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Chapter 2 - The Unseen Gaze

The "mandatory guild social" was a high-frequency event, a symphony of clinking mana-infused crystals and murmured intelligence on newly discovered dungeons.

The collective aura of established power and new ambition was thick in the air.

Alina, a vision in a Void Sapphire dress that had won the silent, emoji-based conflict, stood beside Victor Hale.

He was always perfect. His suit had defensive enchantments, his smile was a charming weapon, and he possessively rested his hand on her back.

"I was concerned," he murmured, his low voice cutting through the ballroom noise.

"When your arrival was delayed, I ran several threat assessments."

"Just gate traffic," Alina replied, taking a sip of a potion she didn't want.

The lie was as effortless as breathing. 'I was busy almost atomizing an F-Ranker who has more integrity in his little finger than this entire room of A-Rankers combined.'

The thought was so sharp and unexpected it almost made her choke.

"Ah, and the minor incident with the cyclist," Victor added, his eyes scanning the room, acknowledging a powerful guild master with a subtle nod.

"You must be more careful, my love. The optics of a Veyra heir colliding with one of the academy's charity projects… it's just messy data."

Alina's spine stiffened. "I was distracted by my terminal, Victor. The fault was mine."

He gave her a perfected look of gentle scolding that made her feel both cherished and foolish at the same time.

"Nonsense. He was an obstacle in your designated path.

These scholarship students sometimes forget their place. They move through the world with an entitled aura that is frankly baffling, considering their pathetic mana signatures."

He smiled, a brilliant flash of white. "He's a statistical anomaly, Alina. Not worth a single cycle of your thoughts."

A statistical anomaly. The phrase was so clean, so system-oriented.

It was Victor's way of debugging the world, of deleting any data point that didn't fit into his perfectly constructed life.

And yet, the image of those defiant eyes—and the void her Aura Perception had failed to penetrate—wouldn't be deleted.

For a statistical anomaly, he was causing a significant processing load in her mind.

[System Alert: Loyalty Value Fluctuation Detected.]

The notification was a faint, internal tremor.

Victor's casual cruelty, his effortless dismissal of another human, had always been a part of his programming. But for the first time, she couldn't dismiss it.

Victor, sensing her slight withdrawal, leaned in and kissed her temple.

"Let's not process this data point again. It's insignificant." He then turned his charm on a passing trustee, seamlessly shifting protocols.

The incident was flagged as resolved. For him.

The next morning, Darius stood before the sealed doors of the Advanced Mana Research Facility. This lab was his sanctuary, the one place at Jooshin where the System felt fair.

Here, it wasn't about your Guild affiliation; it was about the quality of your data. His research on bio-photonic energy transference was the cornerstone of his scholarship. It was his proof that he wasn't just a "charity case."

He swiped his student ID against the access panel. A red light pulsed.

[ACCESS DENIED. CLEARANCE LEVEL INSUFFICIENT.]

He frowned and swiped it again. The same result.

"Problem?" The voice belonged to a lab technician, a graduate student with a permanent [Status Effect: Weary Superiority].

"My access key isn't working," Darius said, keeping his voice even. "I was just in here yesterday."

The technician took the card and interfaced it with his own terminal. He sighed theatrically. "Cole, Darius. Project credentials have been suspended."

Darius felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "Suspended? Why? On whose authority?"

"Unknown authority. Not my problem," the tech said, already turning away. "System log says your project has been flagged for 'Resource Reallocation.' You'll have to submit a ticket to the administration."

"Submitting a ticket" was Jooshin code for entering a bureaucratic sub-dungeon with an indefinite respawn timer. His project had deadlines.

This wasn't just an inconvenience; it was a targeted system attack. One "minor incident," and the next day he was locked out of his future. He felt the invisible pressure of a system designed to keep F-Ranks down.

His survival instinct, a skill honed over a lifetime, screamed at him to find a workaround. Don't make waves. Don't ping the system admins.

But a deeper part of his core programming, his sense of justice, overrode the command.

This was wrong.

He had worked twice as hard for half the EXP, and now they were trying to delete his save file. The sarcasm in his mind was a bitter tonic. Right. Because my research is a threat that must be neutralized.

Meanwhile, Chadworth over there is probably getting a grant to study the aerodynamics of a champagne cork.

He turned away, frustration a cold, hard debuff in his chest. He didn't know who had issued the command, but he knew why. It was a message. A reminder of his place in the hierarchy.

Miles away, in an office that overlooked the city like a command center, Victor Hale ended a call. He hadn't raised his voice. He had simply spoken to the academy's head of endowments, a man whose guild was a subsidiary of the Hale Corporation.

"It's just a matter of streamlining," Victor had said smoothly.

"We need to ensure our resources are funding projects with the most potential. The Veyra-Hale Science Grant is a significant investment.

That bio-photonics project by the Cole student seems… redundant. Let's ensure our primary researchers aren't facing unnecessary competition for system resources."

The head of endowments had understood perfectly.

Victor then made a second call to his head of personal security. "The scholarship student. Darius Cole. I want a complete data file on him. Social links, known associates, daily routine. Nothing intrusive. Just a discreet, comprehensive background check.

Consider it due diligence."

Darius represented a variable, an F-Rank anomaly that had disrupted his perfect simulation.

Victor's life was an exercise in control. He would not allow a rounding error to cause a glitch in the system. He would monitor him, analyze his patterns, and if necessary, he would erase him.

That evening, Darius sat in his cramped dorm, the walls offering no sound dampening. He was surrounded by grimoires, his only real wealth.

He'd spent the day fighting the administrative machine, each indifferent assistant a new NPC with the same dead-end dialogue tree. He was isolated. Targeted. His paranoia about being an outsider was turning into a certainty.

A mental warning whispered: [Warning: You are being monitored by an unknown entity.]

It was a new, chilling disadvantage. He stared at his blank, blinking laptop screen. His hope was locked away by a power he couldn't defeat.

[Status Effect: Despair (Minor)]

As he was about to log off, a notification appeared: a message from an unknown source.

The sender and subject were blank, but he clicked it anyway, expecting a scam.

The message only had two lines of black text.

"They are watching you.

Be careful where you step."

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