?

  It took the group a second to catch up.

  Camille’s mouth fell open. “You, ”

  Elara exhaled sharply, half a scoff, half a laugh. “Damn it. I just walked right into his trap.”

  Elias leaned back, arms crossed loosely. “And just a second ago, you thought you cornered him.”

  Camille shook her head, eyes still on Adrian. “Well… at least we asked the question we needed to hear.”

  Elias gave a small nod, his voice as even as ever. “We have a winner.”

  He looked around the table. “Now, let’s decide who’s losing.”

  “Naomi, two. Camille, two. Mira, five. Valeria, five. Adrian, seven. Elara…” He paused, just a breath. “Zero.”

  He tapped the stack in front of himself. “And me, six. Disqualified, but not bankrupt.”

  Upon our agreement from the beginning, the player, or players, with the fewest tokens are the losers, and losers pay the bill.

  He continued. “And the winner assigns a dare to each loser.”

  He looked around the group, then added with a dry amusement, “Congratulations, Adrian. The honor is all yours.”

  Adrian leaned back just slightly, the corners of his mouth shifting in a way that wasn’t quite a smile. “Naomi,” he said. “Your dare is to assign the dares.”

  The table broke into noise instantly.

  Mira let out a soft, stunned “Wait, what?”

  Camille’s mouth dropped open. “You’re outsourcing?”

  Naomi blinked once, as if processing, then sat up a little straighter.

  Gentle Naomi. Soft-voiced, sweet-faced Naomi. Who asked politely before calling people villains.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Alright,” she said. Not shy. Not flustered. Just… calm.

  “To Camille,” she continued, turning with the same tone one might use to announce a meeting agenda, “your dare is to do a dramatic reading of everyone’s objective card. In character.”

  Camille squinted. “Wait, do I have to do the voices?”

  “All the voices,” Naomi confirmed, with the faintest nod.

  Mira immediately started laughing.

  “And for Elara,” Naomi added, “you’ll have to wear Mira’s cardigan for the rest of the evening.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  That earned a ripple of amusement from the group. Elara looked mildly horrified. “It’s pink.”

  Naomi sipped her water. “Exactly.”

  Camille leaned sideways toward Mira, whispering just loud enough to be heard, “She’s terrifying.”

  Mira, still recovering, muttered, “I told you not to underestimate her.”

  ?

  The game wrapped with laughter still clinging to the edges, plates half-cleared, and the check covered by the ones who had lost. They stood, stretched, gathered bags and leftover snacks, splitting into rides for the way back.

  In Adrian’s car, the silence stretched just enough to feel deliberate. Camille sat in the passenger seat, flipping through the photos she’d taken during the game, thumb pausing now and then over the chaos frozen in stills. Mira was curled in the backseat.

  Then Camille spoke, casual but precise.

  “You forced her, didn’t you.”

  Adrian didn’t answer immediately. He changed lanes, eyes forward. “Which part?”

  “Elara,” she said. “You guessed her objective. That put her out. And you knew she wouldn’t just accept that. You counted on her using the chaos rule.”

  “Her pride increased the probability,” he said simply.

  Camille let out a low whistle, then muttered under her breath, “Remind me never to make myself your enemy.”

  ?

  In Elias’s car, the atmosphere was different. Naomi sat beside Valeria in the back, while Elara rode up front with Elias.

  For a while, no one spoke.

  Then Elara crossed her arms and said, “It still annoys me.”

  She continued, still frustrated. “He didn’t even want the Red Reckoner. But he made it work like he chose it.”

  Elias gave a small nod. “He adapts fast. But that doesn’t mean he plays alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He watched you,” Elias said. “You, Mira, Naomi, Camille, us. Not obviously. He waited for the moment you’d act, then placed himself where your move would help him.”

  Valeria, without looking up, added, “You handed him the win thinking you were disrupting his plan.”

  Elara let out a soft breath. “That’s what makes it so irritating.”

  Naomi smiled. “At least it wasn’t boring.”

  Elias almost laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

  ?

  The air was cooler now, the sharpness of evening settling in as Adrian and Mira walked side by side under the soft glow of campus lights. Their footsteps echoed faintly gainst the stone pathway that led toward the dorms.

  Mira sighed, rubbing her temples.

  “You do know they’re making bets about you now, right?”, Mira asked.

  Adrian didn’t even blink. “Not my concern.”

  Mira sighed. “Of course it isn’t.”

  Mira hesitated. Then, turning at Adrian, “Thank you, anyway.”

  Adrian paused. “For what?”

  “For making tonight into total social manipulation.”

  “You invited me,” he said simply.

  Mira glared at him.

  ?

  From the shadowed edge of the courtyard, where the lamplight didn’t quite reach, a figure watched.

  Seraphina Duvall stood still beneath the arch of ivy-draped columns, arms crossed loosely, her gaze sharp and unwavering. There was no one else around to see her. Just her and the chill that barely touched her perfectly pressed blazer.

  She wasn’t just another girl fawning from the sidelines. She was Seraphina Duvall, granddaughter of the principal of Vermillion Crown Academy, the power behind so many polished smiles.

  She wasn’t known for top marks, nor for old money like some, but influence clung to her like perfume. People simply didn't realize how deeply her roots reached.

  And yet... when the university selected its golden pair for the magazine cover, it wasn’t her name they called.

  Of all the students, why not her?

  Why that Mira girl, with her soft expressions and guarded eyes, who always looked like she didn’t belong but somehow never let go of Adrian’s side?

  Seraphina’s lips curled, not quite into a smile. More like a promise unspoken.

  Let her enjoy the spotlight. For now.

  ?