Layla's POV
The moment the screens lit up, the air turned electric. Screams, laughter, curses, noise ricocheted through the hall like a storm breaking loose. Layla stood at the back of the crowd, shoulders drawn in tight, watching names roll down in endless lists.
She couldn't stop herself from staring at her name again when it flashed past: Rank 34. A-Class. She already knew it from the first reveal, but seeing it written there still made her chest tighten.
Her breath caught. A rank. The top. She hadn't expected that hadn't wanted it either. Around her, kids clawed at the walls of names, desperate for their own, but she felt a different weight sink into her chest.
A meant attention. A meant eyes. A meant expectation.
Someone near the front shoved backward, almost knocking her off balance. "I'm in D? No way, I'm better than this!" he shouted, his face blotchy with rage. A girl laughed bitterly beside him, pointing to her name at the bottom of C-rank. "Guess you're trash with the rest of us, huh?"
The argument snapped into shoving, fists flailing, the crowd either cheering it on or shrinking away. The hum of cameras above grew louder, a low reminder that nothing here went unseen.
Layla pressed herself against the wall, clutching her arms. She could hear whispers kids comparing ranks, voices sharp with jealousy or dripping with smugness.
"B-Rank. Not bad."
"C? I'm dead. I'm literally dead."
"Look, Valerio's in A. Figures."
"Wait, twins? They're both in B? Guess they're smarter than they look."
She didn't know their faces yet, but she picked out their names. Lucia and Aaron-B-Rank. Cheryl C-Rank. Rome-B. Eddy-B.
Her stomach tightened. The names would stick. Whether she liked it or not, they'd matter.
She was ushered toward the A/B hostel, a sleek building with cold, humming lights. The guard's voice echoed down the hall:
"Ranks have been assigned. From now on, you'll be housed according to placement. A and B ranks this hostel. C and D next. E and F far wing. Rooms are temporary. Final placements will come after the first games."
The hostel itself stretched tall and segmented, floors stacked by rank. A's on top, B's just beneath, the middle floors humming with tension. Lower down, whole wings fanned out for C, D, and further still, the scraps of E and F.
Layla's legs moved on instinct, carrying her to the top floor A-floor. The doors opened to a line of pristine bunks, neatly spaced, blank walls glaring back at her. She picked a bed at the edge, hands clutching the thin blanket, feeling exposed despite the empty space.
B-Class – Same Hostel, Lower Floor
Downstairs, Lucia and Aaron were ushered into their temporary floor. The hallway buzzed with nervous chatter, shoves, and the occasional curse as kids scrambled to claim beds.
"This is… chaotic," Aaron muttered, eyes darting around.
Lucia rolled her eyes, nudging him. "Chaos? No. Fun. We're twins. Chaos is our lane." Rome (B-84) and Eddy (B-92) arrived shortly after, tension already crackling between the fighter and intellectual. Other B-rank kids eyed them warily. Fists clenched, whispers circulated.
A chair hit the wall, someone shouted, and a scuffle almost broke out but guards barked commands, separating the nearest threats.
Lucia laughed under her breath. "Welcome to B-Class. Might as well enjoy the fireworks."
Aaron muttered under his breath, adjusting his glasses. "Every one of them is a powder keg waiting to go off."
Lucia smirked, "Then good thing I like fire."
Cheryl's POV
Elsewhere, Cheryl entered the C/D hostel. The room smelled faintly of damp and fear. Kids were already arguing over beds, shouting, and glaring at each other.
She threw her bag onto a bed near the wall, muscles coiled, alert. She didn't need to announce herself her posture and confidence did it for her.
Around her, some C-rank kids huddled, scared, whispering. Others tried to assert dominance, but Cheryl's presence alone made them hesitate.
Layla's POV
On the top floor, Layla observed the others filtering in. Faces she didn't know, names she couldn't remember. The cameras blinked down on them, humming quietly, always present.
She hugged her knees, thinking of home family, laughter, security all stripped away.
A-Class wasn't safety. It was just another cage.
And these temporary rooms? A reminder that nothing here was permanent. Rules, ranks, allies, enemies they could all shift overnight.
She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself.
Not just surviving. Thriving.
The hall hadn't calmed after the rankings. If anything, the air grew thicker. Conversations rose and fell in jagged bursts, kids craning their necks at the glowing screens like they were staring at a guillotine. No one needed the rules spelled out to them letters meant status. Status meant power.
Already the groups were forming. Rank A and B lingered closer to the center, voices louder, braver, mocking even. The C's and D's hung at the edges, keeping heads down. And the E's and F's, those looked the smallest of all, like the very floor might swallow them.
Layla hugged herself, standing stiff as a post. Her new rank a glaring A hovered in her mind like a crown she hadn't asked to wear. Kids brushed past her, some with looks of awe, others with envy. None of it sat right.
"Hey! hey, what're you doing? Let go of me!"
The shout cracked across the hall. Layla's eyes darted to the corner, where two tall boys both wearing smirks that screamed B had a smaller, scrawny kid pinned against the wall. His rank glowed on his wrist screen: D.
The boy kicked out, but one of the B's shoved him harder, his head thunking against the wall. "D-rank trash," he sneered. "What're you even doing here? Should've been sent home with the rejects."
"Stop it!" Layla blurted before she could think. Her voice sounded too loud in her own ears, but it carried.
The hall went still for a breath. Dozens of eyes flicked toward her some curious, some amused. The two boys looked over, saw her, then saw her wrist. The glowing A.
One snorted. "Oh, look at that. Rank A's got a bleeding heart."
Layla's stomach knotted. "Just leave him alone. You're not proving anything."
The second boy smirked wider. "Not proving anything? We're proving how this works." He shoved the D-ranker one last time and let him stumble forward. The kid's lip was split, eyes watery, but he scrambled away without looking back.
Laughter rippled through the hall. Not just from the bullies from others too. Nervous, shaky laughter, like everyone wanted to side with power before it turned on them.
Layla's face burned. The B's gave her a mocking half-bow before swaggering off. She stood frozen, every part of her itching to go after the boy she'd tried to help, but her legs didn't move.
The guards barked orders soon after, their voices sharp, herding the crowd into lines. The noise dulled to a hum as groups were split off, each guided toward the looming hostels.
Layla followed the stream toward the A–B building, her thoughts tangling. The guards didn't stop the fight. Didn't even look at it. That was the worst part.
It wasn't just about the letters. It was about what the letters allowed you to do.
And if this was how the first night ended, what would tomorrow look like?
She clenched her fists tight, the glowing A on her wrist suddenly feeling less like an achievement and more like a spotlight.
Layla's new hostel loomed like a fortress, tall, steel-gray, its windows darkened so the inside was invisible until the guards shoved them through the doors. The moment she stepped inside, the air changed: cooler, sterile, humming faintly with machines hidden in the walls.
The dorm layout was cleaner than the temporary rooms they'd slept in before. Long corridors stretched both ways, lined with glass doors that opened to bunk-style rooms. A common area sprawled in the center with couches bolted to the floor, a few flickering screens showing static, and vending machines locked tight.
Already, kids were claiming space.
"Beds first!" someone shouted. A rush of feet pounded down the hall, kids sprinting to snag the lower bunks or corner spots. Voices, tangled shouts, curses, nervous laughter.
Layla lingered near the entrance, eyes flicking across the crowd. So many A-rankers stood straighter, louder, like they'd been crowned kings and queens. But the B-rankers mixed among them too, some puffing themselves up, others glancing nervously at their higher-ranked neighbors.
A girl with short cropped hair and an angular face slipped into step beside Layla, offering a wry smile. "Mad house, huh?"
Layla hesitated, then nodded. "Guess everyone wants to stake their claim."
"I'm Mira," the girl said, gesturing at her wrist where B glowed faintly. "Guess I'm your new roommate whether you like it or not."
Layla glanced at the nearest open door where beds were already filling fast. Mira nudged her shoulder. "Come on, A-rank. You don't want to end up stuck in the hallway."
Inside, two other girls were already there: one tall, lean, with tightly braided hair,Serah, A-rank,who was sprawled on the top bunk like she'd owned it for years; and another with nervous eyes, hugging a pillow to her chest,June, B-rank,who looked like she'd rather sink into the floor.
"Looks like we're a full house," Serah said, smirking at Layla. "Finally, someone worth the title. Half these A's out there? They're just loud."
June flinched at the sharpness in her tone, shrinking further into her pillow. Layla shot her a quick smile before answering Serah. "I don't think being loud makes you strong."
Serah raised a brow. "No? We'll see."
The tension lingered, but Mira clapped her hands together and cut in. "Okay, before we start a civil war in here, ground rules in here nobody snores, and if anyone steals my blanket, I'll fight you for it."
That earned a shaky laugh from June, and Layla found herself smiling despite the heaviness pressing down on her chest.
But the moment of ease didn't last.
A crash echoed from the common room a chair overturned, followed by shouting. Layla darted out with the others just in time to see two boys squared off. Both B-rankers, veins standing out in their necks, their shouts drawing a circle of onlookers.
"Give it back!" one screamed, lunging. The other shoved him down, grinning.
The guards didn't move. They stood at the edges like shadows, watching. Recording.
The crowd leaned in, eager, eyes bright with the thrill of violence. Layla's stomach twisted. It hadn't even been a full day in these new rooms, and already kids were testing how far the letters on their wrists would let them go.
And no one was stopping it.
Mira muttered under her breath beside her. "Guess this is how it's gonna be."
Layla clenched her fists. She wanted to step in again but Serah's smirk from earlier flashed in her mind. The hall incident had already painted her as the girl who couldn't mind her own business. How many times could she do this before she became a target?
Still, she couldn't look away.
June tugged at her sleeve timidly. "Layla… what if this doesn't stop?"
Layla swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. "Then we'll have to learn when to fight. And when to walk away."
The crowd roared as one of the boys hit the floor. Guards still didn't move.
Layla turned back toward their room, the hum of tension chasing her down the hall. She didn't know if she believed her own words yet. But she knew one thing for certain if the island wanted to turn them against each other, it wasn't going to take long.
she sat on the edge of her bunk, arms folded tight across her chest. The room had gone quieter than before, but not peaceful. Fear didn't let silence feel safe it just made every breath sharper, every glance heavier.
Across the rows, two boys muttered in low voices, sizing each other up. Someone else sniffled into their blanket, muffling quiet sobs. And above it all, that faint hum of the cameras pressed into everyone's skulls, reminding them they weren't just living, they were being observed.
Layla leaned back against the cold wall, eyes flicking to the door as if half-expecting guards to storm in and announce something new. Nothing came. Just the low shuffle of restless bodies and the weight of nerves no one wanted to name out loud.
She tugged the curtain on her bunk halfway closed, giving herself a sliver of privacy. Leadership, it was already being thrust onto her shoulders, even when she hadn't asked for it. People noticed who stepped up, who offered a word, who didn't break down. That attention was a double-edged sword, and Layla could already feel its weight cutting into her skin.
Her gaze slipped to the window above her bunk. Outside, the night sky burned faintly artificial, a grid of hidden lights behind the clouds. A reminder this wasn't freedom. This was a cage, dressed up to look like something else.
Layla rested her forehead against her knees, breathing slowly.
Tomorrow, the curtain would lift. Tomorrow, everything would change.
And though she wanted to believe she could hold the pieces of herself together, deep down she knew the truth: the real game hadn't even started yet.