Side Story (3) - Chapter 3
The Monday sunlight was harsh, streaming through the classroom windows in glaring slants. Solace felt its heat prickling against her skin, though it did little to warm the chill lodged in her chest. She glanced around, eyes landing on her target—a girl she barely knew, just like Ms. Rourke had specified.
The girl was hunched over her desk, meticulously underlining notes in a rainbow of pastel highlighters. Solace watched the careful strokes, almost mesmerized by the precision, before Ms. Rourke's instructions cut through her thoughts with sharp clarity: "Do it subtly. They mustn't realize your intent." Solace swallowed, shifting her gaze to her hands, which were gripping the strap of her bag just a bit too tightly.
It's just a conversation, she told herself, willing her pulse to slow. This is probably harmless. Zenith wouldn't hurt a student... would they? She forced a deep breath, letting go of the strap, and steadied herself.
With a carefully composed expression, she approached the girl's desk, her smile soft but polite, the kind she'd seen the other girls use when striking up casual conversations. She leaned a little, enough to seem interested but not intrusive.
"Hi, um, Ayla, right?" Solace asked, her tone friendly. She remembered the name from Ms. Rourke's file, feeling an odd mix of relief and guilt at being so prepared. "I noticed you're really organized—those notes look amazing."
Ayla looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she smiled back. "Oh, thank you! I… I guess I just like color-coding things." Her voice was light, almost shy, and Solace could feel some of her own tension easing in response.
"It definitely shows. I was wondering…" Solace trailed off, glancing briefly at the notes before leaning in slightly, keeping her voice casual. "Is there anyone you work with on projects? Like, someone who's helped you with all of this organization stuff?"
Ayla tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "I mean, sometimes I study with Megan. She's amazing with this kind of thing—always knows where to start when I'm lost. Do you know her?"
Solace nodded, trying to hide her relief as Ayla continued talking, completely unaware of the real reason behind the question. They chatted for a few more minutes, talking about school and favorite subjects, before the bell chimed, signaling the start of class. As Ayla turned back to her notes, Solace felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and unease settle over her.
She had completed the task, just as Ms. Rourke instructed. It's just a name, she reminded herself, a faint tremor of doubt flickering within her. Just a little information. Nothing that could hurt anyone.
But as she walked back to her seat, her fingers felt cold against the strap of her bag. What exactly does Zenith want with a girl like Megan? The question loomed in her mind, persistent and unwelcome.
Her thoughts drifted to Ms. Rourke's stern warning: Hesitation is weakness. Solace clenched her jaw, straightening her posture as if it could stave off the creeping guilt. It's nothing, she reassured herself one last time. If it were dangerous, they wouldn't have asked me to do it... right?
Yet the doubt lingered, sharp as the sunlight slanting through the windows.
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The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Solace gathered her things, her thoughts still tangled with fragments of Ms. Rourke's words and the quiet doubt gnawing at her since her conversation with Ayla. She walked home in a daze, her mind replaying the scene, searching for reassurance in Ms. Rourke's insistence on subtlety. But instead, her unease grew with each step.
When she reached her house, she opened the door as quietly as possible, almost instinctively. She'd become good at slipping in and out unnoticed—a skill she hadn't quite thought about until now. The house was silent except for the muffled sounds coming from the living room. She froze, her ears catching the unmistakable tone of an argument.
Her parents' voices were low, but their words were quick, clipped, and tense. Solace hovered in the entryway, her breath barely making a sound. She didn't want to intrude, but something about the argument felt different, more severe than the occasional disagreements she'd overheard before.
"…can't just pretend everything's fine," her mother's voice wavered, carrying a strain Solace wasn't used to hearing. "This isn't what we agreed on. You said—"
"I know what I said." Her father's reply was sharp, though he quickly dropped his tone, as if realizing how loud he'd been. "But we don't have a choice anymore. They're expecting results, and we're not in a position to… to back out."
There was a pause, and then her mother's voice, softer, but tinged with something close to desperation. "But what about her? What will she think when she finds out?"
Solace's chest tightened. Her? Were they talking about her? She leaned in, focusing every ounce of her attention on their voices, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," her father replied, his tone resolute but hollow. "It's too late to change anything now."
Silence settled, thick and tense. Solace held her breath, waiting for something more—an explanation, a revelation—but none came. After a few moments, her mother sighed, a sound so heavy it seemed to echo down the hall.
Unable to bear the tension any longer, Solace slipped quietly past the living room, heading for her room. She'd heard enough to know that whatever they were discussing wasn't something she was meant to know. The guilt from Ms. Rourke's assignment mingled with a new, unsettling feeling. What was her father hiding?
Shutting the door behind her, she sat on her bed, her mind whirling. She had so many questions but no one to ask them to. The only thing she could do now was focus on her training, just as Zenith had instructed. Perhaps... everything would make sense in time, she told herself, though she couldn't ignore the growing doubt.
Taking a shaky breath, she opened her laptop, preparing for the next phase of her day: her first introduction to her Zenith teammates.
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Solace took a steadying breath as she powered on her laptop, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. The familiar hum of the device came to life, and the Zenith interface loaded onto her screen. She clicked into the practice session channel, her nerves simmering beneath the surface. This would be her first real introduction to the team—her new allies in a world she barely understood yet.
Her screen blinked, displaying the team lineup for today's session. The name at the top of the list caught her eye: Soulchaser. The name was bold, almost daring, and she recognized it immediately. She'd heard the whispers about him through Zenith's channels—a skilled player with an impressive rank, somewhere in the upper tiers. Platinum, maybe even higher. Just knowing his reputation sent a chill down her spine. She was new, inexperienced, and still wrapping her mind around the basics of League of Legends, while he was a seasoned pro. The stakes felt higher than she'd expected for a "practice" session.
As she connected to the voice channel, she was greeted by the familiar static crackle of online chatter. Most of the team members were silent, a few whispers here and there, but no one directly addressing her yet. Her screen blinked again, signaling that the session was ready to start.
Then, a deep, almost amused voice broke through the silence.
"New recruit, huh? Soulchaser here," he introduced himself, sounding calm and confident. "Heard you're pretty green."
Solace swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Yeah, I'm... still getting the hang of it."
"Well, don't worry. We're just here to show you the ropes," he said, but his tone carried a trace of amusement that didn't quite ease her nerves. "Let's start with a one-on-one, see what you've got."
Her stomach flipped. A one-on-one with Soulchaser? Great, she thought. She hadn't expected to be thrown into a direct confrontation so quickly. She clicked into the game lobby, her hands trembling slightly as she navigated the character selection screen. She racked her brain, trying to recall the guides she'd hastily read through over the weekend. She hadn't had nearly enough time to practice, and her knowledge was scattered at best.
Soulchaser locked in Lucian—an agile, high-damage champion she knew was popular with skilled players. She bit her lip, considering her options. After a moment of hesitation, she chose Zyra, hoping her vines could keep him at a distance. It wasn't much of a strategy, but it was the best she could come up with under pressure.
As the loading screen appeared, she glanced at the rank symbols by their names. His icon glinted in silver and blue—Platinum. That confirmed it. She clenched her fists, feeling the weight of her inexperience more than ever.
The game began, and within moments, Soulchaser dashed toward her, moving with a precision and speed she couldn't hope to match. His Lucian danced around her attacks, diving in with bursts of damage, then pulling back before she could retaliate. She tried to keep up, but her positioning was off, her spells misfired, and the recommended items she bought seemed to do little to close the gap between them.
Within minutes, her screen flashed red—You have been slain. She let out a frustrated sigh, watching as her champion collapsed, her health bar completely drained.
Before she could respawn, a message popped up in the chat from Soulchaser: "Not bad… for a first timer. Don't let it get to you."
She stared at the message, uncertain whether to feel relieved or humiliated. Before she could respond, another message appeared.
"Want some tips?" he typed. This time, the words were direct, devoid of the playful tone she'd detected earlier.
She hesitated, then replied, "Sure, I could use all the help I can get."
Over the next few rounds, Soulchaser began guiding her through the basics—positioning, timing, and how to maximize her character's abilities. His instructions were clear and precise, almost clinical, and she followed as best she could, slowly feeling the pieces of the game fall into place.
"You've got potential," he said at one point, almost as an afterthought. "Just need more practice."
The compliment, small as it was, settled her nerves a bit. She hadn't expected anyone on the team to give her the time of day, let alone offer her guidance. It was a strange feeling, being a part of this world. A world she'd been thrown into with little preparation, but somehow, right now, she felt a flicker of excitement among the nerves.
As they wrapped up the session, Soulchaser signed off with a simple, "See you next time, newbie. Keep practicing."
The screen went dark, but her mind buzzed with the thrill of the game, the thrill of surviving—barely—in her first real match. She closed her laptop, a new sense of determination filling her. She had a long way to go, but this was only the beginning.
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Solace closed her laptop, letting out a long, shaky breath. She leaned back in her chair, the events of the day swirling in her mind—Ms. Rourke's assignment, the tense argument between her parents, and her first experience with Soulchaser. Each moment tugged at her in a different way, leaving her with a confusing mix of emotions that she couldn't quite sort through.
Ms. Rourke's words echoed in her head, sharp and relentless. "Hesitation is weakness." Solace pressed her fingers to her temples, as if she could ease the weight of it. She knew she hadn't been fully prepared today—not for the assignment, not for her parents' argument, and certainly not for facing someone as skilled as Soulchaser. But she couldn't afford to let that uncertainty show, not in front of Zenith and not in front of Ms. Rourke.
She glanced at her reflection in the laptop screen, catching sight of her own wary expression. For a moment, she almost didn't recognize herself. Was she really ready for all this? The world she'd stepped into felt so much bigger, more intense, and more unforgiving than she'd imagined. But backing down now wasn't an option. Zenith had expectations, and so did her family—even if they hadn't said so outright.
With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, feeling a spark of determination settle within her. She couldn't afford to stay behind, couldn't let herself flounder. If she was going to navigate this world, she'd have to adapt, learn fast, and become someone Zenith could rely on.
"I'll figure this out," she whispered, clenching her fists as if the simple gesture could anchor her resolve. "No matter what it takes."
The room around her was silent, but the echo of her own words lingered, filling the space with a quiet promise.