The brisk afternoon air hit her skin as she stepped outside, but it did little to cool the storm raging in her mind.

  Takara’s thoughts raced, looping endlessly around Mr. 00’s words: “If he cannot speak up for himself, then perhaps that is his burden.”

  “Why did he have to be so cruel?” she thought, clutching her arms tightly around herself.

  She replayed the scene in her head—her outburst, the boy’s downcast face, the sneering bully. The weight of it all pressed down on her, and for a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  Her parents’ voices echoed in her mind, layering over her spiraling thoughts: “Takara, your emotions will get the better of you. Control yourself if you want to lead.”

  “I’m not good enough for this,” she thought, staring off into the view, the city’s bioluminescent lights starting to flicker to life. She felt small amidst the grand, glowing skyline, a stark contrast to the chaos within her.

  “Why did I have to go that far?” Her brow furrowed, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. “I could’ve just made my point calmly. Now I’ve probably made everything worse… Mr. 00 was harsh, but maybe he wasn’t wrong to call me out. Was I out of line?”

  The memory of her words—the venom in her voice, the mention of the truck—flashed in her mind like a cruel spotlight. “I shouldn’t have said that about the truck. What was I even thinking? It wasn’t just rude—it was unprofessional. What if someone tells my parents?”

  Her chest tightened. “If I can’t handle something like this, how will I ever survive the pressure of running a company? But… he deserved it, didn’t he? Her eyes closed for a brief moment.” Or… was it not my place?”

  The self-doubt spiraled further. “Why can’t I just stay composed like Mirai? He’d probably laugh this off and come out looking like the good guy. Instead, I just look… childish.”

  She leaned against a sleek, bioluminescent railing overlooking the school plaza, her breathing shallow.

  The lights of Freya sparkled like stars, their beauty dimmed by the storm in her heart. The tears she’d held back earlier finally slipped free, tracing silent trails down her cheeks.

  For a moment, the city’s hum surrounded her—the soft chatter of people in the distance, the faint buzz of the glowing lights. It was peaceful, but it felt so far away, disconnected from the turmoil inside her.

  “Hey,” someone said, stepping towards her, his hands in his pockets. You're not wrong, you know.”

  Takara stiffened, quickly wiping her face as Mirai stepped up beside her, his expression calm but his eyes betraying genuine concern.

  She didn’t turn to face him, the sting of her emotions still heavy in her chest. Her steps faltered for a brief moment, the words sinking in, but she still couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She felt exposed, vulnerable after everything she had just said.

  “How did you—”

  “You’re not exactly subtle when you’re upset,” he said, leaning casually against the railing. “Plus, I saw you bolt out of there like you were being chased by a mob boss.”

  She let out a shaky laugh, but it quickly turned into a sigh. “You shouldn’t have followed me. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, because running outside crying definitely screams ‘I’m fine,’ ” he quipped, his tone light but his eyes softening.

  He tilted his head, glancing out at the cityscape. “Wanna talk about it?”

  She hesitated, her grip tightening on the railing. “I don’t know… I just… I hate how people can be so cruel. Mr. 00 just stood there, acting like it didn’t matter. Like none of it mattered.”

  Mirai nodded slowly, letting her vent.

  “And what he said about me… about my parents…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. “It’s like no matter what I do, I’m always this… disappointment waiting to happen.”

  “Takara,” he said, his voice unusually firm. She turned to look at him, surprised.

  “You’re not a disappointment. Not to me, not to Sephoric, not to anyone who actually knows you. You stood up for someone who couldn’t stand up for themselves. That’s… rare. And honestly, kind of badass.”

  Her lips trembled as more tears welled up. “It didn’t fix anything, though. That boy is still miserable, and Mr. 00 just brushed it off like it was nothing.”

  “Maybe not,” he admitted. “But it’s not about fixing everything. Sometimes it’s just about doing the right thing, even if it feels small.”

  For a moment, they stood in silence, the hum of the city filling the space between them.

  “Why do you always know what to say?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Mirai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents. Who knew I was good at comforting distraught teammates.”

  She let out a small laugh, wiping her face again. “Thanks, Mirai. I needed that.”

  He leaned back slightly, his smirk softening into a reassuring grin. “No problem. Just don’t let Mr. 00 get in your head too much. He’s not the final boss, okay?”

  Her smile widened a bit, the tensioN slightly eased in her shoulders. “Yeah… okay.”

  As they turned to head back inside, Takara glanced at Mirai, feeling a small weight lift from her chest. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers yet, but at least she didn’t have to face it alone.

  The bell rang, echoing through the halls as students began to pour in, their voices blending with the crisp afternoon air. The hallways filled with a golden glow, patterns of sunlight rippling across the ground like slow-moving water, filtered through the innovative windows of Helios Interactive Academy.

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  A female student with jet-black hair and striking silver eyes strolled alongside a taller male student with sleek ash-brown hair. Both wore the academy’s signature crisp uniforms, all-black with subtle custom embroidery, accented by a sharp silver trim.

  As they stepped into the open plaza outside, the meticulous design of the Freya unfolded before them. Bioluminescent lights began to flicker on as the setting sun cast long shadows across the sleek pathways.

  Floating rays from nearby sky skyscrapers reflected off the glass buildings, while the ambient hum of drones maintaining the greenery created a tranquil backdrop.

  “I swear, if Mr. 01 drones on about ‘narrative immersion’ one more time, I’m going to throw my tablet out the window,” she grumbled, kicking a small rock across the plaza and watching it bounce into a perfectly manicured hedge.

  He adjusted his bag and glanced at her with an amused expression. “Ah, yes. Violence against inanimate objects. A proven cure for boredom.”

  “Oh, please.” she rolled her eyes. “I don’t even need that class. I already make more money than most of these instructors combined. Why waste my time?”

  “True,” he said, his voice calm but pointed. “But life isn’t just about what you’ve already achieved. It’s about—what do they call it—growth? Besides, earning money now doesn’t mean you’ll never want something different later.”

  “What, like sitting in an office and filing reports? Yeah, no thanks.” she shrugged, her tone sharp but not entirely dismissive. “I’ve got a good thing going: play games, win money, rinse, repeat. Why mess with it? The game we play is massive—it’s not going anywhere. FNL just got announced, we’ve got sponsors, and I can always stream.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Fair point. But have you thought about what happens when all of that isn’t enough? Sponsors come and go. Even the biggest games fade eventually. And streaming? It’s not exactly a retirement plan.”

  She let out a sigh, kicking another rock down the path. “Why do you always have to be so practical? Let me enjoy my success for once. You sound like my parents. ‘Oh, Saiya, what are you going to do with your future? You can’t play games forever.’ They should be grateful.”

  “And yet you’ve just admitted they might have a point,” he said with a smirk, earning a sharp side-eye from her.

  She crossed her arms. “You make it sound like I’m gonna fall off the map tomorrow. Besides, I’m not just some random player. We’re Sephoric. We pull views. We don’t fade out.”

  “I’m not trying to bring you down,” he replied. “That path is simple, sure. But is it fulfilling? That’s the question.”

  He paused, letting the thought linger before continuing. “We’re young, Saiya. We’ve got time to figure things out. But rushing to dismiss every opportunity might leave you without one when you need it most. Just remember: indecision is also a choice—and often not the best one.”

  “Blah, blah, blah, Issan. This is coming from the guy who’s practically married to his books,” she said, though there was a flicker of thoughtfulness in her expression.

  “Guilty as charged,” he said with a small smile. “But even I know the value of exploring options. After all, they’re not mutually exclusive.” He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “You could always keep gaming and use that excellent brain of yours for something more.”

  “Something more, huh?” she snorted. “Like what? Being a scholar like you? That’s not exactly my style.”

  His smile softened. “No, but the world doesn’t just need scholars. It needs people like you—leaders who can see the big picture. You don’t have to decide now, but don’t shut the door before you’ve even looked inside.”

  “You sound like one of those motivational holo-ads.” She smirked but sighed, her tone softening. “I get it, okay? You don’t have to play career counselor. But seriously—your scholar thing. What’s the end goal there? What do you even do as a scholar?”

  “Honestly?” he said, his tone contemplative. “I’d love to teach. Maybe even write. There’s something satisfying about uncovering knowledge and sharing it with others. It’s like solving a puzzle and showing people how all the pieces fit together.”

  “Huh.” she tilted her head slightly. “So basically, you want to live in a library and be everyone’s teacher.” She raised an eyebrow, though her teasing lacked any real bite. “Sounds like a snore-fest, but hey, if it makes you happy, knock yourself out.”

  “And here I thought you’d be supportive. Truly, my mistake,” he replied, his dry tone earning a laugh from Saiya.

  She kicked another rock forward, her silver eyes glinting in the light of the bioluminescent pathways. “You know I don’t do supportive. But I’ll let you know if I need a lecture on big-picture planning.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head as they continued toward the plaza, their conversation fading into the hum of the bustling city.

  She crossed her arms, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But don’t expect some big ‘you were right’ speech anytime soon.”

  Issan’s expression remained calm, a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll wait. Patience is one of my many virtues. Along with the hidden talent of tolerating you.”

  “Careful, scholar,” she warned, her smirk growing sharper. “My patience has limits.”

  “And yet mine knows no bounds.” he quipped back smoothly, earning a soft laugh from her as they continued toward the plaza.

  The air was crisp, and the city’s neon lights and bioluminescence were beginning to awaken, casting a soft glow that blended with the warm hues of sunlight filtering through the skyline.

  The gentle hum of activity in Freya provided a serene backdrop as Mirai sat alone on a sleek bench near a cascading fountain, his posture relaxed but his eyes distant, lost in thought.

  “Sun salutations, Mirai,” Issan greeted as he approached.

  “Yo,” he replied, giving a casual hand wave.

  “Aww, look at Mirai, sitting all alone with his imaginary friend,” her voice cut through the quiet moment, her words sharp but carrying a playful edge.”

  He smirked, leaning back lazily. “What can I say, my imaginary friends offer more support than you do, Saiya.”

  She grinned, crossing her arms. “Yeah? Well, without my support, you wouldn’t have made that parry, hmph. You're welcome.”

  A casual smile played on his lips, leaning forward with a casual shrug. “True, I couldn’t have done it without you. But hey, miracles do happen once in a while, right?”

  Her eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Keep talking, and your next miracle will be me not kicking your teeth in. Anyway—” she said as she scanned the surroundings.” Where’s Takara?”

  He hesitated, shaking his head slightly. “She got sent home early.”

  Both Issan and Saiya froze, identical expressions of disbelief crossing their faces.

  “Huh?” she blurted, her brow furrowing.

  “Wait, what?” Issan added, adjusting his glasses as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “Takara? Sent home early? That doesn’t sound quite right.”

  Saiya crossed her arms, her confusion quickly morphing into suspicion. “She’s like the last person I’d expect to get in trouble.”

  Mirai sighed, leaning back on the bench. “Let’s just say she had a… disagreement with Mr. 00. Things got heated.”

  “Oh, that guy,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

  Issan exchanged a quick glance with Saiya. “Define ‘heated,’ ” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

  “Enough for him to suggest her parents might want to ‘revisit her conduct,’ ” Mirai said, air-quoting the words with a grimace.

  Issan’s voice softened. “That doesn’t sound like her at all… maybe something more in line with Saiya, but she must’ve been really upset.”

  “I’ve never been sent home early though!” she shot back, her tone defensive but laced with intrigue.

  Mirai smirked slightly. “Guess Takara’s got you beat in that department now.”

  Saiya glared at him, but there was a flicker of concern in her silver eyes. “Sometimes I really hate you guys. But what did he even say to set her off?”

  “Something about burdens and talent,” Mirai replied, his tone losing its usual lightness. “She snapped, said some things that were… let’s just say, personal. I managed to talk to her afterward, though.”

  Issan tilted his head, slipping into a thinking pose. “I would hope this doesn’t result in her parents being notified. They are quite the… architects of expectation type.”

  “Nah, he let her off this time,” Mirai assured them. “You guys can ask her about it later if you want. She’s fine with it.”

  He stood, dusting off his pants as they started walking through the illuminated garden paths. The soft glow of bioluminescent plants cast shifting patterns across their steps, but the tension lingered.

  “Wait,” Saiya said, her tone unamused as she scanned the plaza. “Where’s Zenobia?”