Chapter 14
Theo wrote it all down carefully in his notes, as if by doing so he could ensure that the story would stay the same—that this world would no longer throw surprises beyond his control.
And the third part, though bitter to admit, was the beginning of a flame that would burn for a long time.
A conflict slowly grew between Erietta Bathee and Aldraya Kansh Que.
Between two figures equally close to Ilux, a thin line began to form—between admiration, jealousy, and the desire to possess.
For Theo, this was the point that determined the direction of the first five arcs—the emotional shift that would affect not only Ilux, but the entire scenario behind the scenes.
He knew, once this tiny spark ignited, nothing could extinguish it easily.
'That phase has passed.Ilux has already undergone his 299 deaths, just as I recorded from his movements.The discrimination from his classmates has also peaked, exactly as foretold.'
Theo watched from afar, from a corridor corner rarely passed by the students of Star Academy.
His gaze dimmed, full of calculations and assumptions only he could understand.
He reopened his book, already filled with scribbles—page after page covered in arrows, tiny notes, and connecting lines like a map only its writer could read.
As far as he could tell, two out of three crucial scenarios were progressing as planned.
Ilux Rediona—the main character meant to die 299 times under Aldraya Kansh Que's training—had surpassed that phase.
Theo had experienced it without needing confirmation—how Ilux's once-fragile body now pulsed with strength even ordinary eyes could feel.
And the discrimination from his classmates?
It had happened, right on time, full of hatred and fear—just as written in the script of the game Flo Viva Mythology he once played.
'The problem lies in the third part—not about Erietta and Aldraya's feud, but the fact that Aldraya has started noticing me.
For four full episodes I was sure no one could perceive my existence, yet somehow that silver-haired girl is always where I am, like a shadow deliberately seeking cracks to follow through.
Huuuuh!
'What's funny is, she doesn't just stay silent.
Every time I get caught, she reacts—with a flat yet sharp tone that makes my ears want to stop listening.
If it were for Ilux, I'd understand—it's part of the story's flow.
But for me? For someone insignificant like Theo Vkytor?
Heh, it seems this world is beginning to play in increasingly strange ways.'
Theo never expected that in a world entirely written, there would be a part that started to write him back.
He realized that something which should have been static was now moving toward him—Aldraya Kansh Que, the cold instructor who should have been focused solely on Ilux Rediona's development, was now shifting her attention toward him.
From the corner of the hall, from the half-open classroom window, even from the shadows of the back garden of Star Academy shrouded in morning mist, Theo could feel that gaze.
A gaze not of judgment, but of analysis.
As if Aldraya were reading him as part of an unfinished riddle.
And that made Theo—a writer accustomed to being an observer—suddenly become part of the very story he was supposed to control.
He tried to deny it with seemingly ordinary daily routines.
Writing notes in the back pages of the library, sitting alone in the cafeteria, observing the clouds that marked the nearing end of class hours.
Yet among the chatter of students and the sound of passing footsteps, there was always one moment when Theo knew Aldraya was there—silent, but present.
Often, Theo would find himself stopping mid-step, turning around, and finding the instructor pretending to gaze at the trees.
Seemingly indifferent, yet far too often to be called coincidence.
Like a shadow deliberately left visible—just to make sure its prey knew it was being watched.
Theo knew Aldraya's way of speaking was always designed to intimidate.
He had once heard her tone when speaking to Ilux Rediona—flat, yet curving at the end of each sentence, like a line of emotional graph that barely shifted but carried sharp potential within.
And now, as Aldraya began to address him in small situations—brief comments, formal sentences requiring no reply—Theo could sense that her voice was no longer merely teaching, but uncovering.
There was an interest that shouldn't exist.
Not in a human sense, but more like an artificial intelligence discovering an error within its own system.
Theo listened uneasily, for every word from Aldraya sounded like a code test verifying the existence of something that shouldn't be there.
That something was him.
'Damn it, that woman is really testing my patience. Every time I just want to peek at Ilux from afar, she's there—throwing strange questions even a child wouldn't ask.
"Why is a chair called a chair?"
Hah, I'm not a dictionary.
"Why must a fan's blades spin?"
Because it's a fan, not an ornament.
And "why is a table used to put things on?"
Aldraya, is that even a real question?'
Tsuuuuf!
'I just want to work peacefully, observe Ilux, record plot progress, not get bombarded with stupid questions every minute.
Even so, I can't entirely blame her—I'm starting to understand why she's acting like this.
It's the consequence of my own doing, for constantly spying on Ilux, making her doubt, and eventually dragging her in.
And now, she's the one spying on me instead.'
Since that day, routine at Star Academy was never the same for Theo.
Every time the school bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the students scattered out, there was always one figure standing by the tall window, staring into the academy's central garden.
Aldraya Kansh Que, with her ever-perfect long coat, would walk slowly—as though crossing a line of fate already written for her.
She would finish her duties as a mentor, guide Ilux Rediona as mandated by the Academy's headmaster, and then, for no apparent reason, turn toward wherever Theo usually hid.
Be it behind the stone pillars of the hall, among the trees, or near the training field constantly covered in dust from students practicing their Core Lu control.
It was as if Aldraya's eyes possessed an instinct that always knew where Theo concealed himself.
Theo, on the other hand, always tried to make those encounters seem coincidental.
He would change his walking routes, take detours, or even stop amid the crowd so she might lose his trail.
But the result was always the same.
Aldraya would appear, walking steadily, looking at Theo like someone awaiting an answer to a question never spoken.
When that encounter could no longer be avoided, and Theo finally turned around, what came was not a reprimand nor a threat, but a string of bizarre questions that had no logical connection to any normal human conversation.
Why a chair is called a chair, why a table serves no purpose other than to hold objects, why a fan must spin, and why still air feels more suffocating than moving air.
Those questions were layered, random, directionless—but every word from Aldraya's lips seemed to reveal that behind the skin of a teacher, something was trying to understand humanity from within a fractured algorithm.
Theo responded with confusion that slowly turned into vigilance.
He was no longer a neutral observer, but part of a scenario that could no longer be controlled.
To be continued…