BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP
Obei jerked upright, heart hammering.
For a second he had no idea where he was the soft bed, the neatly arranged room, the faint morning glow filtering through unfamiliar curtains. Then his gaze snapped to the source of the noise.
His bracelet pulsing red.
Time: 7:56 AM
ORIENTATION BEGINS AT 8:00 AM
Eyes half closed as he scrambled across the room, nearly tripping on his own blanket. His shoes... where were they? His bag... why was it open? His shirt... was it inside out? He wrestled with it anyway, shoving it over his head while stumbling toward the kitchenette where he'd left his essentials.
Toothbrush? No time.Hair? Chaos.Dignity? Long gone.
His bracelet flashed again, now projecting a bright blue arrow in midair, pointing him toward the door.
He grabbed his backpack half-zipped, and swung it over his shoulder. The necklace was already around his neck; the key-card he snatched off the counter; the bracelet he nearly barked at as he waved it toward the door scanner.
Beep.
He burst into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft hydraulic whisper.
The corridor was empty and painfully calm, golden light spilling down the carpeted floor. Obei definitely ruined the atmosphere as he tore down it full speed, backpack flapping behind him like a disgruntled parachute.
"Why didn't the alarm ring earlier—? Oh... Right."He grimaced mid-sprint remembering he had ignored the first alarm prompt... and the second... and the third...
He hit the stairs two steps at a time, practically flying down them. A sleepy group of students at the bottom jumped out of the way as he thundered past.
"Sorry! Sorry—! Emergency!"
Hubert, polishing the front desk, snapped his head up just as Obei blurred by.
"NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!!" Hubert's voice cracked violently.
"Sorry, sir! Emergency!!" Obei called back, already a distant echo.
Outside, the morning air slapped him awake it was cool, crisp, and annoyingly peaceful. Birds chirped above. The campus glowed under soft sunlight. Students strolled toward their own classes.
Meanwhile, Obei was sprinting for his life.
His bracelet's arrow guided him past a courtyard, across a stone path, down a flight of wide stairs, and around a fountain.
TWO MINUTES REMAINING
The bracelet helpfully beeped.
He pushed harder, lungs burning, legs protesting, backpack threatening to fling itself into the stratosphere with each step.
The auditorium finally came into view—tall pillars, sloped roof, students funneling inside like a calm, orderly river.
A river he was about to cannonball into.
"Almost—there—!"
He stumbled up the last steps, half-sliding, half-catching himself on the railing. The bracelet flickered once more as he reached the door.
ARRIVEDTIME: 7:59 AM
Obei sagged against the doorway, gasping.
"I made it… I made it"
Obei slipped inside just as the doors thudded shut behind him, sealing off the outside world with a quiet finality. The auditorium opened into a wide, descending half-bowl of seats that fanned out toward a stage below illuminated by warm overhead lights.
But the thing that hit him wasn't the size.
It was how… empty it felt.
Rows and rows of chairs, easily enough to host hundreds, maybe even a thousand, yet only about sixty students were scattered across them. Small clusters talked quietly, others sat alone staring ahead with the expressions of people who'd seen too much already.
Obei swallowed, adjusting the strap of his bag.
"This campus is huge… so where is everyone?" he questioned to no one.
He slid into an empty seat about halfway down, catching his breath as unobtrusively as possible. No one seemed to care he'd rushed in like a dying animal.
Up front, a man in a dark blazer and white button-down shirt stepped onto the stage. He looked somewhere in his late fifties, silver streaking his black hair, posture straight but relaxed like someone who'd long ago mastered the art of pretending nothing surprised him.
He reached the podium and tapped the microphone once.
Then again.
Then... "Is this thing on?"
He smacked it against his palm.
BRRRRRMMMMMMMM—!!
Every student recoiled simultaneously.
Obei's soul left his body for a full three seconds.
The man blinked, feigning innocence."Oops. Sorry students, I didn't know if this thing was on."
A smile curled across his face, too practiced, too easy, like he absolutely knew what he'd done.
Several students groaned quietly.
He clasped his hands together. "Alrighty! Let's get started. Welcome to orientation."
His voice boomed with a perfectly working sound system.
"You may be wondering," he continued, lifting a hand and turning slowly to gesture at the mostly empty seats, "why there are less students here than the campus actually houses."
He paused, letting the question linger like it was supposed to be dramatic. A few students exchanged looks. But Obei tried not to fidget.
"Some of you," he said with a knowing smile, "may already have the answer."
He took in a slow breath, expression softening just a fraction.
"But for those who do not… these orientations are only held at the beginning of every week."
The headmaster let the whispers rumble for a few seconds before lifting a hand, palm outward—a gentle call for silence.
His smile remained, but something about his posture shifted. Less showmanship. More honesty.
"Now, before any of you get the wrong idea," he said, voice steadying, "no, this doesn't mean we have an exorbitant number of Performers entering the Initiative. Quite the opposite."
A few students leaned forward.
He folded his arms loosely behind the podium.
"The truth is simple. Not every Performer completes their first Narrative at the same speed, and not all of your Narratives started at the same time."
The room quieted.
"Some awakened and survived their first encounter within hours."His eyes shifted briefly toward a few students in the front.
"Some took days." His gaze moved again.
"Others… a weeks or longer."
The headmaster continued.
"Every Performer's experience is different. Every awakening is unpredictable. Some take longer to stabilize, longer to arrive here, or longer to even realize what happened to them."
He gestured around the sparsely filled auditorium.
"That means our incoming classes form at uneven intervals. Fifty one week, twenty the next, none for ten days, seventy after that. If we tried to give each of you an individual orientation the moment you walked through the gates…"
He chuckled softly. "I'd never leave this stage."
A few students let out nervous laughs.
"So instead," he said, voice warm but carrying weight, "we wait. Until we have a suitable group size large enough to justify gathering you all, but small enough that each of you receives attention during your assessments and coursework."
Obei shifted in his chair.
The headmaster exhaled slowly, resting both palms on the podium.
"And that," he said, tone smoothing back into his practiced orientation cadence, "is why you see far fewer faces here than the campus actually holds. You are the latest wave of performers the ones who succeeded, survived, and had the courage to walk through our doors."
He gave a small bow of his head. "Welcome to the Initiative, Performers."
The room remained silent for a heartbeat.
Then the headmaster straightened, eyes sharpening with purpose as he prepared to move on to the next, heavier part of the orientation.