Chapter 111
Fun
As the two followed behind the back of the energetic Reuel, their footsteps echoed faintly down the stairs, mixing with the rising noise that met them from below.
Even before they reached the bottom step, the sounds became unmistakable—laughter, scattered conversation, the hum of a crowd already gathered. And by the time they reached the end of the stairs, they saw Reuel—who had somehow, in the span of mere seconds, already integrated himself back into the lounge like he had never left.
It was almost uncanny.
He stood confidently near the center of a loosely formed circle, surrounded by a group of students who were all focused on one of the two vending machines positioned in the corner of the lounge. A debate was already underway.
One of the students tilted their head in confusion and asked aloud, "How do you even work this thing? There are no coin slots."
IAM blinked, the question triggering a realization. He hadn't paid attention to the vending machines earlier, but now that he was looking, it was true. There was no visible place to insert coins. No paper slot either.
And then it hit him.
This world—with all of it's technology—didn't seem to use notes for currency. Just coins.
It wasn't some groundbreaking revelation. It didn't change his life. But it was an interesting detail, one of those small cultural differences that reminded him just how different things were here. He made a mental note to ask someone about it later—perhaps when things were quieter, or when he had more energy to care.
The staff member who IAM had seen earlier—the one who'd welcomed him when he first arrived upstairs—was now walking toward the group. Their expression remained calm and composed, professional but approachable, with a polite smile that looked like it had been practiced hundreds of times in front of a mirror.
They raised a hand slightly and gestured toward a rectangular scanner attached to the vending machine.
"Actually," they began, voice warm and slightly chipper, "we don't use coins here inside the academy. Instead, we use something called HP—or Hope Points. They're a type of internal currency used for everything from snacks to supplies."
They didn't pause as they continued. "HP can be earned in a variety of ways. You might gain them by excelling in your studies, volunteering for tasks around the academy, or even by impressing an instructor enough for them to gift you a few points as a reward for doing something exemplary."
There was a moment of silence after that.
Then a voice from the crowd broke the pause: "Then how are we supposed to afford anything? We literally don't have any HP yet."
Still smiling, the staff member responded, "Actually, as a small welcome gift, every student is given 500 Hope Points to start with."
One might have expected this announcement to spark some cheers, or at least a few relieved expressions—but that wasn't what happened.
Instead, most students frowned.
IAM included.
Because now they understood. The point system wasn't just a currency. It was a subtle form of pressure—a quiet but ever-present reminder that everything here was performance-based.
Hope Points were tied directly to your usefulness, your excellence, your value to the academy. If you didn't do well, you didn't earn. If you didn't earn, you couldn't afford basic things. It was an elegant system of reward and punishment disguised behind cheerful language and modern machines.
And once you were there, with no points to your name and no path to recovery, you'd be left with no choice but to quit. The system didn't need to kick you out. It just starved you of opportunity until you left on your own.
IAM smiled faintly, a quiet smile filled with understanding. Under all the sleek design, polished walls, and pleasant staff members, this place was much crueler than it looked.
It was almost sinister.
The academy had been carefully structured to push people to their limits, not with punishment or shouts, but with expectations and quiet consequences. Every seemingly simple aspect—the lounge, the vending machines, the library, the shops—had been planned meticulously. The system worked exactly the way they intended.
And now, everyone else was beginning to see it too.
The lounge fell into silence. The noise had evaporated.
Then the staff's smile widened slightly. Their tone softened, almost as if they were letting the students in on a secret.
"Actually," they said, voice casual yet loaded with implication, "in the previous trial, those who passed with a flag were awarded 1,500 Hope Points."
A sour taste filled the mouths of many.
IAM tilted his head slightly. He didn't know what that meant exactly—he hadn't been part of that trial—but he understood the message behind it. There were rewards for excellence… big ones. And you could earn them too...
Well.
This place might be far more difficult than he thought.
A sudden, sharp clap cut through the heavy silence, snapping everyone out of their thoughts.
It was Reuel.
Grinning like nothing had just happened, he shrugged and said with effortless enthusiasm, "Meh, who cares? Who wants to hit a bar and get lit?!"
Some students let out excited cheers and whoops. Laughter broke out again. A portion of the crowd quickly clustered around Reuel as he led the group out toward whatever late-night establishment they had in mind, clearly on a mission to welcome the future hangover that awaited them by the next morning.
But before they could get too far, Reuel turned and pointed at IAM and Yohan, who had silently started heading back toward their rooms—students who, unlike the others, knew better.
The two looked at each other, confused, then pointed at themselves as if to say, "Us?"
Reuel grinned. "Oh come on! We're going to be living in the same room for a long time. We've got to bond! Come on, it's going to be fun!"
IAM frowned internally. While he had once claimed he felt nothing, a small flicker of irritation sparked within him. The thought of wasting Hope Points on a night out with strangers wasn't something he had anticipated… and besides, the sun hadn't even set yet. What kind of bar did they plan to go to?
Yohan, beside him, seemed equally unenthusiastic.
Still, Reuel was insistent. And eventually, after repeated pushing and a shared sigh of defeat, the two of them submitted to their fate.
As IAM walked past the staff member, he paused.
"Are there only first-years in here?" he asked.
The staff nodded cheerfully. "Yes. You're all first-years."
IAM clicked his tongue.
That was unlucky. He had been hoping to meet an older student, someone with a bit more experience. Someone he could extract useful insights from. A missed opportunity.
Just before he stepped out through the dorm entrance, he paused again.
His thoughts flickered to Kassara.
She was lying somewhere deep in his suitcase. He didn't know why, but something about the night ahead made him feel like having her near was a good idea.
The staff, noticing him hesitate, tilted their head slightly and asked with the same polite smile, "Anything else?"
IAM held their gaze for a moment. He didn't say anything at first.
Then finally, he broke. "Yes, actually. I need to get something."
He turned back and quickly made his way to the room, opened his case, and pulled Kassara out from beneath a layer of folded clothes. Her sleek black body felt strangely comforting. He slipped on a zip-up hoodie, carefully adjusting it so the holster and Kassara would be hidden beneath.
Then he left again, quickly moving to catch up with the group.
The staff member remained standing in the lounge as he passed, still smiling quietly, watching him go in silence.
That smile never wavered.