The fluorescent lights above hummed with a low, steady rhythm, casting pale shadows across the infirmary’s sterile white walls. Jack blinked slowly, lids heavy, eyes stinging with exhaustion. A dull throbbing pulsed at the base of his skull.

  He was awake. And alone.

  A soft beep echoed beside him—his wristband activating as the biometric monitor registered movement. Across the small screen glowed the number 60, encased in red. His rank. His reality.

  Jack stared at it for a long moment. He didn’t even flinch.

  He sat up slowly. Muscles sore, bones stiff. His limbs felt heavier than usual, like gravity itself had deepened just for him. He reached over to the edge of the infirmary cot and picked up his phone. One missed call. “Mom.”

  He hesitated for a second… then tapped the screen.

  It rang twice before she picked up.

  “Jack!”

  Her voice was warm. Familiar. The kind of warmth you only appreciate when the world has turned cold.

  “I was getting worried. How’s school? How are you, baby?”

  He forced a laugh—soft, believable.

  “Hey, Mom… yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I got caught up. First day has been crazy, y’know? Tests and… power evaluations and stuff. But it’s cool.”

  “Crazy good or crazy overwhelming?”

  She chuckled. Jack could hear the faint clatter of dishes in the background. She was working late again.

  “Good,” Jack lied. “I’m just… still finding my rhythm, but I’m settling in. I made a friend. Ethan. He’s cool.”

  “Oh, that’s great, honey! See? I told you—you’d do just fine. I’m so proud of you.”

  The guilt twisted in his gut. Her voice… it was so full of pride. So certain.

  “I know this place wasn’t cheap, Jack,” she added gently, “but I’d do it all over again. You belong there, okay? No matter what anyone says.”

  He stared at the ceiling. His throat tightened.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah… I do.”

  “Love you. Don’t forget to eat, alright?”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  The line went dead.

  Jack sat there, staring at the blank screen in his hand. The smile on his face cracked. And then… collapsed.

  His shoulders shook first. Silent, trembling. A broken exhale leaked out through clenched teeth.

  Tears followed.

  Not loud. Not dramatic. Just silent, pathetic sobs as he buried his face in his hands. His breath hitched, body curling inwards, folding into himself like he was trying to disappear.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “Lifting a fridge with two hands? What a joke.

  All that training. All those promises I made to her. All the effort she put in to send me here.”

  “All that fucking effort”

  “And what did I have to show for it?”

  Rank 60.

  Laughter. Whispers. The way Brandon’s fist cratered the side of his face like he was a plaything. The way everyone looked at him afterward.

  The shame burned hotter than any injury.

  By the time the sun had begun to set, Jack had pulled himself together. Mechanical. Hollow.

  He left the infirmary without speaking to anyone, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head low. He ignored the glares. The smirks. The sideways glances from other students in the hallway.

  Back in his dorm suite, he lay on his bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling in silence for what it seemed to be hours.

  Aperantly there was a first year welcoming party, Ethan invited Jack to go, it will be “a forgetting passage of all that happened today.” He said.

  But Jack refused.

  More time passed, but Jack didn’t do much with it, just stared into oblivion.

  But then___

  He got up.

  Didn’t say a word.

  Didn’t turn on the light.

  Just walked.

  Down the hall.

  Down two floors.

  Across the quad, beneath the clear moonlight.

  And into the school’s vast library.

  It was quiet here. Still.

  Almost empty.

  Guess the majority of people are in the party.

  He bypassed the brightly lit main reading halls and moved toward the far back—where no one really lingered. Where the air felt a little colder. Where the shelves towered just a little higher.

  There it was.

  Section 5-B: Villain Psychology.

  He traced a finger along the spines.

  “The Anatomy of a Monster.”

  “Carnage: The Last Stand of Kael Dross.”

  “The Scream Doctrine.”

  He pulled three books at random and dropped into one of the leather armchairs tucked deep in the corner. Pages turned slowly.

  He didn’t know why he was reading this.

  Maybe part of him was curious. Maybe part of him wanted to understand… why the world made monsters.

  And maybe part of him wondered what it would take… to become one.

  Time passed.

  Footsteps broke the silence.

  A familiar voice followed.

  “Jack Taylor.”

  He looked up.

  Lily stood over him, arms crossed, holding a small data tablet. Her hair was a little messy—she’d been here a while, clearly.

  “Guess she doesn’t like parties” thought Jack.

  Her eyes flicked to the pile of books next to him.

  “Interesting reading taste,” she muttered. “Planning a career switch already on the first day?”

  Jack chuckled, but didn’t answer.

  Lily stared at him. Not angry. Not mocking.

  Just... quietly observing.

  Then she sighed and shook her head.

  “You know, most people read this crap out of fear. They want to know what makes villains tick so they can stop them. Or just out of pure obligation because of the school.

  But you… you’re reading like you’re relating to them.”

  “Maybe I am” Jack mutered.

  He then closed the book slowly, and starts getting up of the chair.

  “Look I’m just tired, it’s been a very rough day for me” Jack says it while walking passed her.

  Lily stared at him a moment longer.

  Then, in a voice softer than he expected:

  “You're going to get left behind if you keep this up.”

  Jack stopped, but didn’t look at her.

  Lilly walks away as if they didn’t even talked.

  And in a form of a sighing whisper.

  “I already have.”