The lecture dragged on longer than Marcus expected.
Not because the professor was boring but because his mind wasn't there.
It lingered on whispers. On glances. On the weight of eyes that hadn't been on him before. Every movement felt watched, measured, judged against the video still circulating online.
When the professor finally dismissed the class, chairs scraped against the floor and voices rose in overlapping chatter. Students stood, gathered their bags, and filtered toward the exits.
Marcus remained seated for a second longer.
This is it.
The interface pulsed softly at the edge of his vision.
[Target Status Update]
Isabella Quinn Unengaged
Location: Academic Hallway
Opportunity Window: Open
Then a new line appeared beneath it.
[Warning: Target availability is temporary.]
Marcus's jaw tightened.
So this was the system's way of pushing him forward.
No countdown.
No instructions.
Just pressure.
If I die, I die.
The thought wasn't dramatic. It was calm. Final. The kind of resolve that came from knowing there was no turning back anyway.
He stood.
Adjusting the strap of his bag, Marcus followed the flow of students into the hallway.
Isabella Quinn stood a short distance ahead.
Even among the crowd, she was unmistakable.
Not loud. Not flashy. Just… present.
Students unconsciously gave her space. Some greeted her. Others nodded respectfully. She responded with polite efficiency, already half-focused on something else.
Marcus felt his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
Lock in.
He took a breath and spoke.
"Isabella."
The name felt heavier than he expected.
She stopped.
Then turned.
Her gaze landed on him clear, sharp, assessing. Not annoyed. Not dismissive. Just curious.
"Yes?"
Up close, she was even more composed than from a distance. Dark hair neatly tied back. Calm eyes. An expression that suggested she was used to being approached—but not by him.
Marcus swallowed. "I'm uh. Marcus Reed."
Recognition flickered across her face.
"Oh." Her brows lifted slightly. "You're… the one."
His stomach tightened. "The one?"
"The video," she said gently. "That's going viral."
"oh, you're the one..."
Marcus gritted his teeth silently, 'that damn vid. Is that what she associated me with when I approached her? I'm no longer that damn weakling...'
He remained silent ignoring her remark... Clearly Isabelle words had soiled his mood...
'Its going to take a while' he thought in his mind already giving up on Isabella...
But to his surprise, Isabella took the initiative to take his hand and look at him straight to the eyes and say softly... "I'm sorry if that came of as insult."
[Affection Update Detected]
Isabella Quinn — Affection: 10 / 100
Marcus almost stumbled.
Ten?
Just from that?
He kept his face neutral, but inside something shifted.
She cared.
Even if it was small even if it was just basic human decency it was more than zero.
"That video was hard to watch," Isabella continued. "Honestly, I'm surprised the administration hasn't made a statement."
Marcus's shoulders tensed. "They won't."
Her eyes sharpened. "Why not?"
"Because reporting it won't change anything," he said quietly. "The guys involved… their families have influence. Money. Names."
Isabella frowned. "That doesn't mean nothing should be done."
"It usually does," Marcus replied.
She stopped walking.
Completely.
Students flowed around them, but she didn't seem to notice.
"That's not how this works," she said. "Not here. Not under my watch."
He looked at her, surprised.
"As Student Government President, I can't ignore something like this," she continued. "And the school shouldn't either. Even without a formal report, they can investigate. The video exists. That alone is enough."
Marcus hesitated. "You really think they'll act?"
"I know they should," she said firmly, then softened slightly. "And I won't tolerate this being buried."
She turned and started walking again.
"Come on."
"Where?" Marcus asked, caught off guard.
She glanced back. "The dean's office."
His pulse spiked.
"Wait—now?"
"Yes," she said simply. "If you're willing."
Marcus stared at her for half a second.
This wasn't part of the plan.
But maybe… that was the point.
He exhaled and nodded. "Okay."
As he stepped forward, the system pulsed again.
[Decision Acknowledged]
Path Locked: Direct Engagement
Failure Probability Adjusted
Marcus squared his shoulders.
Whatever happened next
There was no way back.
Dean's Office The Reality Check
The walk to the administration wing felt longer than it should have.
Not because of the distance but because of the silence.
Isabella walked a step ahead of Marcus, her pace steady, posture straight. Students parted instinctively as they passed, whispers trailing behind them like static.
Marcus kept his eyes forward.
So this is really happening.
They stopped in front of a polished wooden door.
DEAN HAROLD WHITMORE
OFFICE OF STUDENT AFFAIRS
Isabella knocked once firm and confident.
"Come in."
The office was spacious. Too spacious.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the courtyard. Bookshelves lined the walls, more decorative than functional. A thick desk sat at the center, immaculate.
Dean Whitmore looked up from his computer.
Mid-fifties. Well-dressed. Calm eyes that had learned how to look sympathetic without committing to anything.
"Miss Quinn," he said with a practiced smile. "What brings you here?"
"This," Isabella replied, stepping aside.
Marcus stood fully in view.
Recognition flickered across the dean's face brief, controlled, then gone.
"Ah," Whitmore said. "Mr. Reed."
Marcus's jaw tightened.
So you do know who I am.
Isabella didn't waste time. "A video of Marcus being assaulted by fellow students is circulating online. Violently. Publicly. And yet there's been no response from the administration."
Whitmore sighed and gestured for them to sit.
They didn't.
"That incident," the dean said calmly, "occurred off-campus. Late at night. Without official witnesses."
"It's still assault," Isabella said. "And the perpetrators are clearly identifiable."
Whitmore folded his hands. "Miss Quinn, the university must be careful. Acting without a formal complaint or evidence that meets procedural standards could expose us to legal complications."
Marcus laughed once.
It slipped out before he could stop it.
Whitmore's gaze shifted. "Is something amusing, Mr. Reed?"
"No," Marcus said quietly. "Just familiar."
Isabella turned slightly toward him, then back to the dean. "Are you saying nothing will be done?"
"I'm saying," Whitmore replied evenly, "that without an official report, and given the individuals involved, this matter is… delicate."
There it was.
The truth, unspoken but clear.
Isabella's eyes hardened. "Because of who their families are."
Whitmore didn't deny it.
"Because of the potential consequences," he said. "Donors. Alumni. Board members. This university survives on relationships."
"And Marcus?" Isabella asked. "What about him?"
Whitmore looked at Marcus directly now.
Measured. Evaluating.
"You're fortunate to be recovering well," he said. "But pursuing this further could be… unwise."
Something cold settled in Marcus's chest.
"So that's it," he said. "They get away with it."
"I wouldn't phrase it like that," Whitmore replied.
"I would," Isabella snapped. "You're telling him his pain matters less than money."
"That's not"
"That is exactly what you're saying."
The dean's expression tightened.
"I advise caution," he said. "For everyone's sake."
Silence filled the room.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Helplessness.
The same helplessness as that night in the parking lot.
Know your place.
The interface pulsed.
[Warning Detected]
Host mental state under pressure
Outcome divergence approaching
Isabella exhaled slowly, then straightened.
"Thank you for your time, Dean Whitmore," she said coolly. "I understand your position."
Whitmore nodded, relieved. "I trust you do."
She turned—and met Marcus's eyes.
Not with pity.
With resolve.
"Come on," she said. "This isn't over."
As the door closed behind them, the hallway felt colder.
Isabella didn't slow down.
Her heels struck the floor sharply, jaw tight, fingers clenched at her side. The composed image she wore in public had cracked—just enough to reveal the anger beneath.
"That was unbelievable," she said, voice low but burning.
Marcus followed silently.
He'd expected disappointment. Maybe frustration.
Not this.
"They didn't even try to hide it," she continued. "No investigation. No statements. Just silence." She stopped and turned to him. "Do you realize how dangerous that is?"
"I'm not surprised," Marcus said.
She studied him—truly studied him.
The interface pulsed.
[Affection Update Detected]
Isabella Quinn Affection: 30 / 100
Marcus froze.
Thirty?
Warmth spread through his chest quiet, steady.
She didn't need to care.
Yet she did.
The system chimed.
[Task Completed]
Reward Granted:
• $200 Cash
• +50 System Points (SP)
Isabella exhaled and straightened.
"This doesn't end here," she said firmly. "I don't care how powerful they are. I'll clean this mess up."
Marcus nodded.
For the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, he believed her.
And for the first time
The system didn't feel like his only weapon.