---
If I thought the "Alex Protocols" were invasive, "Operation: Confidence" was a full-scale occupation of my personal life. Lexi had traded his clipboard for a tactical headset, and the clubroom felt less like a lab and more like a military command center dedicated to the mission of flustering me into self-actualization.
"Phase One is simple," Lexi's voice crackled through a tiny, discreet earpiece he'd forced me to wear. "We integrate confidence-building exercises into your daily routine. Your objective is to proceed to your 10 AM Sociology lecture. Our objective is to provide... supportive reinforcement."
"This is insane," I muttered under my breath, adjusting my backpack. I could feel the weight of the earpiece, a tiny piece of technological tyranny. "I don't need an escort to class."
"Negative, Subject Alex," Lexi's voice was crisp in my ear. "Your perception of 'need' is irrelevant. This is for data collection. Now, proceed. Agent Yuki is in position at your nine o'clock."
I glanced to my left. Leaning against a tree with an exaggerated casualness that would make a soap opera actor cringe was Yuki. He was wearing an oversized hoodie with a cat-eared design and holding a textbook upside down. The moment our eyes met, he winked, gave me a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, "You got this, senpai!"
A hot wave of embarrassment washed over me. I quickly looked away, my pace quickening. "He's not subtle," I hissed into the air, hoping the earpiece would pick it up.
"Agent Yuki's methods are unorthodox but his heart is in the right place," Lexi responded, his tone dry. "Now, brace yourself. Agent Sage is approaching your twelve o'clock. And he's... armed."
My head snapped up. Striding towards me with the serene purpose of a glacier was Sage. In his hands were two cardboard coffee trays, each holding three cups. He was a vision of gentle, caffeinated menace.
"Alex," he said, his voice a warm rumble as he fell into step beside me, effortlessly matching my hurried pace. "I calculated the statistical probability of you being sleep-deprived after last night's experiments at 94.7%. I also accounted for the rest of the study body. I brought enough for everyone in your lecture hall."
He wasn't kidding. He began gracefully handing out coffees to stunned students as we walked, a benevolent coffee god bestowing his gifts. "For you. And you. A latte? Of course. Everyone deserves a good start to their day." They accepted them with mumbled thanks, looking at Sage with a mixture of awe and confusion.
He saved the last one for me. It was in a special, insulated mug I recognized from the clubroom. "And for you," he said, his voice dropping into that intimate register that was for me alone. "Dark roast, one sugar, a dash of cinnamon. Just how you like it. I noticed you didn't finish the one yesterday."
He had noticed. He had not only remembered my preference, but he'd also tracked my consumption. I took the mug, my fingers brushing against his. It was scalding hot, perfectly prepared. It was the most terrifying drink I had ever held.
"My... my lecture hall has fifty people in it," I stammered, gesturing weakly with the mug.
"I know," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "I didn't want anyone to feel left out. Or for you to feel singled out." He gave me a soft, knowing smile. "It's important to blend in."
He had bought fifty coffees to help me blend in. I was walking with a six-foot-tall, bronze-skinned, red-eyed angel of caffeine who had just become the most popular person on campus, all as a side effect of his mission to take care of me. I was so conspicuously not singled out.
"Data point," Lexi's voice buzzed in my ear, sounding impressed. "Sage's 'blanket coverage' approach is effective. Subject's embarrassment is being overridden by a state of bewildered awe. Aura remains stable. Proceed to the lecture hall."
Sage walked me all the way to the door of the lecture hall, a silent, towering escort. "I'll be right here when you're done," he said, leaning against the wall opposite the door like a gorgeous, patient sentinel. "In case you need anything."
I fled into the classroom, my face burning. The first fifteen minutes of the lecture were a blur. I couldn't focus on social constructs. All I could think about was the warm mug in my hands and the fact that a supernatural club mom was standing guard outside the door.
When the professor dismissed us, I braced myself. I stepped into the hallway, and sure enough, Sage was there, having politely collected all the empty coffee cups into a neat stack.
"Ready for your next class?" he asked, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
Before I could answer, a new voice, sharp and laced with a familiar, smug amusement, cut through the hallway chatter.
"Well, well. Look what the cat-boy dragged in."
I turned. Lexi was leaning against the wall next to the water fountain, having somehow changed out of his lab coat and into a stylish, asymmetrical black top and tight jeans. He had a small, knowing smirk on his face.
"I just reviewed the hallway footage," he said, pushing off the wall and walking towards us. "Sage's coffee run was a masterstroke of social engineering. But it lacked a certain... personal touch." He stopped right in front of me, his eyes scanning my face. "You handled the attention well. No panic. No running. You're adapting."
He reached out and, in a shockingly bold move, straightened the collar of my shirt, his fingers lingering for a moment on the fabric near my neck. "See? A little confidence looks good on you."
My brain short-circuited. The combination of Sage's overwhelming, gentle care and Lexi's sharp, personal approval created a feedback loop of pure, undiluted fluster. I was a computer trying to run two conflicting operating systems at once, and I was about to blue-screen.
"Uh," I intelligently replied.
"His heart rate is elevating again," Sage observed calmly from behind me, though I could hear the slight edge in his voice.
"Of course it is," Lexi purred, his smirk widening. "Positive reinforcement is a powerful thing. Come on, Alex. Your Physics lab is across campus. Let's see how you handle a change of scenery."
He didn't wait for an answer, simply turning and walking away, expecting us to follow. Sage fell into step beside me, a silent, watchful presence.
And from behind a potted plant, I saw Yuki give me an enthusiastic shaka sign before ducking back out of sight.
This wasn't a support network. This was a coordinated, three-pronged assault on my sanity. And Physics lab was about to become the next battlefield.
Physics lab was a special kind of torture. It was held in a sterile, windowless basement room that smelled of ozone and burnt circuitry. The perfect environment, I'd thought, to be anonymous. A place where the swirling chaos of the P.V.S.C. couldn't reach me.
I was an idiot.
My lab partner was a painfully shy girl named Chloe who hadn't made eye contact with me once. Our task was to build a simple circuit and measure voltage. A straightforward, blessedly normal activity. For about thirty seconds.
"Agent update," Lexi's voice was a crisp, unwelcome intrusion in my ear. "The basement' low electromagnetic background provides an excellent control environment. Proceed with the experiment. We are monitoring."
We. The word was a threat. I glanced around the room. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, just other students fumbling with wires and batteries. But the feeling of being watched was a physical pressure on the back of my neck.
Chloe and I managed to get our light bulb to flicker weakly. "I think we have a short circuit," she mumbled, poking at a wire.
Before I could respond, a blur of motion resolved itself at the end of our lab table. Yuki was suddenly there, leaning over our circuit board with an expression of intense concentration. He was now wearing a pair of steampunk-style goggles pushed up on his forehead.
"Hmm, the flux capacitor is out of alignment," he declared, completely seriously. He then produced a pink, light-up screwdriver from his hoodie pocket and began poking at our circuit. "Don't worry, Senpai! Your kohai is here to help!"
Chloe stared, her mouth slightly agape.
"Yuki, what are you doing?" I hissed, trying to shield our pathetic circuit from him. "You can't be in here!"
"I'm a teacher's assistant for… advanced spiritual thermodynamics!" he announced loudly, causing a few students to look over. He winked at me. "Just here to observe and… assist." He then proceeded to re-solder a connection with shocking speed and competence. Our flickering bulb glowed with a steady, bright light.
"See? All better!" Yuki beamed, his grin blinding. "You're so smart to figure out the problem, Alex-senpai! I just did the easy part." He gave my arm a quick, affectionate squeeze before skipping away to "assist" another bewildered group.
I stood frozen, my face a furnace. Chloe was now looking at me with a new, unnerving expression. Not fear, but curiosity. "Is he… with you?" she whispered.
"No," I said, a little too quickly. "I mean, kind of. It's… complicated."
"Subject successfully navigated unsanctioned social interaction," Lexi's voice noted in my ear. "Maintained composure despite Agent Yuki's unpredictable intervention. Aura shows minor fluctuations but no signs of distress. Proceed."
We finished the lab in a strained silence. As we were packing up, Chloe finally looked directly at me. "Your friends are… really supportive."
I gave a weak, non-committal laugh. "Yeah. Something like that."
Stepping out of the lab, I expected a reprieve. Instead, I walked into the next phase of the operation. Sage was waiting, holding a small, plastic container.
"Lab environments are notorious sources of chemical and particulate contamination," he stated, his tone one of gentle authority. He opened the container to reveal moist, lemon-scented towelettes. "Here. For your hands. I also took the liberty of reviewing your lab syllabus. The next module covers optics. I've pre-ordered the recommended supplemental textbook. It will be at your dorm by tonight."
He gently took my hand and began meticulously cleaning my fingers with the towelette. His touch was firm, thorough, and utterly humiliating. He was cleaning me like a child who'd been finger-painting. I could feel the stares of other students passing by.
"Sage, I can wash my own hands," I protested, trying to pull away.
"I know," he said, not releasing my hand. "But this is more efficient. And the lemon scent is proven to have an uplifting effect on mood." He finished with one hand and moved to the other. "There. All clean."
He finally released me, folding the used towelette and disposing of it in a nearby bin with the precision of a surgeon.
"Data point," Lexi buzzed in my ear. "Sage's 'practical care' approach induces a state of flustered compliance. Subject's aura remains stable, but his external resistance is noted. The conflict between appreciation and embarrassment is… delicious."
I was about to snap back, to tell them all to leave me alone for five minutes, when Lexi himself materialized from a side corridor. He was holding a single, perfect red apple.
"For you," he said, tossing it to me with a casual flick of his wrist.
I fumbled the catch, the apple thumping against my chest before I secured it. "An apple?"
"A simple, elegant source of glucose and fiber. To replenish your energy after the mental exertion of the lab," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact. But his eyes were dancing with amusement. "It's also a classic symbol of knowledge. Fitting, don't you think? For our little seeker of truth."
He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with a cleaned hand, a throbbing sense of embarrassment, and a stupid apple.
I looked from the apple in my hand to Sage's patient smile, and I could practically feel Yuki watching from some hidden vantage point. They were everywhere. In my ears, in my personal space, in my lab, and now, in my lunch.
This wasn't building my confidence. It was systematically dismantling my ability to function like a normal human being. And the worst part? The hum of my aura through it all was a content, steady purr. A traitorous part of me was starting to feel… cared for.
And that was the most terrifying data point of all.
The grand finale of "Operation: Confidence" was, fittingly, the most public and humiliating part of my day: the campus cafeteria. It was a sprawling, noisy arena of clattering trays and social anxiety, a place I usually navigated with the speed and stealth of a ghost. Today, I was the main event.
"Final phase initiation," Lexi's voice was a calm, commanding presence in my ear, a stark contrast to the storm of dread brewing in my gut. "The objective is to observe your social integration and aura stability in a high-stimulus, unpredictable environment. Proceed to acquire sustenance."
"Sustenance," I muttered, glaring at a tray of gelatinous meatloaf. "I just want a burger."
"Agent Sage has pre-cleared the burger line for optimal nutritional value and minimal queue time," Lexi informed me. "Proceed to station three."
Of course he had. I shuffled towards the designated line, feeling less like a person and more like a lab rat running a pre-determined maze. As I picked up a tray, I felt a presence at my elbow.
"Allow me," Sage's voice rumbled softly. He took the tray from my hands. "The biofilm on these trays has a bacterial count that is... concerning. I've taken the liberty of providing a sanitized alternative." He produced a bamboo tray and a set of polished stainless-steel cutlery from a cloth bag slung over his shoulder. "It's more hygienic and environmentally friendly."
The student behind me in line stared, their own plastic tray suddenly looking pathetic. I took the bamboo tray, its smooth, organic weight feeling alien and absurd in my hands. "Thanks," I mumbled, my voice thick with mortification.
I got my burger and, under Sage's watchful eye, a carefully balanced portion of steamed vegetables. He then guided me—not with a touch, but with the sheer force of his expectant presence—towards a table.
It was not an empty table. It was the table. The one in the exact center of the cafeteria. The spotlight.
"Optimal location for observational data," Lexi chirped in my ear. "Proceed."
I sat down, the bamboo tray clacking pretentiously on the Formica table. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me. Or maybe it was just the three pairs I was acutely aware of. Sage had taken up a position at a nearby table, sipping a coffee and watching me with the proud focus of a parent at a kindergarten recital.
I had just taken my first, lonely bite of the burger when the ambient noise of the cafeteria seemed to part. A wave of whispers followed the sound of clicking heels on linoleum. I didn't need to look up. I knew that sound. It was the sound of Lexi Vance making an entrance.
He stopped at my table, placing a single, small glass bottle of imported peach-flavored soda next to my tray. "To wash it down," he said, his voice carrying easily in the sudden hush. "Hydration is key to cognitive function." He was wearing a pleated skirt and a fitted blazer, looking like he'd just walked out of a high-fashion magazine shoot and into my personal hell. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was somehow still audible to everyone within twenty feet. "You're doing well. The data is promising. Just remember to chew thoroughly."
He straightened up, gave me a slow, approving once-over that made my ears burn, and then walked away, leaving a trail of stunned silence and peach soda in his wake.
I put my burger down. My appetite was gone, replaced by a hollow pit of social horror. This was it. The peak of my humiliation. I was about to stand up and flee when a new sound cut through the cafeteria murmur.
It was a soft, melodic humming.
Heads turned. My head turned. Yuki was walking through the center aisle of the cafeteria, holding a small, wireless speaker. The humming was coming from him. He had a serene, almost ethereal expression on his face, and he was walking directly towards my table.
"Oh no," I whispered. "No, no, no."
He reached my table and placed the speaker down gently. The humming stopped. He looked at me, his eyes soft and full of emotion.
"Alex," he said, his voice clear and carrying. "I know you're new here. And I know it can be scary. But I wanted you to know... you're not alone."
Then, he began to sing.
It wasn't a loud, showy song. It was a soft, sweet, slightly off-key Japanese pop ballad. I didn't understand the words, but the tone was unmistakably one of encouragement and affection. He sang directly to me, his hands clasped over his heart, his eyes shimmering with manufactured tears of support.
The entire cafeteria was frozen. Forks hovered mid-air. Conversations died. Every single person was watching the small, blonde tomboy serenade the bewildered guy with the bamboo tray in the middle of the room.
My face was no longer burning; it had achieved nuclear fusion. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. I wanted to spontaneously combust. I wanted to—
The humming in my bones, which had been a content purr all day, suddenly flared. It wasn't the jagged scream of fear or the warm resonance of approval. It was a sudden, powerful, harmonic pulse.
BWOMP.
A wave of invisible energy radiated out from me in a perfect circle.
Every single cell phone in the cafeteria simultaneously lit up, screens flashing white before going black. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered violently for a second and then blazed with double their normal intensity. The speaker Yuki was using emitted a sharp pop and then died. His heartfelt a cappella was the only sound in the suddenly silent, brightly lit room.
Yuki stopped singing, his eyes wide with genuine shock.
From his observation post, Sage was on his feet, his coffee forgotten.
In my ear, Lexi's voice was a breathless, triumphant whisper. "Incredible. A spontaneous, controlled emission. Not born of fear, but of... overwhelming social stimulus. You didn't break, Alex. You adapted."
The entire student body was staring at me. The guy who'd just short-circuited the cafeteria with his embarrassment.
I stood up. The bamboo tray clattered to the floor. I didn't look at anyone. I just turned and walked, then ran, out of the cafeteria, the ghost of Yuki's song and the echo of my own power chasing me out the door.
Operation: Confidence was a catastrophic, horrifying, undeniable success. I was no longer just the club's subject. After that display, I was campus-famous. And my three obsessive handlers had just gotten their most compelling data point yet: my breaking point was a direct gateway to a power they were more determined than ever to understand, control, and keep for themselves.
---
To Be Continue...