"We need to talk," I said
She looked up, startled at first, then smiled. "Noah! Sure, what's up?"
I ignored her casual tone. "Is there some kind of hierarchy system in this school?"
Her smile faltered, replaced by an almost mischievous curiosity. "What makes you ask that?"
"Curiosity I guess" I said flatly. "And subtle things I have been noticing. So, is there a system or not?"
Elise tilted her head, pretending to ponder. "Hmm, I could tell you…" She paused, a sly grin forming. "But there's something I want first."
I frowned. "What do you want?"
"You'll have to go out with me this weekend," she said, her tone light and casual, as if she hadn't just asked something outrageous.
"Go out?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes.
"Not a date," she clarified quickly, though the teasing lilt in her voice said otherwise. "Just... accompany me. There's a café I've been wanting to check out."
I wanted to say no. Elise was too naive, too friendly for her own good, even if her sharp mind sometimes surprised me. She talked too much and tried too hard to connect with people. It was exhausting.
But I needed answers, and this was the price. A reasonable trade.
"Fine," I said after a moment.
She clapped her hands together, clearly pleased. "Great! Now, about the hierarchy..."
We started walking, her voice filling the air as she explained.
"Blackridge Academy runs on something called the Prestige Rank System. Everyone is ranked, from Rank 1—Novices, the bottom of the barrel—to Rank 5—Legends. Your rank determines everything: what resources you can access, how people treat you, and even where you sleep. Advancement is based on performance on exams and tests, challenges, and... other means."
"Challenges?" I asked, intrigued.
"Formal challenges," she said. "You can wager Prestige Points against someone else. It could be an academic contest, a duel, anything, really. The winner gains points; the loser drops. If you lose too many points, you risk falling in rank. And believe me, no one wants to drop."
I absorbed her words, filing the information away. "And 'other means'? What does that entail?"
She hesitated. "Well... let's just say anything goes as long as you don't get caught."
Subtle, but the implication was clear. Blackridge condoned the worst of human nature, so long as it remained hidden.
"What about the exams and test, what do they consist of?" I asked
"As for that even I am not sure, they are unpredictable and can do whatever they want"
"What rank are you?"
"I'm a rank two, same with you. Most of us first years are rank two's only three of us so far have managed to rank up"
"I see"
As we walked, we passed the crime scene from last week where the boys body was found. Police officers were swarming the area, their faces grim as they pieced together evidence.
I glanced at Elise as we walked. "Do the parents know about this place? The government?"
She shook her head slowly, her usual brightness dimming. "I don't know much about the government, honestly. As for the parents..." She hesitated, then sighed. "Some don't care. Some of us were sent here because we were problems. Misfits. Too ambitious. Too difficult to control. Blackridge... it's a convenient way to get rid of us. While some elites send their children who they want to take after them, they believe in Blackridge's system and even approve of its violence, they believe if you can't survive Blackridge your not fit to be their child, they will have to get their hands dirty eventually as most of their parents are involved in underworld business that is unknown to the public. They have to be able kill and get rid of people who stand in their way without evidence to protect their image, if you can stand at the top and survive in Blackridge you can survive in the real world not matter what is what the elites who send their children here think. And it's the truth if you ca survive here and stand at the top, you will easily survive in the real world."
Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring me to ask more.
"And yours?" I pressed.
She gave a humorless laugh, her tone soft but cutting. "Mine sent me here out of spite. They hate me."
"Hate you?"
"I was always a disappointment," she said simply, as though it were a fact she had come to accept. "Never good enough, never the child they wanted. So they threw me in here. Out of sight, out of mind. They've probably forgotten I exist by now."
I stayed silent. Her voice had lost its usual warmth, the cheerful façade cracking for the first time. But I didn't know what to say. What did people normally do in moments like this? Offer comfort? Reassurance? The right words eluded me, and the emotions behind them felt like distant concepts, unreachable and foreign.
Empathy, sympathy—they were just words to me.
The silence stretched between us as we walked. When we reached the edge of the campus, Elise slowed to a stop. I nodded briefly and turned to leave, but before I could take more than a step, I felt a tug on the back of my jacket.
I stopped and glanced over my shoulder. Her hand was gripping the fabric, trembling slightly.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
She froze, then let go as if burned, and she looked away, flustered. "N-nothing. Never mind."
I stared at her, searching her face for an explanation. But she refused to meet my eyes, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. She looked... vulnerable. Awkward. It was a side of her I hadn't seen and wish I hadn't.
After a moment, I turned and began to walk away again, but something about the interaction lingered in my mind. A half-formed thought surfaced, distant but persistent. I'd read once that asking someone for their number was a gesture of friendliness. Connection. Maybe if I could try to form a connection or a type of bond with this girl, just maybe...
Maybe this was the right moment to try.
"What are you about to do? Act human? You know your a monster, why don't we just gain this girls trust and then kill her. We both know that will give you more satisfaction than the humanity you want to fake" said the echo
I turned back, my voice calm but deliberate. "Give me your number."
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "W-what?"
"Your number," I repeated, pulling out my phone.
Her expression shifted quickly from shock to delight, her face lighting up in a way I hadn't expected. "Oh! Sure!" She rattled off the digits, her voice almost trembling with excitement.
I saved them without comment.
As I put the phone away, I glanced at her. She was still smiling, her happiness practically radiating.
I studied her reaction carefully. Her emotions, her movements, her expression—all of it aligned with what I'd read. Humans, it seemed, were predictable creatures. Easy to read.
"Humans are easy to read," I thought to myself.
And yet, as I walked away, the thought lingered. Would I be like this for the rest of my life?
The path to understanding humans felt impossibly long.