People change so quickly

Kyle's confidence began to waver as the rounds ticked by.

Jay was no longer just a nervous high schooler—he was in his element. His movements were precise, his strategies calculated. Each kill was met with growing awe from the crowd.

By the sixth round, Kyle's frustration boiled over. "What the hell, man? Are you cheating or something?"

Jay didn't respond. His focus was unshakable, his hands steady as he continued to dominate.

Lia leaned against the desk, watching the match unfold with a satisfied smile. "Told you he was the real deal," she said casually, her voice carrying just enough smugness to sting.

By the time the score reached 13-2, it was over.

The tension in the room was palpable. Jay leaned back in his chair, his chest still heaving from the adrenaline of the match. His victory hung heavy in the air, undeniable and final.

Across the desk, Kyle sat frozen, his hand gripping the mouse so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The crowd, now eerily silent, watched as the reality of what just happened began to sink in.

"No way..." Kyle muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at the screen, the final score glaring back at him like a cruel joke. "This... this has to be a setup."

His words were weak, desperate, and no one bought them.

"Set up?" someone in the crowd echoed with a scoff. "Man, you got stomped."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room.

"I knew his trash-talking didn't match his skills," another voice chimed in, sharp and unforgiving.

Kyle's face flushed crimson, his hands shaking now, not with anger but humiliation. He tried to regain control, sitting up straighter, but his words came out fractured.

"It's not— I mean, it's not my fault!"

Lia, still leaning casually against Jay's desk, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" she drawled, her tone light but cutting. "Do tell."

Kyle's lips trembled as he tried to respond. His pride, his ego—everything he had built around being the "captain" of the gaming club—was crumbling in front of him. Finally, the dam broke.

"Fine!" he blurted out, his voice cracking. "I boosted my account, okay? I paid someone else to rank me up!"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of disbelief and disgust.

"You paid for your rank?" one student exclaimed, his tone dripping with disdain.

"You've been walking around like you're hot stuff, and you didn't even earn it?"

"Wow," another chimed in, shaking his head.

"And here I thought you were just bad. Turns out you're worse—you're fake."

Kyle's head sank lower with every word. His carefully constructed image of being the school's top gamer, was disintegrating before his eyes.

Jay, still sitting quietly, watched the scene unfold.

It was surreal, almost like stepping into a dream—one he couldn't decide was good or bad. The room, which had once felt suffocating and hostile, now buzzed with a strange energy. People who wouldn't have looked at him twice yesterday were staring at him in awe, whispering his name like it meant something.

But Jay couldn't shake the weight in his chest.

His eyes flickered over the crowd, to Kyle's slumped figure and the murmurs of disdain from his own clubmates.

The shift was so sudden it made Jay's head spin. Moments ago, the room had been filled with mocking laughter directed at him. Now, that laughter had turned sharp, cutting into someone else.

Kyle was their new target, and Jay couldn't ignore the bitter taste it left behind.

His mind raced, spiraling into the familiar overthinking that had become second nature.

"People change so quickly."

The thought struck him like a cold splash of water. These same students, the ones who had mocked him relentlessly for years, had flipped their attitudes in a matter of minutes.

The way they looked at him now wasn't admiration—it was fascination. Like he was some sort of novelty.

A spectacle.

He clenched his fists under the desk. "They don't care about me. They care about what I can do."

He'd seen this before. People tearing each other apart the moment it was convenient, the moment they smelled weakness. It was like they thrived on the misery of others, feeding on it to feel stronger.

For a split second, Jay felt a pang of empathy towards Kyle.

Part of him wanted to look away, to slip back into the shadows now that the spotlight wasn't on him anymore. But another part—a small, growing part—felt something new.

A spark.

Kyle, the same guy who had mocked him earlier, who had challenged him with such arrogance, was now sitting in the ruins of his own hubris.

And the crowd, the same crowd that had laughed at Jay for years, was starting to see him differently.

Jay swallowed hard, his hands still gripping the edge of the desk. His pulse raced as the murmurs continued, growing louder.

"Can't believe we called him our captain," one of the gaming club members muttered, his tone heavy with embarrassment. "He's a joke."

Another nodded, stepping back from Kyle as if distancing himself from the shame. "Yeah, no wonder we kept losing scrims and competitions."

Kyle shot up from his seat, his face a mix of anger and desperation.

"Shut up!" he barked, but his voice lacked any real authority. "You don't know anything!"

"Actually, we do," Lia interjected smoothly, her tone sharp as a blade.

She turned to the crowd, her expression a mix of amusement and scorn. "You all saw what happened. Kyle challenged Jay and got obliterated.

And now he's throwing a tantrum because he got caught lying about who he really is."

The crowd murmured in agreement, and Kyle's shoulders slumped even further.

But it wasn't Lia's words that made the crowd quiet down—it was Jay.

For the first time, he stood.