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The SAT was finally over, and our class gathered for a celebratory dinner when our homeroom teacher, Mr. Daniel Sanford, received an unexpected phone call. After hanging up, his expression turned grave. "A student in our class submitted blank answer sheets for every single subject." The room erupted in speculation as everyone tried to figure out who it could be. Then, to everyone's shock, the class president, Jayla West, approached me with tears in her eyes, apologizing over and over. She explained that one of the pencils she'd purchased for the class had been defective. Three hours after use, every mark it made would disappear—and by sheer bad luck, that pencil had ended up in my hands. In other words, I was the student who'd supposedly turned in a blank exam. Before I could say a word, my childhood friend and the school's top student, Samuel Ashley, stepped protectively in front of Jayla. "Ellie, Jayla didn't do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. You're smart enough that even if you have to take the exam again, you'll still get into college. Stop blaming her." As I stared at the unquestioning way he defended another girl, a pang of sadness and bitterness shot through me. What Samuel had forgotten was that just before the exam began, we had swapped pencils.

On my second day of employment at the city hall, I took over my colleague’s tasks. A young man came requesting for a new copy of his marriage certificate. It was far from his first visit. My colleague, Bernard Anderson, laughed. “This is the 99th time he’s here to get a copy of his marriage certificate again! We have all of his information ready, so the process wouldn’t take long.” I was stunned. “99th time?” Bernard laughed. “That’s right. He married a rich older woman. They always fought, and they would tear up their marriage certificate whenever they fought. “He’s so immature. Only an older lady would be able to tolerate him. I heard his wife is from the wealthiest family of our city, the Jameson family.” Immediately, I frowned. “The Jameson family has always kept a very low profile. Is his wife a fraud?” Bernard immediately stopped me from talking. “Don’t say that, she’s the rightful successor of the Jameson family, Mae Jameson.” I was stunned. My phone slipped from my hand and fell onto the desk. It was a photo of Mae and I on my lockscreen. Before me, the young man’s face fell. He snatched my phone. “Who are you? Why do you have a photo with my wife?”

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

I was reborn one month before the forensic certification exam. This time, I spent my days drinking and clubbing instead of slaving away studying, for the class belle had bound me to an Achievement Transfer System in my previous life. We had prepared for the forensic certification together, and I'd burned the midnight oil while she slacked off and partied. Yet, I scored a zero and failed, while she got exactly what she wanted and passed when the results were out. The entire class praised the class belle for her talent and mocked me, saying a nobody like me could never rise above my station. Unwilling to accept it, I demanded a review of the exam. The results showed that every single one of my answers was wrong, while hers were all correct. I searched through everything from my past experiments, only to find that every certificate bore the class belle's name. The class belle then put on an innocent front and accused me of misconduct, declaring imperiously, "Dakota Saunders, you've always pretended to be hardworking in front of others. I just didn't expect you to lie for so long that you started believing it yourself! "And now you've even stolen my certificates! You're disgusting. A thief like you belongs in the sewers, not here!" I was scorned by everyone and expelled from the academy. In the end, unable to bear the blow, I jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to one month before the forensic certification exam.

Royal academy, the academy is as old as man, many Generation has pass through it, the school was established by some certain rich families. The school is controlled by a group of people called the EDICT. The school isn't what it seems to be,every year student are either missing or being killed. Katherine Griffin was admitted into the academy. She met some group friend and they name the group THE CIRCLE. They are to investigate what happening in the academy. Will they survive, will they find the mystery behind the school.

They call it Area Alpha 101. It doesn’t appear on the world map or the satellites, but it’s rumoured to be there. It’s unofficially the largest continent on Earth, but the humans aren’t educated on it. Only the top shots in the governments and monarchies know about it, but have kept it a secret from everyone else. No-one answers questions regarding it. People have been quoted saying that they tried to get in, but they only hit a barrier. This barrier is said to be invisible, yet you can’t see what’s on the other side. For centuries, no-one has been able to get past the barrier, and those who try, come away ‘bewitched’, or so it has been reported. You know what the funny part about this is? There are literally signs that say “NO HUMANS ALLOWED” just a distance away from the ‘barrier’. You can imagine the insane theories that the human civilization has come up with in regards to what they imagine could be behind the barrier. The biggest guess as you yourself would probably guess is aliens; but that’s just it – NO-ONE knows what’s behind the barrier. Except me that is. Or so I thought.