By morning, the fortress had already taught them its first lesson: no one would sleep easy here.
Lucia squinted against the brightness as she stepped out into the courtyard, Aaron trailing close behind. For the first time, they were allowed beyond the dormitory walls, into the island itself.
The place looked like a resort at first glance white stone walkways, neon signs promising clubs and shops, vendors with gleaming stalls. A fountain burbled in the center, sunlight scattering across the water like diamonds. But the cameras were everywhere: tucked into corners, hanging from posts, even circling lazily on drones above their heads.
"Looks nice," Aaron muttered, "until you look closer."
Lucia gave a dry laugh. "A prison dressed up like paradise. How original."
Valerio was already ahead of them, his swagger obvious as he eyed a group of girls near the fountain. Cheryl trailed after, tossing her hair like she wasn't watching him, though her smirk betrayed her.
The peace shattered with a sudden thud. It was the morning after the ranking screens rations had been handed out at dawn and tempers were already frayed. Across the courtyard a boy no older than sixteen knelt, clutching a ration card like it was a life preserver. Rome loomed over him, broad-shouldered and stone-faced, his buzzcut glinting in the sun. He'd been riding high since yesterday's match; pride and hunger made for ugly courage.
Around them, clusters of kids drifted in tight packs, clutching their ration cards like lifelines. Some watched openly, others tried to stay invisible, heads down as if that would protect them.
Rome's hand closed on the ration card like a clamp. He didn't shout , he said it flat, almost casual. "Pathetic." When the boy protested, Rome shoved him to the ground with the same quiet force, as if testing how far a body could bend before it broke. His friends laughed, circling like vultures.
Lucia's jaw clenched. Aaron shifted uncomfortably beside her.
"Already marking territory," Valerio muttered, half-admiring, half-irritated.
Rome's gaze swept over the courtyard, daring anyone to intervene. No one moved. The guards at the edge watched like referees who'd been told to let the audience decide. Rifles slung casually, faces unreadable they only intervened when the spectacle dipped below what the program wanted.
Rome had the kid shoved against the wall, one meaty hand gripping his shirt collar while the other hovered like he was deciding whether to punch. The boy's eyes darted around, desperate for help, but no one moved.
A ripple of silence spread through the courtyard, the nearest kids edging back as if the shove might reach them next. No one stepped in. No one ever did.
Layla, half-hidden by a vendor's awning, tightened her jaw. She didn't move forward not yet, but the set of her shoulders said she'd remember the boy's face.
That was when another figure cut through the crowd.
He was tallish, about 5'10, slim but wiry, with wavy blond hair that looked like it hadn't seen a brush in weeks. A thin silver ring glinted on his ear, and his hazel eyes burned with a restless energy. His steps had a looseness to them, like he lived half off balance, but his grin was sharp, too sharp.
He flicked something small into his mouth, chewing slow before swallowing. The bitter smirk that followed said it wasn't candy.
"Morning, sunshine," the boy drawled at Rome, voice dripping sarcasm. "First day of camp and already stealing lunch money? Real original."
Rome's gaze snagged on the hazel in the kid's eyes for a second a look he'd seen before, and didn't want to see again. He forced his face flat. "Who the hell are you?"
"Eddy," the boy said simply, tossing his hair out of his face. He leaned casually against the nearest wall, like this wasn't a crowd full of strangers ready to snap at each other. "And you?"
"None of your business." Rome's fist tightened on the kid's collar.
Eddy tilted his head, grin widening. "Cool. Then it won't be my business if I say you look like an overgrown bulldog trying to prove he's scary."
A ripple went through the onlookers half amusement, half tension.
Lucia chuckled under her breath. "Finally, someone entertaining."
Valerio snorted.
Rome's jaw flexed. He shoved the smaller boy aside, who scrambled off without looking back, and squared up to Eddy. "You wanna repeat that?"
Eddy spread his arms like he was inviting a hug. "Sure. You're boring. You're predictable. And if we're all stuck here for… whatever the hell this is, I'd prefer not to fall asleep watching you play bully."
Rome's face darkened, and for a moment it looked like fists would fly. But then the hum of the ever-present cameras above reminded everyone every word, every move, was being watched.
Rome spat to the side, muttered something under his breath, and stalked off.
Eddy's grin stayed plastered on his face as he slid down the wall, pulling a small packet from his pocket and tucking it discreetly into his shoe.
eyes followed them as they walked, dozens of strangers measuring, calculating. The island wasn't just a prison. It was an audience.
Lucia arched a brow. "He's either insane or reckless."
Aaron muttered, "Or both."
Eddy just winked.
Rome's POV
The cameras hummed above, silent and merciless, as if they were waiting for him to mess up. Rome could feel the eyes, the invisible audience drinking in every move, every twitch of muscle. He hated it.
But he hated Eddy more in that moment.
The blond sat there all smug against the wall, legs sprawled out, hazel eyes glittering with mockery. Rome's fists itched.
He stormed toward him, shoving aside the crowd. "You think you're funny, huh?"
Eddy didn't flinch. Just tilted his head, curls falling into his face, grin unshaken. "I think I'm awake. Which is more than I can say for you."
That did it. Rome's knuckles slammed into the wall an inch from Eddy's ear, cracking stone, making the onlookers jump. Eddy, though he only blinked, then laughed. Actually laughed.
Rome grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his feet. "Say it again."
The crowd hushed. Even Valerio and Cheryl stopped smirking, watching the tension coil like a live wire.
For the first time, something flickered in Eddy's eyes. Not fear something sharper. He leaned in until Rome could smell the bitterness on his breath, whatever he'd swallowed earlier. "You're wasting your energy. Punch me and you'll just prove I was right."
Rome's fist lifted, but then he froze.
Those eyes. Hazel, restless, too familiar. They dragged him back, years ago, to a kid smaller than him, but louder, braver, impossible to ignore. The friend who'd stood up for him once when no one else did. The only one.
"Do it!" someone in the crowd shouted, voice cracking with the kind of bloodthirsty excitement that only comes when you're safe behind the circle.
Eddy tilted his head, grin widening. "What's the matter, buzz cut? Run out of batteries?" His words dripped mockery, loud enough for the kids on the edges to snicker.
Rome's fists clenched tighter. He could already see it the swing, the satisfying crack, Eddy hitting the dirt. The crowd would roar. He'd prove his rank before the games even started.
But those damn hazel eyes pinned him in place.
Too familiar.
Eddy saw it. He stepped closer, jabbing a hand into Rome's chest, just enough to sting pride more than skin. "Pathetic," he whispered with a smirk. "Not worth the effort." Then, louder, so everyone heard: "You're not worth it."
A ripple ran through the onlookers half shocked, half delighted. Rome, the one who'd walked around like a storm waiting to happen, had been dismissed.
Rome's jaw flexed, but he didn't swing. He turned on his heel, muscles vibrating with the restraint, and shoved through the circle until it broke apart.
The air cooled around him, though his blood still burned.
The faces blurred as he stalked away, replaced by another: a skinny kid back home with the same restless hazel eyes, fists balled too big for his body, standing between Rome and three older boys.
"Back off," that boy had said, voice shaking but unbroken. Rome had never forgotten it. That defiance. That loyalty.
But he'd lost him years ago. Life ripped them apart.
Now here he was maybe. Or maybe fate was just cruel enough to trick him with a stranger's eyes.
He leaned against the wall, forcing his breathing steady. Around him, the others scattered back into smaller knots.
Valerio caught his eye, smiling like he'd been entertained by the whole show. The kind of guy who thrived on chaos Rome knew his type too well.
Cheryl tilted her head, arms crossed. "Guess sharing wasn't in the rules, huh?" she said, her voice light but edged, like a blade hidden in silk.
Aaron sat apart, glasses reflecting the light, silent but calculating already dissecting him like a problem to solve.
Lucia smirked too, but hers carried mischief, like she wasn't threatened. Like she was amused. That stung.
And Layla the new girl, she just looked… disappointed. Like she'd hoped better.
Rome's teeth ground together. He hated all of it. The stares, the judgment. The way they thought they'd figured him out already.
He wasn't weak.
He just wasn't ready to bury a ghost.
Lucia's POV
Lucia sprawled on her bunk, arm thrown over her face. Her curls spread wild over the pillow, piercings catching faint glints from the overhead light. For once, the room was quieter,Rome gone to sulk, Valerio and Cheryl whispering something sharp and smug in the corner, Layla curled up with her knees tucked in.
She lowered her arm and found Aaron sitting cross-legged at the foot of her bed, tapping his glasses against his knee. He looked like he'd been chewing over numbers in his head again.
"You think too much," she muttered.
"And you don't think enough," he shot back.
Lucia grinned, rolling onto her side to face him. "Classic twin balance. You overthink, I do stupid things, somehow we survive."
Aaron smirked, shaking his head. "That's not a system."
"It's our system." She poked him in the leg with her foot until he swatted it away. "Relax. We've been through worse."
His gaze flicked around the room, and for once, there was real worry in it. "Not like this. This place is… controlled. Calculated."
Lucia followed his eyes to the humming cameras tucked in the corners, the little red dots that never blinked. She felt the same tightness coil in her gut, but she masked it with her usual grin.
"Then we'll figure out the game," she said. "That's what we do."
Aaron didn't answer right away. He just wiped his lenses and muttered, "If it is a game, then it already has rules. And rules mean…"
"Winners and losers," Lucia finished. "Got it."
She sat up, stretching, then nudged him toward the door. "C'mon. Let's snoop. Better than rotting in here."
The twins slipped out into the hallway, the low hum of fluorescent lights buzzing above them. Most of the other doors were shut, but a cluster of kids lingered near the end of the hall, faces pale, eyes fixed on something.
Lucia and Aaron edged closer, weaving through the crowd until they saw it too.
The lights in the hall dimmed, a ripple of silence rolling through the crowd. Then,screens lit up. Not one, but dozens of massive panels unfolded from the ceiling, shimmering like fractured glass, each spinning with names and numbers.
It wasn't just rankings. Each name flashed with a grainy snapshot, a handful of "stats" none of them remembered giving: Age. Height. Blood type. "Tendencies": Aggressive. Strategic. Submissive. Rebellious. A single humiliating fact pulled from nowhere,like one girl's photo with the word "ANXIETY" stamped across it, or another boy's tagged "CHRONIC LIAR."
Whispers tore through the hall as eyes darted from the screens to the people standing among them. Strangers weren't strangers anymore. They were profiles. Numbers. Weaknesses already exposed.
Lucia leaned forward, smirk tugging at her lips as her own name flickered across the screen. Rank B-117.
Her twin, Aaron, landed two lines below: B-121.
Valerio's name blazed higher, all jagged letters and arrogance: Rank A-38.
Layla's face appeared soon after: A-34.
Cheryl's profile drew a hiss from the crowd: Rank C-203 , "Sharp-tongued. Defensive."
A target painted in neon for anyone looking.
Rome's came next: B-84 , "Unstable. High-risk."
And still, the list scrolled. Hundreds of names.
The higher the number, the louder the reactions. Cheers for the A's, laughter or jeers for the D's and below.
Someone in the back shouted: "Welcome to your new cages!"
Laughter followed. Bitter. Cruel.
Lucia didn't stop smirking. "Now that's interesting," she murmured.
Aaron didn't answer, but his silence was heavy.
Because one thing was already clear:
This wasn't just survival.
This was theater.
A-Rank: 1 – 50.
The names beneath glowed in crisp white text, alien against the gray walls.
Lucia felt Aaron stiffen beside her. "They've been tracking us already," he whispered.
Lower on the screens, the lists grew longer, sprawling: B-Rank: 51 – 150. C-Rank: 151 – 300… And further down still, past the hundreds, the numbers stretched into the thousands.
The lowest names were barely legible, swallowed by shadow at the bottom of the screens.
Kids in the hall started whispering, their voices rising-
"Wait, that's me-"
"I'm in D-rank- what the hell-"
"Why is my name so low?"
Someone screamed and shoved past the crowd, scanning for their own name. The air thickened fast, a new kind of panic flooding the room.
Lucia's lips curled, excitement sparking in her chest despite the tension. "Well, well. Looks like the game does have rules."
Aaron's eyes, reflected in the screens, were colder. Calculating. "And we just found out where we stand."