"Everyone has a string.
Most people just don't see who's pulling it."
That was the first line written on the envelope.
It arrived in a plain black package, slipped under the doors of fifteen carefully selected students across the city. No return address. No explanation.
Inside, a single card gleamed under the dim room lights:
You are invited to the Marionette Program.
Entry Code: Accepted.
Location: The Glass Room, 17th Floor, Argus Building. Midnight.
Failure to attend will result in automatic disqualification from all future opportunities linked to the Lux Institute and its affiliates.
At first glance, it seemed like a prestigious academic offer.
The Lux Institute—everyone knew that name. Scholarships, internships, and VIP connections beyond imagination.
But the second page killed that illusion:
Welcome, Player.
This is not a scholarship competition.
This is not a leadership program.
This is a psychological operation.
You have been selected not because of your grades, but because of your potential for manipulation.
Each of you has been assigned a target and given access to their Marionette Code—a psychological flaw, trauma, bias, or trigger point that makes them controllable.
Your mission is simple:
Exploit the code. Control your target.
The more people you control, the higher you rise.
The more strings you collect, the closer you get to the final prize.
Rule 01:
If your target submits to you—socially, mentally, or emotionally—you earn +10 control points.
Rule 02:
If you are exposed, framed, or proven to be manipulating someone, you lose everything.
Rule 03:
There is no quitting. Surveillance is active. The game has already begun.
The letter ended with a simple, typed line in cold font:
"Puppeteers are made, not born. Welcome to your evolution."
And beneath that:
— The Director