THE REVEAL

Time seemed to splinter into a million frozen shards. The roar of the crowd, the blaring victory horn for Zero, the flashing lights on the stage—it all became a distant, muffled hum. The only thing in focus was the ghost of that tiny rocket ship, burned onto her retina.

Starlight Odyssey. The doodle on his notepad. The quiet smile when he realized she loved the same obscure show.

Her mind, usually so fast and logical, felt like a crashed server trying to reboot. It frantically searched for an alternative explanation, a different reason, any reason at all. Maybe it's a common icon? A default animation in the software? But she knew it wasn't. It was too specific, too personal. It was the kind of small, unique signature a creator leaves on their work.

Every defense her brain tried to put up was instantly dismantled by a flood of memories that were now cast in a new, horrifying light.

The "rookie mistake" comment about metadata in the library. He hadn't been making a clever observation about their project; he had been commenting on her mistake in the competition, a mistake she had made only moments before.

The hoodie. The soft, grey hoodie she was still wearing under her jacket. He hadn't just been kind; he had been kind to his rival, his nemesis, without even knowing it. The warmth she had felt from the gesture now felt like a scorching betrayal.

The alibi. The perfect, unshakable alibi at the coffee shop. The wave of relief she had felt was a lie, built on a clever, pre-scheduled script. He had been sitting right there, watching her frustration, knowing he was the one causing it. No, a part of her corrected, he didn't know it was you. He was just playing the game. The thought was somehow worse, highlighting the massive, gaping chasm between their two worlds.

The two images in her head—Sameer, the shy, brilliant boy who made her heart flutter, and Zero, the arrogant, frustrating rival she loved to hate—smashed together. They weren't two separate people. They were one.

A voice from the announcer's podium cut through the fog. "What an incredible finish by Zero! Nyx, after a brilliant performance, seems to have stalled out in the final seconds!"

The words barely registered. Her fingers were still hovering over her keyboard, her last, desperate attack half-finished. The system was wide open. All she had to do was execute the final command. But her hands wouldn't move. Her brain couldn't form the thought. It was like staring at a line of code she had written a thousand times and suddenly not recognizing the language.

On the big screen, the feed from Zero's station showed him methodically sweeping through the now-defenseless Citadel core. He was claiming the final flag, securing his victory. He was moving with the same quiet efficiency she recognized from their late-night project sessions.

The shock was a physical blow. Her breath hitched, and her hand slipped on the mouse. With a convulsive, accidental click, she closed the terminal window she had been using to launch her attack. A warning popped up: Terminate Process? (Y/N). Her numb fingers brushed the enter key.

Process Terminated.

Her attack vanished. The digital smokescreen evaporated. Every backdoor she had opened, every vulnerability she had exploited, was gone. It was the digital equivalent of dropping her sword in the middle of a duel.

From the audience, Maya saw the moment it happened. She saw Nyx's relentless assault just... stop. "What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath, gripping the arms of her seat. "Finish it!" But the screen remained static. Then she saw Zero's score leap, and the victory horn sounded. She slumped in her chair, confused and frustrated for her friend.

Four seats down from Anya, Sameer saw it happen too. Nyx's massive, chaotic assault just... stopped. The digital storm vanished as if it had never existed. He stared at his screen in disbelief for a second. Had she given up? Or had her system crashed under the strain? Whatever the reason, the path was clear. He executed the final command, and the victory was his.

The final scoreboard flashed, confirming the result. WINNER: ZERO

Anya stared blankly at her own screen, which now showed the "Connection Lost" error. She hadn't lost because he was better. She had lost because, in the moment that mattered most, he had stolen her ability to think.

Sameer was Zero. Zero was Sameer. And she had a crush on the boy who had just snatched her victory from her grasp. Her world wasn't just turned upside down; it had been completely, utterly hacked.