My apartment looked like it had been hit by a tornado—a crime scene against good taste, with me as the only suspect. Clothes were strewn everywhere: across the bed, the floor, even draped over the lamp. I’d torn through my closet, dresser, and that mysterious under-the-bed box where I kept clothes too embarrassing to wear but too ridiculous to toss—all in search of the ultimate college disguise. I needed something that screamed “student” loud enough to blend in at Zenith City University without anyone batting an eye. And from what I could see, I’d pretty much nailed it.
I held up the first candidate: a neon hoodie emblazoned with EXXXTREME in jagged letters. It felt bold. Maybe ironic. I shrugged it on, feeling a surge of confidence like I could totally pull off “extreme student of the year.” But after a look in the mirror, I realized I looked more like I was auditioning for a vintage energy drink commercial. The neon had to go.
A few more attempts later, I finally settled on what felt like the right fit: a wrinkled band tee that looked casual but not too desperate, a pair of jeans with grass stains from who-knows-what, and an old, well-loved backpack. I tossed in two water bottles, an ancient notebook, and a granola bar that had definitely seen better days. Classic college kid essentials.
I gave myself a smug grin. Who’s the handsome new guy? Perfect.
Sure, I could skip the disguise and just use my abilities to slip onto campus without anyone noticing. Slip through a locked door or two, leave no trace. But where’s the fun in that? Besides, one more video of me floating around online, and I’d have journalists knocking, heroes recruiting, and way too much attention for comfort.
I shrugged into the backpack, satisfied. “Blending in like a pro,” I muttered, fully convinced I’d be the perfect undercover student.
Stepping out of my apartment, I headed straight downstairs, taking care to avoid running into Edith. The last thing I needed was her opinion on my “plan,” which I could already picture, complete with the raised eyebrow and muttered grown man in a costume comment. Instead, I pushed through the front doors and out onto the street, stepping straight into the usual morning chaos—plus a few obstacles. Across the street, a cleanup crew maneuvered around orange barricades, hauling away a mangled hunk of metal that vaguely resembled a car. Whatever had gone down last night, the wreckage had been given a temporary facelift as public art, and the barricades forced me to take the long way around.
I made my way around the barricades and into the familiar clutter of Fenwick Street Market, the smell of coffee luring me in. Lydia was the first to spot me, glancing up from the register with her usual bright smile—until her eyes took in the outfit. Her smile froze, eyebrows lifting slightly, which I took as approval. I’d clearly nailed it.
“Uh… Dave?”
I shot her a confident grin. “Hey, Lydia.”
She blinked, trying to reconcile the Dave she knew with this fresh-faced “college kid” standing in front of her. She managed a smile, though it was a bit stretched. “Just… hold on a sec.”
Turning toward the back of the store, Lydia called, “Maggie! You’re gonna wanna see this!”
A moment later, Maggie appeared, clipboard in hand and a mildly harassed expression on her face. “Lydia, I’m trying to—” She stopped dead in her tracks the second her eyes landed on me, her eyebrows shooting up. For a second, she just stared, clearly taking it all in.
Finally, Maggie broke into a laugh, putting her hand on her hip. “So… should I even bother asking?”
“Honestly, probably not,” I said, hands raised in half-surrender. “I met with Alan, and he’s looking into the Courage sample. But while he’s on that, I thought I’d do a little on-the-ground work myself. Blend in, you know?”
Maggie’s mouth twitched with what I assumed was approval. “You. Blend in.”
“That’s the idea,” I replied, fully convinced, as Lydia gave me an admiring once-over.
“Sure,” Lydia said, her head tilting as if in approval. “Why wouldn’t you fit right in? Very… subtle.”
I put a hand to my heart, feigning offense. “Hey, this is College Kid 101. Jeans, backpack, an outfit that says ‘I don’t care but in a cool way.’”
They both stared, and I cleared my throat, moving on quickly. “Anyway, you two know the area better than I do—any tips?”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Lydia tapped her chin, giving me a thoughtful nod. “Well, from what we’ve heard, most of the rumors about Courage seem to be coming from the science department. That might be the best place to start if you’re, uh, keeping things low-key.”
“Perfect.” I offered a casual salute, as though this rock-solid plan had just gained even more legitimacy. “Thanks for the tip.”
I glanced over at the coffee counter, where John was busy manning the espresso machine, steam hissing in a steady rhythm. The line was long, and the bus was due any minute. But then again, I had privileges.
With a quick step around the counter, I helped myself to a to-go cup, flashing John a grin as he raised an eyebrow but didn’t miss a beat in his work. I filled the cup, dropped a few bills on the counter, and gave him a nod of thanks.
“Catch you later, John,” I called, lifting the cup in a mock toast as I headed for the door. He gave a little shake of his head, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, while I felt Maggie’s amused stare following me from behind the counter.
“Good luck, ‘college kid,’” she called after me. “Try not to stand out too much.”
I shot back a grin. “Standing out? Never heard of it.”
As I walked out, I caught a last look from them both—probably pure admiration. I didn’t blame them. With the science department as my first lead and my look down to an art form, I was more than ready to tackle the campus.
----------------------------------------
I practically peeled myself off the bus, bodies packed so tight inside it felt like we’d been testing the limits of human compression. With every stop, new people had wedged in, defying physics as they crammed into the limited space. I managed to tug my backpack free just as the doors finally hissed shut behind me, and I took a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air and room to breathe.
I straightened up, taking in Zenith City University’s sprawling campus. Modern glass buildings rose alongside ivy-covered stone, with wide paths cutting through the scene like a well-planned maze. Students bustled, coffee cups and notebooks in hand, a tide of life flowing from one building to the next.
Near the entrance, a massive bronze statue of Dr. Sebastian Delong commanded attention. Tall and stern, he stood mid-stride, lab coat billowing as if always pushing forward—a fitting pose for the scientist who redefined genetic research. You didn’t need to be a student here to know he was a big deal, though most people only stopped for quick selfies on their way in.
I remembered ZCU offering me a scholarship back when I first relocated—free tuition, part of the relocation package, so long as I could keep my GPA up and finish a full four years. I told Alan about it once, and he’d nearly had a fit. “People would kill for a deal like that,” he’d said, rattling off horror stories about student debt as if I hadn’t heard it all before. He practically lectured me on loans and interest rates until I tuned him out.
I smiled as I looked around at my “fellow students,” blending in seamlessly. This was going to work. Not just work—this was flawless.
The campus buzzed with life. Students moved in clusters, heads down over phones or caught up in conversations, their words merging into the steady hum of morning energy. Every so often, a burst of laughter cut through, or someone called out to a friend across the quad. I took a deep breath, letting the pulse of the place settle over me, and joined the flow, slipping into the rhythm of shuffling backpacks and footsteps. It felt surprisingly natural, like maybe I really did belong here.
I slowed my pace, letting my gaze drift over the quad where clusters of students lounged in easy circles on the grass or perched on benches. Some were absorbed in books or phones, others chatting in low voices. A few glances flickered my way, curious but brief, sizing me up in that casual, nothing-to-see-here way only college students could pull off. Just another guy, right? Perfect.
Following a posted sign, I veered east, hoping I was headed in the right direction, or at least that my instincts hadn’t completely abandoned me. But with every step, the crowd thinned, and the buildings around me began to take on a quieter, more administrative look. This didn’t feel like the heart of the science department; it felt like I was headed toward faculty offices or maybe the world’s least exciting library.
I spotted a small group leaning against a brick wall nearby, laughing and chatting with that easygoing confidence that said they probably knew this place inside and out. I strolled over, giving them a casual wave. “Hey, quick question—could you tell me where the science department is?”
They glanced up, eyebrows lifting as they sized me up, expressions shifting from curious to amused.
One guy in a crisp polo and designer sneakers nudged his friend with a grin. “Sure thing, Fath. Off to see the wizard?”
I paused, thrown. “The wizard?”
The girl beside him stifled a laugh, looking me up and down with exaggerated curiosity. “Maybe you’re just here for a mid-life reinvention? Adult learning and all that? No shame in it.”
I grinned, leaning into the joke. “You got me—figured now was as good a time as any to go back to school. It was either this or get a tattoo and a motorcycle, right?”
She cracked a smile, nudging her friend. “Self-awareness—nice touch.”
The third guy finally spoke up, nodding toward the south side of campus. “Just keep going that way till you hit the stone steps. Hard to miss.”
I gave them a mock salute, catching a bit of their muffled laughter as I turned away. The wizard? Whatever inside joke they were in on, I’d let it ride—anything that pointed me in the right direction worked for me.
As I walked off, their laughter faded, but the word wizard lingered, echoing in my head with an odd weight I couldn’t quite shake. What exactly was waiting for me over there? If the science department was keeping secrets, maybe it was time to find out just how deep they went.