Jared didn't go back to class.
That was the first sign.
Instead—
He stayed in the hallway.
Still.
Silent.
Heart rate: elevated.
Motor control: unstable.
Processing speed: fluctuating.
"…inefficient," he muttered.
Not the test.
Not the observer.
Himself.
"…you look like you're about to collapse."
Jared didn't turn.
"…confirmed," he replied.
Iris walked up beside him.
Arms crossed.
Eyes sharp.
"…what did he say?"
"…warning issued."
"…that sounds bad."
"…it is."
Silence.
She studied him closely.
"…you're shaking again."
"…temporary."
"…stop saying that."
Jared leaned against the wall slightly.
Not by choice.
Balance correction required.
"…you need to rest," Iris said.
"…inefficient."
"…YOU KEEP SAYING THAT LIKE IT MEANS SOMETHING."
"…it does."
He closed his eyes briefly.
If I slow down—
I fall behind.
"…you're not listening," she said.
"…I am."
"…then why aren't you stopping?"
A pause.
Jared opened his eyes.
Looked at her.
"…because I can't."
Silence.
Not won't.
Can't.
Iris froze slightly.
"…that's not an answer."
"…it is."
"…no, it's not."
Her voice softened.
Not weaker—
Just real.
"…you're choosing this," she said.
Jared didn't respond.
Because that—
Was true.
But not completely.
System pressure increasing.
Selection active.
"…they're forcing this," he said.
"…no, they're testing you."
"…same outcome."
"…no, it's not!"
She stepped closer.
"…you still have a choice."
Jared looked at her.
For a moment—
His thoughts slowed.
Just slightly.
Alternative path detected.
Rest.
Recovery.
Stability.
But then—
Another thought replaced it.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Evan.
Stable.
Efficient.
Uninjured.
Ahead.
Jared straightened slightly.
"…no," he said.
Silence.
"…no what?" Iris asked quietly.
"…not an option."
Her expression changed.
Not confusion.
Disappointment.
"…you're going to break," she said.
"…not yet."
"…that's not reassuring."
"…it's accurate."
Silence stretched.
Iris stepped back.
"…fine," she said.
"…do whatever you want."
A pause.
"…but don't expect me to watch."
That—
Landed differently.
Jared paused.
Variable withdrawing.
"…noted," he said.
Wrong answer.
Again.
She turned.
Started walking away.
Didn't look back.
Jared stood there.
Still.
Silent.
System pressure.
Emotional loss.
Physical instability.
All variables—
Increasing.
And instead of reducing them—
He made a decision.
Jared pushed himself off the wall.
Forced his body to move.
Not toward rest.
Not toward recovery.
But forward.
Because slowing down—
Was no longer an option.
Not if he wanted to stay in the system.
And not—
If he wanted to win.