"
"Every move. Every word. Every glance. Even hesitation counts."
I nodded, feeling a chill crawl up my spine.
A tall senior approached me. Pale hair, gray eyes, an unreadable expression.
"Number 013," he said. "I'll be your partner for the exercises today. Don't embarrass yourself."
I felt my stomach twist. "I'll… try not to."
He smirked faintly. "Try is not enough here."
The first exercise was deceptively simple. Pair up and solve a series of logical problems under time constraints.
I glanced at him nervously. He didn't give hints. He didn't smile. Just watched me.
"Are you always this slow?" he asked casually when I hesitated on a question.
"Not usually," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
He raised an eyebrow, waiting.
I took a deep breath and solved the problem, forcing the calm I didn't feel.
He nodded, approving faintly. "Better. Keep it up."
Next came a physical challenge — coordination and agility.
I stumbled twice. Once too slow, once misjudged a step.
"Focus," he said. "The Game is more than knowledge. You survive by reading the room, reading the people, reading yourself. Pay attention."
I nodded. My heart pounded in my chest.
The Game, I thought. Already, it feels like life and death.
After the exercises, we returned to the courtyard.
Mira and Kian were waiting. Sylvie approached, looking nervous.
"You did… okay," she said. "Better than some, at least."
I exhaled shakily. "This is insane. I thought a school was supposed to teach… not terrify."
Mira shrugged. "Edelweiss isn't normal. Never has been. And don't expect it to ever be."
I glanced toward the fountain, where students of higher ranks laughed softly. Their numbers glimmered faintly in my memory. Rank I. Rank II. The Queen.
I didn't know why, but one name stuck in my head. Elaria Montclair — Rank I.
Back in Room 013, I sat on my bed, exhausted.
The words on the wall above my bed from last night haunted me: Learn the rules, or fail the game.
I ran my fingers over the faint red marks.
Who had written them? Why me?
I didn't have answers.
I pulled out my notebook and tried to write down everything I'd seen today. Every glance, every whisper, every subtle signal.
Mira's warnings. The senior's sharp eyes. The tension in the hall.
I wrote until my hand ached.
And then I stopped.
Because in the back of my mind, a thought whispered:
This is only the beginning.
The next day, things escalated.
A note slipped under my door, small and precise.
Follow the path to understand your place. West wing. Midnight.
I froze. My pulse quickened.
I should have ignored it. I should have thrown it away.
But curiosity — dangerous, foolish curiosity — won.
"Alright," I muttered. "If this is part of the Game… then I'll play. Carefully."
I waited until the halls were empty.
The moonlight spilled over the marble floors. Shadows danced. My footsteps echoed loudly.
The west wing was darker than I expected. Paintings of former students lined the walls. Their eyes seemed to follow me.
And then I saw it — numbers etched faintly on the floor, leading deeper into the corridor.
Follow them.
I did.
Every step felt heavier. My heart raced.
And at the end of the corridor, a single message appeared, written in the same red ink I'd seen before:
Observe. Adapt. Survive. Fail, and disappear.
I swallowed hard.
Edelweiss didn't just teach.
It controlled.
It measured.
It decided.
And I was at the bottom.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The echoes of footsteps. The whispers of the courtyard. The eyes of everyone who had glanced at me today.
I didn't know who was watching. I didn't know why.
But I understood one thing clearly:
The Game had begun.
And I wasn't going to lose.