Outer City, Gold District

‘…like to sleep more?’

Sara groans, hiding her face under the blanket in a vain attempt to ignore her AI as she forces her groggy mind to calculate how many times she has answered yes to its question already, only to realize she has lost count.

…Brush my teeth… Change clothes… Shower… Getting up… In five minutes…

While dozing off, Sara decides she is fully prepared to face the consequences of taking another snooze. The world might as well wait for five more minutes…

‘Emergency event detected... Executing previously established pattern.’

Abruptly awoken by the full force of her bedroom lights at maximum brightness, Sara screams. Then, realizing what happened, she blinks against the lights, groans, and falls back against her pillow.

“Worst. Idea. Ever.”

‘Good morning, Miss Palmer.’

The curtains open on their own, showcasing the sunlight outside.

“…I fucking hate you so much.”

‘Glad to serve. On another note, Miss Palmer tasked me with repeating these words: “Team reunion today. Try not to fuck it up, champ.”’

It even imitated her voice. Great.

Groaning, Sara stumbles out of bed to start her morning routine. On time, for once.

Lazy bums deserve drastic measures. Maybe she’ll go for half-brightness next time though… The headache is hardly worth it.

A shower and change of clothes later, Sara stands in front of her bedroom door ready to start her day.

For too long, has she been haunted by a past she can’t remember, and yet, doesn’t seem able to forget either. There were so many moments she felt like screaming, breaking something, or shaking the people around so they would also realize things aren’t what they seem… It was an egoistic desire, and she knew that.

So, she held on, keeping the screams to herself.

She tried her best. Stared into the abyss, risked her future… All for nothing.

It’s time to move on.

For Glory is her passion, something she is willing to fight for, something she will fight for. However, her match against Uren proved how much she has lost by not playing during vacation, and how behind she is from everyone else in the game now.

Meaning, she needs to train, if she doesn’t want to embarrass herself from now on. And, since Sara doesn’t want to hide forever, erasing any proof of her past wrongdoings should be a priority, especially the hack on the chip.

Meaning, she might still not have time for Uren, at least for now. What is she going to tell him?

Sara sighs as she raises her hand toward the door.

Let’s get it over with-

‘Miss Palmer has received a connection request from, User: Uren Hoxha Juric. Accept it?’

Sara lowers her hand, surprised. “From Uren? Sure, I accept it.”

After a moment, a male, accented voice speaks apprehensively, ‘Sara? Can you hear me?’

Immediately preoccupied because of the boy’s tense tone, Sara quickly turns away from the door, allowing her gaze to wander through her bedroom.

‘Uren? Is e-everything all right?’

He managed to get home on his own, right? If something happened because she ditched him there…

‘Sara, listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t know… Look, it wasn’t your fault, okay? I’ll fix this, somehow,’ Uren speaks quickly.

‘Fix? Fix what?!’

‘Shit, you haven’t seen it yet…? No, it doesn’t matter. You’ll understand it once you see it.’

‘You’re not making any sense!’

‘I’m sorry Sara.’

‘Wait! At least explain-’

‘User Uren Hoxha Juric has permanently terminated his link with, User: Sara Palmer.’

“The fuck?!”

Shoving her bedroom door open, Sara runs down the stairs two steps at a time, causing a very surprised Isobel to nearly drop her cup of milk, her eyes widening comically.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Sara!? I didn’t even know you were already awake! I was about to go-”

“Mom!” Sara runs up and grabs Isobel by her shoulders, ignoring the woman’s flabbergasted expression. “Do you know something about Uren?!”

“…W-who?”

“A foreign prince! Is there some state secret you aren’t supposed to tell me related to a foreign prince?! Is he being exiled?!”

Isobel’s mouth opens and closes, though, to Sara’s frustration, no words come out of it.

“Fine! I’ll find out on my own as always!”

“Sara, wait!”

Sara is about to bolt back to her room when Isobel grabs her arm, forcing her body to an abrupt stop as she turns and glares.

“What?”

Isobel frowns. “I know you have been… upset with me, for holding back information.”

Sara rolls her eyes. “Understatement of the century, Isobel.”

Isobel sighs. “Look, I know I lost some of your trust, but at least I hope you still believe in me enough to know that I wouldn’t lie to your face.”

Sara averts her gaze, scowling, and Isobel sighs again.

“Sara, please, look at me.”

Sara cringes under the sound of her whispered name, though she does turn to face Isobel again, slowly and begrudgingly.

“I don’t know anything about a prince named Uren. Do you believe me?”

“I believe you. But that’s not the problem. The problem is that even if you did, you still wouldn’t tell me.”

Isobel bites her lip, her eyes imploring for understanding. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Sara.”

Sara scoffs, her voice cracking. “Don’t worry, your secrets already hurt me plenty. I don’t need the extra effort.”

Averting her gaze, Isobel releases her grip, allowing Sara to step away and rub her sore forearm.

“I’m sorry.”

Although they’re barely a whisper, Sara has no problem making out Isobel’s words in the silent kitchen, even as she runs up as fast as she came, entering her room and closing the door after herself with as much force as the System allows her to.

The pillow is Sara’s first victim, thrown against the wall without ceremony. Then, a pair of shoes, as she barely holds a full-blown scream from bursting through her clogged throat.

‘High levels of user mental distress detected… Please, Miss Palmer, take a couple of deep breaths.’

Sara forces her breath through her clenched teeth, lowering the For Glory figurine she was about to smash against the wall.

What is she doing?

…She needs to distract herself. Uren. Uren might need her help.

Dropping her figurine where it belongs, Sara jumps on her bed, sitting cross-legged as she stares toward her smartwatch. ‘Community. Recent national news.’

A holographic page showcasing several different news channels appears in front of her, over which Sara quickly skims through, moving down until a frustrated grunt escapes her throat, preceding an angry swipe that empties the page.

‘Keywords: Prince, Uren, Crecia.’

Once more, the page is lit, but, to Sara’s surprise, her school’s official page, instead of a news article or channel, is what fills her vision. A forum thread on Earth in Words Institute’s official page, precisely, its title jumping out ugly against the page’s pretty background.

[Perverted foreign student?!]

“Five thousand comments…?” Sara reads out loud, her voice denouncing her immediate horror.

There’s no need to wonder to which transfer student the post might refer to. Not when Uren’s face is clearly seen at the post’s front… right next to hers.

“What in…”

Dreadfully, Sara taps the post, opening a video footage that begins by showcasing Uren leaning against the rail at the Institute’s front staircase. Then, a visibly brooding blond girl approaches from the school’s direction, looking like she wishes to be about anywhere else; Uren smiles, stepping in the blond’s direction; The girl frowns, and they argue for a bit, their voices far too low to be understood even after cranking the volume all the way up; Abruptly, the girl runs past Uren down the stairs, almost immediately followed by him; The person filming runs after them both, reacting far slower than Uren did, however still fast enough to catch a shot of Uren holding the blond girl’s arm, her face as pale as paper.

Staring at her frozen expression of shock, Sara absently wonders if her current look matches the one captured by the last shot of the video. Which is about the last thought she manages before jumping from her bed and running toward her bathroom as she trips and slips through her messy floor, barely making it to her toilet in time to empty her stomach all over the floor next to it.

‘I believe your level of distress has risen again, Miss Palmer. Shall I connect with Sra. Palmer? Perhaps a bit of water?’

When Sara’s bathroom tap turns on by itself, it nearly draws a fit of manic laugh out of her, which in turn becomes a fit of coughing.

‘…Is Miss Palmer sure she does not want the water?’

“F-fuck the water! F-fuck whoever filmed that shit! They were there when I said there was no problem! T-they know I said he helped me when I tripped! And they saw when we walked away together!”

‘Perhaps they disbelieved your words, drawing conclusions from their own assumptions?’

“The video cuts perfectly! What sort of creep films a stranger without their permission?! The video started before I even got there!”

Sara rises, ignoring her shaking legs and hands as she begins the process of cleaning the mess all over her bathroom floor.

Uren made it clear he needed the public’s approval in order to help his country. What are the chances of something like this being a coincidence?

For a moment, Sara stops to stare at her pale, shaking hands with disgust.

He also made it clear he doesn’t want your help. And can you blame him? You’ve met less than 24 hours ago and you’ve already managed to ruin his life.

“No… I…”

‘Miss Palmer? Perhaps you’d like to be reminded of the current time?’

Sara blinks, biting back her tears. If she doesn’t leave soon, she will be late for the team gathering.

You know what? She’ll change nothing by sulking inside her bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, Sara shoves her hands under the tap.

She’ll have time to think things through on her way to school. Perhaps read the comments on that stupid thread and figure out a way to undo some of the damage done to Uren’s reputation.

As the girl in the video, surely there’s something she can say? Will people listen to her now?

It doesn’t matter if he wants her help or not. Whoever did this, they’ve made a mistake by involving Sara Palmer in it.

‘…I thought the plan was to focus on our future?’

“Shut up.”

‘Command not registered... On another note, based on previous data points, I concluded Miss Palmer might like to know the identity of User Flora P. Baxter.’

“Why the fuck would I-”

Sara pauses.

“Wait. Is that who posted the thread? I thought it was posted anonymously.”

‘I cannot disclose confidential information regarding the identity of Users who desire to remain anonymous.’

“The fuck?! But you just…”

Sara shakes her head. Flora P. Baxter, eh?

“And I suppose you cannot confirm or deny if Flora is who posted the video?”

‘Correct. Flora P. Baxter is simply a User present at the triangulated position necessary for the recording at the time of its creation... To reveal additional conclusions regarding her actions would be against my design.’

Sara sighs, her gaze drawn toward her open curtains and the city beyond the glass.

So much for not burling the System and focusing on her future. At least, for once, somebody else is about to have their day ruined.