CHAPTER 55: The Chosen Representative
The heavy silence in the café didn't last long. With a final, decisive tap on his console, Luke locked the roster, the digital screen flashing a brief confirmation before going dark.
Irfan, David, and a still-flushed Heather turned away from the central strategy table and walked together toward the main floor where the rest of the students were gathered, waiting on edge. The casual, teasing atmosphere from David's comment vanished instantly, replaced by the heavy, sobering weight of the upcoming gauntlet.
Irfan took the lead, his voice cutting clearly through the low murmur of the crowd.
"Listen up," Irfan announced, commanding the room's attention immediately. "The roster for Event Five: Find the Imposter is officially locked. This isn't a standard field match. It's a psychological lockdown, and we've chosen a lineup specifically engineered to handle the interrogation."
He gestured slightly to his side. "For the sophomore bracket, Class 2-A is putting forward John Christopher. His analytical track record speaks for itself."
David Samuel stepped up next, the effortless, confident smirk back on his face as he looked over the crowd. "And as your freshman representative, I'll be stepping into the arena myself to secure our baseline."
Finally, Heather stepped forward, having successfully forced her professional, stoic mask back into place, though a faint hint of color still lingered on her neck. Her eyes swept across the room, locking directly onto our corner booth.
"And representing Class C," Heather declared, her voice sharp and unyielding, "will be Jane."
A sudden wave of whispers erupted across the café as dozens of eyes instantly tracked Heather's gaze straight to me.
Beside me, Zack's entire frame went rigid. The slight amusement he had shown moments ago evaporated, his jaw clenching tightly as his dark eyes locked onto Irfan and Heather. I could feel the sudden, protective tension radiating off him, his hand tightening on the edge of the bench as the reality of the announcement settled over us. I was officially going into the gauntlet.
The announcement was immediately met with a stark, jarring divide in the room.
When Irfan named John Christopher, the Class 2-A section erupted into a coordinated burst of cheers, students clapping and calling out his name with practiced enthusiasm. The same energy flared up when David Samuel announced himself; the freshman block went wild, whistling and banging on the tables, fully backing their representative's smooth confidence.
But the moment Heather uttered my name, the cheers died instantly.
Instead, a heavy, suffocating wave of murmurs and sharp whispers swept across the café. Heads leaned together, eyes darting toward our corner booth with cold judgment.
"Jane? Seriously?" "Why her? After everything that happened?" "Is Class C sabotaging us on purpose?"
The toxic buzz of the gossip filled the air, cutting deeper than any physical attack. Beside me, Zack's knuckles turned white against the table, his breath hitching as a dangerous, volatile aura began to roll off his shoulders. I reached out under the table, my fingers barely brushing his wrist to try and keep him grounded, though my own heart was hammering against my ribs.
Before the whispering could spiral completely out of control, Larry slammed his hands down on his table and stood straight up. His chair scraped violently against the floorboards, drawing everyone's attention.
"No!" Larry shouted, his face flushed with frustration as he pointed directly toward the central table. "Jane can't go there! There's no way she should be the one representing us! Even before—"
"Sit down, Larry."
Heather's voice didn't just interrupt him; it sliced through his words like a blade. She didn't let him utter another syllable, cutting him off before he could voice whatever harsh accusation he was about to throw at me.
Larry blinked, his mouth still open, caught completely off guard by her sudden venom.
Heather stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she glared him down with absolute authority. "This is not open for debate, and this is not a democracy. The roster is locked. This was a joint decision made by your leader, Luke Chris, and the rest of the strategy team. If you have a problem with his judgment, you can take it up with him after the event. For now, you will shut your mouth and fall in line."
The absolute finality in her tone left Larry standing there speechlessly for a long moment before he finally sank back into his seat, muttering under his breath. The café fell into an uneasy, tense quiet, the weight of Luke Chris's decision hanging heavily over all of us.
With Larry thoroughly silenced, the heavy tension in the room gradually compressed into an uneasy compliance. The students began to disperse, settling back into their designated sections alongside their respective class teachers to wait out the final prep time.
Meanwhile, the leaders—Luke Chris, Irfan, Heather, and David Samuel—turned toward the exit, heading up the quiet, echoing corridors toward the academy library to officially register the names of the participants for Event Five.
As they rounded the grand staircase leading to the upper floor, the air grew noticeably colder. Walking out from the shadow of the library's arched entrance was a group they hadn't expected to run into just yet: Ashley, the formidable leader of the third-year Class B, flanked by her pre-assigned vertical alliance. Walking right beside her were the representatives of her network—the leaders of the first-year Class A and the second-year Class B.
The two power blocks came to a sudden halt in the middle of the wide hallway.
Ashley stood with an effortless posture, her eyes sharp and calculating as they swept over Luke Chris and his team. Because the administration's strict rules mandated that point exchanges and pacts could only happen within these specific vertical structures, seeing Ashley's alliance out in the open like this was an instant reminder of the looming threat they posed.
"Well, look who it is," Ashley said, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips as she crossed her arms. "Heading to the library to finalize your lamb for the slaughter? I hear Class C is making some... interesting choices for the lockdown."
Ah, got it! My bad, Ashley is the one making the snake face at Heather. Let's fix that interaction so the insult lands exactly the way you intended.
Here is the corrected scene:
"It's none of your business, Ashley," Heather snapped, her voice cutting through the chilly hallway like ice. Her posture went completely rigid, her eyes narrowing to slits as she stared down the third-year leader.
Ashley didn't look bothered in the slightest. Instead, a sharp, mocking laugh escaped her lips, echoing off the high library ceilings.
"We'll see about that," Ashley sneered. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing and her expression twisting into a cruel, venomous, snake-like face right in front of Heather, completely mocking her.
Without another word, Ashley turned on her heel, signaling her alliance with a slight tilt of her head. The leaders of first-year Class A and second-year Class B followed closely behind her as they brushed past Luke Chris's group, their footsteps fading down the grand staircase.
The hallway fell into a tense silence. Heather stood completely frozen, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles turned white, her face still tight with anger from Ashley's blatant disrespect.
"You know," David Samuel's smooth, effortless voice broke the quiet, shattering the heavy mood instantly. He casually stepped into Heather's line of sight, leaning against the hallway wall with a playful, lazy grin. "If she's the snake, I'd say you're the mongoose. Highly dangerous, incredibly mesmerizing, and I've always had a thing for a girl who knows exactly how to handle a threat."
Heather's head snapped toward him, her stoic mask fracturing yet again as a bright, betraying flush of crimson rushed right up to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to snap at him, but for the second time today, David's bold confidence left her completely tongue-tied.
Now that David has flustered Heather yet again, do they finally head inside the library to turn in Jane's name to the administrators, or does Luke Chris speak up to get the team back on track?
Irfan rolled his eyes, stepping between David and a thoroughly flustered Heather to break up the tension. "Ok, ok guys, let's go," he muttered, gesturing toward the heavy library doors. "We have a deadline to meet."
They pushed past the threshold and into the quiet, vaulted room. But the administration desk wasn't empty. Standing right there, pen in hand as they finalized their own roster sheet, were Isabella and Victor.
The air in the library instantly turned heavy. Victor finished writing down the names, casually handing the clipboard back to the proctor. As he turned around, his dark eyes locked onto Luke Chris and the rest of the alliance leaders. Instead of a glare, a smooth, unsettling smile spread across his face.
"Well, if it isn't the competition," Victor greeted them, his tone dripping with effortless confidence. He gave them a polite, almost mocking nod as he brushed past. "Give it your best shots, everyone. I'll see you in the arena."
With that, Victor and Isabella vanished down the hallway, leaving a lingering chill in their wake.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Luke Chris caught Heather by the arm, pulling her slightly back from Irfan and David. His expression was tight with genuine anxiety.
"Are we sure about Jane here?" Luke asked in a hushed, intense whisper. "Putting her right in the line of fire with people like Victor... I'm worried about her, Heather. Truly."
Heather stopped, turning around fully to face him. She looked straight into his anxious eyes. "Ok, Luke, look at me."
Luke paused, his gaze anchoring to hers.
"She changed, ok?" Heather said, her voice dropping to a firm, reassuring tone. "She isn't the same girl from before. Trust the choice."
Before Luke could respond, David's voice called out to them from the registration desk, breaking their private huddle. "Hey, you two! Are we submitting this roster today or what?"
Luke took a slow breath, nodding to Heather, and the two of them stepped up to the desk alongside David and Irfan to officially hand over Jane's name for Event Five.
Meanwhile, back in the café's quiet corner booth, the heavy atmosphere had lifted just enough for us to breathe. I leaned across the table, trying to distract us both from the looming event.
"Wow, Zack," I said, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "I saw the roster drafts. You're actually in the arm wrestling bracket?"
Hearing my voice, Zack's tense posture softened instantly. A smirk broke through his guarded expression, and without a word, he lifted his forearm and flexed his biceps right there, his muscles tightening under his shirt in a blatant, proud effort to impress me.
Amused, I didn't back down. I rolled up my sleeve and flexed my own arm right back at him with mock defiance.
Zack let out a soft chuckle at my display, but as the laugh faded, it turned into a heavy, lingering sigh. He dropped his arm, his shoulders sinking as his gaze drifted to the table.
My smile slipped. "Hey... what happened?"
"I'm just worried about you, Jane," he said softly, his dark eyes rising to meet mine, filled with a sudden, intense seriousness.
"What is there to worry about me, idiot?" I countered, tossing my head back slightly to dismiss his anxiety. "I can handle a psychological game."
Zack leaned forward, his knuckles pressing against the dark wood of the table. "Why did Luke Chris have to choose you out of all the others? Of everyone in the network, why you?"
I raised my eyebrows, staring at him intently, waiting to see where he was going with this.
Seeing my expression, Zack quickly waved his hands, his tough demeanor completely fumbling. "I mean... Heather is good at that psychological stuff too! Right? So why didn't he pick her?"
"Are you underestimating me, Zack?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him with a dangerous tilt of my head.
"No, no, Jane! It's not like that at all," he stammered quickly, his face flushing slightly as he tried to backpedal. "I know how smart you are. I just mean... is Luke..."
He trailed off, chewing on his lower lip, unable to finish the sentence.
I leaned closer, a knowing, teasing smirk breaking across my face as I caught him completely red-handed. "Zack... are you thinking that Luke Chris is trying to hit on me? Or steal me away from you?"