Faoros jumped up from his bed, the metal helmet on his head shaking violently. He could feel the vibrations all the way down his spine. He threw off the helmet, and, bouncing twice on the floor, it finally came to rest near the closed wooden door. “At least the Trials are over now.” He tilted his head back and gazed at the clear blue sky. Despite the few passing clouds, it was drizzling softly. He blinked rapidly, the scene outside unchanging. “I am still in the Gem. Thank the Lords.” His heartbeats calmed gradually and the plain ringing noise that penetrated his ears vanished. The rain outside stopped, and the plaza in front of his apartments was bathed in bright sunlight. Instinctively, he moved his hands toward the bedside table. Without checking who was calling, he picked up the academy phone.

  “Arom?” Faoros muttered through half-clenched teeth. “Don’t bother me now, I did as promised. Witnessed the execution to the last heartbeat.”

  “Hello—are you in your apartment now? Did you finish the trials? Can you tell me the details? Come and join me for a round of Chase the Lord!” The flood of questions overwhelmed his tired mind.

  “Easy there… I just woke up. I don’t think I have any time to spare. Are you in B15?”

  “No, I already made your life easier. I left my apartment and am on my way to the central plaza. Will be there like, really soon. Come and say a hello, will you?”

  “Perhaps, I will.” Faoros hung up. He rose from his bed and opened the sole window in his apartment located at Building 13. From his balcony, he had a clear view of the academy. The two layers of walls surrounding the city were visible to him. Although he could not see beyond the interior wall that separated the academy from the outskirts of Gem, he had a good view of most of the academy’s grounds.

  His eyes scanned the rest of the school dormitories, finally reaching the central plaza in front of his apartments. It was spring, and the trees were in bloom, displaying an array of colors: azure, amber, crimson, and fuchsia. His attention fell to the orchids and their velvet blossom. His muscles tensed at their sight, and he quickly looked away.

  The sun was still far from its zenith, and the younger students were playing Chase the Lord in the vast square. Faoros couldn’t recognize most of them. His attention quickly fell to the sole younger friend he had: Arom. Two years younger than Faoros, he still enjoyed the carefree days of youth.

  “I am going to bid farewell to these years very soon.” Faoros sighed and stood up. Despite his intense experience in the Game, he didn’t neglect his morning routine. He dressed casually in blue jeans and a white T-shirt. Like any other Etal Academy student, he picked up his ID and academy phone before heading to the bathroom to wash his face.

  Unlike the previous days, he remained in front of the mirror for a long time, staring at his reflection. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the healthy white color surrounding his brown irises was stained with red veins. His teachers had told him that intense experiences in the Game would result in anomalies appearing in the real world, but this was a phenomenon that most people experienced after graduating.

  He had yet to formally start the Game, yet he was already plagued by such symptoms. Any other student would rush to inform the teachers, but Faoros embraced the burning spark that filled his heart. This was a mystery in the making! He wanted to discuss this with Belo as soon as possible.

  He quickly picked out the most comfortable pair of shoes and headed for the lift. A toolbox covered in the faintest layer of dust lay sealed beside the closed door. “Goodbye to you, too, buddy.” Faoros ignored his mailbox and rushed outside. No good student bothered with letters regarding chores or advertisements; the important notifications arrived at his phone. But the greatest hurdle was still ahead; the central plaza.

  “He must be heading to the inspection. What kind of tests did he take to look like this?”

  “This is the gaze of someone who chose tests involving… murders! Scary.”

  Faoros hastened his steps. He needed clarity about what was to follow.

  “Faoros!” Arom shouted.

  “Arom,” he muttered.

  His younger friend emerged from a raging group of playful students and joined him. They called him back in disappointment, but Arom ignored them and moved toward Faoros.

  “Arom, that’s bad timing,” Faoros replied sharply, staring at the building reaching into the sky behind the plaza.

  “Well—is it a very important day? You reached your twentieth year without closing your eyes. You have turned as serious as a grown-up turtle!” Arom chuckled, but his laughter faded when he noticed Faoros’ stiff expression at the mention of closed eyes. “Oh, fine, my bad. Still, you can stay for a round. You won’t have much time to spare after formally entering the Game. Will you join us? Will you, now?” Arom jumped around and brought his hand in front of his chest. Despite his age, he had a stern gaze, his small green eyes dug deep into his face. It hadn’t been a week since he cut off his long blonde hair.

  “It won’t do. I’m in a hurry. I think tomorrow will have to do,” Faoros insisted, hoping to get away from there as soon as possible. He didn’t admit it but with each breath, his heartbeat quickened. “Oh, fine.” He conceded, realizing the need to compromise. Glancing at Arom’s schoolmates, he leaned closer to him. “I must find Belo as soon as possible. We had an accident. You are welcome to join us at the usual spot once we’re deemed healthy enough to enter the Game.”

  “Oh,” Arom exclaimed. The youngsters continued their game, ignoring them. “Come on, come on, just a word, a hint! You wouldn’t leave your poor friend—”

  “Dear Lords!”

  Both friends turned at once at the high-pitched scream. Faoros’ face sank, while Arom took a step back.

  “No, that can’t be, can it?” Arom’s words were lost to the wind without a reply.

  A few steps away from Faoros, a student lay down. A young girl knelt beside him, shouting in vain and pleading for a response. His ears started ringing, refusing to register any sound. Just as he was about to begin his inspection to be freed of the Curse once and for all, the bitter reality struck him. “I shouldn't have met with anyone,” he mumbled. The children scattered around him like a scared flock as he reached the boy who had fainted. He placed his fingertips on the boy’s neck and his ear near the boy's mouth. When he was younger, he had counted each schoolmate that the Curse took from him. It took a few years for the list to become too long to keep track of. When a shadow dimmed his vision, he raised his head. The entire plaza had gathered tightly around him. “Give me some space. You are not helping your friend.”

  While most obeyed, the young girl crawled near him, sobbing. Arom dashed through the crowd and caught her by the arm. “Don’t you know? This is Faoros! If anyone knows about the Curse, it’s him. Hear him out. Please...”

  For the first time that day, Faoros was glad to be Arom’s friend. He turned his attention to the poor child. The last step was the most crucial. He slowly reached for his eyelids. His throat had grown dry, and his face had gone red. In one swift movement, he checked beneath them. His butt hit the cold stone. “Oh,” he exhaled. The muscles in his neck relaxed. He had forgotten to breathe. “It’s not the Curse. Your friend is fine. Take him to a teacher, and all will be well.”

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  A single wave of cheers erupted, expressing relief, excitement, joy, and anxiety. Faoros made room for the unconscious student and headed toward Arom.

  “Don’t be angry…” Arom whispered, his eyes growing misty.

  “What?” he asked, stopping in his tracks. His expression was stiff, and his muscles were tense from the sudden rush of adrenaline. But worse than that, he was angry. He was angry at Arom for making him go through this ordeal. He was angry at the Curse for instilling fear in every moment of their lives. Most of all, he was angry at his academy for doing nothing about it. “I am sorry. This was just so sudden. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  “Yeah…”

  His stomach had tied itself in knots. “Well.” He forced a smile. “Should I share a secret?”

  Arom nodded.

  “I met a raven-haired woman.”

  “Raven-haired?” Arom’s eyes widened. “Like the one you met when you were as innocent as a pup?”

  “Exactly.” Faoros felt relieved by his friend’s reaction and joyful at the impact of his words. “She was a person of the Game, but...” But he wasn’t sure what she was, himself.

  “I-it’s fine,” Arom stuttered. “You have your checkup to do. We’ll talk later.”

  Faoros turned to leave, but a weak voice reached his ears. “Thank you.”

  The weight of this simple sentence climbed his spine and rested on his back. Every student carried this burden, even without realizing it. Without any further obstacles, he reached the entrance of the Etal Academy.

  There were lots of students entering the campus. He recognized most of their faces, even though he had never spoken to them. They were the same age as Faoros and walked inside the academy quickly. Only a few teachers were in charge of their inspection, and nobody wanted to wait around for long. He could see the anxiety on their faces, sweat running down their foreheads, and hear their rapid, loud breathing. He was no different, although he had accepted reality a long time ago. Not spotting Belo, he didn’t bother greeting anyone; they wouldn’t want to lose their time either.

  In a single movement, he took out his phone. He texted swiftly, waiting for the message to arrive. A reply arrived as soon as he blinked twice.

  “Belo has the Lords’ luck.” Faoros placed the phone back in his pocket. His friend was lucky enough to enter the inspection first and get this stress out of him. He was clean.

  Although Faoros never considered himself a lucky person, he had to admit that he was already compensated for his previous misfortune. His teacher’s office was near the Etal Academy’s entrance. It was a short walk from there to the left corridor’s end where she was stationed; and, most importantly, no students waited in line. He hastened his steps but bumped into a few students and teachers along the way. He lowered his head and hurriedly excused himself, but a bulky student crashed directly into him.

  “Hey genius, pay some attention to your surroundings,” a student groaned, grabbing Faoros’ shirt to keep him from falling.

  “F-fablo?” Faoros exclaimed. He was less than a breath away from his teacher’s office. The timing was simply the worst. “Have you finished your inspection?”

  “No, not yet. The Game will have to wait a bit longer for the birth of its new legend.” The young man was wearing similar attire to Faoros’, but his T-shirt was dark blue. It contrasted sharply with his white skin and long blonde hair. Noticing Faoros tense expression, Fablo grinned. “Did the trials break your backbone? I remember when we were younger you preferred to chase after paints and colors instead of aspiring figures like Principal Wineom. It’s not shameful to admit that you are not cut for the Game.” He chuckled at his own words.

  “No.” He turned to go but couldn’t withhold the urge to add. “It has been ages since I last drew a picture. Science will thank me after I get over this hassle.”

  “A shame,” Fablo said as Faoros moved further away. “You are a great rival. It’s disheartening that there is not enough space for both of us.”

  Faoros hastened his steps. Any conversation with Fablo was meaningless. Despite his brains, he was a real troublemaker; perhaps worse than him.

  Before long, he reached the familiar wooden door. His hands were shaking. He pushed Fablo’s imposing figure from his mind by repeatedly reading the metal plaque bearing the name ‘Miss Tite’ in front of the door. He was already drifting away from reality when the footsteps of his classmates woke him up. He hurriedly knocked on the door before he lost his chance to begin his inspection without waiting in line.

  “Please come in,” a rough voice said from behind the closed door. Faoros walked in and smiled warmly. He had mixed feelings about his science tutor.

  “Hello, Tite. I am here for the inspection.” He stood in front of her desk.

  Miss Tite was a short, extremely thin woman with gray hair that fell onto her shoulders. She usually wore a sleepy expression and refused to elaborate on most topics. In her other hand, she held a half-smoked cigarette. She was a fitting teacher for Faoros. “Always impolite.” She sighed. “Congratulations on reaching your twentieth year, young man. Please have a seat.”

  Faoros gladly accepted and made himself comfortable. Miss Tite’s office was small and reeked of smoke. The walls were gray, and the furniture was plain and mundane, but she had made an effort to hang lots of paintings. Most of them were landscapes, and Faoros had to admit they were a nice addition to the otherwise boring office.

  “So, are you excited about entering the Game of Life today?” Miss Tite chuckled and put out her cigarette. “I truly hate this flavor. They just don’t make them like they used to.” She picked up a metal device resembling a pole with a palm-sized screen on its surface and touched his neck with it. The metal was cold at first, but it grew warmer as she caressed him softly. The screen blinked and made a buzzing sound before turning silent.

  Faoros’ face lit up when he heard his teacher speak. She was in a talkative mood. “I’m a little anxious about the outcome,” he admitted. “I can't really fathom a life safe from the Curse.”

  “Now, young man, don’t speak nonsense to me.” With her spare hand, she grabbed another cigarette from the unbranded pack and put it in her mouth. “At your age, I was so anxious about the Curse that I smoked an entire pack during my inspection. Now, after all these years, I barely remember how it felt to live under its looming shadow.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Faoros admitted. No one wanted to succumb to the Curse and close their eyes. Still, seeing your friends die around you was no better, even if you were spared. “Will the Game really harden us enough to solve this once and for all?”

  “Who knows…” The metal device slipped from his neck and moved to his shoulder. “In the Game, you will bid farewell to your lingering fear of the Curse, but you will also bid farewell to your prosperous life here.” She paused to light her cigarette before continuing the inspection. "The Game changes everyone, for better or worse. We all left with a quirk or two. For me, a wise friend helped me stay sane throughout my year there. In the end, we both passed with flying colors on our evaluation. It was because of him that I became a teacher.”

  Faoros listened carefully and nodded. “Then I must thank him as well. It’s because of him that I had such a nice teacher that let me study the Curse since young.”

  “Yeah, that. It was so sudden and stupid.” The device in her palm buzzed, but Miss Tite didn’t pay it any mind. “It’s nice to have grand aspirations. I hope you find your answer in the Game… and it’s finally time for you to stop bringing trouble to your teachers.”

  His cheeks flushed red. “I’ll keep your words in mind, Tite.”

  “Manners,” Tite giggled like a child. “You’re a mischievous student who thinks he has the attitude of an adult.” She pulled her hand away from his back. A single tear glittered in her left eye. “It’s always bittersweet when a student prepares to leave our embrace.” Her smile faded, and she became serious. “Though I will never forgive you for faking tears just to get your way.”

  Faoros was motionless. The words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. “Does that mean…”

  “Yeah, you’re safe.” Miss Tite showed him the device’s panel. “A clear ten. There is no zero to harm you. There’s no trace of the Curse on you. You are free to enjoy adult life.”

  “Never trust the zeroes...” Faoros repeated the common saying in disbelief. It was strange to have grown up your whole life living in fear of something and then, in a single moment, have it suddenly turned so distant. “Then—” He was about to say goodbye when a loud knock on the door drew his attention.

  Miss Tite displayed her clear annoyance at the stranger daring to interrupt her work. “There is another inspection underway,” she replied. The knocking persisted. “There is another inspection ongoing!”

  The door opened with a bang to reveal a silver-haired man dressed in a black suit. Miss Tite jumped up and gestured for Faoros to do the same. “Mr. V-vice-Principal? What brings you here?”

  “Our Vice-Principal?” Faoros’ thoughts escaped from his mouth. The Principal and Vice-Principal of Etal Academy rarely made any appearances. Most students would only see them during the Academy’s opening ceremony at the beginning of the year and at the graduation ceremony at the end of it. In truth, even teachers rarely met them. Cold sweat raced across his forehead. He refused to accept this coincidence right after an accident occurred at the Game.

  “I see your student has realized the reason for my visit.” The Vice-Principal spoke, fixing Faoros with his gaze. “Miss Tite, you will excuse us, but your inspection was taking too long. I was forced to interrupt.” He turned his back at them and gestured for Faoros to follow. “I have been instructed to bring the student named Faoros to my office. You will excuse us.”

  ?? From the Desk of Schwarzburg:

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