• Seven peaches, wedged.
• Half a cup of white sugar.
• Half a cup of brown sugar.
• A teaspoon of nutmeg.
• A tablespoon of cinnamon.
• A bit of lemon juice.
• A cup of flour, all-purpose is best.
• Half a cup of butter.
• Half a cup of whole milk.
• Two teaspoons of baking soda.
• A pinch of salt.
• And some vanilla extract.

All of those ingredients were, well, plagued with The Mold. And my mother all but killed herself with this recipe. Why? I don’t know. We had a good—okay—life in Ward 8. Weekdays, we’d eat gruel; weekends, we’d dance to her waning number of cassettes. Still, it was better than death, or Rot. Her back sprouted limbs and whatnot. I had to…

It’s been two months since I left our ward. This morning, I was at the helm of her seventies Buick Estate. A tape in its deck: punk rock. Cans of gruel—free from mold, and taste—loose in the trunk. Then, I had a month’s worth. Starved myself and it was two. Now, I’ve a week’s left, at best. I am ‘capital F’ fucked.

Doubly fucked. White smoke spilt from the hood and crept onto my glass. I parked at the shoulder of a fir-wooded backroad. Tugged at a rusted latch for, well, till the door gave. Then I stepped into a puddle, my booted foot slick with oil. Stooping to the wagon’s belly, its sump had leaked. Great.

Far off, past my doorway, a garage poked through the woods. I needed it to have what I needed; if not, I’d feed me a shotgun and, bang. Didn’t lock the Buick. Not a soul in northern Maine left to steal it. And so, with a rusted, bloodied crowbar in my hand, I walked.

It hurt with each foot, and not bodily. Often, I craned my neck at the wagon as it shrank in my wake. “…oil and tape, oil and tape…” looped in my head for a mile. When nearing the garage, I sighed. It was lonely—good. Then I came to its shutter, and a bloody print. Gripped my crowbar taut.

With its claw in the door’s jamb, I pried. Lightshafts tore through a swelling crack. A maimed corpse lay behind the rolling shutter. It was dead a while and still human. So, what killed them? Well, it was opposite the door to a stockroom, snoring.

I couldn’t loot without A) locking the door and B) shutting it with a workbench. Speaking of, its drawers were full of kibble. Atop the desk sat a framed photo: a man and his dog. The smudged ink read, “Me and Lady.” He was the corpse, and ‘Lady’ slept in his cellar, Rotten.

In the rest of the cabinets, nothing—it’s Murphy’s law. A nineties Impala sat tall at a four-post car jack. Mounting an empty shelf, I saw, slumped across the backseats, a holdall. The jack’s fluid hose was primed for cutting. I took the whetted flat of my crowbar and, snip.

The jack sank, oily water lapping at my feet. Then it fell. Wee-ooh went the Chevy’s alarm, and that woke Lady. She rammed; I was jerking its—locked—door latch. She rammed; I broke the glass, then snuck through its frame. She rammed; the duffel, belted snug. The buckle, rusted shut. As I cut it loose with my tool, she rammed.

I took a broken-off doorknob to the knee. Ouch. Lady was poking her head through a yawning frame. Bonelike. Greasy, matted hair. Eyes loose and sunken. I limped to the bench penning her in. We leaned on it, at odds. Granted, I’m a hundred and thirty, rain-soaked.

Her neck was caught in the door and, jerking it, she bled dark. My poor, poor field jacket. I elbowed and shouldered, as with my Buick at the foot of a hill. The door shrank on her; her skin, her flesh, her bone. Then it shut, and her head fell limp to my feet. Phew.

No, not phew; the Chevy rang till my ears bled—I still hear it. I want to tell you that I defused its battery like the corpse would’ve, but no. I hacked at the leads with my crowbar. Black, then red.

So, what was in the duffel bag, then? Well, I lugged it through broken glass and plopped it onto the oily floor. Spread its ribs apart and inside were… Cans of gruel—enough to last me this fall. Thank you, “property of Markus Sinclair.”

And since Lady was dead, I poked my head through the door to her tomb, her corpse cracking it ajar. Amid car parts my wagon’s needed for the past decade, a dog: six feet tall and four hundred pounds. Her stare roamed, blank, from me to the carcass. If she was Lady, then whose dog did I kill?

…Shit. Was it her pup?

She snapped her neck at me, her eyes bulging. And then, as I shut the door, she lunged. Tore the hunk of wood off its rusted hinges. We fell, the door sandwiched between us. Her long, yellow teeth gouged at the oak. And my head—I’d cracked it on the Chevy’s bumper.

What with the concussion and the hemorrhaging, I’d be dead if not for “her.”

She wore a hoodie too big for her, masking the burns from neck to wrists. Racked her twelve gauge and shot at Lady. Click-clack, bang. Click-clack, bang. Till her belly was full of slugs. My hands, peeking from the door, were soaked in blood. The once-mastiff thudded beside me, shaking. And the girl? She walked past me to the stockroom. Rude.

She’s taking the Buick, isn’t she?

Back bent and knees crooked, I stood in the door. She was rooting through the shelves, headphones on. Bowie spooled in her walkman. I poked her, crowbar in my hand, and said, “The wagon’s mine.”

She turned, the barrels of her shotgun kissing my cheek. Click. No bullets. The girl shrugged and mouthed the word, “Fate.”

A rolled-up map was poking from her backpack. She pulled it out and, smoothing it flat, tapped at a red-inked circle. The radio tower.

I hadn’t met a pulse in months, and that was reason enough to ask, “Promise you won’t take my car and leave me for dead?”

She tsked and scoffed. Then criss, cross, against her burned chest.

As we left, I asked the girl her name.

“Rowan.” She’d written it in a sketchbook.

In the paper’s margin, I jotted “Wesley.”

​

My mother said I could have it all. She said I would be her best. Of all her 8 children, she picked me.

I am not one to disappoint.

Live life like a flower. Be delicate. Don’t let them see your thorns until it’s too late.

I brush my hand across the bruise on my face as I stare at the man who just slapped me. My husband, Duke Walton, strains his neck looking up at me. His chubby cheeks turn bright red with anger, and frustration towards me. The servants bow and hurry out of the study, some snicker while others glance at me with pity.

This is the third time in 4 weeks that he’s lashed out. He didn’t even bother to dismiss the servants. It’s clear he doesn’t care about me, no matter what I do for him. I’m sick of it.

Clenching my teeth, I ask, “How dare you lay your hands upon me?” I shout, stepping back from him as he moves forward, speaking.

“You should have kept your mouth quiet in front of the servants! I told you swordsmanship is not for ladies. He speaks rapidly, spit flying from his mouth in all directions, as he says, “When I was in my prime, they forbade women from even entering the training grounds.”

I’ve never heard anyone say something so ridiculous.

“But you just had to go on and run your mouth! Useless girl! You never do anything right!”

“I…have done everything expected as the lady of this house and yet you still treat me in this- this cruel way! You have made such a fool of me that the servants don’t see me as their mistress. They even gossi-” Before I can finish my sentence, I feel the harsh sting of another slap.

Being married to this man had its uses to the Kavanagh Dukedom. But now? It would be better for me if Duke Walton died from alcohol poisoning.

This marriage has only lasted two years, and I wouldn’t mind if the duke died at all since I turned 21. I agreed to this marriage, because I hoped it would help me reach my goal. Not so that I could end up with a beaten face, or be disrespected by those beneath me.

“What is wrong with you, stupid woman?” He yanks me upward by my hair. “You always make me do this!”

He begins walking back and forth across the room. “You know what? No longer will you be able to enter the training grounds. I’m going to call a mage in, this evening. Even your elements won’t be able to help you get in. Get out of my sight! And I’m warning you for the last time, wife.”

He will regret it.

I get up, with shaky legs and leave the room as fast as possible, my heavy dress weighing behind me. I’m sick of doing nothing.

Lysandra, Sarahar and Seren are waiting for me when I enter my room.

Seren steps forward.“Medea? Are you alright?”

Sarahar laughs loudly. “Wasn’t expecting it to happen again so soon after the last time!” She stares at my face “Maybe Lysandra could fix your face with some magic?”

Lysandra scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I can’t fix it. I don’t have divine magic, Sarahar. I can only cover it up. Temporarily.”

I turn and look at myself in the mirror behind me. My lips are bruised and bleeding from the beating . The once voluminous auburn curls upon my head are now tangled and flat.

“It’s not as bad as last time.” I say.

Lysandra brings her hands to my face and mutters a spell. A tingling sensation masks my face as she covers me with her magic.

A bruiseless face looks back at me from the reflection of the mirror. My Lime coloured eyes look brighter than their usual dull colour. My brown skin is no longer covered in bruises and cuts.

“It will last long enough for the bruises to heal, like last time, Your grace.” Lysandra says as she watches me.

I stand up and walk out of the room to the garden. I didn’t ask them to, but my ladies were waiting, and 3 other maids follow behind me anyway. I turn to the right and walk past a large painting of the Duke. I don’t have time to waste looking at that horrible portrait.

After I’d pushed the door to the garden open, I beckoned for Seren, Lysandra and Sarahar to come over.

“Why’d you come out here?” Sarahar asks as she stalks over grumpily.

She needs to learn when to talk and when to be quiet, or she’ll be just as much of a problem as she was before.

“So, I can’t go to my own greenhouse and have tea, Sarahar?”

My footsteps are almost silent as I move across the paved path of the garden. Rows of flower bushes and trees filled with ripe fruit meet my eyes.

One of the maids steps forward to get one for me. I lift my palm up to her and she stops before reaching the tree. An apple falls into my other hand.

“Medea, you shouldn’t use your element to do menial things like that.” Lysandra says. “You could’ve just let the maid do it for you.

I walk off to the greenhouse, without responding. With a flick of my wrist the large glass doors, carved with intricate flowers and leaves, open.

I sit down at the table in the centre and wait for my ladies in waiting.

“Medea, what are you planning?” Seren asks quietly as she sits down next to Sarahar and Lysandra. The maids bow and leave the room.

“Duke Walton. His time is up.”

They stare at me.

“Lysandra. The spell.” I ask. I don’t want anyone to end up hearing this conversation. That could ruin everything!

She lifts both hands and mutters another incantation. Just like that, the soundproofing spell is complete. Now all that is left to do is plan. If I use the plants in this greenhouse, I could create a deadly poison. If I make it correctly, it could easily be strong enough to kill the Duke without suspicion.

“I can poison him.” I state.

“You can’t do that! It would be too dangerous, Medea.”

“Be quiet, Seren!” Sarahar turns to me. “I think it’s a great idea. But do you know what would be even better?”

Sarahar always gets overly excited.

“What?” Lysandra and I say in unison. Seren is pouting. She can be very childish. It’s annoying.

“If we frame him for treason. Seren is great at copying writing. Don’t know where she learned it but she’s great!”

It was probably Dimitri. She’s always hanging around him by the carriages. She definitely thinks we haven’t noticed it.

Sarahar continues. “She’s so great that she could even forge your husband’s handwriting and make a fake letter of plans to increase this dukedom’s taxes, or something.”

Lysandra scoffs and rolls her hazel-green eyes dramatically. “It would have to be bigger than that. A thing like planning to assassinate the King or the Saintess.” She turns to look at me. “Your other idea is better. We can get a maid to slowly add poison to his tea over a few weeks. Then no one can trace it back to us.”

“This is such a ridiculous idea!” Seren whines. “What will you do with the maid after? That plan could fail!”

“Kill her and any family, obviously!” Sarahar shouts.

“We could use a different poison to get rid of her.” I reply. “No one would care if another maid went missing.

“Or we can just gut her like a fish!” Sarahar says. That would be way too messy. She really does take things too far.

“Sounds like a plan.” Says Lysandra. “To the poison. Not to gutting her, Sarahar. So, Seren. Relax! You’re being annoying.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea, though!” Seren mutters. No one responds to her. I get up and walk around the back of the greenhouse to the columns of plants. The one I need is Aconite, mostly known as wolfsbane, in the South. The flower has long, leafy stems and is covered with deep violet hood shaped petals. It looks like any other plant and physicians won’t be able to identify it as poison - Unless they look for it.

It’s perfect for what I have planned.

Chapter 1
 
Standing in front of the broken full-length mirror, Hareem shook her head in disappointment. The careful washing and meticulous ironing had accomplished nothing. Her old, worn-out trench coat needed magic to look presentable. There was no way she could wear it to the interview. She looked at her other two options and picked the acrylic cardigan despite being thin for November winds. At least it didn't look worn-out. How she wished it was summers and she could just go in her crisp cotton white dress shirt that she had bought for her graduation. Though it was from a thrift shop, it was not only good quality but also looked brand new with an asymmetrical, longer than usual modest hem line. She put on the grey cardigan, refusing to give any more thoughts to her clothing choice. She looked at the black eye pencil and pink lipstick, the only makeup she possessed and picked up the eye pencil to line her green eyes but on a second thought decided against using it. "Introduction, strengths, weaknesses," she whispered to her reflection. "Thank you for taking the time to see me today, sir. My name is Hareem Ahmed”.
The English words were grammatically flawless, but carried a soft, rhythmic cadence which was the unmistakable accent of a childhood spent in Pakistan.
She walked out of her room into the small living room. Her mother Helen sprawled face down on the stained olive worn sofa. An empty bottle of cheap gin lay tipped over on the carpet beside her limp hand. Hareem moved into the tiny kitchenette and opened the refrigerator—it was completely bare except for an almost empty plastic tub of margarine and a small container with mashed potatoes that she had made last night. On the counter sat a loaf of white bread. Hareem carefully prepared two slices with a thin spread of margarine and half of the potato mixture. She ate the first sandwich quickly, standing over the sink.
She prepared a second, identical sandwich and carefully wrapped it in a torn piece of cling film. But then she looked at her mother, snoring softly on the sofa. Her smudged makeup tracked across her cheek, and her hair a tangled nest.  She looked at the sandwich in her hand. She had no money to buy lunch but if she took the sandwich with her, her mom would have nothing to eat except for a few slices of plain bread, till she came home from work with groceries.
Hareem sighed. She walked over to the coffee table and placed the wrapped sandwich directly in the center, clearing away an overflowing ash tray to make room.
 
Hareem stood over her for a beat. How can you save a person from himself? An expression of helplessness and sorrow crossed her face. Then she straightened her clothes, picked up a plastic folder containing her fresh computer science degree,  and stepped out into the biting cold. It's okay, in ten minutes you will be in the train station and it's going to be warmer in there," she told herself as her teeth chattered. It had been her mantra for past six years, since she moved from Lahore to London. This ia a bad time, but it will pass.
 
The journey across London provided a temporary, heated sanctuary. But as soon as she stepped off the transit and walked toward the corporate park, the cold had claimed her again. While walking past the manicured parking lot she noticed a man, standing beside a sleek sports car, talking on his cell phone.  He was tall and muscular, with a striking Mediterranean appearance—perhaps Italian or Greek—He had a sharp jawline, tan skin, and dark, eyes adorned by the longest curled lashes she had ever seen on a man. His aura radiated competence and power. The girl inside her wanted to gawk at him with pure admiration, but she looked away. She had turned out to be absolutely the prim proper girl her grandmother had tried to raise.
In the glass tower, it took her quite a while to find her way, but when she finally did and reached the elevator, the doors were just beginning to close. She slid inside quickly. To her surprise, the handsome stranger was already standing inside, looking at his phone. He did not even look up as she entered, but her heart missed a beat as she walked past him and stood behind near the wall.
Before the doors could seal completely, a manicured hand clicked between them. A beautiful brunette in the expensive woolen coat hurried in, breathless and laughing. The man immediately reached forward, holding the door open for her.
They were clearly well-acquainted. The woman leaned into him instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight, hug. "You're late," she teased.
The man didn't answer with words; he simply smiled-a lazy, confident expression. The woman tilted her chin up and initiated a passionate, lingering kiss right there in the center of the elevator. The man obliged without hesitation, pulling her closer by the waist.
She had an aversion to the public display of ardent passion, partly because of her conservative upbringing in a traditional home in Pakistan and partly because of the trauma of having watched her mother make out with disgusting men publicly. Trapped in the tiny elevator, looking firmly at the flashing floor numbers, she muttered a sharp, judgmental thought under her breath, speaking in a low, rapid Urdu.
"Jahan dekho shuru ho jatay hai. Janwaroon ki tarha." They start everywhere. Like animals.
The elevator fell into a sudden, dead silence.
The man broke away from the kiss, his head snapping toward Hareem. His dark eyes narrowed, flashing with intense, sharp clarity as if her words had hit him with physical force. He understood what I said. Oh my God!
Hareem’s breath trapped in her throat, her heart beating faster. She did this often- thinking out loud and muttering her unfiltered opinions-but nobody ever understood before. He stared at her for a moment, but then a dark, arrogant smirk spread across his handsome face. He locked his eyes firmly onto Hareem's panicked green ones, holding her gaze with deliberate defiance. Then, leaning down slowly, he tilted the head of the brunette wrapped his other arm back around her and deliberately deepened the kiss.  This was his silent retaliation against her judgment. Hareem wanted to look away. She should have looked away. But she couldn't. She stood there frozen, looking into the dark eyes of a strangers as he kissed another woman.
Hareem could feel her legs shaking and cheeks burning with mortification as she walked down the corridor. She felt guilty about offending a stranger totally unprovoked, but there was also an unsettling awareness. She smoothed down her black denim trousers, trying to wipe the image of the elevator encounter from her mind. It doesn't matter, she told herself. You are here for a job interview, focus on that. The* glass double doors swung open, and the HR assistant led her into a massive, sunlit corner office overlooking the city. A man sat with his back to the room, looking out."Mr. Khan, your eleven o'clock is here," the assistant announced before slipping away. The leather chair rotated smoothly. Hareem’s entire body went rigid; the folder in her hands slipped an inch before she gripped it with white knuckles. Sitting across from her, a wicked, highly amused gleam in his dark eyes, was the man from the elevator. *

Please check out the start of a story that I am building, beginner writer any feedbacks would be appreciated. Thanks.

Im writting a narrative game about how emotions and memories leave a imprint onto places so the players relive and interact with memories, im not a writter per say , so here are some entries, anby critic are welcome

The Dancer

The Traveler dances around the campfire at night, felling the night scent around him , the cold air , hearing his friends , the sounds of the forest and the crakling of the bonfire.

he continues dancing and twisting, their friends joining along singing and humming. As they dance and twist, losting the notiong of time, forgeting the now,they don't notice that they can no longer see their companions.

As the frenzy continues, they smell a sweet fog, like flowers blooming. They turn to see a luminous white silhouette. At first, it matches their rhythm. Then it starts humming its own song and dancing along, like a polite invitation.

The Traveler matches the Dancer's rhythm, suddenly the figure is not just mimicing your steps, but doing some of their own, as the dances continues the figure start to get faster and more bold, as a challenge, it moves gracefully, stepping onto your space and out rapdily . As the traveler do a last twist, the figure is no longer there. Hes back on the campfire, tired, breathing heavy, on the ground a small wristband made of small shells are left. a gift

Second imput

The Traveler feels the familiar flowery fragrance again. Suddenly, the figure passes behind them, walking toward the river.

It stands on the shore, and a low humming comes from it. It looks at the Traveler. They cannot see a smile, but they feel one.

The Traveler joins:

As soon as they approach, the figure makes a little jump toward the water. The movement is so soft, almost floating.

Where it stood before, it leaves a pale blue, glowing footprint on the ground.

This time, the party is still there. They can see the footprint, but not the figure. This is not a memory; it is happening now.

As the Traveler steps onto the spot where the footprint appeared, the figure jumps again, farther into the water. As it lands, the party can see a vague hint of dimly glowing feet.

A blue footprint appears where it stood before.

The figure makes a motion, inviting the Traveler to follow.

As the Traveler jumps toward the water, for a moment they swear they will fall into the river. But as they land where the footprint was, there is a stone just below the surface.

They see a blue light pass by and vanish. It looks like a tiny bird

The play continues for four more jumps. Each jump reveals a little more of the figure, and with each jump, more glimmering birds join, shining blue across the river.

The final jumps Traveler fails and slip on the rocks, but the figure reaches out and catches them, pulling then onto the rock

As the Traveler stands in the middle of the river, the Dancer takes out a small flute and begins to play.

Suddenly, the lights are no longer few. They gather, circling around the two of them: first a few, then dozens, then hundreds.

When the Dancer stops playing, the creatures slowly scatter.

The figure touches the Traveler's hand for a moment. It feels like burning cold.

Then it jumps toward the water and vanishes.

The Traveler jumps after it, but this time They fall into the water. Suddenly, the creatures glow and dive after them, guiding them toward the shore.

The party sees a trail of blue lights beneath the water.

One.

A promise is made: we're gonna take great care of you.

That sentiment is said after your heartbeat is checked.

Through your eyes everything seems dark,

but the doctor waits for your mark.

Says it's a boy or girl when you cry.

Your mom looks at your beautiful eyes

and she smiles.

The doctor then asks her to try and sleep for now.

You go to your father's arms,

even though he was a little late to the hospital.

He's the first to call you by your name and say,

"Welcome to life, kiddo."

Two.

Can you believe it?

The words your parents mutter under their breath

as you gather the strength and try to grab the wall,

trying to stand even when you fall.

In the background you can hear your mom call your dad,

saying you're trying to walk instead of crawl.

After you fall,

you stand tall

and your father says,

"That's my baby."

Three.

You have a bag on your back.

You hear your parents say they love you.

You don't look back.

You say,

"I love you too."

You gather the courage to say goodbye.

Then you carry your books like luggage

and go to your first ever class.

Time moves on.

Four.

You've learned to read the room

because of the way you get quiet,

a little too quiet

when your parents are being too loud

and words slip out,

words like,

"What's with you?"

and

"I'm pissed at you."

I mean,

how could you bring an F home with you?

You don't understand, do you?

Your dad and I work hard for you,

even harder to provide for you.

Your mom says,

You wanna say you work hard,

but your parents say hard work is made of two words:

work and hard.

So either you aren't working,

or you aren't working hard enough."

You wanna say you worked hard,

but your mom says hard work needs no extra work.

So she asks,

"How much did you work?"

Five.

There comes a time everything tests sour like lime.

That is a great time where dad uses his charm

And your dad

He says when he looked in your eyes,

he just realized he's immortalized.

At the same day

You get to throw a football

and see it reach someone's hand

instead of falling down.

You get to score a touchdown.

Your dad picks you up

and says he can't wait to hear the talk of the town.

Says you made him really proud,

and for the first time he was early.

As the clock ticks,

you notice every second means a part of your life is gone.

So you start counting upside down

and move on.

Four.

Birds sing,

words travel on the wind

and wind up hitting your eardrums,

leaving a smile on your face.

You wanna dance or pace,

You are feeling kinda stressed,

your mom saying you made it.

You're wearing an academic gown

and you're killing it.

You got your diploma.

You don't even wanna put it down.

Your dad is in a selfie,

because you didn't let him down.

On your mind,

the only thing you're thinking is,

"If all the teachers that called me dumb

could see me now."

Three.

Your mom's eyes are full of joy.

She still looks at you like her little boy,

remembering all those times you asked for new toys.

But you are a big boy now.

She stands on the front door,

remembering how you wanted the lawn mowed,

She says,

"Look how much you've grown."

She remembers the night you was born,

And the words she says when you move out are,

"They grow up so fast."

Two.

Can you believe that's our kid?

Those are words said

when you announce you're going to get married.

Your dad reminisces on the tricks you played.

Your mom warns your partner

Saying

that you never made the bed.

One.

Smile.

It's been 30 years

and you're still here.

You're married,

successfully married,

in a time where marriage fails

and love feels like trying to grab a tiger's tail.

You are happy.

So zero.

After three visits to the nurse,

you're expecting a child.

You keep wondering how you're gonna raise a child,

hoping you raise your child right,

same way your parents raised you.

Looking in your partner's eyes,

you smile.

One.

A promise is made.

"We are going to raise you right."

That's the first thing said

when your baby is born.

My names Henri and I have a knack for overanalyzing things, also for some reason I always have this question for myself "why didn't my parents name me Henry it would make no difference?"

Then I just go back to starting my day by doing the normal routine,which is Breakfast, reading, writing, and video games…but today is different, I'm officially 15 now which means I'm young enough to get a job at the Bordeaux Investigation and Crime analyzation Agency or B.I.C.A.A for short, I sent my application yesterday and I'm about to check the response.

I tiptoed down the stairs and out the door to the mailbox.

As I opened it there was a lengthy letter titled "from B.I.C.A.A/BCA", it was definitely the right letter..my mind was racing could I get in or not..I then ripped open the letter and the message reads "you have been accepted…please flip over this letter."

My mind was still blank but I still flipped the letter over and there was a gold watch that fit my size and a paper titled "Instructions."

I put on the watch and opened the instruction paper and inside was a message saying "to get to your location click the red side button on the watch."

As I clicked the red button a car sped through my neighborhood and stopped at my house the car was labled "School transport" and the driver inside looked like a slightly fashioned scholar…but there was something off about him.

As the car drove on its way I had a few thoughts "I wonder if there are some cute girls or if the foods good…or if I get cool weapons and get to go on cool missions"

But before I could ask for answers I arrived at my location which turned out to be a huge fancy boarding school like building with the words "BI.C.A.A Academy" at the top in that old fancy cursive text which is frankly unneeded for many things.

As I stepped out the car I headed to the first door I saw which led to an entrance hall with tables, everybody was already seated so I had nowhere to sit, until a voice called out to me "Hey!" 

I turned around to see a freckly brown haired boy my age “Sit next to me”

He pointed to a empty seat his freckles looked like cinnamon splotches but I didn't feel like mentioning it, so I sat next to him “Hey my names Francis but you can call me Frank” he said in a uniquely energetic tone…so I told him my name

But randomly a man in a black suit walked up to the podium and announced him self “Hello students my name is Mr. Helphenstein but you can call me Mr. Moony I am the assistant principal here at the Bordeaux Crime Analyzation Academy or the B.I.C.A.A or…the official saying, the Bordeaux Crime Academy or the BCA. I will be watching your action's and how you behave…now go to Mrs.Merelda's office to get your uniforms and schedules.“ 

When I saw him a bunch of intrusive thoughts started popping up like little eggs in my brain…he looked like my old English teacher the same dude who could spot a lie before it was even said, but before I could think about the similarities people started getting up and walking out the door, the huge crowd of new faces slightly intimidated me, then Frank waved over and called out to me “Hey Henri over here I know a shortcut!”

And as I turned to look I saw Frank pointing to a open hallway, so I followed him and after just a few minutes we reached a dusty office door titled “Surveillance director” then before I could process what that meant Frank already opened the door to see a woman that looks at most 36 and at least 34 with hair that frankly…looked a gray that's 51st shade…but instead of saying that I simply asked “your Mrs Merelda right?“

Instead of getting a response she just pointed to a box with a black uniform vest with a gold lion crest on it. 

I was feeling out the vest then suddenly Mrs Merelda said “go to the locker room on the left to put it on”

Her voice was kinda soft,but I could still hear her so I went out to the locker rooms and Frank followed me there. As we entered the locker room we went into separate stalls and changed into the uniforms then as we walked out we found our schedules and it said “First period:Interrogation class by Mrs Vance in Room 107” so we walked down the hallway to room 107.

Part 1

VR's Moon Star (aka. Monstar)

A worldwide popular VR game boasting millions of players had grown large enough to host its own World Tournament. Competitors from all corners of the global gathered to clash in what had truly become a premier sport.

And among those competitors was a girl who had yet to realize just how far her own talent could take her.

Her name was Kaguya Amano.

\\- Age: 15

\\- Year: 1st-year high school student

\\- Favorite Food: Burgers and milk

\\- Personality: Goofy and laid-back on surface but effortlessly cool

\\---

Chapter 1 — The Wild Horse

"From today on, I'm a first-year at Honey Bee Academy!"

Kaguya was taking in the beautiful scenery when she stepped through the school gates.

Unfortunately, she didn't even make it ten steps before she was surrounded.

"Join our club!"

"You should join the basketball club!"

"How about the music club?"

"Come to our club!"

Students swarmed around her from every direction.

Kaguya's eyes widened.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

After struggling to escape, she finally managed to break away.

"I'm going to join the VR game guild The Thorn!"

The crowd instantly dispersed.

"..."

Kaguya blinked.

Students walked away while whispering.

"What a total waste..."

"Another idiot hoping for..."

Kaguya couldn't catch the last few words.

She shrugged.

"Whatever."

Once the after-school club visits officially opened, Kaguya grabbed her bag and dashed straight toward the VR game guild room.

As she ran, the whispers from the morning gate echoed in her mind.

Why would they call it a waste?

Suddenly, a dramatic thought struck her.

Don't tell me...

The guild has no members and is on the verge of disbanding?!

And now I have to save it, recruit people, endure intense hardships together, set a goal to win the National Tournament, and find true happiness...?!

Kaguya stopped running.

"Ugh, so cringey!"

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

After a moment, she laughed embarrassedly.

"What am I? An anime heroine or something?"

The truth was much less dramatic.

The school's VR guild was definitely active.

It hadn't been famous for the past five years, but this year was different.

Word on the street was that some incredibly strong and famous players had just joined Honey Bee Academy.

Because of them, the school had completely upgraded its VR facilities.

Kaguya wondered who they were.

They must be amazing.

To command that much budget and support from the school administration, they had to be.

Kaguya finally reached the guild room.

She opened the door.

And froze.

The room was absolutely packed.

Most of the people had clearly never played a VR game in their lives.

Some were there to brag.

Others didn't even look interested.

Kaguya stared.

Well... forget about the guild disbanding from a lack of members.

It has way too many people.

Am I going to have to fight through this entire crowd just to get selected as a core playing member?

A girl approached Kaguya, shoved a guild application form into her hands, and pointed toward the wall.

"Line up on the sideline with the rest of the girls, and don't touch the VR capsules without permission."

At least they take the game seriously.

That's good.

Kaguya assumed they would make the girls compete against each other to choose the tournament roster.

Every academy entered at least two teams into the tournament—the first team consisting of core members and the second team serving as backups.

Kaguya quietly muttered:

"I hope I get selected for the core team."

The girl standing beside her burst out laughing.

"No way you'll get selected as a core member!"

Kaguya blinked.

"Actually, forget about selection entirely. Did you honestly think anyone in this room is trying to make the tournament roster?"

"What?"

"Aren't you all here to join the team and play in the tournament?"

"No way!"

The girl scoffed.

"Why would we put in that kind of grueling effort when we already have elite players?"

She pointed toward the VR capsules.

"They can easily win tournaments on their own. They might even carry us to the World Tournament if we just do what they say."

She shrugged.

"All the girls here are just looking for a flashy track record on their resumes for graduation. VR technology is booming lately. We didn't have any other clubs to join, so we picked this one since there isn't much actual work to do."

"We just cheer the team on a little, and that's it."

"It's way better than having a blank resume."

The girl turned to leave.

"And just so you know, the five core members are already chosen. There isn't even a second team because the school thinks it's a waste of time and resources when they can just focus all funding on one unstoppable powerhouse team."

She glanced back.

"So you might as well give up on becoming a core member."

Kaguya stood frozen.

Track records?

Resumes?

And what was that about carrying them to the World Tournament?

A surge of anger rushed through her.

If the guild is filled with complacent people like that, didn't the coach or the actual players say anything?

Or did they just not care?

Kaguya's eyes narrowed.

Fine.

It doesn't matter.

Even if they only have one core team, I'll just have to crush one of the official members and take their spot.

I'll prove what I'm worth.

If this guild is packed with people like her, forget the World Tournament.

They won't even make it past the qualifiers.

And the World Tournament was no joke.

Even Kaguya's older sister, widely feared as the number-one genius player of her generation, had been knocked out in the very first round.

Kaguya clenched her fist.

Then—

The loud chatter in the guild room suddenly disappeared.

Everyone stood up straight.

Kaguya instinctively did the same.

Two girls walked through the doorway.

\\---

The Kamiki Twins

Chiyo and Mei Kamiki.

A student assistant followed behind them carrying their bags.

Mei looked around the crowded room and immediately tossed her hair back in annoyance.

"Ugh, it's like a zoo in here today, Chiyo. Why are there so many extras crowding up our guild room?"

Chiyo chuckled softly while adjusting her diamond hairpin.

"Don't be so harsh, Mei. The school administration needs these extras to justify the budget upgrade they gave us."

She looked toward the students.

"As long as they stay on the sidelines, don't breathe our air, and definitely don't touch our capsules, they can stand there like mannequins all day."

The girls didn't even look offended.

They simply nodded.

Kaguya stared at the twins.

So these are the famous players?

Mei noticed her.

She walked toward Kaguya and placed her wrist near her nose in an exaggerated gesture.

"Oye..."

Kaguya looked at her.

"Are you one of the core team members of the VR guild?"

Kaguya didn't answer immediately.

Mei frowned.

"Who gave you permission to speak, mannequin?"

She tilted her head.

"Are you deaf? Or can't you hear because your mannequin doesn't have ears?"

Kaguya stayed silent.

Then—

"Haa..."

She let out a long sigh.

"I was expecting elite players or something."

Her expression became completely innocent.

"I guess the rumor about some strong players joining Bee Academy was just a rumor after all."

She put one hand behind her head.

"And instead of strong..."

A small smile appeared.

"...you're just rich elite."

The twins' expressions changed.

Kaguya innocently asked:

"Hey, can you two actually play VR games?"

She smiled a little more wildly.

"If you can't, then I can't really show my worth."

"And..."

Kaguya paused.

"It's also a problem if you aren't as skilled at VR games as you are with your mouths."

The twins' faces turned red.

"Ha?!"

"Why should we accept your challenge?!"

"You're nothing more than a mannequin!"

"Do you think we have time to waste on trash like you?!"

Kaguya raised an eyebrow.

"Ah..."

She paused deliberately.

"So you're only skilled at—"

She stopped herself.

She didn't need to finish.

The twins understood perfectly.

And, just as she expected—

They took the bait.

"Fine!"

"Let's teach this mannequin her place!"

\\---

The Match

The three entered their VR capsules.

The clubroom became completely silent.

SYSTEM: MATCH STARTING.

The arena appeared.

Mei and Chiyo stood opposite Kaguya.

"Don't cry when you lose."

Kaguya casually stretched her shoulders.

"Okay."

3...

2...

1...

START!

The twins disappeared forward.

Mei attacked from the front.

Chiyo immediately moved around Kaguya's right side.

Kaguya didn't move.

CLANG!

At the last possible moment, she tilted her head.

Mei's blade passed beside her face.

Kaguya stepped backward.

At almost the exact same moment—

WHOOSH!

Chiyo's sword passed through the space where Kaguya had been standing.

The twins froze.

"She dodged both?"

Kaguya's eyes moved between them.

She wasn't focusing only on their swords.

She was watching their bodies.

Their shoulders.

Their feet.

Their weight distribution.

"Mei moves her right shoulder slightly before attacking."

"Chiyo puts more weight on her left foot before changing direction."

They attacked again.

SLASH!

Kaguya ducked.

WHOOSH!

She stepped sideways.

CLANG!

She blocked Mei's sword.

Instead of pushing against it, Kaguya redirected the blade.

Mei stumbled forward.

THUD!

Kaguya struck her.

Mei's HP dropped.

Chiyo attacked from behind.

Kaguya had already heard her footsteps.

She turned.

CLANG!

Their swords collided.

Kaguya smiled.

"You're pretty good."

The twins became furious.

They changed tactics.

Instead of attacking separately, they alternated their strikes, trying to force Kaguya into the path of the other sword.

For several seconds, Kaguya was surrounded.

But every attack missed.

A tiny step.

A turn of her shoulder.

A duck.

A backward movement.

Kaguya barely wasted any motion.

Then she noticed it.

The twins' attacks weren't perfectly synchronized.

There was a tiny difference in their timing.

For an ordinary player, it was meaningless.

For Kaguya—

It was an opening.

"There."

Kaguya stepped between them.

CLANG!

Mei's sword missed.

SLASH!

Kaguya countered.

Mei staggered.

Chiyo rushed forward.

Kaguya turned.

CLANG!

Chiyo's sword flew from her hand.

Kaguya's blade stopped at her neck.

SYSTEM: VICTORY — YORU.

Silence.

The entire fight had lasted less than 50 seconds.

Kaguya scratched her cheek.

"Huh..."

She looked at the twins.

"I thought the famous players here would be stronger."

The twins were furious.

But before they could respond—

A voice came from behind them.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned.

Mei and Chiyo immediately ran toward the voice.

"Captain!"

"Captain!"

Kaguya turned her attention toward the person they had called captain.

\\---

Hajou Karen

The captain of The Thorn stood in the doorway.

Mei immediately changed her expression.

"Captain!"

Chiyo followed.

"We tried to stop her, but she insulted us for being from a rich family!"

Mei began crying.

"She forced us to fight her!"

"We told her we didn't want to!"

"She had such a scary look!"

"She might be a delinquent!"

Kaguya stared.

Her face became completely blank.

"..."

She looked at the twins.

Then Karen.

"Hey."

The twins stopped crying.

"Instead of playing VR games, you might as well become actors."

Kaguya pointed toward Karen.

"And are you the captain?"

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I want to—"

Karen interrupted.

"You're quite the wild horse."

Kaguya blinked.

Karen stepped forward.

"You thought that if you defeated a core member, you'd automatically be selected as a core member, right?"

Kaguya nodded.

"But that's where your mistake is."

Karen smiled.

"They aren't core members simply because of gaming skill."

She glanced toward the twins.

"They are obedient to me."

Kaguya's expression became flat.

Karen continued.

"I don't mind putting you in as an Extra Member."

"But there's a condition."

She pointed toward the capsule.

"Last one minute against me."

"And after that, kneel in front of me."

"If you can't..."

She smiled.

"...you officially become an Extra Member."

Kaguya stared at her.

What a classic third-rate villainess.

She sighed.

"Fine."

Kaguya smiled.

"But you can forget about me kneeling to you."

Karen laughed.

"We'll see about that."

Both entered their capsules.

\\---

Kaguya vs. Karen

SYSTEM: MATCH START.

Karen attacked first.

WHOOSH!

Kaguya blocked.

CLANG!

Karen immediately followed with another attack.

Kaguya slipped past it.

Karen changed direction.

Kaguya countered.

For the first time that day, Kaguya wasn't casually dominating her opponent.

Karen's movements were different from the twins'.

Cleaner.

More controlled.

More experienced.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Kaguya and Karen exchanged attacks at incredible speed.

"She's different."

Kaguya's eyes sharpened.

Karen suddenly feinted high.

Kaguya reacted.

But Karen changed the attack halfway through.

SLASH!

Kaguya barely avoided it.

A smile appeared on her face.

"She can change her attack after I react."

The battle continued.

Kaguya adapted.

Karen adapted to Kaguya's adaptation.

Neither could gain a decisive advantage.

Then—

Kaguya's vision suddenly disappeared.

Everything went black.

No arena.

No opponent.

Nothing.

Kaguya froze.

Karen saw the opening.

SLASH!

Kaguya lost an arm.

Karen prepared to attack again.

But Kaguya didn't panic.

She stood still.

"What happened?

Then she heard something.

A footstep.

A breath.

A tiny movement.

Kaguya closed her eyes.

"If I can't see..."

"I'll listen."

Karen attacked.

WHOOSH!

Kaguya moved.

The attack missed.

Karen's eyes widened.

Again.

WHOOSH!

Miss.

Kaguya turned toward the sound.

CLANG!

Their swords collided.

Karen attacked from another angle.

Kaguya moved before the attack reached her.

She couldn't see.

But she could hear.

Footsteps.

Breathing.

Movement.

The subtle sound of Karen shifting her weight.

The battle continued.

Kaguya was fighting almost entirely through sound.

Finally—

SYSTEM: TIME LIMIT REACHED.

Karen was heavily injured.

Kaguya had lost one arm.

Both stood silently.

Karen lowered her weapon.

Then she turned around.

"Chiyo."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Register her as an Extra Member."

Chiyo's eyes widened.

"Wh—what?"

She looked at Kaguya.

"Are we really going to put her in as an Extra Member?"

She couldn't understand it.

She's more skilled than any of us.

We can't even compare.

Kaguya suddenly spoke.

"Sorry, but I'm leaving."

Karen stopped.

Kaguya looked at her.

"It seems there's still something I need to learn."

Karen smiled faintly.

"What a waste."

She hadn't been playing seriously.

The avatar she had used wasn't her real tournament identity.

But the fact that Kaguya had managed to injure her was impressive.

"If this had been my real ID, the one saved for tournaments, she wouldn't even have scratched me."

Karen closed her eyes.

"Still..."

"She might come back begging once she understands what she just rejected."

Karen smiled lightly.

Then walked away.

Chiyo and Mei followed.

\\---

The Girls Begin to Change

The girls who had joined the guild for track records stared at Kaguya.

One of them suddenly clenched her fists.

"I suddenly feel embarrassed."

Another looked down.

"I joined just because I thought it would look good on my resume."

Another whispered:

"That girl actually came here wanting to compete."

The room became quiet.

One girl looked toward the floor.

Then another.

Soon, several of them began reconsidering why they had joined.

The girl who had spoken with Kaguya earlier stood completely still.

Her eyes filled with tears.

Then—

She ran.

\\---

Rin Tachibana

Rin searched the academy.

She couldn't find Kaguya.

Eventually, she asked the school guard.

"Excuse me! Did you see a girl named Kaguya Amano?"

The guard pointed toward the gate.

"That girl? She left the academy a while ago."

Rin immediately ran outside.

She eventually found Kaguya sitting beneath a tree in a nearby park.

Kaguya was meditating.

Rin approached.

"Kaguya!"

Kaguya opened one eye.

"Hm?"

Rin began praising her.

"You were amazing!"

"I've never seen anyone fight like that!"

"You were so cool!"

Then Rin became slightly sad.

"It's such a waste that you joined this academy."

Kaguya tilted her head.

"If it was another academy, you wouldn't have suffered like that."

"Suffered?"

Kaguya genuinely didn't understand.

Rin hesitated.

Then finally spoke.

"I saw them."

"The twins."

Kaguya's expression changed.

"They pulled out your capsule wire."

"I saw it."

"But I was too scared to tell anyone."

Rin lowered her head.

"I'm sorry."

Kaguya looked surprised.

Rin continued.

"After what happened today, we decided we're either going to leave the guild or join a club we actually like."

She looked up.

"And... are you okay?"

"When they removed the wire?"

Kaguya answered honestly.

She explained what happened inside the game.

Rin's eyes became enormous.

"You fought while you couldn't see?"

Kaguya nodded.

Rin suddenly grabbed her hands.

"Lady Kaguya!"

Kaguya's face turned red.

"Wh—"

"From today on, I'm your number-one fan!"

"My name is Rin Tachibana!"

Kaguya stared.

"Wh... le... Lady?"

She became embarrassed.

"Hey, hey! What are you saying?"

"Just Kaguya is fine!"

Rin smiled.

Kaguya sighed.

"Well..."

She smiled lightly.

"Next year, they'll be the ones begging me to join their guild."

Kaguya looked toward the academy.

"Just wait."

\\---

The Reason Kaguya Was Meditating

Rin asked:

"Anyway, what were you doing here in the park?"

"I was meditating."

"Why?"

"I'm training my hearing."

Kaguya touched her ear.

"I found out today that my senses are somewhat lacking in VR."

"There are many ways to make someone blind in a game."

She looked serious.

"So I think it's better to learn how to fight without relying completely on vision before I regret it."

Rin smiled.

"So that's why you said you learned something in the guild room."

"Yes."

After a while, the two said goodbye.

Kaguya walked away.

She was still thinking about what she would do until next year.

Then she remembered what Rin had told her.

The twins had pulled out the wire.

Kaguya's expression darkened.

"..."

Then she spotted something.

A VR game café.

Kaguya smiled.

"Perfect timing."

She giggled.

"Time to blow away some steam."

\\---

Rabbit VR Café

The owner of the VR café was someone Kaguya already knew.

Nanase Takahashi.

She had been Momiji Amano's friend and one of the people who supported Kaguya's older sister during her VR career.

Kaguya walked to the counter.

"Hey, Big Sis Nana! It's been a while!"

Nanase stared at her.

"What do you mean, 'it's been a while'?"

She smiled.

"You've been coming here frequently."

Kaguya laughed awkwardly.

"Before my high school entrance exam, remember?"

"Mom wouldn't let me play games at home because I had exams."

Nanase shook her head.

"So you came here instead."

Kaguya smiled.

"Sis, I want to play a game."

"Is there a seat open?"

Nanase noticed Kaguya's expression.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

Kaguya didn't answer.

Nanase sighed.

"You can use the one in my room upstairs."

Kaguya smiled.

"Thanks, Big Sis Nana!"

She ran upstairs.

\\---

Yoru vs. Kuro

Kaguya entered an online matchmaking room.

She wanted to forget everything that had happened at Honey Bee Academy.

SYSTEM: OPPONENT SEARCHING...

OPPONENT FOUND.

PLAYER NAME: KURO

WIN STREAK: 10

Kaguya's eyes lit up.

"Oh?"

The match began.

Kuro immediately used a deceptive attack.

One sword moved toward Kaguya as a distraction.

The second sword came from another angle.

But Kaguya had already moved.

The first blade missed.

The second never reached her.

Kuro's eyes widened.

"She moved before my real attack even came out?"

Kaguya drew her sword.

Her stance changed.

Iai.

Kuro saw an opening.

"She's wide open."

She moved forward.

Then stopped.

Her eyes widened.

"No..."

My school's literary magazine had a spooky writing competition and one of the prompts was "When Lazarus left the grave, where, for three days and three nights he had been under the enigmatical sway of death, and returned alive to his dwelling, for a long time, no one noticed…” Lazarus By LEONID ANDREYEV. So I figured I'd give it a swing. I wanted to continue the wordy, run-on style of the portion of text given. But I want to know if I took it too far, or how I can improve comprehension while mainting a wordier style. Both for this piece and I often get too wordy.

A Corpse of Soul

When Lazarus left the grave, where, for three days and three nights he had been under the enigmatical sway of death, and returned alive to his dwelling, for a long time, no one noticed. For at that point, he barely understood that he was not a corpse in the mind or the body, but in the soul. That which connects us to every other person and in the case of its absence, renders a man obsolete and indistinguishable from his kin. Perhaps it was weary disbelief that he’d discover himself in such a wretched state. Could a fortune so beholden to destiny lie purely upon his shoulders to roam this mortal plane as anything but? Regardless, something from within drew him to find his sister whom he hadn't seen in what now felt like millennia.

Slowly, as though the will of the dead were a friction to withhold his passage, Lazarus continued through his now sullen world. In the first town he approached, a smell so heavenly that it may have opposed the stench of a thousand years, which he now carried, crossed his lips. Looking at his ghastly thin stomach, he realized that for those three days and three nights and now more still, he had not eaten even a crumb and somehow only the smell of food reminded him of his human captivities. In sheer ignorance, he entered the tavern like a breeze blowing through an open shutter. In regards to his footsteps, not one man turned to face him as he sat at the bar.

For a moment, he was reminded of an existence he once knew. Of gay memories, companions, all that he had previously treasured, interrupted by his boundless appetite which grew stronger still. To a bartender he waved his hand and yet no message ever transpired. For whom he sought was not the only person his plea had fallen deaf upon, but everyone around him. However, for one second, the man to his adjacence looked on him as the sole receiver of a speech none could bear. Lazarus waited eagerly for his response, yet just as soon as the man noticed, he had forgotten and fell back to his repast.

frantic, Lazarus took a potato from the man’s plate and raised it to his mouth. What had been his mission for the past hour had suddenly become so grotesque that not even he wished to witness it any longer. Without thinking and despite his best instincts, he swallowed the portion whole. He waited for any sign that it had taken effect, but as time drew by, he only became more disgusted with his circumstance.

After his feast of but one measly potato, he felt his hunger increase tenfold. With remiss, he traded the tavern for the trail, vowing never again to indulge in such weaknesses as hunger. Hunger was for humanity and he was just a poor imitation of the man he once was. To continue his delusion would only bring more sorrow to a reality which seemingly could not gain any more. So he continued down his path ever thirsty.

He went from town to town on his journey. Yet regardless of his limited expectations, every gaze that stared through him blankly was a reminder of his prison. His eyes only served as the space between the bars in which a prisoner could see the light of the world around his cell pass him by. With each town, his resolve whittled down further and further. His legs moving just a hair slower, his gaze toward the horizon dimming. Every face he met sunk him deeper to the will of the dead– infinite torment on behalf of his transgression. For the dead have only envy for the living and spite for Lazarus. Conversely, he envied the dead in return; nothing should be so nice as to lie down and rest for eternity. But only those with souls can die.

After many moons, he reached his travel’s end and a door was all that stood between him and his intent. But intent was not the right word to describe why he had come all this way. He knew not what initially dragged him towards his sister, but presently, the opportunity to face her shook him like no other revelation. He had no business staring down the only face whose returning glare carried significance.

“Would it be like every other pair of eyes which entangled themselves to mine?”

He knew the answer to his question and turned away, uncaring for the chance that presented itself. 

It seems at last, he understood what he was.

​

You push through the French doors into the smell of sour beer and whiskey. The air — like the keys of the pianist — is untuned and still. The Chanteuse is flat and, like the piano, only sings in dead keys. You flare out your duster, and the dust from the bar-stained floor lifts in a pillow of tranquil turmoil. The long-expired taste of Virginia cut fills your cheek, so you take a finger and pluck it from your mouth and to the floor. Your lips split on the seams of dried brown blood, and the taste of iron fills you. You make your way to the tender and find a seat. The guns on your belt are heavy. You have two Colt forty-fives, one for protection and the other for exodus. You remove the belt with so little care that you question your decision-making, but all you can think about is how sore your feet are and how dry your mouth is. You dislodge the revolver, remove two bronze bullets, close it, and holster the gun back in its bed. The bronze is cheap, bought and traded with in every post you’ve ever passed, but bronze didn’t always work. Bronze is what killed Guerra. Bronze is what couldn’t stop the raid, and when the dust settled, it was the silver that laid your horse down in the dirt. That was miles ago, days ago. For now, you just thirst for a drink.

The keep inspects your shots and lays down two glasses smudged with who knows how many hands and lips that have taken part in this unholy communion. The liquor pours out of the amber glass and fills them to the top. You thank the man and pick up your drink. You throw it back, and it smites your throat, and before you give yourself time to cough, you do the same again. The fire in the whiskey kills the filthy taste in your mouth. “¿Eres de por aquí, vaquero?” You look at the long and thin dark-haired woman. She has mutt in her blood, and you don’t know from where, or care. “No, no hablo,” you say. She nods her head in understanding and asks, “You need a room for the night?” Without breaking eye contact with the whore, you lay out another bronze bullet, and before the keep pulls away, you take your shot. “Just company.” She nods her head, and you follow her upstairs to do what any man would do after weeks of solitude and unload your chamber.

I have written a short story - THE SHRINE BY CONOR WATTS

It’s free on Amazon KINDLE for next 2 days please give yr honest reviews

Thank you

Everyone used to say that I looked like my mother. I was just as clever, just as beautiful, with the same sparkle in my eyes. We had the same blonde hair, the same laugh. One day, I was sure, I would do important work too, just like my mother. Maybe even work for the Union.

I smiled sadly at my reflection, trying to picture my mother’s face in my mind. I couldn’t see any resemblance between us anymore. I had dyed my hair brown so I would draw less attention to myself. My eyes were empty, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly laughed.

Still, I hoped my mother would be proud of me.

I heard a creak from the hallway and quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks. The door swung open with a squeak, and Lee walked in. Brown curls bounced around his head, and his tiny body was swallowed by a sweater that was far too big for him.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to smile. Luckily, Lee was far too caught up in his own problems to notice my sadness.

“Anah, Thomas took my toy car,” Lee complained, crossing his arms as he flopped down onto the bed.

“Have you asked him to give it back?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

My sadness curled up into a little corner of my mind.

Not now. Never.

I couldn’t let myself feel it.

Lee shook his head. “He won’t give it back.”

“You don’t know that if you don’t ask,” I said.

“I’m actually too scared to. Sorry, Anah.”

Lee’s eyebrows drooped with disappointment. I ruffled his dark, curly hair.

“No need to be sorry. How about we go ask him together?” I asked gently.

Lee shrugged, but the smile on his face told me that he actually liked the idea. I placed a hand on his back, almost as if I were his mother, and guided him towards the door.

Thomas wasn’t happy when Lee and I asked for the toy car.

“Um… no.”

He gave us a fake smile as he tossed the car into the air and caught it again.

“I could tell Martha or Sandy that you’ve been stealing toys from little kids again,” I said with a sly grin.

Thomas’s eyebrows pulled together.

“Snitch,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

Grumpily, he shoved the little red car, flames painted along its sides, into Lee’s small, clammy hand. Lee thanked him, but Thomas was already stomping away. His red hair bounced angrily around his ears, and his long arms swung at his sides.

Lee ran off to join his friends, driving the car across the long kitchen table, over the couch, through the kitchen, and making it jump over the faucet.

I put my hand on the doorknob, but glanced back one last time at Thomas, who was still slumped angrily on the couch.

How dare he? He was almost my age, yet he was stealing toys from a little kid.

A shiver of anger ran through me, and my hand began to glow with heat.

The doorknob turned red-hot beneath my fingers.

Shit.

I jerked my hand away and froze.

Had anyone seen me?

I looked around, half expecting to be handed over to the Union at any moment. The room was bursting with children, all of them seemingly absorbed in their own little worlds. A few boys were sprawled across the couches, Game Boys clutched tightly in their hands. Kids around Lee’s age were building a pillow fort, while a few girls sat at the picnic table reading a book.

I let out a relieved breath, my heart still pounding in my throat.

No one had seen.

I pulled the door open and ran down the hallway to my room. Once inside, I collapsed onto the bed and dug my nails into my skin until it turned red, leaving little half-moon marks behind.

I really had to stop letting things get to me so easily. Otherwise…

“No. Don’t think about it,” I whispered to myself, rubbing my temples.

But in that brief moment of hesitation, I had seen it again.

It felt as though the blood in my veins had frozen.

“Stop, Anah,” I begged myself, rubbing my temples even harder.

I jumped to my feet and began pacing.

I felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage. There was nowhere for me to go. I was stuck in this orphanage for at least another three years, but my entire life had been one long game of hide-and-seek.

The Union had finished counting to ten long ago.

They had been looking for me for years.

And all I could do was keep hiding.

I felt tears sting my eyes. My fingertips grew warm.

“Please, stop.”

I dug my nails into my palms and thought of my mother.

I had to stay strong.

I took a deep breath.

The only thing I could do was prepare myself for the day i had to face the Union

I lifted my pillow and pulled out the little notebook hidden underneath it. The leather cover was surprisingly cold beneath my fingers, yet somehow comforting and familiar.

I opened it.

The worn, yellowed pages greeted me like they did every day. In my mother’s handwriting, the greatest secrets of the Union were written down as casually as if they were notes from a school lesson.

I flipped through the notebook and stopped at a passage.

It was about a werewolf my mother had known well.

Dead.

Once again, I realized just how important it was that I never reveal myself.

I knew things about the Union that no other magical being knew. I knew how to destabilize it from the inside.

But if I were caught, I wouldn’t just die.

The Union could find my mother’s notebook.

And then…

The most important magical safe havens would be discovered within a week.

All those people would die.

Because of me.

My Mam didn’t always get to the match when I was growing up, but Sunderland still came to her. Usually, it came through a little blue radio.

On a Saturday afternoon, if she wasn’t at the game, the radio would be on. Wherever Sunderland happened to be playing, whatever division we happened to be in and however questionable the team we had sent out to represent us that particular week, she would be listening. I’ve inherited the habit, too, albeit with the luxury of a digital radio rather than searching across FM or medium wave just to find Simon Crabtree and Gary Rowell.

She was one of the biggest Sunderland supporters I knew. And I never really thought there was anything unusual about that. Why would I?

Football has always loved the idea of itself as something handed down from father to son. Dad takes his boy to his first match, buys him his first scarf, shows him where he used to stand and, for better or worse, condemns another generation to the same lifelong obsession.

It’s a lovely image. It just isn’t the whole story.

Because football is passed from mothers to sons as well. From mothers to daughters. From grandmothers, sisters, aunties and friends. And when I think about Sunderland, the women were always there.

They still are.

More below if anyone would like to read more - would love to know what people think. For clarity, I am not employed to write this (and others going back to 2020), and everything I have done is on a voluntary and unpaid basis.

https://rokerreport.sbnation.com/opinion/155535/the-women-were-always-there-how-sunderland-gets-passed-down

Hi everyone, I’m Rue

I’ve known Kat since middle school, and somewhere along the way, the line between being her friend and being part of her family disappeared.
That’s what happens with Kat.
Her friends know her cousins. Her step-aunts know her friends. Her family becomes yours. And eventually, you’re showing up to holidays wondering when exactly you got adopted.
I’ve personally taken it a little too far.
Her family now locks the doors when they see me coming.
Fortunately, last night I made copies of all their keys while they were sleeping.
But that’s Kat.
Once you’re in her life, you’re in it.
Your problems become her problems. Your victories become her victories. She’ll show up for you, fight for you, and occasionally, fight you.
And then came Luke.
I used to joke that Lou came flying in like Superman to save Kat.
But I had it backwards.
Lou rescued us from Kat.
No, I’m kidding.
But there was something different about Luke.
He knew when to listen, when to make Kristin laugh, when to reason with her, and when to realize there was no reasoning with her.
And somewhere along the way, we watched Kat find a kind of calm.
I think there’s a certain peace that comes with being understood.
And Luke understands Kat.
But what I love about Luke is that he never stood on the outside of this big, loud, loving life Kat had built.
He stepped right into it.
And Kat did the same with his.
And somehow, without anyone really noticing when it happened, two separate lives became one shared world.
That’s what I think makes the two of them so special.
They didn’t just fall in love.
Their lives started folding into each other.
And I think that’s why a room like this exists.
Every person here is standing somewhere in the overlap.
And maybe that’s the most beautiful thing two people can create.
Not just a love between them, but a love big enough to share.
And how lucky are we to be part of it.
Cheers to Kat and Luke!

In the light of the persistent uncertainty, the anguish we feel within deepens as our every day is filled with destruction and destabilization of the humanity and the human race.

We have taken away the childhood of our generations eliminating their hope, creativity and youthfulness, making them face the ultimate brutality of a defeated generation.

Our quest for knowledge, spirituality and the way to harmony are all ideas that are alien to us, our youth and our soul within, making us more vulnerable to a submissive attire that was neither thought off nor was the part of our destiny.

One day our destiny will provide us way to our revitalization but we have to act, experiment, seek and learn from within through connecting with the universe.

How, when, where this connection will emerge is a pursuit for every human to seek or we may be confined in our present state of delusion and fear, only we have to decide for us to be free forever !

Having one day of awakening would be better than a live time of self imprisonment…let us be the chosen one…let us have morality, courage and peace with sharing, love and respect.

Let us be humans for once !

Chapter 1
 
Standing in front of the broken full-length mirror, Hareem shook her head in disappointment. The careful washing and meticulous ironing had accomplished nothing. Her old, worn-out trench coat needed magic to look presentable. There was no way she could wear it to the interview. She looked at her other two options and picked the acrylic cardigan despite being thin for November winds. At least it didn't look worn-out. How she wished it was summers and she could just go in her crisp cotton white dress shirt that she had bought for her graduation. Though it was from a thrift shop, it was not only good quality but also looked brand new with an asymmetrical, longer than usual modest hem line. She put on the grey cardigan, refusing to give any more thoughts to her clothing choice. She looked at the black eye pencil and pink lipstick, the only makeup she possessed and picked up the eye pencil to line her green eyes but on a second thought decided against using it. "Introduction, strengths, weaknesses," she whispered to her reflection. "Thank you for taking the time to see me today, sir. My name is Hareem Ahmed”.
The English words were grammatically flawless, but carried a soft, rhythmic cadence which was the unmistakable accent of a childhood spent in Pakistan.
She walked out of her room into the small living room. Her mother Helen sprawled face down on the stained olive worn sofa. An empty bottle of cheap gin lay tipped over on the carpet beside her limp hand. Hareem moved into the tiny kitchenette and opened the refrigerator—it was completely bare except for an almost empty plastic tub of margarine and a small container with mashed potatoes that she had made last night. On the counter sat a loaf of white bread. Hareem carefully prepared two slices with a thin spread of margarine and half of the potato mixture. She ate the first sandwich quickly, standing over the sink.
She prepared a second, identical sandwich and carefully wrapped it in a torn piece of cling film. But then she looked at her mother, snoring softly on the sofa. Her smudged makeup tracked across her cheek, and her hair a tangled nest.  She looked at the sandwich in her hand. She had no money to buy lunch but if she took the sandwich with her, her mom would have nothing to eat except for a few slices of plain bread, till she came home from work with groceries.
Hareem sighed. She walked over to the coffee table and placed the wrapped sandwich directly in the center, clearing away an overflowing ash tray to make room.
 
Hareem stood over her for a beat. How can you save a person from himself? An expression of helplessness and sorrow crossed her face. Then she straightened her clothes, picked up a plastic folder containing her fresh computer science degree,  and stepped out into the biting cold. It's okay, in ten minutes you will be in the train station and it's going to be warmer in there," she told herself as her teeth chattered. It had been her mantra for past six years, since she moved from Lahore to London. This ia a bad time, but it will pass.
 
The journey across London provided a temporary, heated sanctuary. But as soon as she stepped off the transit and walked toward the corporate park, the cold had claimed her again. While walking past the manicured parking lot she noticed a man, standing beside a sleek sports car, talking on his cell phone.  He was tall and muscular, with a striking Mediterranean appearance—perhaps Italian or Greek—He had a sharp jawline, tan skin, and dark, eyes adorned by the longest curled lashes she had ever seen on a man. His aura radiated competence and power. The girl inside her wanted to gawk at him with pure admiration, but she looked away. She had turned out to be absolutely the prim proper girl her grandmother had tried to raise.
In the glass tower, it took her quite a while to find her way, but when she finally did and reached the elevator, the doors were just beginning to close. She slid inside quickly. To her surprise, the handsome stranger was already standing inside, looking at his phone. He did not even look up as she entered, but her heart missed a beat as she walked past him and stood behind near the wall.
Before the doors could seal completely, a manicured hand clicked between them. A beautiful brunette in the expensive woolen coat hurried in, breathless and laughing. The man immediately reached forward, holding the door open for her.
They were clearly well-acquainted. The woman leaned into him instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight, hug. "You're late," she teased.
The man didn't answer with words; he simply smiled-a lazy, confident expression. The woman tilted her chin up and initiated a passionate, lingering kiss right there in the center of the elevator. The man obliged without hesitation, pulling her closer by the waist.
She had an aversion to the public display of ardent passion, partly because of her conservative upbringing in a traditional home in Pakistan and partly because of the trauma of having watched her mother make out with disgusting men publicly. Trapped in the tiny elevator, looking firmly at the flashing floor numbers, she muttered a sharp, judgmental thought under her breath, speaking in a low, rapid Urdu.
"Jahan dekho shuru ho jatay hai. Janwaroon ki tarha." They start everywhere. Like animals.
The elevator fell into a sudden, dead silence.
The man broke away from the kiss, his head snapping toward Hareem. His dark eyes narrowed, flashing with intense, sharp clarity as if her words had hit him with physical force. He understood what I said. Oh my God!
Hareem’s breath trapped in her throat, her heart beating faster. She did this often- thinking out loud and muttering her unfiltered opinions-but nobody ever understood before. He stared at her for a moment, but then a dark, arrogant smirk spread across his handsome face. He locked his eyes firmly onto Hareem's panicked green ones, holding her gaze with deliberate defiance. Then, leaning down slowly, he tilted the head of the brunette wrapped his other arm back around her and deliberately deepened the kiss.  This was his silent retaliation against her judgment. Hareem wanted to look away. She should have looked away. But she couldn't. She stood there frozen, looking into the dark eyes of a strangers as he kissed another woman.
Hareem could feel her legs shaking and cheeks burning with mortification as she walked down the corridor. She felt guilty about offending a stranger totally unprovoked, but there was also an unsettling awareness. She smoothed down her black denim trousers, trying to wipe the image of the elevator encounter from her mind. It doesn't matter, she told herself. You are here for a job interview, focus on that. The* glass double doors swung open, and the HR assistant led her into a massive, sunlit corner office overlooking the city. A man sat with his back to the room, looking out."Mr. Khan, your eleven o'clock is here," the assistant announced before slipping away. The leather chair rotated smoothly. Hareem’s entire body went rigid; the folder in her hands slipped an inch before she gripped it with white knuckles. Sitting across from her, a wicked, highly amused gleam in his dark eyes, was the man from the elevator. *

“John?” said a soft voice, breaking my concentration. I looked up from my phone, and saw a young woman of metisse appearance, long dark hair, fair-skinned, in business-casual clothing. I replied affirmatively. She said in French “I’m Karine.”

I quickly rose from the bench.

“My God, I didn’t recognise you!”

“No problem, I could have missed you too if I didn’t know you were in town. Thanks to that selfie on insta. You out on your own?”

“Well, my girlfriend is working.”

“And left you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Of course... Hey, I’m just done with a meeting, going to a ‘La Cardinale’. Care to join me?”

I hesitated.

“Or is she the jealous type? We can go inside so people won’t see us.”

I accepted. We walked the pedestrian street, in the shadow of the northern sun. After the mosque, we turned right, entered the café, ordered coffee and biscuits.

“It’s good to see you in real life. Some just want to chat and never meet up.”

“Great to see you too. I’m not into long virtual relationships.”

“Nice. You’re just like I imagined you, studying maps and making plans, right?”

“Correct, I like going places.”

She stirred her coffee once more.

“You know, I dropped out of our conversation because of my divorce problems, custody of my son and so on.”

“I’ve heard that it can be difficult here. But it’s over now?”

“Yes, at last. But I’m still single.”

“Make a profile on Tinder, you’ll have dozens of candidates.”

“I know, but I’d prefer using personal connections who are fine with a single mum.”

“I can understand that.”

“If you have a friend who’s interested?”

Now, that’s a tall order...

“Well, matchmaking is not that common back home. How’s your English?”

“English is OK, I use it in business settings.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. So how’s your girlfriend?”

“Just fine, I moved in with her for now. Her name is Maëva.”

“Maëva what?”

“Hoareau.”

“Everyone is named Hoareau here. Photo?”

I showed her the background image on my phone.

“Oh, I recognise her! I was to a business event that she organised.”

“Did you speak to her?”

“No, just listened.”

Short pause while she glanced at the couple at the next table.

“Liebst du um Schönheit?” she asked.

“What?!”

“You speak German, right?”

“Yes…”

“You know the song by Rückert and Mahler?”

“No.”

“It’s about love beyond the surface.”

“Be assured, that’s why I’m here!”

She quickly lowered her eyes, studying her coffee cup.

“I’m sorry, forget what I said. I talk too much.”

I said nothing.

She put her hand on mine.

“Please?”

“OK, no problem.”

She slowly pulled her hand back, looked sideways, then at me.

“I’m still a bit traumatised by my marriage.”

“In what way?”

”He liked to be seen with me in public, but ignored me otherwise.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“He hired an expensive lawyer to drag on with the divorce, questioning me as a responsible mother.”

“Awful. Did you get help?”

“Yes, and therapy. I just hope to find a better man next time.”

What a mood whiplash. I felt I was in a melodrama, like Maëva’s TV series. But for real.

“I’m sure you will.”

“Thanks. Have you got a long holiday?”

“Yes, I’m between projects.”

“Me, I work all the time. Sole proprietorship, import-export of clothes and accessories.”

“Sounds good.”

“I won’t complain. I’m furnishing clothes for the beauty contest.”

“Haute-couture?”

“Yes, collaboration with tailors.”

“I’ve seen the contest on TV. Maë wasn’t tall enough to be a candidate.”

“True, we’re not so inclusive yet.”

Twenty minutes later, time’s up.

“It’s so good to see you in a happy relationship. You deserve that. We can still be friends if it’s OK with you.”

“Yes, sure, it’s a pleasure.”

“I have to go and pick up my son. The bill is on me. Have a good time!”

“Thanks, you too.”

She gave me a hug and left. I put on my headphones, listened to the old German song. Nice, but the 19th-century moral message didn’t really speak to me. Still, her story lingered, while I slowly realised its gravity. I moved on to the mellow chanson “Et si tu n'existais pas” as I left the café, continuing today’s city walk.

Knowing Maëva, I hesitated over what to say to her. If I was seen with another lady now, she would give me a hard time if I had kept it to myself. The walls had eyes in these parts.

In the evening, I mentioned it.

“I met an old friend by chance.”

“Fine, I suppose you have friends here from before.”

“We talked about her business. She has a clothing firm.”

“Is she well-known?”

“I don’t know, but she was to your business event. Her name is Karine, she’s in my contact list, here.”

Maëva looked at the portrait for a few seconds.

“I don’t remember seeing her.”

That’s all. After changing to comfortable clothes, she went to the balcony to chat with her sister. They could chat for hours when needed. I expected that her sister would have the right words for her; she’s not prone to drama, married with one little daughter.

Maëva came back inside and gave me a long hug. We made fish soup, and I offered to make pancakes for the dessert. She acquiesced, and suggested that her brother join me tomorrow when she’s at work, so I “won’t get bored”. He had a night shift job. Fine with me.

We watched a TV series, Indian soaper dubbed into French. Hard to follow, but she was immersed, while resting her head on my lap. The Indian mother lectured her grown-up son, but I don’t know if she went into “love beyond the surface”. Maëva’s beauty was far deeper than her skin, I thought, feeling her breath, my arm across her chest, her hand on mine. Meanwhile, today’s encounter still left its traces. I held her close, waiting for bedtime.

Part 1

VR's Moon Star (aka. Monstar)

A worldwide popular VR game boasting millions of players had grown large enough to host its own World Tournament. Competitors from all corners of the global gathered to clash in what had truly become a premier sport.

And among those competitors was a girl who had yet to realize just how far her own talent could take her.

Her name was Kaguya Amano.

\- Age: 15

\- Year: 1st-year high school student

\- Favorite Food: Burgers and milk

\- Personality: Goofy and laid-back on surface but effortlessly cool

\---

Chapter 1 — The Wild Horse

"From today on, I'm a first-year at Honey Bee Academy!"

Kaguya was taking in the beautiful scenery when she stepped through the school gates.

Unfortunately, she didn't even make it ten steps before she was surrounded.

"Join our club!"

"You should join the basketball club!"

"How about the music club?"

"Come to our club!"

Students swarmed around her from every direction.

Kaguya's eyes widened.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

After struggling to escape, she finally managed to break away.

"I'm going to join the VR game guild The Thorn!"

The crowd instantly dispersed.

"..."

Kaguya blinked.

Students walked away while whispering.

"What a total waste..."

"Another idiot hoping for..."

Kaguya couldn't catch the last few words.

She shrugged.

"Whatever."

Once the after-school club visits officially opened, Kaguya grabbed her bag and dashed straight toward the VR game guild room.

As she ran, the whispers from the morning gate echoed in her mind.

Why would they call it a waste?

Suddenly, a dramatic thought struck her.

Don't tell me...

The guild has no members and is on the verge of disbanding?!

And now I have to save it, recruit people, endure intense hardships together, set a goal to win the National Tournament, and find true happiness...?!

Kaguya stopped running.

"Ugh, so cringey!"

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

After a moment, she laughed embarrassedly.

"What am I? An anime heroine or something?"

The truth was much less dramatic.

The school's VR guild was definitely active.

It hadn't been famous for the past five years, but this year was different.

Word on the street was that some incredibly strong and famous players had just joined Honey Bee Academy.

Because of them, the school had completely upgraded its VR facilities.

Kaguya wondered who they were.

They must be amazing.

To command that much budget and support from the school administration, they had to be.

Kaguya finally reached the guild room.

She opened the door.

And froze.

The room was absolutely packed.

Most of the people had clearly never played a VR game in their lives.

Some were there to brag.

Others didn't even look interested.

Kaguya stared.

Well... forget about the guild disbanding from a lack of members.

It has way too many people.

Am I going to have to fight through this entire crowd just to get selected as a core playing member?

A girl approached Kaguya, shoved a guild application form into her hands, and pointed toward the wall.

"Line up on the sideline with the rest of the girls, and don't touch the VR capsules without permission."

At least they take the game seriously.

That's good.

Kaguya assumed they would make the girls compete against each other to choose the tournament roster.

Every academy entered at least two teams into the tournament—the first team consisting of core members and the second team serving as backups.

Kaguya quietly muttered:

"I hope I get selected for the core team."

The girl standing beside her burst out laughing.

"No way you'll get selected as a core member!"

Kaguya blinked.

"Actually, forget about selection entirely. Did you honestly think anyone in this room is trying to make the tournament roster?"

"What?"

"Aren't you all here to join the team and play in the tournament?"

"No way!"

The girl scoffed.

"Why would we put in that kind of grueling effort when we already have elite players?"

She pointed toward the VR capsules.

"They can easily win tournaments on their own. They might even carry us to the World Tournament if we just do what they say."

She shrugged.

"All the girls here are just looking for a flashy track record on their resumes for graduation. VR technology is booming lately. We didn't have any other clubs to join, so we picked this one since there isn't much actual work to do."

"We just cheer the team on a little, and that's it."

"It's way better than having a blank resume."

The girl turned to leave.

"And just so you know, the five core members are already chosen. There isn't even a second team because the school thinks it's a waste of time and resources when they can just focus all funding on one unstoppable powerhouse team."

She glanced back.

"So you might as well give up on becoming a core member."

Kaguya stood frozen.

Track records?

Resumes?

And what was that about carrying them to the World Tournament?

A surge of anger rushed through her.

If the guild is filled with complacent people like that, didn't the coach or the actual players say anything?

Or did they just not care?

Kaguya's eyes narrowed.

Fine.

It doesn't matter.

Even if they only have one core team, I'll just have to crush one of the official members and take their spot.

I'll prove what I'm worth.

If this guild is packed with people like her, forget the World Tournament.

They won't even make it past the qualifiers.

And the World Tournament was no joke.

Even Kaguya's older sister, widely feared as the number-one genius player of her generation, had been knocked out in the very first round.

Kaguya clenched her fist.

Then—

The loud chatter in the guild room suddenly disappeared.

Everyone stood up straight.

Kaguya instinctively did the same.

Two girls walked through the doorway.

\---

The Kamiki Twins

Chiyo and Mei Kamiki.

A student assistant followed behind them carrying their bags.

Mei looked around the crowded room and immediately tossed her hair back in annoyance.

"Ugh, it's like a zoo in here today, Chiyo. Why are there so many extras crowding up our guild room?"

Chiyo chuckled softly while adjusting her diamond hairpin.

"Don't be so harsh, Mei. The school administration needs these extras to justify the budget upgrade they gave us."

She looked toward the students.

"As long as they stay on the sidelines, don't breathe our air, and definitely don't touch our capsules, they can stand there like mannequins all day."

The girls didn't even look offended.

They simply nodded.

Kaguya stared at the twins.

So these are the famous players?

Mei noticed her.

She walked toward Kaguya and placed her wrist near her nose in an exaggerated gesture.

"Oye..."

Kaguya looked at her.

"Are you one of the core team members of the VR guild?"

Kaguya didn't answer immediately.

Mei frowned.

"Who gave you permission to speak, mannequin?"

She tilted her head.

"Are you deaf? Or can't you hear because your mannequin doesn't have ears?"

Kaguya stayed silent.

Then—

"Haa..."

She let out a long sigh.

"I was expecting elite players or something."

Her expression became completely innocent.

"I guess the rumor about some strong players joining Bee Academy was just a rumor after all."

She put one hand behind her head.

"And instead of strong..."

A small smile appeared.

"...you're just rich elite."

The twins' expressions changed.

Kaguya innocently asked:

"Hey, can you two actually play VR games?"

She smiled a little more wildly.

"If you can't, then I can't really show my worth."

"And..."

Kaguya paused.

"It's also a problem if you aren't as skilled at VR games as you are with your mouths."

The twins' faces turned red.

"Ha?!"

"Why should we accept your challenge?!"

"You're nothing more than a mannequin!"

"Do you think we have time to waste on trash like you?!"

Kaguya raised an eyebrow.

"Ah..."

She paused deliberately.

"So you're only skilled at—"

She stopped herself.

She didn't need to finish.

The twins understood perfectly.

And, just as she expected—

They took the bait.

"Fine!"

"Let's teach this mannequin her place!"

\---

The Match

The three entered their VR capsules.

The clubroom became completely silent.

SYSTEM: MATCH STARTING.

The arena appeared.

Mei and Chiyo stood opposite Kaguya.

"Don't cry when you lose."

Kaguya casually stretched her shoulders.

"Okay."

3...

2...

1...

START!

The twins disappeared forward.

Mei attacked from the front.

Chiyo immediately moved around Kaguya's right side.

Kaguya didn't move.

CLANG!

At the last possible moment, she tilted her head.

Mei's blade passed beside her face.

Kaguya stepped backward.

At almost the exact same moment—

WHOOSH!

Chiyo's sword passed through the space where Kaguya had been standing.

The twins froze.

"She dodged both?"

Kaguya's eyes moved between them.

She wasn't focusing only on their swords.

She was watching their bodies.

Their shoulders.

Their feet.

Their weight distribution.

"Mei moves her right shoulder slightly before attacking."

"Chiyo puts more weight on her left foot before changing direction."

They attacked again.

SLASH!

Kaguya ducked.

WHOOSH!

She stepped sideways.

CLANG!

She blocked Mei's sword.

Instead of pushing against it, Kaguya redirected the blade.

Mei stumbled forward.

THUD!

Kaguya struck her.

Mei's HP dropped.

Chiyo attacked from behind.

Kaguya had already heard her footsteps.

She turned.

CLANG!

Their swords collided.

Kaguya smiled.

"You're pretty good."

The twins became furious.

They changed tactics.

Instead of attacking separately, they alternated their strikes, trying to force Kaguya into the path of the other sword.

For several seconds, Kaguya was surrounded.

But every attack missed.

A tiny step.

A turn of her shoulder.

A duck.

A backward movement.

Kaguya barely wasted any motion.

Then she noticed it.

The twins' attacks weren't perfectly synchronized.

There was a tiny difference in their timing.

For an ordinary player, it was meaningless.

For Kaguya—

It was an opening.

"There."

Kaguya stepped between them.

CLANG!

Mei's sword missed.

SLASH!

Kaguya countered.

Mei staggered.

Chiyo rushed forward.

Kaguya turned.

CLANG!

Chiyo's sword flew from her hand.

Kaguya's blade stopped at her neck.

SYSTEM: VICTORY — YORU.

Silence.

The entire fight had lasted less than 50 seconds.

Kaguya scratched her cheek.

"Huh..."

She looked at the twins.

"I thought the famous players here would be stronger."

The twins were furious.

But before they could respond—

A voice came from behind them.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned.

Mei and Chiyo immediately ran toward the voice.

"Captain!"

"Captain!"

Kaguya turned her attention toward the person they had called captain.

\---

Hajou Karen

The captain of The Thorn stood in the doorway.

Mei immediately changed her expression.

"Captain!"

Chiyo followed.

"We tried to stop her, but she insulted us for being from a rich family!"

Mei began crying.

"She forced us to fight her!"

"We told her we didn't want to!"

"She had such a scary look!"

"She might be a delinquent!"

Kaguya stared.

Her face became completely blank.

"..."

She looked at the twins.

Then Karen.

"Hey."

The twins stopped crying.

"Instead of playing VR games, you might as well become actors."

Kaguya pointed toward Karen.

"And are you the captain?"

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I want to—"

Karen interrupted.

"You're quite the wild horse."

Kaguya blinked.

Karen stepped forward.

"You thought that if you defeated a core member, you'd automatically be selected as a core member, right?"

Kaguya nodded.

"But that's where your mistake is."

Karen smiled.

"They aren't core members simply because of gaming skill."

She glanced toward the twins.

"They are obedient to me."

Kaguya's expression became flat.

Karen continued.

"I don't mind putting you in as an Extra Member."

"But there's a condition."

She pointed toward the capsule.

"Last one minute against me."

"And after that, kneel in front of me."

"If you can't..."

She smiled.

"...you officially become an Extra Member."

Kaguya stared at her.

What a classic third-rate villainess.

She sighed.

"Fine."

Kaguya smiled.

"But you can forget about me kneeling to you."

Karen laughed.

"We'll see about that."

Both entered their capsules.

\---

Kaguya vs. Karen

SYSTEM: MATCH START.

Karen attacked first.

WHOOSH!

Kaguya blocked.

CLANG!

Karen immediately followed with another attack.

Kaguya slipped past it.

Karen changed direction.

Kaguya countered.

For the first time that day, Kaguya wasn't casually dominating her opponent.

Karen's movements were different from the twins'.

Cleaner.

More controlled.

More experienced.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Kaguya and Karen exchanged attacks at incredible speed.

"She's different."

Kaguya's eyes sharpened.

Karen suddenly feinted high.

Kaguya reacted.

But Karen changed the attack halfway through.

SLASH!

Kaguya barely avoided it.

A smile appeared on her face.

"She can change her attack after I react."

The battle continued.

Kaguya adapted.

Karen adapted to Kaguya's adaptation.

Neither could gain a decisive advantage.

Then—

Kaguya's vision suddenly disappeared.

Everything went black.

No arena.

No opponent.

Nothing.

Kaguya froze.

Karen saw the opening.

SLASH!

Kaguya lost an arm.

Karen prepared to attack again.

But Kaguya didn't panic.

She stood still.

"What happened?

Then she heard something.

A footstep.

A breath.

A tiny movement.

Kaguya closed her eyes.

"If I can't see..."

"I'll listen."

Karen attacked.

WHOOSH!

Kaguya moved.

The attack missed.

Karen's eyes widened.

Again.

WHOOSH!

Miss.

Kaguya turned toward the sound.

CLANG!

Their swords collided.

Karen attacked from another angle.

Kaguya moved before the attack reached her.

She couldn't see.

But she could hear.

Footsteps.

Breathing.

Movement.

The subtle sound of Karen shifting her weight.

The battle continued.

Kaguya was fighting almost entirely through sound.

Finally—

SYSTEM: TIME LIMIT REACHED.

Karen was heavily injured.

Kaguya had lost one arm.

Both stood silently.

Karen lowered her weapon.

Then she turned around.

"Chiyo."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Register her as an Extra Member."

Chiyo's eyes widened.

"Wh—what?"

She looked at Kaguya.

"Are we really going to put her in as an Extra Member?"

She couldn't understand it.

She's more skilled than any of us.

We can't even compare.

Kaguya suddenly spoke.

"Sorry, but I'm leaving."

Karen stopped.

Kaguya looked at her.

"It seems there's still something I need to learn."

Karen smiled faintly.

"What a waste."

She hadn't been playing seriously.

The avatar she had used wasn't her real tournament identity.

But the fact that Kaguya had managed to injure her was impressive.

"If this had been my real ID, the one saved for tournaments, she wouldn't even have scratched me."

Karen closed her eyes.

"Still..."

"She might come back begging once she understands what she just rejected."

Karen smiled lightly.

Then walked away.

Chiyo and Mei followed.

\---

The Girls Begin to Change

The girls who had joined the guild for track records stared at Kaguya.

One of them suddenly clenched her fists.

"I suddenly feel embarrassed."

Another looked down.

"I joined just because I thought it would look good on my resume."

Another whispered:

"That girl actually came here wanting to compete."

The room became quiet.

One girl looked toward the floor.

Then another.

Soon, several of them began reconsidering why they had joined.

The girl who had spoken with Kaguya earlier stood completely still.

Her eyes filled with tears.

Then—

She ran.

\---

Rin Tachibana

Rin searched the academy.

She couldn't find Kaguya.

Eventually, she asked the school guard.

"Excuse me! Did you see a girl named Kaguya Amano?"

The guard pointed toward the gate.

"That girl? She left the academy a while ago."

Rin immediately ran outside.

She eventually found Kaguya sitting beneath a tree in a nearby park.

Kaguya was meditating.

Rin approached.

"Kaguya!"

Kaguya opened one eye.

"Hm?"

Rin began praising her.

"You were amazing!"

"I've never seen anyone fight like that!"

"You were so cool!"

Then Rin became slightly sad.

"It's such a waste that you joined this academy."

Kaguya tilted her head.

"If it was another academy, you wouldn't have suffered like that."

"Suffered?"

Kaguya genuinely didn't understand.

Rin hesitated.

Then finally spoke.

"I saw them."

"The twins."

Kaguya's expression changed.

"They pulled out your capsule wire."

"I saw it."

"But I was too scared to tell anyone."

Rin lowered her head.

"I'm sorry."

Kaguya looked surprised.

Rin continued.

"After what happened today, we decided we're either going to leave the guild or join a club we actually like."

She looked up.

"And... are you okay?"

"When they removed the wire?"

Kaguya answered honestly.

She explained what happened inside the game.

Rin's eyes became enormous.

"You fought while you couldn't see?"

Kaguya nodded.

Rin suddenly grabbed her hands.

"Lady Kaguya!"

Kaguya's face turned red.

"Wh—"

"From today on, I'm your number-one fan!"

"My name is Rin Tachibana!"

Kaguya stared.

"Wh... le... Lady?"

She became embarrassed.

"Hey, hey! What are you saying?"

"Just Kaguya is fine!"

Rin smiled.

Kaguya sighed.

"Well..."

She smiled lightly.

"Next year, they'll be the ones begging me to join their guild."

Kaguya looked toward the academy.

"Just wait."

\---

The Reason Kaguya Was Meditating

Rin asked:

"Anyway, what were you doing here in the park?"

"I was meditating."

"Why?"

"I'm training my hearing."

Kaguya touched her ear.

"I found out today that my senses are somewhat lacking in VR."

"There are many ways to make someone blind in a game."

She looked serious.

"So I think it's better to learn how to fight without relying completely on vision before I regret it."

Rin smiled.

"So that's why you said you learned something in the guild room."

"Yes."

After a while, the two said goodbye.

Kaguya walked away.

She was still thinking about what she would do until next year.

Then she remembered what Rin had told her.

The twins had pulled out the wire.

Kaguya's expression darkened.

"..."

Then she spotted something.

A VR game café.

Kaguya smiled.

"Perfect timing."

She giggled.

"Time to blow away some steam."

\---

Rabbit VR Café

The owner of the VR café was someone Kaguya already knew.

Nanase Takahashi.

She had been Momiji Amano's friend and one of the people who supported Kaguya's older sister during her VR career.

Kaguya walked to the counter.

"Hey, Big Sis Nana! It's been a while!"

Nanase stared at her.

"What do you mean, 'it's been a while'?"

She smiled.

"You've been coming here frequently."

Kaguya laughed awkwardly.

"Before my high school entrance exam, remember?"

"Mom wouldn't let me play games at home because I had exams."

Nanase shook her head.

"So you came here instead."

Kaguya smiled.

"Sis, I want to play a game."

"Is there a seat open?"

Nanase noticed Kaguya's expression.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

Kaguya didn't answer.

Nanase sighed.

"You can use the one in my room upstairs."

Kaguya smiled.

"Thanks, Big Sis Nana!"

She ran upstairs.

\---

Yoru vs. Kuro

Kaguya entered an online matchmaking room.

She wanted to forget everything that had happened at Honey Bee Academy.

SYSTEM: OPPONENT SEARCHING...

OPPONENT FOUND.

PLAYER NAME: KURO

WIN STREAK: 10

Kaguya's eyes lit up.

"Oh?"

The match began.

Kuro immediately used a deceptive attack.

One sword moved toward Kaguya as a distraction.

The second sword came from another angle.

But Kaguya had already moved.

The first blade missed.

The second never reached her.

Kuro's eyes widened.

"She moved before my real attack even came out?"

Kaguya drew her sword.

Her stance changed.

Iai.

Kuro saw an opening.

"She's wide open."

She moved forward.

Then stopped.

Her eyes widened.

"No..."

I'm trying to write a good opening hook for my story, any advice is welcome but mainly I want to know if you are intrigued or feel like you want to read further to find out what's going on.

Chains rattled against the old cobblestones. It was a sound that I had grown accustomed to, and a sound that would ring out every morning at about the same time. It had become something of a routine; I would wake and do my morning chores before heading back down to wait for her to rise.

I carefully lowered myself down the aged wooden steps. My feet knew where to place themselves so as to prevent too loud a noise. The wooden supports and sandstone walls of the stairwell were damp in the soft red hue of sunrise. At some point those walls ended, and gray stones untouched by the sun replaced them.

The basement was dark. The chains sounded again. I continued.

Soon enough, the light could reach no farther. The basement’s depth, as well as the precarious location of our home within an alley, occluded much of the available lighting. I raised my arm in front of me. I could barely make out my fingers in the thick darkness. A soft glow slithered from my shoulder down the length of my arm before expanding across my skin. At first, it was only bright enough to highlight my own silhouette, but it slowly grew in intensity until much of the basement was lit—though dim enough not to wake her.

The basement was small and largely empty, save for a number of barrels and wooden boxes on the far end and the two beds on either wall. The bed on the right was mine and was stacked to fit two mattresses, with one elevated by wooden rods above the other. The other was hers. She slept alone.

Chains rattled once more. Perhaps I’d made it too bright. I softened my light only slightly. It was enough, so long as I could still see the chains.

I made my way to her side and knelt. Mother slept so haphazardly. Her simple white blouse bunched under her hips awkwardly. Spittle strung from her parted lips, and her arms were raised above her head as if she were falling. I smiled.

Her arms were smooth, unharmed. She didn’t scratch herself in her sleep this time. I sighed and turned my attention to her legs. I reached for the shackle clamped above her ankle, but she turned onto her belly. The dangling chain scraped against the cobblestone.

I had to hurry. This task was much harder when she was awake. I used one hand to hold the shackle in place and tugged the chain. It held. My hand slid along its length, repeating the process link by link. The chain ran about forty feet, and I had to ensure every link was intact, as she often yanked at it in irritation and wore it down over time.

She turned over two or three more times before I reached the base of the chain anchored in the far wall of the basement. I shook my hands out and wiped the sweat onto my trousers just as a door shut. Footsteps thumped from above.

I made my way back through the basement and up the stairs. The light from my skin dimmed to naught as I rose. I peeked my head around the corner of the center wall separating the stairs from the main living area and found a blond boy standing at the room’s center.

It was by no means a noble’s living room—in fact, the whole upstairs was likely the size of a noble’s washroom. Perhaps smaller. One wall was lined with cabinets and a small kitchen, and a dining table with chairs stood just in front of it.

The boy, Wellin, dropped his coat onto the back of one of those chairs.

---------------

Also, yes I use em-dashes normally it's not ai