I don't tell Jin.
I don't speak of the contract, or the glass office, or the guards that didn't come back with me. I don't speak of shattering the future into two and handing the pieces back to Headmistress Voss with an unflinching stare and a heart pounding into rageful heights.
But I sit at the kitchen counter eating rehydrated rice as Jin washes oil off her hands and refuses to look at me. We stand in parallel silences, as we have always been. Tonight, though, something beneath the surface is coiled tighter.
She knows I'm not telling her something.
And she doesn't ask me.
At school, I feel it right away.
The shift.
Students move around me in the hallways—not theatrically, not ostentatiously. Just enough to prevent their shoulders from brushing against mine. No longer jokes. No long names whispered behind palms. It is less than cruelty.
It is acknowledgement.
And fear.
In the canteen, the scanner doesn't brush across my wrist. It lingers, beeps once, and leaves.
My tray fills itself with nutrient cubes usually doled out to B-rankers.
I don't touch it.
In Powers & Theory, I'm in the back row once more, but the students in front of me lean forward. As if they don't want heads in my line of sight.
Professor Ilven hesitates when he sees me.
For a second.
Then his lecture proceeds in silence.
"A reminder: power alone does not define authority. Only permission can do that."
He is not glaring at anyone else.
Lio never waits for me between periods. No texts. No glares. His silence used to comfort, a steady anchor in turmoil. Now it feels like space.
It isn't until I'm heading out of the Hydraulics Annex—just after dark—that I see him.
He's waiting outside the west staircase. Eyes narrowed. Jaw clenched.
"You shouldn't have gone to her," he says to me.
"She invited me."
"You should've said no."
"I did."
He stares at me a beat longer, then exhales. "Then they'll come."
"They already did."
His brow furrows. "What did she offer you?"
"Reclassification. Full integration. Nice words for a cage."
"And you refused her."
"I don't want their system."
"You really believe they're going to let you walk away from it?"
"I think they're underestimating me."
He said nothing for so long before, "That's dangerous."
"I know."
He shifts slightly to the side. "You've changed."
I smile—bitter, not sweet. "Good."
Tonight, I find the first glyph.
It's not painted. It's burned into the wall of my locker—weak, almost imperceptible unless the light hits it just right. A spiral in a diamond. I've seen it before.
In the secret room.
On Nessa Vale's shoulder.
Under it, one word: "Not alone."
I stare at it too long.
Then I place my hand on the center.
Nothing happens.
But I swear I can sense heat in my fingers.
The next day, the whole school half is talking about the shutdown.
Hall E—where the ranking servers are located—glitched for thirty seconds of morning training. Rank bracelets wouldn't work. Doors sagged. Surveillance screens cycled out old feed.
Thirty seconds.
That's all it takes to scare them.
It wasn't me.
But it was a message.
Lio stuffs a wrinkled piece of paper into my jacket at lunch.
Don't show up for class after the final bell. Report to Lift Sector 2. Don't bring anything but your name.
At 5:01, I'm in front of a rusty service lift I never saw before. It's half-hidden behind a vending hub. The door creaks open with no push. Inside, Nessa is waiting.
"Thought you might not answer the call," she says.
"I did consider it."
She smiles. "But curiosity wins."
I step in.
The lift drops.
Not smoothly.
Not like those shiny, new systems of theirs.
This is old technology.
And old secrets.
We emerge into a room heavy with the smell of ozone and dust. Wires twist across the floor. Screens pulse in rhythmic blue. A dozen or so people move through stations, evaluating, transmitting, and building.
This is our hub," Nessa says. "Every pulse, every ranking scan, every student file—every one of them passes through this nexus before they're rewritten and saved. We've accessed the bleed."
I blink. "You hacked into the school?"
"No," she says. "We own it."
A woman with braids and eyes the color of gold turns from her post. "She's the one?"
Nessa nods.
The woman assesses me. "They'll overwrite you if they can."
I don't flinch. "They can't."
She smiles. "Then you're ready."
I spend two hours learning things I shouldn't know.
There's a black file on my student profile—flagged "INERT POTENTIAL."
My name is entered next to the words "prototype stabilization target."
And a codename: SEVA_103X
Not Sera.
Seva.
A title, not a person.
When I leave, the air feels thinner. Realer. Like the truth flayed something from my skin, and now I don't fit in it anymore.
I sleep light that night.
Dream in code.
Woke up with a nosebleed and a new glyph tattooed behind my left ear.
Jin sees it the second I walk into the kitchen.
She doesn't say anything.
But her hands shake when she pours her tea.
That afternoon, Headmistress Voss speaks at a school assembly.
She speaks in soothing tones. In stern tones. She speaks like everything is normal.
"There have been disruptions."
"There have been rumors."
"Rest assured, the system is still in place."
She gives me a direct stare.
"Anyone found tampering with school integrity will be reclassified. Publicly. Permanently."
No one breathes.
I don't look away.
After the speech, someone bumps into me in the hall.
Hard.
I turn, ready to snarl.
But the girl—Rank C, long braid, cracked lip—says only one word.
"Thank you."
Then she disappears.
The school thinks it owns me.
Voss thinks I'm still deciding.
But I've already chosen.
They wanted me to stay small.
They wanted me silent.
They never meant for a Zero to rise.
But I have.
And now they can't unsee me.