The library at Aldridge Academy was not just a repository of knowledge but a grand, intellectual battleground. Its glass walls stretched three stories high, encasing a labyrinthine world of books. Vintage brass lamps cast a soft, golden glow on towering shelves filled with leather-bound tomes. The silence within was sacred—broken only by the rhythmic tapping of fingers on keyboards or the faint scratching of fountain pens. To disturb it with idle chatter was almost sacrilegious.
In the farthest corner, half-concealed behind a fortress of dusty encyclopedias, Liam Carter sat hunched over his laptop. The screen glowed accusingly, the cursor blinking as if mocking his stalled thoughts. He adjusted his reading glasses—an unconscious gesture, more out of habit than necessity—and glanced at the sprawling mess of papers next to him. Among them, half-buried under crumpled drafts, Ethan Reyes lay sprawled across the polished oak table, shoes kicked off, legs hanging off one end as if gravity were just a vague suggestion.
Ethan, who ranked 3224th for now (and still moving down) at Aldridge, had the singular ability to appear both entirely at ease and completely out of place, as though he had wandered into the academy by mistake and decided to stay. Unlike the rest of the school's scholarly elite, Ethan treated Aldridge's rigorous environment with an irreverent nonchalance that made Liam's brain itch.
Liam's screen displayed the latest version of his personal statement—yet another clumsy attempt at seeming human enough to pass. He read through the sentences again, dissecting them as if they were mathematical formulas. Each word felt wrong, like it had been borrowed from someone else's story.
"This is awful," Ethan declared, voice tinged with genuine concern.
Liam's fingers hovered over the keys, but he didn't type. Objectively, Ethan was right. Still, hearing it aloud stung.
"Why?" Liam asked, his tone clinical.
Ethan tipped his chair back onto two legs, a balancing act that seemed just as reckless as his academic career. "It reads like a robot wrote it. You've got lines like, 'I am deeply passionate about problem-solving because it fuels my intellectual curiosity and my drive for innovation.'" He snorted. "Have you ever said the words 'deeply passionate' out loud?"
Liam frowned, but not because Ethan was wrong. "That's what they want to hear."
Ethan dropped the chair back onto all fours with a thud, shaking his head. "No, they want to hear about you. Right now, this sounds like if a sentient algorithm tried to fake being human."
Liam snapped the laptop shut, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Then what do you suggest?"
Grinning like a fox that had just found its way into the hen house, Ethan said, "We ask Juliette."
Liam sighed. Of course. Juliette Fontaine, Rank 15—Princeton-bound, accomplished, and entirely too good at anything artistic for Liam's comfort. Ethan had made no secret of his admiration for her creativity—or maybe just her, in general.
"She's good at this stuff," Ethan insisted. "Writing. Storytelling. Maybe she can help."
Liam hesitated. Accepting help wasn't a weakness per se, but at Aldridge, it was as good as admitting you were one mistake away from slipping in rank. In the top 20, such admissions were like blood in the water.
"No," Liam said flatly. "The top 20 is a battlefield. You don't ask your enemies for ammunition."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "This is why you got rejected. You think like a machine. But what if we crowdsourced it?"
Liam's brows knitted together. "Explain."
"We post your essay online—like on some writing forum or a college apps Subreddit. Get feedback from random strangers. They'll tear it apart, but at least they'll be honest."
Liam considered it. Anonymity was a useful shield. If no one knew it was his, there was no weakness to exploit. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. Let's do it."
Ethan whooped triumphantly, clapping him on the shoulder. "Trust the process, man."
Back at the dorm, the suite on the tenth floor gleamed with minimalist efficiency. One of the perks of being in the top 20 was living in the skyward luxury of Aldridge's dormitories—complete with biometric locks, climate control, and an AI-driven study assistant that Liam never used. Through the glass walls, the campus sprawled below, lights flickering in the study halls as students pulled late-night grinds, eyes glassy from nootropics to keep them focused.
Liam ignored his phone buzzing. The group chat for the top 20 had come alive.
📲 [TOP 20 – PRIVATE CHAT]
🔹 Jasper Voss (Rank 7): Heard a rumor. One of us didn't get into their top choices. Interesting.
🔹 Lucía Torres (Rank 10): Wouldn't know. Some of us don't need safeties.
Liam locked the screen. Jasper was fishing for intel, hoping to sniff out weakness. Liam had no intention of taking the bait.
As Ethan typed up the Reddit post, Liam glanced out the window, mind calculating the risk. Emotions were abstract, processed like numbers on a graph. Fear: Risk multiplied by Consequence equals Response. Joy: Reward divided by Effort equals Satisfaction. He understood the equations but not the feelings.
When Ethan hit "POST," Liam couldn't help but sense that something had shifted. Like a pawn advancing into enemy territory, it seemed simple—yet irreversible.