Feeling particularly enlightened by this whole string of ideas, I set my mind on wondering whether it’s truly plausible. And, by all means, I believe it truly is. If you ask me, Lucius is about as close you get to the embodiment of capitalism, and somehow, I find it very very easy to believe that he got scammed by Ceylica and is currently in the midst of dethroning her out of spite.
Not for money, given how much he has.
But just spite.
Then, wondering as to why Lucius might send the transaction this early, I come upon another conclusion.
He wants a challenge.
And by sending those notifications, he’s somehow giving me a clue as to his modus operandi. As it is, my only clue is something to do with banks. So, with that in mind, I clean up after myself and leave, heading to the school’s library. In fact, while part of my reason for going can be attributed to having a private space, another reason is that the school library has a particular something that might be of use.
After arriving at the library, about five minutes away from the main building, I find myself in a nice little cubicle and sit myself in front of a computer. It’s top of the line, with the latest specs and dual monitors, but more than that, it has a little addition.
An E-Reader, to be precise, capable of processing the transactions on my card.
It is a slim hope, of course, but with nothing else to rebound to, I decide to put my Student ID on the E-Reader nonetheless, hoping. No sooner than I do so, a faint beep comes from it, prompting a menu on the computer screen in front. The user interface is neat, with a clean navy blue aesthetic. Near the top left side, I click a button labelled ‘transactions’, wait two seconds, and am greeted with a list of every purchase I’ve made.
Presented in tidy rows, I see the exact price of each thing I’ve bought, to which Student Bank ID I’ve bought it from, and the date of purchase. This, I understand, doesn’t actually help that much. The sight of it is interesting, sure, but beyond a momentary giggle upon realising how much I splurged on a particular brand of cookies, nothing stands to gain. After all, even if it tells me which Bank ID the transaction went to, it doesn’t say who’s actually in possession of it.
“Man…”
I sigh, then proceed to go with the process of scrolling and mindlessly hoping for the best for an exact minute. As I do so, I catch wind of a student database, click on it in vain, and realise that it has nothing to offer beyond profile pictures, a name and a normal Student ID.
“If only they told me the BANK IDS, aghrg.”
In any case, my time here is done. If I’m to crack the case, then I’ll have to go elsewhere.
I reach for my Student ID card—and study it as if finding comfort within its ever-elusive series of numbers. Like a child comparing two pieces of candy, I then raise it to my screen in a vain, last-ditch effort to gain any information at all.
And now that I do so—I notice something of interest.
Within the top right corner, where a cute miniature photo of me sits, is written not one but two different sets of numbers. One for my Student ID and one for my Student BANK ID. The thing is, while this in itself is relatively uninspiring, when you go about comparing the two sets of numbers, you’re able to notice something special.
Take my Student ID:
12345 67890 87645.
And now compare it to my Bank ID:
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12345 67890 87645 6789.
That’s right. They’re pretty much the exact same, save for the Bank ID having four more numbers. What this means is, with the written Bank ID of who I bought the goods from, I’m able to discern their Student ID and hence, consequently, their identity.
There is the slight possibility this may be a coincidence, of course. That the two ID’s matching may just be due to a stroke of luck. Although, even that can be rectified. Taking out my phone, I message Ceylica and Ode’go, asking them to come to the library when possible. Like the two upstarts they are, I find myself face to face with them in short of five minutes, eagerness written across their faces.
“Please, give me your Student ID!”
They acquiesce without issue. Meanwhile, I set about placing each of their ID’S on the E-Reader, checking for any common links. Sure enough, their situation is the same as mine. Same Student ID numbers as their Bank IDs, save for four additional numbers for the latter.
“Ye got it, didn’t ye?” Asks Ceylica, currently holding me in what I assume to be an endearing chokehold.
Face turning blue from the pressure, I reply, “Y-ye”, then feeling air return to my lungs as she lets go, smiles, “Basically, I can figure out who’s the one receiving the points for the stuff on the website.”
As I’m about to move on, I find Ceylica’s eyes widen in interest, as if imploring more.
“Ye, and?!” She says, her voice a tad too loud. “Tell me how ye did it, ye stupid knife-ear!”
Hesitating for the briefest of moments, I decide, ‘Why the hell not, and proceed to explain every step of the process, starting from the beginning to the inspiration, to me giving up, and finally to realising the similarities between each of the IDs.
The only part I neglect to mention is Lucius’s potential involvement in all of this, even going as far as to play off the bank transfer as resulting from someone uninvolved. Overall, the point still carries across.
“Wow.”
Now Ceylica remains wordless. Etched on her face is something that approaches utter bewilderment and, if I guess right, the faintest hint of respect. Things pass this way for a good two seconds before; finally, she nods, her head bobbing in clearly, energetic movements. Then out of nowhere, she leans over and, gripping my armpits with both of her hands, lifts me up in the air.
“Yer better than I gave ye credit for, smarty smart smartso.” says she, before all of a sudden, planting a kiss on my forehead.
“Uh, thanks,” I reply, coughing into my hand for dramatic effect.
Admittedly, this whole series of actions prove quite unnerving. Being picked up like a kid and kissed like one isn’t exactly a top priority on my bucket list, much less out of the blue.
“Eh.”
Though in the end, I don’t dislike it either. Ceylica’s obviously expressing her appreciation in her own way, and to be honest, it’s pretty wholesome. Call it weird, but I try not to judge others, especially when they’re just trying to be nice.
“Nice,” Ode’go says. “To see the buds of acquaintance blossom into friendship is quite a lovely sight, indeed.”
Ceylica nods as if in agreement. Then, putting me on the ground, rests her two fists on her hip. This, I take, is a sign of anticipation. Like tension in one’s body before a fight. In other words, preparation for what is to come.
“Anyways, let’s not get too excited just yet.” I remind them before heading back to the computer. “I still need to crosscheck who the person selling the products are…” Clicking away with the mouse, I type in the Bank ID from the latest purchase into the student database. It appears before me, then, a name and picture.
Yon.
The same guy I held a knife to for our introductory exam.
In the profile picture, he has medium-length black hair and a blue-accented tracksuit. His face is also quite distinct in that it’s a bit oval-shaped with a pronounced nose. I can’t quite put it into words, but in essence, his face is pretty unique, meaning that we can probably recognize him around campus with ease.
“Do ye know him?”
I nod to Ceylica’s question. “Yeah, we’re acquainted.”
“But ye won’t feel bad if something happens to him, right?”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t break every bone in his body, all things considered.”
Understanding takes over Ceylica’s features, culminating in shut eyes and a slow, almost methodical, nod. By the count of two, however, her expression changes, a wry grin in its place. Waiting for just a second, Ceylica then cracks her knuckles, sending a sharp crk.
“So, we’re gonna do it tonight, ok?
I nod, “Sure.” Thinking it’d be interesting, I let myself be strung along with their plans, eager to see how it all unfolds. From my point of view, the worst that could happen would be someone breaking a few bones anyway, and given the medical facilities at hand, I could hardly see that as a problem. Therefore, with our opinions in accordance, I part ways, heading to my next class in the process.