037 Problem Students - Part 2 - Anna’s POV

  I woke up feeling groggy. My head was heavy, and my limbs felt like lead. I guess Mirai really did me good—clocked me out so hard I was still feeling rattled. Honestly, I wasn’t even mad about it. She was so sweet about it afterward, all apologetic and worried, even though I told her it was nothing. And it really wasn’t.

  Except… maybe it was.

  Because even as I y there, staring at the ceiling and letting the morning light filter through my curtains, I couldn’t help but feel a little… jealous.

  Mirai had it so easy, didn’t she? A cute guy like Mark paying attention to her, actually noticing her. And Ron, despite his usual finicky attitude, looking out for her in that quiet, protective way of his. That kind of luck—being the center of someone’s world like that—it just didn’t happen to girls like me.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Jealousy was such an ugly emotion, and I hated that I felt it. I knew Mirai wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t like she was trying to rub it in my face or anything. But still, sometimes I wished I had even a fraction of that kind of attention.

  I forced myself to sit up and shook off the feeling. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything.

  After my usual morning routine—shower, brushing my teeth, running a comb through my hair—I went downstairs for breakfast. Mom had already set the table, and Dad was reading the paper, as usual. The smell of eggs and coffee filled the air.

  “Morning,” I mumbled as I slid into my seat.

  “Morning,” Dad said without looking up from the paper. He flipped a page. “How’s school?”

  “Fine.” I stabbed at my eggs with my fork.

  Mom sat down across from me, coffee cup in hand, studying me like she always did. “How’d you get that bruise?”

  “Huh?” My hand shot up to my cheek before I could stop myself. My skin was still tender where Mirai had hit me. Not on purpose, of course. It was just sparring practice. It wasn’t like she’d meant to—

  “I fell on the stairs,” I said quickly.

  Mom’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You should be more careful.”

  “Yeah,” I said, looking down at my pte.

  Dad gnced over the top of his paper. “You sure it was just the stairs?”

  “Yeah,” I repeated. “It’s nothing.”

  They didn’t press. They never really did.

  After breakfast, I cleaned up and got ready for school. My mind wandered back to Mirai and Mark and Ron as I brushed my hair. I knew it was pointless to compare myself to her, but some part of me couldn’t stop wondering: why couldn’t I be that lucky?

  I sighed, tying my hair back. Another day. Another bruise. Another feeling I wasn’t sure how to shake.

  I changed into my academy uniform—a pin bck set with sharp lines and stiff fabric that never quite sat right on my shoulders. It wasn’t exactly fttering, but I guess that was the point. We weren’t there to look good. We were there to survive.

  When I came back downstairs, Mom handed me a duffel bag. It was heavier than I expected, and I could hear the clinking of metal and pstic inside.

  “What’s in here?” I asked, unzipping the side to peek inside.

  “Stuff you can keep in your locker,” Mom said, adjusting her gsses. “Extra water, first-aid supplies, some protein bars—”

  “Do you think I’m gonna get into a fight or something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s the Academy,” Mom said ftly. “You never know.”

  She had a point. Not everyone in my css even used their lockers. Most of them had those stupid magical rings, the ones that could store anything they needed in some kind of pocket dimension. Others meanwhile were so sure they would get there’s soon, especially the recent exercise with Professor Merrick. Ugh… I didn’t get any merit points from that exercise, so no magical rings for me.

  “I want a magical ring too that transforms into a chair…”

  It was the sort of convenient, overpowered nonsense that made me roll my eyes every time I saw someone pull a whole sword out of thin air. Must be nice.

  But not me. My family wasn’t rich enough to afford something like that, and I wasn’t lucky enough to have ESP that could let me bypass the system. No fancy rings or magical storage for me—just an overstuffed duffel bag and a locker that squeaked every time I opened it.

  Dad stood by the door, adjusting his tie. “Ready?”

  I nodded, swinging the bag over my shoulder.

  Dad drove me to the Bck Tortoise facility, the massive complex that taught the first-years at ESPer Academy. The ride was quiet, except for the low hum of the car’s engine and the soft patter of rain against the windows.

  “We might be a bit te coming home,” Dad said, breaking the silence as we pulled into the drop-off ne.

  “Why?” I asked, looking over at him.

  “The research institute had a breakthrough,” Dad said, his mouth curling into a small smile. “Your mother and I have to stay te to go over the findings.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. Dad was a researcher through and through, and Mom was just as dedicated. Their work had always been… important, I guess. Too important for me to understand most of the time.

  “Here.” Dad reached into his pocket and handed me a few ESP bills—crisp and marked with the Academy’s sigil. “Daily allowance.”

  I took them, folding them carefully into my pocket. “Thanks.”

  Dad’s smile softened as I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He patted my head—something he hadn’t done in years—and I felt a flicker of warmth despite the cold drizzle outside.

  “Be careful today,” he said.

  “I will.”

  I hopped out of the car, the duffel bag digging into my shoulder as I adjusted the strap. The heavy steel gates of Bck Tortoise loomed ahead, guarded by ESP glyphs that shimmered faintly in the damp morning light. I could already feel the hum of power beneath my feet, the telltale sign that the whole facility was ced with protective wards.

  I took a deep breath and stepped through the gates, bracing myself for another day.

  “Anna!”

  I turned around just in time to see Dad jogging toward me, one hand holding his tie down against the wind and the other waving something bright and colorful over his head.

  “Your umbrel!” he said, slightly out of breath as he handed it to me.

  “Oh,” I said, trying to keep my expression neutral.

  I definitely didn’t forget it on purpose. The design was… well, embarrassing. Pastel blue with pink stars and a smiling cat face pstered across the top. It looked like something a six-year-old would carry. Not exactly the kind of vibe you want to give off at the ESPer Academy.

  Still, Dad looked so pleased with himself for remembering, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d "accidentally" left it behind.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling as I took it from him.

  He gave me a quick pat on the head. “Try not to forget it next time.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Dad grinned, heading back to the car. I watched him go before shoving the umbrel into my duffel bag. Hopefully, no one would ever see it.

  I made my way through the school’s courtyard, the gray stone path glistening from the drizzle. The Bck Tortoise facility was already buzzing with activity—students moving in and out of buildings, the faint hum of ESP wards activating as students tested their powers. I ignored most of it. Just another Monday.

  My locker was in the hallway adjacent to our cssroom. I slid my duffel bag into the narrow space, making sure it didn’t stick out too much. The st thing I needed was someone rifling through my stuff. Lockers weren’t exactly sacred territory here—if someone wanted to get into yours, ESP or not, they’d find a way.

  Once my hands were free, I made my way toward the cssroom. The Pioneer Css. The "elite" first-year css.

  When I stepped inside, I was surprised to see Greg.

  He’d been absent for the past week—rumor was that he’d gone too hard during the st tournament match and ‘pnned’ to remain absent for the following week. Of course, no one really knew for sure because Greg wasn’t exactly the type to expin himself.

  But there he was, sitting near the back, legs propped up on an the wall, holding a handheld game console. And sitting next to him—what the hell?—was Karl.

  Karl Brandt. Scowling, red-haired, third-ranked Karl. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed at the screen as his fingers worked the buttons at lightning speed. Greg’s posture was more rexed, but his expression was just as focused.

  “Come on, you pyromaniac—stop spamming the guard button!” Greg growled.

  “It’s called strategy, you unhinged freak!” Karl shot back.

  “Guarding is not a strategy! You’re just being a coward!”

  “Says the guy who keeps button-mashing— Oh, you little—!”

  Karl’s character on the screen burst into fmes and Greg’s character knocked him off the edge of the stage with a finishing combo. Greg leaned back, grinning wide as Karl tossed his console onto the desk with a frustrated growl.

  “You suck, Brandt.”

  Karl’s eyes narrowed. “Best of three.”

  “Bring it.”

  I blinked. Okay, that was… weird. I mean, I knew Greg got along with pretty much everyone (in the most annoying way possible and when he was being sly), but Karl? Karl didn’t really “get along” with anyone.

  I walked over to Mirai’s desk. She was sitting with her hands folded neatly in her p, watching the exchange with mild curiosity.

  “What’s up with them?” I asked, nodding toward the back of the room.

  Mirai’s lips curved into a small smile. “They’re settling old scores.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Via… fighting game?”

  She shrugged. “Apparently they are both idiots.”

  “Huh.”

  It was probably the most normal thing I’d seen Greg and Karl do. Still, watching the two of them cuss each other out over a video game was… unsettling.

  Mirai giggled. “It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?”

  “If you say so,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

  Karl’s growl of frustration cut through the air as Greg leaned back with that insufferable grin of his.

  “Better luck next round, Brandt!”

  Karl’s hand ignited with a brief flicker of fme.

  Greg’s eyes narrowed.

  “No powers.”

  Karl’s fmes sputtered out. “Tch. If you think my ESP could be used in video games, then you are one huge idiot!”

  Fiona Core walked into the cssroom, and the energy shifted immediately.

  The other girls practically swarmed her, fussing over her like she was some kind of celebrity.

  “Fiona! Oh my god, how did you do that?”

  “It’s so cute!”

  “That braid is amazing!”

  Mirai leaned toward me, her voice soft but impressed. “Wow… that’s awesome.”

  I gnced over at Fiona. Yeah, it was pretty awesome.

  Fiona’s hair was naturally half bck and half white, split clean down the middle like some kind of manga character. Something about parts of her hair cking menin—genetic, I guess. But the way she’d braided it today? Alternating strands of bck and white, creating this intricate, swirling pattern? It was kind of genius.

  Fiona smiled serenely as one of the girls leaned closer to touch the braid. Her pale eyes glinted slightly. Fiona was one of those types who didn’t need to try hard to look ethereal—it just came naturally. Some people got all the luck.

  Eventually, the cssroom filled with familiar faces. Karl and Greg were still going at it over their game in the back, cursing at each other like old friends. Mirai sat down at her usual spot, and I settled beside her.

  Mark showed up not long after, sliding into the seat next to Mirai like it was the most natural thing in the world. He gave her a quick nod, and she smiled faintly back at him.

  Of course. Of course, Mark would sit next to Mirai.

  I was distracted from that irritating thought when Matt wandered in and—get this—sat down next to Mark.

  Matt.

  Mark actually acknowledged him with a brief nod. Not exactly friendly, but not outright hostile either. That was… new.

  Mirai tilted her head, brows knitting together. “Anyone know why Ron’s absent?”

  “None of your business,” Elena’s sharp voice cut through the chatter from the front row.

  Mirai’s smile twitched, but she didn’t react otherwise. I shot Elena a gre. Seriously, what was her problem?

  Elena was sitting primly at her desk, arms crossed. Her long, blond hair framed her face perfectly, not a strand out of pce. The honor student aesthetic. But her eyes were cold as ever. She always had a way of making it sound like Mirai had done something wrong just by existing.

  “Maybe he’s sick,” Matt offered, though he didn’t sound like he cared much.

  “Maybe he’s finally giving up,” Greg called from the back without looking up from his game. Karl swore at him.

  Before Mirai could say anything else, the cssroom door flew open with a loud BANG as it was kicked inward.

  “Good morning, css!”

  Master Reina strode in with her usual brand of dramatic fir, the heels of her knee-high boots clicking sharply against the floor. A long brown coat billowed behind her as she stopped at the front of the room, hands on her hips, surveying us like we were a bunch of recruits at boot camp.

  “Guess what fresh hell I’ve prepared for you lot today!”

  Greg cpped enthusiastically like a trained seal.

  If Mark was your ‘no common sense’ psycho and Karl was your ‘violent’ psycho, then Greg was absolutely your ‘ADHD’ psycho.

  Master Reina snapped her fingers, and the bckboard behind her slid open with a mechanical hum, revealing—

  Weapons.

  Racks of swords, spears, daggers, staves, and other deadly implements lined the wall. Everything was polished and gleaming under the artificial lights. Some of the bdes glowed faintly, which meant they were probably empowered with ESP or were byproducts of dungeon technology.

  There was a quiet ripple of excitement through the css. Karl’s eyes sharpened immediately, and Greg sat up straighter, game forgotten. Even Mark’s expression darkened with focus.

  I frowned. “Are we… actually picking weapons?”

  Master Reina grinned. “Oh, yes. Today’s css will be dedicated to weapons selection.”

  I gnced at Mirai. “Do ESPers even need weapons?”

  Mirai smiled faintly. “It’s complicated.”

  Of course it was. ESPers could generate fmes, crush things with telekinesis, read minds, and summon shadows—why would they need something as primitive as a sword?

  Master Reina’s smile sharpened. “ESP is useful, but not always reliable. Power runs out. Abilities have cooldowns. You’d be surprised how often it’s the steel in your hands that decides whether you live or die.”

  That was… kind of ominous.

  Greg shot up from his seat, practically vibrating with energy. “Do we get to keep them?”

  Master Reina’s eyes glinted. “You’ll have to earn that privilege.”

  Greg grinned wide. Karl rolled his eyes.

  “Form a line,” Master Reina ordered. “First come, first served.”

  I watched as Karl and Greg practically vaulted over their desks to get to the front. Mark followed at a steadier pace, eyes scanning the weapons thoughtfully. Mirai stayed seated for a moment, then stood and gave me a smile.

  “You coming?”

  I hesitated. I wasn’t exactly a fighter. ESP wasn’t my strong suit, and I didn’t have the killer instincts of Mark or Karl. But…

  Mirai reached out, hand extended.

  I sighed and took it.

  “Fine. But if I stab myself, you’re paying my medical bill.”

  “Deal,” Mirai ughed. “Uuuh… I take it back. I am sorry. I forgot I’m poor.”