Welcome to Class

"Settle down, little owlets!" Chirped a bubbly voice from above.

Miyuu flinched as a pink owl swooped down from the rafters, its descent impossibly graceful for something shaped like an airborne marshmallow. It landed with a delicate flutter atop Jun’s head.

Unlike SOLON’s heavy, kind of scary presence, this owl radiated a playful energy. Its pastel feathers glowed softly, rippling with subtle digital patterns that shifted like liquid light. It was less “harbinger of doom” and more “birthday cake with wings.”

“Hoo-hoo! So nice to meet you!” the owl trilled, wiggling in excitement. It fluffed its feathers, shimmering patterns glowing brighter as it shimmied in place like it was about to burst into song.

“I’m Ms. Owlthea, the faculty unit who’ll be guiding this class today!”

Jun chuckled, gently plucking the lively little owl from his head and placing her on the dais at the front of the room. “Please take good care of her, Owlthea,” he said with a slight bow.

“Hoo-hoo! Of course I will!” Owlthea chirped, preening herself with meticulous care. Her movements were so fluid, they almost felt too lifelike—pausing mid-groom with a deliberate blink, as if lost in thought, before cocking her head curiously toward the students.

Miyuu stiffened, her discomfort ratcheting up several notches.

So, here’s the deal, K.A.T.O. began in Miyuu’s mind.

SOLON’s the big boss—high-level AI, everywhere at once, probably doesn’t even take coffee breaks. These little “faculty units,” like our bouncing feather ball here, are just sub-processes. Each one gets a personality slice and a specific task system to run.

He paused. It’s creepy as hell. But also? Kind of brilliant.

Miyuu barely absorbed K.A.T.O.’s explanation, her mind buzzing with anxiety as she stood there, stiff as a plank. She swallowed hard, feeling her pulse in her throat. Uh-huh, was all she could muster in response, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides.

Jun leaned in, his voice dropped into a honeyed whisper. "Don’t do anything stupid, okay?" The whispered threat curled around her, raising goosebumps along her arms and making the fine hairs at the nape of her neck bristle.

Before she could think of a snarky reply—or, realistically, any reply—Jun flashed her one last grin and slipped out the door, abandoning her like a bird pushing its hatchling out of the nest to fend for itself.

“Hoo-hoo! Let’s introduce our new student!” Owlthea chirped.

Miyuu felt every gaze snap onto her, like dozens of spotlights suddenly trained on her all at once. The classroom fell unnervingly silent.

Go on, K.A.T.O. teased in her mind. Make a great first impression, princess.

She forced herself to step forward, her skin prickling with discomfort. “I’m Tsukishima Miyuu,” she muttered flatly. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

Nice to meet you, I guess? K.A.T.O. snickered. Wow. Truly inspiring. I can already hear the ballads being written.

Oh, shut up, she shot back internally, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Feel free to sit wherever you like!” Owlthea chirped brightly, scattering shimmering light across the walls with an enthusiastic flutter of her wings. It was the equivalent of tossing confetti at a funeral.

Miyuu exhaled sharply, her eyes flicking around the room. K.A.T.O.’s analytical lens clicked into focus through their neural link, crosshairs locking onto a seat in the far back corner.

Safest option, K.A.T.O. advised.

Dragging her feet, Miyuu made her way to the seat, her pulse still hammering uncomfortably. She dragged the chair back beside the only other SEED in the room—a girl with mint-green hair twisted into a neat side braid.

The girl flinched slightly as Miyuu dropped into the seat, her glasses slipping down her nose. She adjusted them hastily, her face flushing a deep pink.

“Hey,” Miyuu said, attempting to sound casual despite her unease.

“H-Hi.” The girl squeaked, her voice barely audible. She fidgeted with a tablet pen, her gaze fixed firmly on the desk as if looking at Miyuu might somehow turn her into stone. Or worse, draw attention.

High anxiety levels detected—this one’s a flight risk. K.A.T.O. whispered in her mind.

Miyuu sighed inwardly, leaning back in her seat and trying to ignore the not-so-subtle glances from the other students. The whispering wasn’t subtle either. She could practically feel the words crawling over her.

“That’s the SEED who’s living with the student council!”

“Why would a SEED be staying there?”

“I swear, I saw her on the news. She’s from the Tsukishima family—the creators of Zenith Industries.”

“Isn’t she supposed to be some kind of child prodigy? How’d she end up as a SEED?”

Fantastic, she thought bitterly. Already off to a great start.

“Alright, owlets, back to today’s topic—automata theory!!” Owlthea’s cheerful voice broke through the whispers. Holographic diagrams materialized midair, revolving slowly as she explained the intricacies of machine logic.

Miyuu didn’t even pretend to care. Resting her head on one hand, she tapped distractedly at her student device.

I need to do some research, she informed K.A.T.O. through their link, ignoring Owlthea’s animated warbling in the background.

Research could have meant anything, but in this case, it meant scrolling through her Lumina XP dashboard to gawk at all the things she couldn’t have. Her eyes widened as she browsed the offerings tied to XP milestones.

Experimental tech. Cutting-edge tools. Gear that the general public wouldn’t see in their wildest dreams. It was all here, neatly catalogued and just out of reach. Her fingers hovered over the icons, practically twitching. A lot of it looked like a hacker’s paradise. 

Why would they even allow access to this stuff? she asked K.A.T.O., incredulous. In the wrong hands, this could go sideways fast.

I know, right? K.A.T.O.’s said. Let’s hand out high-tech spyware to hormonal idiots. What could possibly go wrong?

She cringed imagining spyware in the hands of some pervy boy. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she shook her head, trying to force out the thought.

This is why we can’t have nice things, she muttered internally, switching to the info panel for the academy’s levelling system.

The hierarchy was simple, and her place in it was painfully clear:

Level 1: SEED (0-200 XP)

Her access was laughable - limited to the bare necessities: school supplies, pre-approved meals, and the four walls of her room. Sure, she’d dodged the overcrowded standard dorms, but that wasn’t exactly a win. She should’ve been grateful, she knew, for her place in the council manor. But grateful wasn’t in her vocabulary.

Well, K.A.T.O. piped up. It’s not nothing. You’ll survive.

Miyuu grimaced. Survive? She scoffed at the thought. This was barely living.

Her memories flashed to the life she left behind—a life filled with endless snacks, a gaming setup that would make tech geeks weep, and the satisfaction of knowing she could snap her fingers and get anything she wanted.

And now? Now she was expected to grovel her way up some arbitrary XP ladder like a desperate game show contestant. It was insulting. It was degrading. It was—

K.A.T.O. sighed dramatically. Do you want me to cue some sad violin music, or are you good?

Ignoring him, she cast a glance at the nervous girl beside her. The girl was still fidgeting, twirling her tablet pen like she was stuck in a loop, her shoulders hunched forward as though she wanted to vanish entirely. Miyuu tilted her head, calculating.

Could be smart to get close to her. K.A.T.O. murmured. She might be useful for gathering intel.

Intel? Miyuu scoffed. She looks like she’d faint if someone sneezed too loud.

Exactly. Nobody notices the quiet ones.

Miyuu hummed noncommittally, dismissing him for now. Her fingers flicked back to her device.

Her stomach churned as the leaderboard loaded. And then, there it was.

Right at the top: Genji Haruki—Level 100: 1,000,000,000 Lumina XP.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Her heart pounded, an angry, uneven rhythm of disbelief and rage.

Every council member was at Level 100, sitting on an absurd mountain of XP that made the closest contenders—students at Level 7—look like ants scrambling at their feet.

The paradise of the rich is built on the backs of the desperate, she thought bitterly, biting down on her lip.

In the outside world, people clung to the shiny ideal of equality—an ideal her family had conveniently helped engineer. 

Zenith Industries. Gaia. The miracle government AI her ancestors had built, hailed as the flawless saviour of humanity. Blah, blah, blah.

Society practically worshipped Gaia, except for the Unity First fanatics, who couldn’t decide if they hated Gaia more for being an AI or for proving humans needed help running their own species. 

The rest credited Gaia with erasing human flaws and pulling humanity back from the brink of extinction. All the buzzwords: fairness, balance, progress. Miyuu had heard them all, ad nauseam. 

But here? 

Here, that whole illusion shattered.

The gap between her meagre 50 XP and the council’s godlike power was undeniable.

Why would Gaia allow a place like this to exist? The question gnawed at her. A blatant contradiction of all its principles. Was this some twisted social experiment? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

Correction: of course it was. They’d turn her into a lab rat without a second thought.

K.A.T.O.’s voice slid into her thoughts. What’s the matter, princess? A little taste of class rage?

A wry smile tugged at her lips. So that’s how it is, huh? Folding her arms, she leaned back, feeling her frustration harden into cold, hard determination.

If this was their game, then fine. She’d play it. And she’d win.

Her gaze drifted back to the girl beside her, who was still sneaking shy, skittish glances like a cornered rabbit. Miyuu’s eyes narrowed.

And if she had to play dirty to win this game? So be it.