LOGINIt was later that day, as Shylie walked by the music room, when she first heard the gentle notes of a piano coming from within. Her fingers twitched almost instinctively at the sound. She hesitated outside the door. The song was familiar. She had heard it many times before. Shylie remembered the fluidity of the notes, the intricate path they wove. She had played it herself, not once, not twice, but many times over.
Shylie smiled slightly. Let's see if they remember me.
No longer would she be the wallflower of her past. Inconspicuous and unremarkable. This time, they would not forget. She was Shylie Reed, and this time, she was going to play to win.
The smell of freshly printed test papers was heavy in the air. Room 204 of Rooseville Academy's oldest building. The clock ticked by one second at a time as Shylie Reed sat with her pencil poised. Every ounce of her energy was focused on this exam. Every ounce of her attention was locked on to the page. Like a laser, Shylie's mind cut through the fog. The seemingly endless parade of questions answered one after another.
She had done it before. College, corporate warfare, the markets, all of it. She had been through it, and yet, in her 16-year-old form, Shylie had never felt more invincible. The rest of the class, they were nothing compared to what she had already seen. She finished the final question with a soft sigh of relief. No careless mistakes. No wasted time. Perfectly executed.
Shylie was the first to her feet, the first to leave the classroom with a clean sheet of paper. She left the room with the same quiet confidence she had always honed.
Everyone else? They were not so quiet.
"Did you see Shylie's score on the math test?" One of her classmates breathed in the hallway.
"You know, she got full marks, right? Perfect? No one's ever done that before." Another gasped in disbelief.
Shylie didn't need to hear their praise, she already knew. She had come to Rooseville to play the game, and this was only the start.
The school's weekly mixer was like any other. Seniors and juniors were invited to an event where, for a few hours at least, they could talk and have fun without the ever-looming presence of academia. For others, it was a night to dance, flirt, and forget about their studies for a while. It wasn't the same for Shylie. If she were honest, she was out of her comfort zone, but in a good way. It was time to lay the groundwork for the next version of Shylie.
The gymnasium was bustling with chatter and laughter. Glasses of punch clinking as people talked and laughed. The usual noise. Shylie stood in the corner, unbothered yet fully present. She scanned the room indifferently to the various cliques.
But then, she saw him.
Darren Tan.
Two years older, and part of Rooseville's golden boy. Friendly, attractive, athletic. All the hallmarks of a popular man. Girls swooned as he effortlessly floated through the crowd. Shylie couldn't help but think of how the air seemed a little lighter around him.
His eyes met hers across the room and for a split second, something unspoken passed between them. Something akin to interest, perhaps. Darren made his way towards her with a casual air, like people clearing a path for him were nothing new.
"Hey, you're Shylie, right? Heard you're a force of nature when it comes to numbers." He smiled amiably as he sat beside her, leaning against the wall.
Shylie didn't give away her true feelings. She was cool. Composed. "That is what they say"
Darren laughed, and sat without waiting for an answer. "Mind if I join you?"
Shylie hesitated. In another life, in another time, she would have avoided this at all costs, hidden from the lights and attention. But this was different. She wasn't who she had been. She was new. This was her chance to show that. She wasn't here to fade into the background. "Sure."
The two of them talked, easily. They discussed projects, midterms, final exams and the stress of being a Rooseville student. Darren was refreshingly sincere, interested and even-keeled. Shylie couldn't figure out what he was after. This felt different from everything else she had experienced. It was honest, raw, and he wasn't bad looking either.
For a moment, Shylie had the urge to let go, let Darren be her first, to have him make her a real teenager. But no. She reined in her true feelings. The Shylie they all knew was a projection. This version of her would remain a secret to all but Darren. She was on a mission, and Shylie wasn't in the business of teenage infatuations or easy banter. She had bigger plans.
The night passed, and as Darren and Shylie said their goodbyes, Darren looked back at her. "You're different, Shylie," he said. "Not like everyone else."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe because I've seen more."
Midterms descended on Rooseville Academy like a wave. To most of her fellow students, it was a time of all-nighters, last-minute cramming and the usual stress that came with exams. To Shylie? It was just business as usual, just another milestone on the path to her goals.
Shylie was no longer a shadow of a girl in the back of the room. She was front and center. Her hand moved with the speed and precision of decades of experience, solving exams at a level she had not approached since before her birth. She finished exams with speed that made her teachers pause, furrow their brows, and whisper to one another in disbelief as she left the classroom long before anyone else. The rumors only built from there.
"Is she cheating?" A classmate whispered under his breath.
"No, impossible. She finishes her exams before the others. And she was the one who solved that bonus calculus problem, the university-level one!" Another gaped, speechless.
The rumors swirled around Shylie, all-consuming and relentless. She let them. She had more important things to focus on.
The only person who didn't need to whisper, though, was Leah.
Leah was watching Shylie with a look of pure jealousy in her eyes. Her usual easy, confident smile had faltered, threatened by the ascent of Shylie Reed. It was hard for Leah to process, having Shylie outshine her in the midterms. It didn't help that this new junior was already making moves that not even a senior like Leah had made yet. Shylie was a junior. Leah was a senior. The balance was about to be tested.
Shylie had long made a habit of the cherry blossom tree outside of the cafeteria, where she spent her lunch hours away from the clatter and din of the other students. It was her way of resetting, refocusing and strategizing. She was well aware of Leah and Darren, however, and was happy to take advantage of a found opportunity.
"You always eat lunch by yourself?" Darren appeared next to her, a box of bento in each hand, voice warm and teasing.
Shylie rolled her eyes in response. "Don't you have a fan club you need to entertain?"
He smirked and took a seat beside her without waiting for permission. "They can hold up their end for a bit."
Shylie eyed the additional box. "That's not my order."
"I made it," Darren said casually. "Figured you might not be eating with all the exams coming up."
The incubator was deathly silent.Lights had been dimmed, neon glows filtering across the floor, leaving long shadows in their wake. The room was empty and still, only the low buzzing of ventilation systems punctuated the void, the silent, methodical rhythm of a world that moved without her.She sat in one of the sound-proof presentation rooms alone, watching the faint blue light of the simulation terminal.Keyboard keys clicked softly, repetitive and unobstructed. But her fingers remained suspended above the keys, no movement at all. She had not typed a word in hours.Her mind wandered, far away from this antiseptic plastic reality, somewhere else.His voice haunted her.Memories reflected on her consciousness, the clipped edges of his mouth bouncing around in her head, louder than the drone of the machine in front of her, louder than any stimuli she could manufacture."You cut yourself off so completely..
The incubator was silent, too silent. The overhead lights were low, pooling her workspace in the corner of the room with angled shadows while leaving the rest of the room lost in darkness. Piles of printouts from her simulations littered her desk, pages of her script of handwritten notes (meticulous, to a degree only Shylie could read), sprawling logic trees (scribbled in the margins), decision branches, thoughtfully annotated. Conditions for every potential failure had been mapped and re-mapped, re-evaluated again and again, revised to the point of obsessive perfection. No mistakes. No blindspots. No allowances for weakness. She had rewritten her version of the core of the platform by hand, already envisioning what would happen when she opened it up to the rest of the school. She'd gone through every line, every decision point, every potential outcome and evaluated, measured, and double-checked it. Triple-checked. It was more than secure now. It was perfe
The boardroom meeting was in a modern wood-paneled conference room; freshly upholstered but intentionally stiff. The massive oval table gleamed like black marble, reflecting the tense faces around it in sickly amber from the fluorescent lights above. A tense silence. Thick. Humid. Oppressive. Each breath everyone took seemed labored in the room’s acoustics. Principal Min presided over the table. Stiff-backed and pursed-lipped, her eyes darted back and forth at the disparate groups around her. Administrators on one flank, as tight-lipped and formal as they were white-collar. Parents on the other, one fidgeting in her seat with an oversized purse, the other scribbling notes in a cheap notebook (concerned or looking for a scoop, either would do). Principal Min looked expectantly at Elias Tan. Tan was unmoved. Erect and statuesque, he exuded a cool authority in the room. Tall, built, and inhumanly calm. He was wearing a perfectly-tailored charcoal suit, presse
Shylie sat alone in the incubator's private strategy room. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly in the background. On her desk was a solitary lamp, casting harsh shadows across the reams of printouts, handwritten memos, and a manila folder, stampedCONFIDENTIAL: Simulation 26. She'd been here before. The same practice rooms, the same data to pore over, the same decision trees to analyze and evaluate and perfect. The variables were different this time. She could feel it in her bones. Shylie read the packet once, twice. Three. It wasn't a game.Scenario: You are co-founder of a breakthrough biotech startup with a sibling. Your sibling leaks part of your research to a rival firm in a moment of desperation. Your company's investors are on edge. Trust is broken. The future of your work is on the line.
It was late. Actually, it was very late. Past midnight. Shylie arrived back to her dorm-style student unit just outside the incubator hub. The small, sterile room with its bare walls and utilitarian furnishings felt like a refuge from the Reed household insanity. But there was nothing restful about the cramped space where Shylie had come to live “closer to campus under a work-study program.” She had wanted to be near the hubs, closer to the action. But the truth was she just couldn’t take it there anymore. It had become too oppressive, her family’s collective madness too suffocating. She set her bag by the door with a harsh exhale and kicked off her shoes before stepping into the silence, inhaling the stillness like a narcotic. The pale lamplight cast an eerie pallor across the entire room; even the high buzz from the city outside the thin windows felt muted and far away. She wasn’t alone. Elias was sitting at her desk, an unmistakable presence framed by t
Dinner at the Reed house had not always been so cold. Thomas remembered times of laughter, silverware clanking against plates, his mother's quiet voice chastising him whenever the noise level became too high. But now, it was so quiet. Too quiet. The five of them sat in their traditional places, each of them trying so hard to act like everything was okay. It was like they were in a play with no audience.His mother set down the plates with a gentle clink and did her best to avoid eye contact. His father shielded himself behind the Sunday paper, flipping idly through its pages without actually reading them. Leah talked the easiest, her voice filling the awkward silence with her usual ease. Nonsensical things. A class project. A teacher's praise. A bright, unceasing smile. If any of them had a band-aid for their family, it was Leah.But the air had frozen because of Shylie.Shylie didn't eat much. She sat







