Dorian woke to grey light filtering through the blinds.
He sat up.
The system flickered.
[SUB-QUEST 4 ACTIVE] [TARGET: PRIYA] [TIME REMAINING: 16 HOURS]
He read the name twice.
Priya.
His mind drifted to the stream. The strangers reacting to him. The way they'd competed for his attention.
Priya.
The way she'd looked at him before she walked away.
He opened his contacts. Found her name. Pressed call.
It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail.
He typed instead.
Dorian: Need five minutes. Where are you?
He watched the screen.
Nothing.
The message sat there.
Delivered.
No reply.
After a few seconds, he locked the phone and slipped it into his pocket.
---
The dining hall was loud. Exam stress hung in the air—students hunched over coffee, pages of notes spread across tables, a girl crying into her oatmeal.
Dorian grabbed a tray and found a seat near the window. Tyler slid into the chair across from him, already talking.
"Bro. I need help."
Dorian looked at him.
"I've been analyzing the situation," Tyler said, pulling out a folded piece of paper covered in bullet points. "And I've concluded that my current strategy is not optimized for success."
"What strategy?"
Tyler tapped the paper. "That's the problem. I don't have one."
Dorian stared at him for a second.
Tyler stared back.
Apparently, he was serious.
He spread the paper across the table. Dorian glanced at it. The first bullet read: Step 1: Be attractive.
"Chloe." Tyler crossed a hand over his chest. "My baby."
"She laughs at my jokes. She texts back within reasonable time. I think she might be the one." He leaned forward. "But I don't know how to close."
"Close what?"
"The deal, Dorian. The transaction. The—" he gestured with his hand. "—the horizontal tango."
Dorian stared at him.
"Come on, man. You've been with like fifty women this semester." Tyler threw up both hands. "What's your secret?"
"I don't have a secret."
"Bullshit. You walk around like you're in a cologne commercial and women just appear."
Tyler sighed dramatically.
Then he pulled out another piece of paper. This one had a diagram. Dorian recognized stick figures, arrows, and the word PASSION written in all caps.
"I've been studying," Tyler said. "The literature. The techniques. I even watched a documentary."
"What documentary?"
"One of those educational ones. On the streaming service. Very informative."
Dorian rubbed his eyes.
"So here's my plan," Tyler continued. "I'm going to invite her to study. In my room. Alone. Then I'm going to put on some romantic music. Then I'm going to lean in and whisper in her ear, 'You know, you have beautiful—'" He paused. "What do I say? Eyes? Lips? Soul?"
"Don't say soul."
"Right. Eyes. Definitely eyes." He scribbled a note. "Then I'm going to—"
Dorian tuned him out. Across the room, a group of students were glancing toward his table. One of them—a girl he'd never spoken to—raised a hand in a small wave.
He nodded. She turned back to her friends, whispering.
His phone buzzed.
Priya: Library. North entrance. Five minutes.
He put the phone away.
Kim appeared from behind the coffee station, tray in hand. She spotted Dorian, hesitated, then walked over.
"Hey. Mind if I join you?"
Tyler stopped mid-sentence. "We're in the middle of something."
"It's fine," Dorian said.
Kim sat. She didn't say much. Just ate her breakfast and occasionally glanced at Dorian like she was trying to figure something out.
A guy from the table behind them passed by. "Yo, Dorian." He gave a quick nod and a hand tap on Dorian's shoulder, then kept walking.
Tyler watched him go. "Do you know that guy?"
"No."
"Then why did he greet you like you're cousins?"
"I don't know."
Kim smiled. "Seems like everyone knows who you are lately."
His phone buzzed.
Priya: Here. Where are you?
Dorian: Two minutes.
---
Dorian left the dining hall. Kim watched him go for a moment before looking back down at her breakfast.
He walked toward the library. He found her near the north entrance, leaning against the wall, a coffee cup in her hand.
"Hey."
She looked up. "You said two minutes. It's been fifteen."
"To be fair, I've been busy giving Tyler life advice."
"Tyler."
"He's planning his romantic future. I was consulting."
She smiled and shook her head.
Dorian nodded toward the path.
"Walk with me."
She pushed off the wall and matched his pace without looking at him.
---
She opened her mouth, like she was about to deliver something rehearsed. Then she stopped, deflating.
"Shippo. I had a whole speech prepared."
"A speech for what?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "The one where I told you off. The one that was supposed to make me feel better."
The words caught before she could finish them. She hesitated for a moment.
"Because I needed to say it right."
"What were you expecting from me?"
"I don't know. I just wanted you to feel something—anything. You never seemed to care that I was hurting."
"Did you practice that part too?"
She glared at him. Then deflated again. "No," she said quietly. "That just came out."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't reach for it.
"You're not going to check that?" she asked.
"I'm talking to you."
"You can check it if you want. It's not like it's your fault people keep reaching out."
"I'm not curious about the phone."
She blinked. "Then what are you curious about?"
He held her gaze. "Right now? You."
She stopped walking, held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away.
"Why do you keep coming back to this?" he asked.
She was quiet for a moment. "Because I keep hoping you'll prove me wrong."
"Wrong about what?"
"That I didn't matter to you."
They walked a few more steps.
"You never asked," she said quietly. "After everything. You never asked if I was okay."
"I'm asking now."
"Why now?"
He considered the question. "Because I realized I should've asked when it actually mattered."
She was quiet for a long moment. "That's the first real thing you've said all day."
"I'm trying."
She laughed. Not happy, not bitter. Something in between. "Shippo. You say that like it's supposed to fix anything."
"It's not supposed to fix anything. It's just true."
She looked at him. "I don't know what to do with you."
"You don't have to do anything."
"That's the problem." Her voice was quieter now. "I keep wanting to. And you keep giving me nothing."
"I'm here."
"Being here isn't enough."
"Then what is it supposed to be?"
She didn't answer.
His phone buzzed again. He didn't reach for it.
"What do you want, Dorian?"
He looked at her. "To understand why you keep coming back."
"And if I stop?"
"Then I'll have my answer."
She stared at him. Then she shook her head.
"You're still doing it," she said. "You're still not letting yourself feel anything."
"I'm feeling something right now."
"What?"
He didn't answer.
She laughed. "That's what I thought."
She walked away without looking back.
Dorian stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the building. Then he turned and walked toward the philosophy lecture hall.
He checked his phone.
Elise: survive the walk home?
He typed back.
Dorian: Managed.
He pocketed the phone and went inside.
---
An elderly lecturer stood at the podium, speaking about Kant in a voice so steady it seemed designed to put half the room to sleep. Dorian tried to follow the argument, something about duty and moral law, but his attention kept drifting back to Priya. The way she'd tucked her hair behind her ear. The way she'd stolen glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking.
She's still interested.
---
Class ended. Students filed out. Dorian stayed in his seat.
He opened Pictora. The viral picnic photo had reached nearly 1.8 million likes and accumulated thousands of comments. His follower count had climbed to 51K. A DM from a girl he vaguely recognized from a party sat unread. The message preview read: "Hey, are you going to—"
He didn't open it.
When did that start happening?
"Yo, Dorian."He looked up. A guy he vaguely recognized from the gym—bigger, broader, confident—was standing in the aisle. Another guy stood beside him.
"Hey," the first guy said. "I'm Nico. You're Dorian, right?"
"Yeah."
"I've seen you around campus. You're in the gym sometimes, yeah?"
"Once or twice."
"Thought so." Nico nodded toward the friend beside him. "This is Jordan. We were just talking about that photo of yours. The one that went viral. Man, that thing exploded."
Dorian shrugged. "It happened."
"It's still happening," Nico said. "Saw the numbers. That's wild." He glanced at Jordan, then back at Dorian.
"You going to the party Friday night? Should be packed."
"I haven't heard about it."
"Not surprised. It's not really public." He smirked. "If you want to come, I can add you to the group chat."
Dorian hesitated.
"Sure," he said. "Yeah."
Nico pulled out his phone. "What's your number?"
Dorian gave it to him. Nico typed it in, then pocketed the phone.
"Some of us are hanging out later. Nothing serious. You should come." He clapped Dorian on the shoulder. "Think about it."
He walked off, Jordan trailing behind.
Dorian sat there for a moment. A month ago, nobody would have approached him after class. Nobody would have known his name. Nobody would have invited him anywhere.
How much influence do I actually have?
---
He walked across the quad, past clusters of students sprawled on the grass. His phone buzzed with a couple of follow requests and a notification from an event page he'd been tagged in. He swiped them away without looking too closely.
Near the student union, a girl he vaguely recognized from a class waved at him. He returned it, not stopping. Someone else called out his name behind him, and when he looked back, a guy he barely knew gave him a nod and a thumbs-up like they were old friends.
He kept walking.
He checked his phone again. 2:47 PM.
He sat on a bench near the humanities building. A group of students walked past, laughing about something he didn't catch. He watched them go.
He looked at his phone again. 3:12 PM.
A group chat notification lit up his screen.
"Campus Linkup 🔥💬" — You've been added to the group.
He swiped it away without opening it and kept walking.
---
Later, as the afternoon wore on, Dorian crossed the quad alone.
The student union lawn was busy. People eating. People studying. A group of guys tossing a frisbee. A couple arguing near the fountain.
He heard the laugh before he saw her.
Priya.
It came from somewhere to his left—sharp, familiar, cut off halfway, like she hadn't meant to let it out. He turned his head. She was sitting on a low wall, a water bottle in her hand. Dan stood beside her, close, his arm brushing hers.
Dorian slowed.
She's still thinking about this morning.
He was twenty yards away. She hadn't seen him yet. She was looking at Dan, or pretending to. Then her eyes drifted.
Toward Dorian.
Her attention slipped. Just for a second. Dan noticed. His jaw tightened. He said something—low, sharp. Priya shook her head, turned back to him. Her shoulders tensed. She shifted her weight on the wall, pulling her water bottle into her lap, as if anchoring herself back to the conversation.
But her eyes found Dorian again. Just for a second.
Dan saw it.
Priya's gaze lingered for half a beat too long. Then she noticed—Dan had noticed her noticing Dorian. Her posture tightened almost imperceptibly as she redirected her attention back to Dan.
Dorian looked away.
The system flickered.
Red text scattered across his vision—broken, partial, unreadable. Fragments of letters, half-formed characters, spilling and re-forming across his sight. Then they snapped into place.
[OBJECTIVE UNLOCKED: KISS PRIYA IN FRONT OF DAN FOR 30 SECONDS] [REWARD: UNLOCK NEXT SUB-QUEST] [TIME REMAINING: 7 HOURS]
He read the words. For a long moment, he didn't move.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 52]