The moment Blake stepped off the bus, the world felt wrong.
Everything was too bright and definitely too loud.
Too normal.
Students flooded past him, laughing, shoving, adjusting backpacks. Myles was already nowhere in sight. It was like he had dissolved into the crowd.
'Of course he did.' Blake sighed, stretching his neck.
[ Notice: Host and Target share all academic courses. ]
Blake stopped walking.
"…What?"
[ Schedule synchronized. You will see Myles Cortez for approximately 7 hours daily. ]
His soul nearly left his body.
'Seven hours?!'
[ Correction, Dear Host: 6 hours and 42 minutes. ]
'That's not the point!'
He dragged himself toward the towering school building, his heart still unsettled from the bus. Around him, students whispered. Some glanced at him. A few snickered.
Right.
The confession.
He'd forgotten the audience.
'Great. First day in another world, and I've already destroyed this body's social life.'
[ Reminder: Mission active. ]
[ New Mission: Stare at Myles Cortez for 1 hour. ]
[ Current Favorability: -11 ]
[ Time Limit: 23:48:12 ]
[ Penalty: ??? ]
[ Reward: skill from spinning wheel. ]
'That penalty thing is really starting to piss me off. Will I die? Will I feel sick? Be specific, for God's sake!'
He swallowed.
Fine.
If staring is the mission, then staring it is. He had no other option whatsoever.
Spoon showed the schedule. It was Monday, and first period was—
Math.
'Gosh, I have to stare at him while listening to a Math lesson? What is this shitty luck?'
He buried himself in his locker.
"Love tracker." The map appeared in front of him, a big red point inside a room.
Blake followed it until he entered a classroom.
'This is truly convenient...'
He thought he was ready for it, ready to face him again just after confessing in front of everyone.
Myles was in the back row. Window seat. Sunlight cut across his profile. Earphones in again, his head slightly tilted as he scrolled through something on his phone.
He looked… peaceful.
Like someone who had never hurt a soul.
Blake's chest tightened.
[ Proximity detected. ]
He forced himself to walk.
Every step toward the back felt like marching toward execution.
There were empty seats everywhere.
He chose the one diagonally in front of Myles.
It was perfect. Not too close, not too far.
Somewhat safe!
As he slowly sat down, he slightly turned his head toward Myles.
'This humiliation ritual has to start! The sooner, the better!'
His eyes settled on him.
***
At first, it was easy.
Myles didn't look up. He actually didn't react or shift.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Blake's eyes began to sting.
'Does blinking count as breaking the mission?'
[ Normal blinking permitted. Avoid excessive interruption. ]
'That's not reassuring.'
Fifteen minutes.
A girl from the front glanced back, frowned, then followed his gaze.
Her expression changed.
Oh.
She noticed.
Whispers began.
Blake didn't move.
'Talk less, damn it! I don't want him noticing me!'
His heart pounded so loudly he was sure the entire class could hear it.
Twenty minutes.
Myles finally moved.
He removed one earbud.
Slowly.
His gaze lifted.
Not to Blake—
But to the teacher entering the room.
Class began.
Blake kept staring.
Thirty minutes.
His palms were sweating.
He had never stared at someone this long in his life.
It felt invasive and wrong.
In this specific case, dangerous, like poking at a sleeping animal.
Forty minutes.
Myles shifted in his seat.
Just slightly.
His eyes met Blake's, this time with no glass reflection or angle.
Just eye contact.
Blake's breathing stopped.
'He's scary, man. There is no emotion there behind his eyes.'
He was observing.
Thirty-eight minutes.
Thirty-nine.
The teacher's voice faded into static.
'At least I'm not distracted by the lesson.'
The classroom slowly disappeared.
It was just the two of them.
Myles tilted his head slightly.
Fifty-two minutes.
Students had definitely noticed now.
A boy two seats away snorted quietly. Someone whispered, "Is he insane?"
Myles still hadn't looked away.
Not once.
Not blinking excessively.
Not frowning.
Not smiling.
Just… holding it.
Fifty-nine minutes.
Blake's throat felt dry enough to crack.
He felt exposed.
Transparent.
Like Myles could see through his skin, past the borrowed body, into the panic underneath.
Myles leaned back casually, folding his arms.
[ 1 hour reached. Mission complete. ]
Blake inhaled sharply, breaking eye contact first.
'Finally!'
[ Favorability: -11 → -11 ]
'…This life is hard.'
Even if nothing changed, relief flooded him so hard his vision blurred.
He survived.
[ Reward: roulette skill ]
[ Press here → ⚫ ]
'I can't believe I actually—'
A shadow fell over his desk.
Blake looked up.
Myles was standing beside him.
The class had ended, and he hadn't even noticed.
Up close, Myles felt different.
Not cold. Not warm. Just heavy.
"You've been looking at me for an hour," Myles said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
Blake's mouth went dry.
"I—"
"Is this another confession tactic?"
The words weren't soft.
Not curious.
'I must be crazy. There's literally no one here now as a witness.'
Blake's pulse skyrocketed.
If he messed up here...
"I just like looking at you." He smiled.
The corner of Myles' mouth twitched.
He didn't look amused or pleased.
"Is that so?"
He leaned closer.
Close enough that Blake could smell faint detergent and something metallic underneath.
"Then keep looking."
Blake froze. "…Huh, what?"
Myles' voice dropped lower.
"So you don't miss the moment I get tired of it."
And for the first time...
There it was.
Not cruelty.
Not anger.
But something far worse.
A warning.
He straightened and then walked away.
Like nothing had happened.
Blake sat there, blood roaring in his ears.
[ Warning. ]
The system screen flickered violently.
Blake's stomach dropped.
'What does that mean—'
The screen froze.
[ Critical Notice: Target psychological profile does not match source material. ]
Blake's fingers went numb.
'…What?'
The text flickered again.
[ Recalibrating… ]
[ New Hidden Condition Unlocked. ]
The words turned red.
[ Dear Host, do not let Myles Cortez become aware of the System. ]
Blake's blood ran ice-cold.
Across the classroom, Myles paused at the doorway.
And slowly, he turned his head.
Looking directly at him, or, more specifically, at the blank space that, from Blake's perspective, was filled with the system screen.