Ren stayed seated at the corner table of the library, watching the last shimmer fade from his phone screen. He wasn't sure what to think of the strange message that had just appeared and vanished. The more he stared at the faint reflection of himself on the black glass, the more convinced he became that it had to be some kind of bug.
"Beta access confirmed." What did that even mean?
He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. The morning had already been enough of a circus; the last thing he needed was his phone glitching out.
Then came another buzz.
He didn't even bother to look this time.
A second vibration followed almost immediately.
Then a third.
"Seriously?" He muttered under his breath, sliding the phone a few inches away on the table. Maybe the stupid app was spamming him with some kind of pop-up. He wasn't going to encourage it.
Another buzz. Then two quick ones in succession.
Ren clenched his jaw. The vibrations were short, sharp—like knocks demanding attention.
After a few seconds of stillness, he finally grabbed the device and glanced at the screen just as it started to ring.
The name flashing on the screen wasn't the mystery app. It was Lauren.
For a second, he debated letting it ring out of spite. Then he remembered what ignoring her last night had led to. He exhaled and picked up.
"Hello?"
"Finally!" Her voice cut through the receiver, sharp enough to make him wince. "Do you have a personal rule against responding to my texts?"
Ren frowned. "What? I didn't even see your texts until now. My phone's been—"
"Oh, please," she interrupted. "I've been messaging you nonstop for minutes now. Don't pretend you were busy. You're not exactly subtle when you're ignoring people."
He pulled the phone back to check. Sure enough, the notification bar was a flood of missed messages—all from Lauren. The earlier buzzes hadn't come from the strange app at all.
"Fine," he said, rubbing his temple. "Sorry. I thought it was something else."
"You thought wrong," she snapped. "Anyway, change of plans. Meet me on the rooftop of the Humanities building. We'll eat there."
Ren blinked. "The rooftop? Since when—"
"Since I decided it," she cut him off again, her voice sugary-sweet now. "You're bringing my food, right? Good. Don't keep me waiting this time."
She hung up before he could respond.
Ren stared at the phone for a long moment, then pocketed it and leaned back in his chair.
"Rooftop, huh…"
The Humanities building rooftop wasn't exactly secret—it was one of those quiet corners where students sometimes went to escape the noise of the campus. He'd gone there a few times himself when he needed air or when his shifts piled up and he wanted a view to think.
Maybe she'd just chosen it because it was private. Or maybe she enjoyed dragging him around to random places just to see how far she could push him.
Either way, he didn't have a choice.
He stood, grabbed the boxed meal from the table, and headed back toward the cafeteria.
The lunch crowd had thinned even more, leaving only a few students lounging near the windows. Ren got back in line, half-distracted, replaying the phone conversation in his head.
Lauren's tone had shifted halfway through—from sharp to amused, from annoyed to almost playful. He didn't like it. He didn't trust it.
When it was his turn, he ordered the same meal again—chicken bento, extra sauce.
This one came out fresh, the box warm against his palms.
He considered giving this one to her instead of the cold one. Not because he cared, but because he didn't want to deal with her complaining about the temperature of the food.
He set the box on the counter, opened his phone to pay, and froze again.
His notification bar showed the unread thread from Lauren at the top.
Right beneath it, there was another one. The same unfamiliar symbol—black and red, faintly glowing.
Ren clicked his tongue, exasperated. "Still here?"
He scrolled down and pressed on the app icon. No response.
He tried dragging it to the trash bin—nothing.
He frowned and navigated through the phone settings instead. There it was again, listed among his installed programs. He hit Uninstall.
The phone vibrated once.
The screen flashed briefly—and the icon disappeared.
"Good riddance," he muttered.
He completed the payment, pocketed the device, and took the fresh meal.
For a brief moment, relief washed over him. Whatever that weird app had been, it was gone now.
The sky was clear when Ren climbed the last flight of stairs to the Humanities rooftop. A light wind carried the smell of the city—warm asphalt and blooming sakura trees from the courtyard below.
Lauren was already there, leaning casually against the railing, her phone in hand. She looked perfectly composed, sunlight catching in her hair and bouncing off her silver earrings.
"About time," she said the moment she saw him.
Ren sighed. "You said rooftop, I came rooftop. What more do you want?"
"For you to read your messages when I send them," she replied, crossing her arms. "You're lucky I'm even letting you eat with me after that stunt."
"I didn't even know you were texting. I thought it was spam," he muttered.
She tilted her head, giving him a look that was half amusement, half disbelief. "Spam? Do I look like spam to you?"
Ren didn't answer. He simply held up the two bento boxes. "Here. Lunch."
Lauren smirked and gestured for him to sit beside her on the bench. "Don't just stand there. Sit. We'll eat together."
He obeyed, setting the boxes down between them.
The silence that followed was strangely heavy. The sounds of distant chatter drifted up from below, mingling with the steady hum of the city.
Lauren reached for one of the boxes, but Ren quickly lifted the warmer one. "That one's mine," he said, handing her the cold one instead.
She arched a brow. "Oh? Why?"
"Because that one's warm and fresh. The other's—"
She ignored him completely, swapping boxes and flipping open the lid in one motion.
Ren winced. "Lauren, wait—"
Too late.
She stared down at the food, realization dawning as a faint wisp of cold steam rose. Then her expression twisted.
"Cold," she said flatly.
"I tried to—"
Before he could finish, she tilted the box sharply forward.
A cascade of rice and chicken splattered across Ren's face and shirt.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The sound of sauce dripping onto the concrete filled the silence.
Ren slowly wiped his face with the back of his hand, jaw tight.
Lauren crossed her arms, making a small, satisfied hmph. "Next time, don't try to trick me."
"I wasn't—" He stopped himself, exhaled hard through his nose, and stood.
He wanted to yell. He wanted to throw the other box at her. But he didn't. Instead, he forced his voice to stay calm. "Here. The warm one. Like I tried to say before you—never mind."
She took it with a dismissive wave of her hand and turned away, walking to the far corner of the rooftop.
Ren stared after her, fury burning low and deep in his chest. Every muscle in his body itched to leave—to walk off, to stop playing errand boy, to stop pretending any of this made sense.
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Just a few more minutes. Then I'm gone.
As he reached into his bag for a napkin, his phone buzzed again.
He ignored it.
Another vibration followed. Then another.
Ren's eyes narrowed. He pulled the phone out, half-expecting another string of complaints from Lauren.
But on the screen, her name wasn't there this time.
Just a single line of text, glowing faintly red against the dark background.
[Mission available.]