Jacob Hayes had already died twice today.
The first time was when Emma stopped holding his hand during Principal Anderson's speech—just let her fingers go slack like his touch had stopped mattering somewhere between "future opportunities" and "proud tradition."
The second was when she twisted off his promise ring and pretended to adjust it.
Three months of wages. Every weekend shift at Martinez Auto Shop. Every burned finger, every oil stain, every night he'd chosen overtime instead of sleep because he'd wanted to see her face when he finally had enough saved.
She was checking if it still fit.
It did.
She wore it anyway.
Jacob knew what people's faces looked like when they were counting down the seconds until they could abandon you without looking like monsters. He'd learned that language three years ago, watching relatives at his parents' funeral calculate exactly how long they had to pretend they cared before they could leave him with Aunt Marie and forget he existed.
Emma's face spoke the same dialect now.
The awakening stone pulsed on the gymnasium stage—smooth black sphere on a silver pedestal, humming with potential that Jacob could feel from thirty rows back.
Twenty-three minutes until his name got called.
Twenty-three minutes until Emma had permission to stop pretending.
"You okay?" She didn't look at him when she asked. Her eyes tracked Derek Martinez as he crossed the gymnasium floor, all six-foot-three of basketball captain confidence and second-generation money.
Derek's family owned the largest Hunter supply chain in Oregon. His father was B-Rank, his mother was A-Rank, and Derek had been training in private Gate simulations since he was twelve.
Some people were born for this.
Jacob calculated probabilities in his head—a nervous habit from his father, who used to run odds on everything before he died clearing a destabilized Gate.
Chance Emma stayed with him if he awakened A-Rank: 78%.
B-Rank: 52%.
C-Rank: 31%.
D-Rank: 14%.
E-Rank or below: 3%.
Failed awakening: 0%.
His father had taught him the math. His mother had taught him to trust it. They'd both taught him that probability didn't care about hope.
Then they'd died, and Jacob had learned that probability didn't care about anything.
"Jacob?" Emma's voice had an edge now.
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'm calculating the odds you're still my girlfriend in an hour."
Emma flinched. "Don't be like that."
"Like what? Realistic?"
Her jaw tightened—the same expression she got when her mother asked about college plans they both knew her family couldn't afford. Medical debt from the accident two years ago. Emma's awakening today wasn't just about power.
It was about survival.
Jacob understood that. He even respected it.
Didn't mean it hurt less when she pulled her hand away completely and folded it in her lap.
"Michael Brooks!" Principal Anderson's voice boomed across the gymnasium.
The ceremony began.
***
Michael Brooks hit C-Rank—Berserker class, combat specialization, immediate Guild interest. The applause was genuine. Michael grinned and flexed for the crowd.
Sophia Chen hit B-Rank—Elementalist, rare class, potential for AA-Rank growth with proper training. The gymnasium went silent with respect before erupting in applause. Sophia cried.
Jacob watched Emma watch Sophia.
Hunger in her eyes.
Not jealousy. Hunger.
The difference mattered.
Eight more names. Six D-Ranks, one E-Rank, one failure.
The girl who failed—Rebecca Torres—walked back to her seat while conversations around her died and resumed three seconds later, erasing her like she'd never existed.
Jacob's hands were sweating.
"Emma Wilson!"
Emma stood. Smoothed her dress. Three deliberate breaths—a technique from the meditation app she'd made him download six months ago when his nightmares got bad.
She walked to the stage without looking back.
Jacob counted her steps. Twenty-three.
The same number as minutes until his turn.
Probability didn't care about patterns. But Jacob couldn't help seeing them anyway.
Emma placed both palms on the awakening stone.
The reaction was immediate and violent.
Golden light exploded outward like a star going supernova. People in the front rows shielded their eyes. The stone's hum became a harmonic chord that Jacob felt in his teeth.
The display screen above the stage flickered and stabilized:
[EMMA WILSON]
[RANK: A]
[CAREER: DIVINE HEALER]
[POTENTIAL: AAA]
Silence.
Then chaos.
"A-RANK?!"
"DIVINE HEALER?!"
"That's—that's top-tier support! Only twelve in the entire country!"
Principal Anderson looked like he'd just won the state lottery and a Pulitzer in the same day. "Miss Wilson! Congratulations! This is—this is extraordinary! You're only the third A-Ranker in Riverside High's entire ninety-year history!"
Emma stood frozen on stage, staring at her hands like they belonged to someone else.
Someone important.
Someone valuable.
Someone who didn't need a failed mechanic's son with dead parents and a 1998 Honda Civic.
Jacob's chest felt hollow. Like someone had scooped out his lungs and left a void that echoed with every breath.
Emma walked back. The crowd parted for her now—unconscious deference to new hierarchy.
She sat down without looking at him.
Didn't matter. Jacob knew what came next.
He'd known since the golden light hit.
Maybe since she'd stopped holding his hand.
Maybe since his parents died and he'd learned the math of abandonment.
"Daniel Park!"
Jacob stopped listening. The ceremony continued around him—background noise to the countdown in his head.
Nineteen names between Daniel and Hayes.
Eighteen.
Seventeen.
His phone buzzed.
Derek Martinez had created a group chat: **VANGUARD PROSPECTS**
Derek: Emma, congratulations! Seriously impressive. We should talk about team composition. I'm putting together something special for next month's C-Rank Gate rotation. A-Rank healer would make us unstoppable.
Emma: Thank you! I'd love to discuss it.
Derek: Perfect. Meet me by the equipment cases after the ceremony?
Emma: See you there.
Jacob watched the messages appear in real-time. Emma's thumbs moved fast—excited typing, the kind she used to use when texting him.
Past tense now.
"Jacob Hayes!"
The gymnasium fell into polite silence. Not the awed hush for Emma or Sophia. Just the quiet courtesy you give someone before they fail publicly.
Jacob stood.
Twenty-three steps to the stage.
His legs didn't shake. He'd practiced this—mentally rehearsed it enough times that his body knew the choreography.
The awakening stone sat on its pedestal, still faintly warm from Emma's touch.
Jacob placed both palms against the surface.
Ice cold. Smooth as glass. Inert.
Come on.
He focused. Willed every atom of his being into that point of contact. Thought about his parents. About the promise he'd made at their funeral. About Emma. About everyone who'd ever looked at him with pity.
Come ON.
The stone stayed dark.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
The void in Jacob's chest expanded. Spread to his limbs. His vision tunneled.
This was the moment. The fulcrum. Everything that came after would pivot on these seconds.
Principal Anderson cleared his throat. "Jacob, you can—"
"Give me one more minute." Jacob's voice came out steady. Practiced.
"Son, it's not going to—"
"Please."
Something in his tone made Anderson pause. Maybe pity. Maybe just exhaustion.
"Thirty more seconds."
Jacob closed his eyes.
I need this. I need SOMETHING. Anything. Just don't let me be nothing.
The stone remained dead.
Just like everything else he'd ever tried to hold onto.
"That's time." Anderson's voice was gentle. Professional. The tone doctors used when telling you the patient didn't make it.
Jacob opened his eyes.
The display screen above the stage showed his verdict:
[JACOB HAYES]
[RANK: F]
[CAREER: NONE]
[STATUS: AWAKENING FAILED]
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Jacob pulled his hands away from the stone. They left condensation marks on the surface—the only proof he'd been there at all.
He walked back through absolute silence.
Twenty-three steps.
When he sat down, Emma didn't move. Didn't look at him. Didn't reach for his hand.
She'd already left. Her body just hadn't followed yet.
The ceremony continued.
Jacob stopped counting names. Stopped calculating probabilities. Stopped doing anything except breathing and waiting for permission to leave.
***
Forty minutes later, the ceremony ended.
Newly awakened Hunters clustered in groups. The A, B, and C-Ranks formed a natural center—everyone else orbiting them like planets around stars.
Emma stood with Derek's group now. Five of them total—all C-Rank or better. Derek was explaining something about Gate formations, gesturing with the confidence of someone who'd never failed at anything.
Emma laughed at something Adrian Chen said. Her real laugh, not the polite one she used for strangers.
Jacob sat alone in his row of folding chairs.
Rebecca Torres, the other failure, had already left. Smart.
Jacob's phone buzzed.
Emma: Can we talk? Outside?
He didn't respond. Just stood and walked toward the gymnasium doors.
The parking lot was empty except for Emma, waiting by his car.
She'd beaten him there. Probably left the group the moment she sent the text.
Efficiency.
Jacob stopped three feet away. Close enough to talk. Far enough that touching would require deliberate movement.
"I can't do this anymore." Emma's voice was steady. No tears. She'd stopped crying months ago when her mother's treatment bills hit six figures.
Jacob nodded. He'd expected this. Calculated it. Prepared for it.
Didn't make his chest hurt less.
"We were supposed to do this together," he said quietly.
"That was before I became valuable."
The word hung between them like poison. *Valuable.* What the Guild recruiters had called her. What Derek had called her. What her family needed her to be.
What Jacob would never be.
Emma pulled off the promise ring.
Three months of wages.
Worthless now.
Jacob didn't take it when she held it out. "Keep it."
"I can't—"
"Keep it." His voice stayed flat. "Maybe it'll remind you who you were before you got a price tag."
Emma's hand closed around the ring. Her knuckles went white.
"You failed, Jacob." Defensive now. Justifying herself. "I didn't. That's not my fault."
"Never said it was."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I killed you."
Jacob almost laughed. "You didn't kill me. The stone did that. You're just—"
He paused. Searched for the right word.
"—realistic."
Emma flinched.
Good. Let her feel it. Let it sit in her chest the same way his failure was sitting in his.
"Derek's team needs a healer," Emma said. Not *I'm joining Derek's team.* His team NEEDS her. She was already thinking in terms of market value.
"I know. I saw the group chat."
"Then you understand—"
"I understand perfectly." Jacob pulled his car keys from his pocket. The Honda Civic next to them looked exactly as pathetic as he felt. "You're making the smart choice. The logical choice. The choice that keeps your family afloat and gives you a future."
"Jacob—"
"But don't pretend it's not a choice." He met her eyes. "You're not a victim here. You're making a calculation. Fine. I respect that. Just own it."
Emma's face hardened. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to choose between you and my family?"
"I think you're relieved the choice got made for you."
Silence.
Emma's expression cracked—just for a second. Long enough for Jacob to see guilt and relief warring behind her eyes.
Then the mask returned.
"Goodbye, Jacob." She pocketed the ring. Turned to leave.
"You'll regret this."