The black luxury car glided smoothly through the bustling streets, its polished exterior reflecting the vibrant city around it. Inside, Alex adjusted his blazer, glancing out of the tinted windows. The world beyond was remarkably similar to the one he had left behind but carried subtle, intriguing differences.
The city was a blend of familiar and futuristic. Skyscrapers with sleek glass facades reached for the clouds, their tops adorned with massive digital displays showcasing advertisements. Yet, unlike the overwhelming neon chaos he once knew, the visuals here were understated, exuding a sense of elegance.
Electric buses hummed along the streets, their designs angular and efficient. Charging stations dotted the sidewalks, catering to a fleet of personal hoverboards and compact electric scooters. A few cars, though modern, bore retro-futuristic designs, like something pulled from the imagination of a 1950s visionary.
Billboards featured names and brands Alex vaguely recognized—companies like Lyros Electronics and Globex Bank, which seemed to mirror tech giants and financial institutions of his past world. The ads displayed products such as FoldScreen Phones and HoloDesks, devices that hinted at advanced, accessible technology but with limitations. There were no virtual assistants, no AI-driven innovations—at least, not yet.
The streets bustled with life. Cafés brimmed with patrons sipping coffee and browsing holographic menus. Street vendors sold steaming snacks from stalls equipped with solar-powered grills. A large digital clock on a building displayed the year: 2015, reminding Alex of how eerily parallel this timeline was.
As the car approached the academy district, the architecture shifted. Cobblestone streets gave way to manicured lawns and wide avenues lined with sleek, modern buildings. The International Academy of Prestige loomed ahead, its grandeur a testament to the wealth and privilege of its students.
Alex leaned back, a small smirk on his face. This place looked prestigious but it held its own dark secrets.
---
The International Academy of Almsworth
The academy exuded sophistication. The main gate, a wrought-iron masterpiece adorned with intricate patterns, opened to reveal a sprawling campus. A grand courtyard, lined with well-maintained hedges and fountains, led to the main building.
The structure itself was a mix of classical and modern design, with towering stone columns framing large glass windows. Ivy crept along the sides of the building, adding a touch of nature to its imposing presence. Students roamed the grounds, their chatter filled with discussions about academics, family businesses, and social events.
Inside, the hallways were wide, with polished wooden floors that reflected the morning light streaming in through arched windows. Trophy cases lined the walls, showcasing the school's long history of academic and athletic excellence. Digital boards were noticeably absent—most announcements were pinned on physical noticeboards, and bells were rung manually to signal class changes.
As Alex walked toward his classroom, he noticed the subtle stares and whispers. His absence had been noted, and his return, though uneventful, stirred quiet curiosity among his peers.
---
The Classroom
Alex entered the room and took his usual seat near the middle. The classroom was bright, with tall windows that overlooked the campus gardens. Wooden desks arranged in neat rows added a sense of order.
"Alex!" A short boy with a mop of messy brown hair called out, sliding into the seat next to him. This was Ryan, a talkative and excitable classmate who had latched onto Alex early in the school year.
"You missed so much, man!" Ryan began, barely waiting for Alex to acknowledge him. "Did you hear about the student council drama? Or the fight between the soccer captain and that guy from the debate club? Oh, and Clara from our grade was caught sneaking into the library at night!"
Alex raised an eyebrow but didn't respond. The gossip, while amusing, wasn't worth his attention. He listened passively, his gaze scanning the room.
And then he saw her.
---
The world seemed to quiet as Jessica Cohen walked in. Her black hair, glossy and perfectly styled, framed a pale face with sharp features. Her brown eyes were dark pools of intensity, and her snow-white skin gave her an almost ethereal aura. At 169 cm, she stood with quiet confidence, her tailored uniform accentuating her slim frame and curvy silhouette.
Jessica was a scholarship student, an anomaly in this elite school. Her father, an immigrant salaryman, had struggled to provide for her education, and she had rewarded his efforts by becoming a top performer. Despite her brilliance, she was often at odds with Alex. Perhaps it was because of his aloof nature or the privilege he embodied—it didn't matter. She had made it clear she didn't like him.
Jessica walked to the front of the room, ignoring Alex as usual. She moved with an elegance that belied her modest background, drawing admiring glances from some of their classmates.
Most of the first half was uneventful with not much happening that was until the maths class.
The classroom buzzed with subdued whispers as the mathematics teacher, Mrs. Hartwell, stood at the front of the room. She was a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties, known for her stern demeanor and penchant for testing the limits of her student's intellect.
"Alright, class," she said, her voice cutting through the chatter. "Today, we'll take a detour from the syllabus. Let's see how you handle a real challenge."
The whispers died immediately. Mrs. Hartwell's "detours" were infamous for leaving even the best students stumped.
She turned to the board and began writing a complex statistical problem, her hand moving quickly and confidently. As the problem unfolded, the equations grew increasingly intricate, filled with variables and probabilities that seemed to baffle even the most diligent students.
Jessica Cohen, seated at the front, adjusted her posture. Her black hair shimmered under the classroom lights, and her brown eyes locked onto the board with a mix of determination and excitement. It was clear she relished moments like this, moments where she could shine.
"This problem," Mrs. Hartwell said, stepping back to admire her work, "requires a deeper understanding of probability theory. Let's see who's brave enough to attempt it."
Jessica's hand shot up before anyone else could react.
"Excellent," Mrs. Hartwell said, gesturing for Jessica to approach.
Jessica rose gracefully, her expression confident as she walked to the board. The class watched in silence, their collective hope pinned on their star pupil.
Jessica studied the problem intently, the chalk poised in her hand. She began to write, her calculations precise but slow. The class waited, some leaning forward in anticipation, others already looking doubtful.
As Jessica worked, it became clear she was struggling. She paused frequently, erasing parts of her solution and starting over. Her initial confidence gave way to frustration, and murmurs began to spread through the room.
After several minutes, Jessica set the chalk down, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hartwell," she said, her voice steady despite the failure. "I don't know how to proceed."
Mrs. Hartwell frowned but nodded. "It's a difficult problem, Jessica. Don't be too hard on yourself. Does anyone else wish to try?"
The room was silent. Even the most ambitious students avoided eye contact with the teacher, knowing they were out of their depth.
Alex, seated in the middle row, leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but thoughtful. The problem wasn't difficult—not to him. In his past life, he had won many awards in statistical mathematics.
His hand went up, slow and deliberate.
The entire class turned to stare at him, including Jessica, who looked both surprised and mildly annoyed.
"Mr. Stark," Mrs. Hartwell said, her tone laced with skepticism. "Are you sure you want to try? This material isn't taught until advanced degrees."
"I'm sure," Alex replied, rising from his seat.
The room was eerily quiet as Alex walked to the board. He picked up the chalk, scanning the equations for a moment before beginning. His movements were fluid, his handwriting precise.
"This problem," he began, his voice steady, "is best approached using the principles of Bayesian inference."
Jessica blinked. Bayesian inference? She had never even heard of it.
As Alex continued, he explained each step with clarity, reducing the seemingly insurmountable problem into manageable parts. The chalk moved rapidly under his hand, each stroke confident and calculated.
By the time he finished, the solution stood complete, elegant in its simplicity.
He turned to face the class, his expression calm. "That's how it's done."
Mrs. Hartwell stared at the board, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Bayesian inference," she murmured. "That's…that's correct. But how on earth do you know this, Alex? This isn't taught until postgraduate studies."
Alex shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I read a lot."
The class erupted into murmurs, the students exchanging astonished glances. Jessica's eyes narrowed, her earlier annoyance now turning into outright irritation. She didn't like being overshadowed, especially not by someone like Alex, who rarely participated in class.
"Well," Mrs. Hartwell said, regaining her composure, "it seems we have a hidden genius among us. Excellent work, Alex."
Jessica returned to her seat, her movements stiff. Her lips curled slightly as if forcing a polite smile, but her displeasure was clear. She craved attention and thrived on being the best, and Alex had stolen her moment.
*Ding!*
A notification appeared in Alex's vision, glowing faintly.
Quest Completed: Establish Academic Prestige
Objective: Demonstrate your superior knowledge to your peers and teacher.
Rewards: 300 SP
Alex returned to his seat and smiled faintly.
"Interesting," he thought, glancing at Jessica, whose glare could have melted steel. This might be fun after all.
What he didn't notice was another pair of eyes sneaking glances at him.