Among the 0.5%

The shuttle arrived before Adyr had to wait long, and he took the first empty seat he could find.

The faces inside were all the same as always—tired, hollow, and worn thin by the silent scream of uncertainty about their futures.

Adyr knew each one carried a noisy story beneath that quiet mask.

He watched—always watched. A nervous tap of a finger, a smudge on a collar, the way someone's gaze lingered a second too long—every detail spoke. Within a year, he'd stitched together their inner lives from the smallest of tells. Breakfast routines. Favorite colors. Secret fears they'd never voiced aloud.

To others, they were classmates. To him, they were case files—open, bleeding, waiting to be read. Watching them wasn't just a habit. It was instinct. An itch in his brain he never tried to scratch.

And among them, there was one person Adyr had given a special place in his quiet routine. Like a treasured book he returned to with a cup of coffee on a rainy day.

His name was Eren. Towering at 2.05 meters with the build of a seasoned bodybuilder, he was the tallest among them. One glance was enough to sense his raw strength. It was hard not to wonder if he carried mutant genes; just how much more powerful could he become?

His head was nearly shaved, black hair cropped so close it looked like a shadow clinging to his scalp. His dark green eyes were sharp and cold, perfectly aligned with the hard, unforgiving lines of his face.

He was the kind of man people avoided on instinct, someone you'd cross the street to escape from. Even the wealthy mutant students, known for their arrogance, often thought twice before provoking him.

But only Adyr knew what lived beneath that monstrous exterior. The quiet grief. The unbearable solitude. And the tragedy that had carved him into what he'd become.

As he quietly enjoyed the morning, the shuttle gradually slowed and came to a stop at the final station—the campus terminal.

Without rushing, Adyr stepped off when it was his turn and made his way across campus with brisk steps. But instead of heading to the library, where he was supposed to meet Victor, he turned toward the cargo building.

Like all the other structures on campus, the cargo facility was massive. Its architecture reminded Adyr of ancient Roman design: monumental, cold, and proud. Above its grand entrance, written in bold gold and deep blue letters, was a name that caught every eye:

RavenCourt Logistics.

The only privately-run cargo company still operating across the Twelve Cities—and not just a company name, but the surname of one of the most powerful and historic families left in the world.

As he stepped inside, the massive glass door slid shut behind him with a hiss. He removed his mask and glasses, then passed through the second door and took in the filtered, purified air.

It was early, so the lobby wasn't crowded. He walked over to the digital kiosk and took a number. Before he even had a chance to sit down, a soft chime sounded, and his number flashed on the screen above a booth.

He approached the counter with quick steps.

"I want to send this cargo," he said through the thick glass.

The staff member looked up politely. "Hello, sir. Is this for a local delivery or to another city?"

"Local," Adyr replied as he slid the box through the small opening beneath the booth.

He then handed over his student ID and filled in the recipient's address on the form the clerk passed to him.

"That'll be 45 credits, sir," the clerk said once everything was finalized.

For a brief moment, Adyr felt the sting in his chest, but he didn't show it. 45 credits for a simple local delivery. It was nearly half of his monthly scholarship.

Without a word, he raised his wristwatch to the scanner. The payment confirmed with a soft beep, and he took the printed receipt before turning to leave.

His next stop was the library. It was the largest building on campus, towering over the university grounds. Compared to the cargo facility, its architecture was far more modern. The entire front facade was made of glass—opaque from the outside, but offering a clear, panoramic view for those inside.

Adyr stepped through the same two-door procedure, removed his glasses and mask, and entered. The interior was vast. After walking through the main hall and taking the elevator up to the 7th floor, he arrived at the enclosed terrace.

Several tables were spread out, and a few groups of students were already chatting quietly. This was one of the most popular spots in the library—a common meeting ground for those who wanted a balance of quiet and company.

"Adyr."

He turned to see Victor approaching with long, confident strides. With each step, his ponytailed blond hair bounced slightly, and his signature smug expression sat firmly beneath his half-lidded, light brown eyes.

Adyr didn't say anything at first. He just stepped forward.

Without missing a beat, their shoulders bumped—firm, practiced, like a ritual between old friends.

"Yo, Victor," Adyr said afterward, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

"Always late," Victor replied with a smirk, already turning toward an empty table like he owned the place. But then he paused, reconsidering. "You know what? Let's get a private room."

Apparently, whatever he wanted to talk about wasn't meant for wandering eyes or curious ears.

Adyr didn't argue. He simply followed.

They took the elevator to the sixth floor, where private study rooms were reserved for students. Victor picked one without hesitation. He scanned the digital panel beside the door with his watch—an extravagant piece embedded with polished stones—and rented the room for 100 credits an hour. The door unlocked with a soft beep, and they stepped inside.

The room was generously sized, easily dwarfing Adyr's bedroom back home. Heavy black curtains covered the tall window that would've otherwise offered a clear view of the campus below. In the center stood a broad desk, flanked by three high-end laptops, and off to the side, a neatly made bed waited—no doubt meant for students pulling all-nighters.

Victor didn't waste time with small talk. He dropped into a comfortable-looking chair and got straight to the point. "So, how long did you play the game?"

Adyr pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "Three hours—until the device ran out of battery."

"You played until it was completely drained?" Victor asked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "I hope you logged out somewhere safe."

"I'll be fine," Adyr replied confidently.

Even if he wasn't entirely sure, deep down, he knew the situation he left behind—chaotic as it was—might still have an opening for escape.

"Good," Victor said, visibly relieved, fully believing him. Then his eyes sharpened with curiosity. "So, did you notice the game's… let's say, real unique feature? Aside from the hyper-realistic visuals and sensations."

Adyr immediately understood what he meant. Without a word, he picked up a solid-looking metal pen from the desk and snapped it in half with his thumb—clean, effortless.

"Yeah," he said. "I discovered the gene mutation mechanic."

Victor's eyes widened, his brown irises gleaming with excitement. He let out a short laugh. "Ha! Of course you did. You're really part of the top 0.5%."

"Top 0.5?" Adyr raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't it 1%?"

"That was last night. The number's already dropped," Victor replied with a smirk. "I'm sure more players are dying even as we speak."