“That’s more measuredthan I expected,” Riya observes.
“Zarah’s always been nice to me. She helped me debug my threading project last semester.” I sigh. “I just... I don’tunderstand why she’d create something so engaging and then destroy it. It feels purposefully hurtful. Do you think it’s too harsh?”
She shrugs. “Dec says feedback is love.”
Mention of Declan rousts a low groan from my chest. “Speaking of the boyf… last time he visited, you two made noises that can never be unheard.”
“That was a faulty bed slat and Declan is very enthusiastic,” she says primly, then—without the slightest blush—adds, “He’ll be here Friday night.”
I groan. “Fantastic. I’m still recovering from the last time Daddy-Dom paid a visit. My ears needed therapy, Riya.”
She just smirks. “I warned you about the handcuffs and the playlist.”
“You also warned me about the riding crop, and yet...” I shudder theatrically. “Look, no kink-shame, but hearing your best friend call her boyfriend 'sir' while I’m trying to work? Traumatic.”
Riya lifts her tea in salute. “Consider yourself forewarned.”
“Say no more—I’ll find a way to be out.” While Riya and Declan do…whatever it is they do.
I raise both hands. “Expect me home sometime Sunday, maybe Monday. No sock-on-the-door needed; the dungeon soundtrack is clue enough.”
Riya’s grin turns mischievous. “You’re a saint.”
I take a sigh.
“I’m going to submit it.”
Decision made, I smash SEND.
A tiny Discord confetti burst pops in the corner of my screen. Too late for take-backs.
“The weird thing is, I can’t stop thinking about it. That final line, the way everything burned... It’s like she wanted us to feel something specific, but I can’t figure out what.”
“So you’re going to play it again?”
“I...” I look at the title screen. “Probably. Just to see if I missed any clues. Zarah’s too smart to make that ending random—there has to be something I’m not seeing.”
“Want breakfast first?”
“In a bit.” I’m already clicking New Game, drawn back despite the disappointment. “I need to understand what she was trying to say. Even if it makes me sad all over again.”
Riya heads to the kitchen. “I’ll make extra coffee.”
But I’m already back in the game, looking for breadcrumbs in the dialog, searching for meaning in a story that refuses to give easy answers.
There has to be more to this.
I just need to find it.
Fourteen minutes morphinto nine by the time I yank on black leggings, jam my feet into Converse, and shoulder a backpack that feels like it’s hauling my entire GPA. I grab a chocolate-protein bar—breakfast of code gremlins—and sprint out the door.
Cold air nips my cheeks as I half-jog the four blocks to Luther Hall. Campus is in that weird almost-spring phase. Plants poking through dead grass, students debating if 9°C counts as shorts weather (it doesn’t). I pass a flock of first-years with flash cards and feel a pang of nostalgia—back when my biggest worry was whether the laundry app would eat my last £3.
Distributed Systems is held in a cavernous lecture theater that still smells like ancient whiteboard markers. I slip into the back row and crack open my laptop. No sooner have I pulled up the lecture slides than a Discord notification appears.
I try to resist—I should be focusing on the lecture, but...
GuildMaster42: thanks for the quick turnaround! diving into notes after Econ. —GM42
