EACH MOMENT COUNTS

The sharp nudge came not from a dream, but from reality, a hesitant tap on her shoulder that pulled Mather from the depths of an exhausted sleep. Blinking, she found the entire English class staring, some with pity, others with cold curiosity. Her cheeks burned. She had dozed off again.

“Miss Mather,” the teacher’s voice was crisp, devoid of malice but firm. “The back of the class, if you please. Perhaps the standing will keep you more… engaged.”

A wave of humiliation washed over her, hot and swift. Yet, as she gathered her books and moved, something else struck her—the silence. No snickers, no whispered jokes. Just quiet observation. It happened again, she thought bitterly. These all-night study sessions are killing me, but it’s the only true quiet I get.

She took her place against the back wall, the cool plaster seeping through her uniform blazer. Outside, autumn leaves rustled in the wind, a stark contrast to the stifling pressure building inside her. The mid-semester examinations were a week away. This wasn’t just about ranking anymore—it was about survival. I need those points. I need that top spot. For Liam.

“I have to get the highest points this time,” she whispered to herself, the words a quiet mantra as she walked with measured grace toward the dining hall. Her footsteps echoed in the vaulted corridor, each sound swallowed by the imposing silence of Assets College.

The school was a monument to ambition—a private institution only forty-five years old, yet already legendary for sculpting the nation’s future leaders through what they called “serious life plays”—high-stakes simulations and real-world scenarios that tested more than just intellect, but nerve and morality. Mather had attended its all-girls primary school, then a day school. Now, here she was, in the mixed boarding college, a world away from everything familiar, fighting for a scholarship for her little brother, who watched this world from the outside, from the all-boys primary campus. Every point was a step toward buying his future.

She pushed open the heavy oak doors to the Class 1 girls’ dining hall.

Silence. Immediate and absolute.

Sixty to seventy-five pairs of eyes turned toward her. Admiration in some, scorn in others, and in a few—fear. She didn’t flinch. She walked forward, back straight, chin lifted, every bit the pampered, untouchable elite they believed her to be. Inside, her heart hammered. Just say hello. Just smile. But the words always stuck in her throat, her fear of saying the wrong thing, of being rejected, freezing her into this regal, icy statue. They saw arrogance. She felt panic.

She made her way to her table—a table for one. While others sat four to a table, laughing in hushed tones or exchanging notes, Mather sat alone. It was a privilege reserved for elite students, those with titles and authority earned through points on the leader board. Though she wasn’t number one, her position as the “Ice Witch”—ranked second—was enough to build walls between her and everyone else.

She ate quickly, the clink of her cutlery the only sound at her table.

Back in the hallway, she allowed her posture to slump, just for a moment. All I wanted was real friends, she thought, the loneliness a familiar ache. Her friends from her old school hadn’t made it into Assets. Here, she was utterly alone.

As she passed an open dorm room, she caught a snippet of conversation that froze her in her tracks.

“Do you think he even exists? The Ghost Boss, I mean.”

“The school probably made him up. They don’t want her—the Ice Witch—to get the top spot. Can you imagine? She’s already untouchable.”

Mather’s breath caught. *The Ghost Boss.* The nameless, faceless number one. The shadow she could never catch. A myth, they called him. But myths didn't accumulate points. Myths didn't stand between her and Liam's future.

She stepped into the doorway. The two girls—first-years like her—looked up, eyes widening in panic. Without a word, they scattered, fleeing down the hall as if she’d cast a spell.

Mather didn’t move. She just stood there, the echo of their words settling deep. They’re afraid of me. They think I’m cruel. Her chest tightened. She wanted to call after them, to explain, but the moment passed, and the silence returned, heavier than before.

She continued to her room, the special single dormitory reserved for scholars of her standing. The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her in a silence that felt more like a sentence.

---

Elsewhere in the school, in a polished event hall smelling of old wood and ambition, a board meeting was underway.

The Chancellor, Mr. Bumki, stood at the head of a long mahogany table. Seated around it were the top three third-year students, faculty members, and other dignitaries. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

“The expulsion system will be implemented this semester,” Mr. Bumki announced, his voice calm but firm. “Those who cannot keep up will repeat. If they still fail to rise after that… they will be expelled.”

A new teacher, Mr. Felix, shifted in his seat. “With all due respect, Chancellor—the privileges afforded to the top students… it creates an uneven field. It fosters resentment.”

“It fosters excellence,” Mr. Bumki replied, his gaze steady and pragmatic. “This has always been our way. We are not just educating students—we are testing them. We give them a taste of power early. How they wield it… that determines what kind of leaders they become.” He was not a man of hidden agendas, but of brutal, practical logic. “These students wouldn’t be here if they didn’t deserve it.”

The conversation then turned to the first years—and the one they called the Ghost Boss.

The top third-year student, a tall young man with sharp eyes, leaned forward. “I’m not pleased that a first-year has the same authority as I do.”

“Eddynas Spark is an exceptional case,” the Chancellor replied evenly. “His accumulated points from junior college carry over. We haven’t been able to meet his quota—because he has never failed to exceed it.”

A ripple of discontent moved through the third-years. The meeting adjourned shortly after, but the dissatisfaction hung in the air, thick and unresolved.

Back in her room, Mather stared out her window at the moon-washed gardens of Assets College. She thought of the Ghost Boss—Eddynas .

She didn’t just want to beat him anymore.

She needed to find him.