Fiona squeezed herself into the corner by the sliding doors, trying to make her already small frame invisible.
Around her, people were zombies glued to their phones, scrolling through news or staring blankly at nothing.
Fiona was glued to her phone too, but she wasn't a zombie. She was currently in the middle of a high-stakes assassination.
Come on, Raven. Don't hesitate. Just slit his throat!
She scrolled furiously with her thumb, her breath hitching in her throat.
On her cracked screen, the latest chapter of Academy of the Depraved was reaching its climax. It was her absolute favorite web novel, a trashy but addictive story about a group of elite serial killers disguised as high school students who turn a prestigious academy into their personal hunting ground.
It was violent, it was edgy, and it was the only thing keeping Fiona from screaming out of sheer boredom in her real life.
"Yes!" she whispered, earning a side-eye from a businessman next to her. She didn't care. In the story, Raven, the brooding male lead with a tragic backstory and excellent knife skills, had just taken out the corrupt principal.
Fiona sighed, clutching her backpack straps.
If only real life was that simple. You have a problem? Stab it. You have a bully? Assassinate them in the library.
Instead, Fiona lived in a world where she was just… Fiona. An extra. Background character. The girl whose name people forgot five seconds after hearing it.
The subway announced her stop with a mechanical chime that sounded like doom.
"Damn it," she muttered, sliding her phone into her pocket.
"Back to hell."
Stepping out of the station and onto the wet pavement, the grey building of Northwood High loomed ahead.
It looked less like a school and more like a prison for teenagers with hormonal imbalances.
Fiona kept her head down, counting the cracks in the sidewalk.
If she walked fast enough, maybe she could make it to her locker without—
"Oh, look. It's the creeping ghost."
Fiona flinched. She didn't even have to look up to know it was Brittany.
Brittany and her squad were standing near the school gates like gatekeepers of the underworld, dressed in skirts that were technically against the dress code but no teacher dared to challenge.
Fiona tried to sidestep them, hugging her bag to her chest.
"Excuse me."
"Excuse you?" Brittany laughed, stepping directly into Fiona's path. She was holding a violently pink iced coffee.
"You're always in the way, Fiona. Just looking at you makes me feel depressed. Why do you always look like someone killed your puppy?"
"I don't have a puppy," Fiona mumbled, regretting it immediately.
"Smart. It would probably run away from you," Brittany sneered. Her two minions, whose names Fiona never bothered to learn because they shared a single brain cell, giggled.
Fiona tried to push past, desperate to just get inside, but one of the minions stuck a foot out. It was classic. It was cliché. It was something out of a bad teen movie.
And Fiona fell for it. Literally.
She stumbled, her knees scraping hard against the rough concrete.
Her backpack slid off her shoulder, and her phone skittered across the ground, landing face down in a puddle.
"Oops," the minion said, covering her mouth with a manicured hand.
"Clumsy much?"
Fiona scrambled up, ignoring the stinging pain in her knees. She grabbed her phone, wiping the muddy water off on her sleeve. The screen was dark.
"Please turn on, please turn on," she whispered frantically.
"It's trash anyway," Brittany said, looming over her. She reached out and shoved Fiona's shoulder hard.
"Just like you. Why do you even bother coming here? Nobody wants you around."
Fiona bit her lip so hard she tasted copper. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She was just a girl who couldn't even defend herself against a teenager with a latte.
"I—I hate you," Fiona choked out, her voice trembling.
Brittany rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. Cry somewhere else, you freak. You're ruining my morning vibe."
They walked away, laughing, leaving Fiona kneeling on the wet concrete.
She sniffled, wiping her eyes aggressively.
Don't cry. Don't give them the satisfaction.
But she did cry. She cried in the bathroom stall for ten minutes before the first bell rang, pressing her forehead against the cold metal door. She imagined Raven bursting in and scaring them off, but Raven wasn't real. Only the smell of cheap bathroom soap and her throbbing knees were real.
Fiona sat in the back of the class, the seat right next to the trash can.
I wish I could be someone else, she thought, doodling a knife in the margin of her notebook.
By the time the final bell rang, Fiona felt like her soul had been put through a cheese grater.
She packed her bag in record time, fleeing the building before anyone could make a comment about her muddy knees.
The walk home was usually lonely, but today, she had something to look forward to.
Her phone had miraculously survived the puddle incident. It buzzed in her pocket as she turned the corner toward her apartment complex.
[Update Alert: Academy of the Depraved - FINAL CHAPTER]
Fiona gasp, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
"No way. It's out?"
The gloom of the day instantly evaporated. She needed to know if Raven survived the police raid. She needed to know if the serial killer squad finally took over the world.
She shouldn't read while walking but she couldn't wait. She tapped the notification, her heart pounding with anticipation.
The chapter was intense.
Betrayal! Explosions! A confession of love amidst a pile of bodies! It was everything she wanted. She was so absorbed in the text that she barely noticed the traffic noise or the wind picking up.
She reached the end of the chapter. Raven stood victorious on the roof of the burning school, looking down at the chaos.
End.
"Wow," Fiona breathed out, a smile finally touching her lips.
"That was… actually perfect."
She scrolled down to the comments section. Usually, she didn't read them because people were toxic, but she wanted to see the hype for the finale.
There was only one comment, pinned at the top. It was from the Author.
Author_Zero: Thank you for following the journey of the wicked. But a story isn't truly over until the reader bleeds for it. Do you want to know what it feels like to be a predator? Or are you content being prey? Reply 'YES' to accept the gift.
Fiona blinked. "What kind of edgy roleplay is this?"
She chuckled. It was obviously a marketing gimmick for a sequel. "Okay, Author_Zero. I'll bite. My life sucks anyway."
Her thumb hovered over the reply button.
She typed: YES.
She hit send.
The ground beneath her literally seemed to lurch.
A sharp, blinding pain exploded in the center of her chest.
"Gah!" Fiona gasped, dropping her phone.
She clutched her chest, her knees buckling.
What… what is happening?!
She collapsed onto the sidewalk. Her vision blurred, turning the sunset into a smear of bloody orange. People were walking past her, but they seemed miles away.
Is this a heart attack? I'm seventeen!
The pain was unbearable. It felt like her veins were being filled with liquid lead.
[Selection Confirmed. Welcome to the Cast, Extra A.]
"Screw… you…" Fiona wheezed.
And then, everything went black.
Fiona gasped, sitting bolt upright.
Her lungs sucked in air greedily, as if she had been underwater for an hour.
She frantically patted her chest. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, but there was no pain. No burning.
"I'm alive?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Holy crap, I'm alive."
She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She expected to see the white ceiling of a hospital room, or maybe the starry sky above the sidewalk where she collapsed.
She saw neither.
She was sitting on a cold, concrete floor in a room that was almost pitch black, save for a single, flickering lightbulb dangling from a wire above her head.
"Where… where is this?"
Was she kidnapped? Did someone drug her on the street?
"Hello?" she called out. The word echoed back to her, mocking.
Fiona froze. She squinted at the floor.
Lying in a neat semi-circle in front of her, illuminated by the dying yellow light, were three objects.
First, a combat knife. It was matte black, serrated, and looked terrifyingly sharp.
Second, a pistol. A heavy-looking handgun that gleamed with oil, like something out of an action movie.
And third, a Submachine Gun. A freaking SMG. It sat there, bulky and menacing, looking completely out of place next to Fiona's muddy school sneakers.
Fiona stared at them. Then she looked at her hands. They were trembling.
"What the hell?" she squeaked.
Suddenly, blue text materialized in the air in front of her face, glowing like a hologram.
[System Initialization Complete!]
[Role Assigned: Serial Killer]
[Target: Survive the Night.]
[Weapon Selection: Mandatory.]
Fiona stared at the floating words. She looked at the guns. She looked back at the words.
"You have got to be kidding me," she whispered, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat.
"I just wanted to read the sequel, not live in it!"
She reached out, her shaking fingers hovering over the pistol.
"If this is a dream," Fiona muttered, gripping the handle of the gun as tears of fear and confusion welled up again, "I am going to sue my subconscious."
Somewhere in the darkness beyond the lightbulb's reach, a mechanical door hissed open, and the sound of heavy, dragging footsteps began to approach.
Fiona gripped the gun tighter.
"Damn it," she cursed softly, aiming at the dark. "Damn it all to hell."