✦ ✧ ✦
"My goodness, finally..."
I collapsed onto my bed, mentally resigned, a thin, weary smile on my face.
"Five-star badge... detention, drama performance, prom night..."
God, there are so many things to do.
So tiring... I'm dying.
The mental checklists shimmered in my mind as my body finally gave up, absorbed by the smoothness of this comfy, synthetic spring mattress.
My mind simply was never designed for this—or that's what I wanted to believe.
However, survival matters. I wouldn't let this opportunity slip, either.
The truth is, I was tired of becoming something I never wanted to be.
"Maybe there's something worth considering. Or doing."
And yes, I had been talking to myself.
Surprised? So was I.
Having a conversation with yourself is the most relaxing and energy-conserving activity there is.
By the way, deep down... I never cared about others' impressions of me.
But hey, I need to take care of myself sometimes, you know.
I glanced at my neuralphone.
I looked at the date flickering on my neuralphone:
[Ianuarius 19, Dies Lunae (Monday) 2099]
Ah, right... Aurelian calendar system, replacing Gregorian.
Stated to be outdated by class instructors.
Meh, not that I cared.
Back then, time flowed like a river—chaotic and deep.
But here? Here, time was a cage. Every month starts on a Monday.
Every month ends on a Saturday.
Yes.
Six-day cycle of endless, optimized labor.
Not only did they just colonize the city; but also the concept of Time itself.
However, the 12-hours format remains.
And now, it's 3 PM.
"Still afternoon... might as well just sleep."
My apathetic self was just too mentally checked out.
I commanded the blinds to shut, plunging the room into a soothing, artificial twilight. I closed my eyes, ready to surrender to the void.
Just as my consciousness began to drift, a sharp, digital chime pierced my skull.
Ping.
My brow twitched.
Ping. Ping.
"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered, my voice muffled by the pillow.
I didn't want to check it.
I really didn't.
But the haptic feedback in my neuralphone was buzzing against my temple like an angry hornet. Ignoring it would only result in a seizure—literally.
With a groan that scraped the bottom of my soul, I projected the screen onto the ceiling.
[NOTIFICATION: ADVANCED MAGICAL HIGH SCHOOL'S ANNOUNCEMENT]
[Subject: Drama Performance - Casting Call & Partner Selection]
[Priority: MANDATORY]
"Dear Student Mirielle Fatui Aveline, based on your current academic standings, Charm and Charisma aptitude, you have been enrolled for the lead antagonist role candidate in the upcoming semester production: 'The Fall of Cyber-Eden'."
I stared at the glowing blue text floating above me.
Lead antagonist?
Me?
I let out a dry, humorless laugh.
Of course. Who else with that villainous glare and terrible attitude?
But it was the next line that made my blood run cold.
"Note: To secure the Five Stars Badge criteria, all of lead roles must secure a partner of equal or higher S-Tier standing for the ballroom scene duet. Deadline for registration: Tomorrow, 08:00 AM."
Tomorrow.
8:00 AM.
Fuck!
And I needed an S-Tier partner.
My mind flashed back to the only person I had interacted with recently.
The one whose blood I wanted to suck.
Richard Agreste Mille.
Wait, no.
That would be weird!
He's a teacher. I can't dance with him.
And illegal. Definitely.
However, there's one extremely concerning issue:
I actually got no friends in this academy.
"So I need to find a student who is S-Tier, willing to dance with me, and available by tomorrow morning,"
I muttered, the exhaustion suddenly replaced by a cold, calculating distraction.
My apathy evaporated.
Sleep was no longer an option.
I sat up, the synthetic sheets sliding off me as I swiped the air to open my contacts list. It was depressingly short.
"Okay, Mirielle," I said to the empty room, channeling that narcissistic confidence that wasn't really mine.
"Time to see just how 'charming' you really are."
I tapped the first name on the list, chuckling to myself.
"Let the survival begin."
[ADRIEN]
The waiting tone was ringing like a choir—a synthetic, multi-layered harmony that vibrated directly against my auditory nerves.
It was the standard ringtone for Premium Tier neuralphone accounts.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the signal bars pulse in my peripheral vision.
This was it. My first attempt at an outgoing transmission since the "Awakening."
Yes, I just made it up so it would sound acceptable to me.
I disliked the idea of being thrown to another world, you know.
Anyway, I had to be careful.
In this world, even the length of time you let a phone ring is a data point for the Academy's neurosocial media algorithms.
Too short, and you're desperate.
Too long, and you're negligent.
Click.
The choir cut out, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence.
["What is it? Wanna beg for a dance?"]
Okay, pardon me? How confident...
I realized I was a bitch in the past, but this is just a little bit too much... especially for a bitch I used to be.
I took a breath, letting the silence stretch for one... two... three seconds.
Long enough to make him wonder if the connection had been dropped.
Long enough to kill his momentum.
My grip tightened on the phone, a surge of my body rising like a fever.
I closed my eyes, ignored Adrien's breathing on the other end, and initiated a meditation.
Back under the Kabbalah Tree, we called this The Stillness of the Void.
I visualized my soul as a translucent crystalline structure, separate from the biological "noise" of this body.
I slowed my pulse, forcing the adrenal glands to cease their fire. My heartbeat, once a frantic drum in this "cage of time," settled into a slow, rhythmic thrum.
One. Two. Three.
The irritation evaporated, leaving behind nothing but a cold, polished surface.
"A dance?" I finally spoke.
"Beg? Nope."
I said, my voice smooth and devoid of the 'bitchy' edge he was clearly expecting.
"Meh, I was simply checking to see if your neuralphone was still functional. Given your performance in the last tactical sim, I assumed you'd been disconnected from the network entirely."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
Guess I had hit a nerve.
["You..."] he hissed.
"Anyway," I continued, leaning back against the synthetic headboard.
"I'm looking for a partner for the Iunius drama performance. Someone who can follow a script without inflating their own ego. Are you capable enough, or should I just call someone in a higher order?"