"Ah! The holidays are finally over. College will resume in earnest," Brian muttered to himself as he picked up his phone and scrolled through Instagram. Comments and photos overflowed with college vibes.
He grabbed his ash-colored sweater with the word Nike inscribed on it, folded it neatly, and shoved it into his traveling bag.
"Brian, would you get down here!" his mom yelled from downstairs.
Brian trotted down, carrying his travel bag, a carryall, and his backpack.
"Look how big you've grown!" Mrs. Boreal exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. Brian returned it, and she pecked his forehead.
"I'm going to miss you," she said softly.
"I'm not going forever, Mom," Brian replied.
"You'll be meeting Miriam," she reminded him as she helped load his luggage into the family's red Toyota Hatchback.
Brian climbed into the front seat, and the car zoomed out onto the highway.
"Brian, when you get to college, promise me you won't join a bad gang."
"I promise," he said.
"You'll be a good boy?"
"I promise," he replied again.
"And you'll make friends?"
Brian sighed and muttered under his breath, "I promise."
He wasn't much of a socializer. Not an introvert, exactly, but relating to people didn't come naturally. Miriam, his elder sister, was his opposite—outgoing and effortlessly charming. Still, Brian was calm, cool, and collected. Trouble occasionally found him, though, even Mrs. Boreal couldn't always handle that side of him.
Despite it all, he was an A student who loved sports and video games.
"Noel's gonna be so bored without you," his mom added with a chuckle.
The drive lasted two hours, with Brian dozing most of the way. Finally, they arrived at the prestigious Royal College of Arts and Sciences.
Brian stepped out of the car, taking in the campus. The energy, the buildings—it was all bigger and more impressive than he imagined. He approached what he assumed was the administrative office.
A young blonde woman in a white short-sleeved blouse and black straight skirt looked up from her desk and handed him a piece of paper.
It read:
REG NO 57
ADMIN YR 2024
Brian waved goodbye to his mom, who air-kissed him. Next, he followed a group of students toward the dorms.
The building in front of him was imposing—navy blue with sky-blue accents. He stared in awe until someone approached.
"Hey, fresher. What are you staring at?"
Brian turned. The boy had brown skin and an afro, wearing a white-and-black striped T-shirt, black trousers, and black canvas shoes.
"And who are you?" Brian asked cautiously.
"Victor Oliver," the boy replied. "What's yours?"
"Brian Boreal," he said.
"Awesome name! You look like a fresh arrival… actually, we're all freshers."
Brian sighed inwardly. This guy really loves to talk.
Victor continued, "What's your admin year?"
"2024," Brian replied.
"Then we're in the right place!" Victor said excitedly.
"Who's 'we'?" Brian asked, slightly irritated.
Victor smiled. "You'll see."
"Your REG NO?" Brian asked, eager to move along.
"057," he answered.
Finally, Brian stepped into the building. A flight of carpeted stairs with a red runner led him upward. On either side, unusual brown tiled cloisters added a mysterious charm. Above him, a glass-covered map displayed a 2D layout of the building. Room 57 was on the first floor.
As he ascended the first flight, he paused at the second. It split into two: one path ascending to the right, the other to the left.
"Take the left," Victor instructed.
"Why?" Brian asked.
"Just trust me," Victor replied and darted away.
Brian followed the path and entered an exquisite hallway. He took a left, walked straight for about two minutes, and then turned left again. Rows of doors lined the corridor. He discovered he was in the third of three sections, forming an "H."
"This floor has 31 rooms," Victor explained as he ran down the stairs. "Middle row has 11 rooms for girls. The two side rows have 10 each for boys. Your room is probably second to last. Bye!"
Brian approached a black door marked "57." A key hung on the handle. As he turned it… everything went black.
When he opened his eyes, he was in a large, circular hall filled with students wearing numbered cloaks.
Something about the scene felt off.
A middle-aged man with a broad, freckled face and spectacles entered. He wore a corporate black suit under a thick black robe with the letters G.D 04 on the back. His presence exuded authority.
He walked to the podium. "Welcome, Greenhorns—or rather, the Set of Eminence—to the Royal College of Arts and Sciences. I am your Game Director. I have important instructions. You see, every student here is a game player, each assigned a Virtual Assistant."
The students murmured.
"Rules are simple," he continued.
"Increase your stats by completing tasks or showing superior knowledge."
"Ascend the game star when all three stats are complete."
"Socialization and personal communication are restricted—your Virtual Assistant covers everything."
"No phone?!" someone shouted.
"That is crap!" another said.
"Dismissed!" the Game Director commanded.
Brian blinked. Seems like college won't be boring after all.
Back in his dorm room, he turned the key fully and stepped inside. The square room was spacious. A balcony faced the entrance, a king-sized bed rested against the right wall, and a large plasma screen hung high on the opposite wall. A door led to the bathroom, and a dressing mirror stood nearby. In the far corner, a reading table and wardrobe completed the room.
Brian arranged his belongings, showered, and collapsed into bed.