Interstellars permanent F-Class BigShot

[General audiences adult +18 and older please advise] A ZepeNet holo-scanner hovered over her, humming faintly. Blue glyphs scanned her nervous system, her spine, her brain, her fingertips. "You may proceed forward into the test room" it's mechanical voice echoed. Her heart pounded. She braced herself. Jang Iseul entered the room, took off her shoes. The scanner blinked. Beeped. Now, she stood barefoot at the scanning area in Dominion Academy test room. The overhead lights pulsed in quiet rhythm, each cycle echoing a countdown she wasn't sure she could beat. The dom­i­na­tion protocol was merciless. Gift identification had to be public. Every blink, every scan, every register to the ZepeNet Core Archive—all recorded, all locked. The hall smelled of cold tiles and recycled air. No pods. No luxury. Just a half-lit device with blinking sensors and a mandatory softnet readout. The scanner intoned: "Please remain still. Initiating full‑spectrum Gift Resonance Scan." Lines of energy crept up her spine. Symbols flickered across her vision like ghost data. The machine made a quiet chirping sound and locked her ZepeNet profile. She was ranked now. The world would see it. Her friends would see it. Universities would ignore it. She stared at the results. Red text streaked across the display: SCANNER SYNC COMPLETE Gift Class: Star‑Class Potential Rank: (F‑Rank) Designation: Mutated Illusion creator Origin Code: Strange, Unknown Energy Bond: Red Locked ZepeNet Status: Manual Review Required Red‑Locked meant more than just blocked advancement—it meant social death. She stared at the result, not very shocked. A technician leaned forward and raised a brow. "Star‑Class? But still F‑Rank?! How rare! But you're permanent Red‑Locked?! Sorry, bad luck, kid," he was flabbergasted as he looked at her sympathetically. She already knew. The system refused to understand her Gift. It didn't just misclassify her—it locked her out. Because it had never seen any gift quite like her. Jang Iseul nodded without looking at him. He tried to sound kind and find the right words. "Well… better late than never. Happens sometimes. You might qualify for logistics or harvest support." She stood silently. Not because she was powerless, but because she knew what to do next. She walked out of the testing room and didn't look back. She didn't know what she had expected— She left the scanner room in silence. Other students whispered as she walked past: "She is still red?" "Forever F‑Rank much, huh? Wow. Even at eighteen." "She's done. No squads'll take her seriously now." She didn't respond. Didn't look back. Didn't try to explain. Because she'd seen what she could do in dreams. And she knew she was close. So damn close. She passed two seniors leaning against a vending drone. One of them, a girl with synthetic nails and neon hair, sneered without making eye contact. "Hey, Jang Iseul. Who are you pretending to be now, queen of the losers F‑Ranks?" Iseul didn't slow down. She didn't even turn her head. But the girl moved aside anyway. There was only one test left before she'd be defined—or discarded.