Judas' phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
It rattled on the coffee table like it was trying to escape reality—buzzing, lighting up, buzzing again, notifications stacking faster than he could read them.
Ping. Ping. Pingpingpingping.
He stared at it in horror.
Thirty missed messages.
Five group chats revived from the dead.
Two people he barely knew tagging him.
One text from his mom asking, "Are you in a fight video???"
He opened one of the links.
There he was.
Dodging Tyson's punch by accident.
Falling into a trash bin.
Getting blasted by a water fountain.
All set to dramatic anime music someone edited in a bit too well.
The title:
UNLV BIN GOD VS. TYSON THE TITAN (HE ACTUALLY SURVIVES???)
Judas' soul left his body.
"Oh my god… I'm viral," he whispered.
The phone buzzed again—
11k shares
He closed the app like it physically hurt him.
Judas paced in his living room like a man waiting on the world to end.
"I'm viral," he muttered, dragging a hand frantically through his hair. "I'm viral. I didn't even do anything cool! I tripped! I fell into a bin!"
He kicked his carpet with his sock, ranting to no one.
"Why did this have to be my 7 minutes of fame. Why couldn't it have been something like… singing? Cooking? Charity work? Anything besides getting rag-dolled in public—"
Movement caught in his peripheral vision.
Sera materialized on his couch not sitting like a normal person but sprawled sideways with her legs draped over the armrest, phone in hand, looking entirely too comfortable in his space.
"You know," she said without looking up, "watching you spiral is genuinely entertaining."
Judas yelped, nearly tripping over his own coffee table. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough." She finally glanced at him, lips quirking into that familiar teasing smile. "Your panic is very animated. Do you practice, or is this natural talent?"
"Don't—" He pointed at her accusingly. "Don't just materialize in my apartment whenever you feel like it."
"Why not? I'm your guide." She stretched slightly, the movement casual but deliberate. "Technically, I'm supposed to monitor you. Making sure you don't accidentally die is kind of my whole thing."
"You could knock."
"I don't have hands until I materialize." She examined her nails with exaggerated interest. "And besides, where's the fun in that?"
"The fun," Judas said flatly, "is in not giving me a heart attack at nine in the morning."
Sera's grin widened. "Consider it cardio. You're welcome."
He threw his hands in the air. "Why do you even come here uninvited?! Don't you have… a cosmic job to do or something?"
"Actually—" She sat up properly now, her expression growing serious. "I need to explain something important before you accidentally kill yourself."
Judas stopped pacing. "What?"
"Your system has rules." She swung her legs off the couch, feet touching the floor. "Hard rules. And breaking them has consequences."
"What kind of consequences?"
"The dying kind." She said it lightly, but her eyes didn't match her tone. "So maybe sit down and pay attention for once? "Sera sat upright, hair falling over her shoulders, expression softening—just a bit.
"For your roulette system, if you are not currently claiming a Jackpot, you must spin daily—or die."
His head titled, cracking an agonizing "I want to die" smile.
"Come again?"
She adjusted her shirt casually. "As long as you have an active Jackpot quest—like the Amelia one—you're exempt. But the moment you clear it? Tick-tock. You spin again."
He stared at her. "Okay. Tiny question. What happens if I spin and don't get something good?"
She shrugged. "You receive a blessing… or a curse. Depends on your taste as a man I suppose."
"That doesn't make me feel better!"
"Don't worry!" She grinned at him, her head still hanging off of his couch. "I wasn't trying to comfort you."
He dragged both hands down his face. "Things were so good when all I had to think about was saving money to hit the casino... Now I'm gambling with my life."
"Correct."
"I hate this system."
"How can a man be so comfortable acting so pathetic in front of a beautiful girl?"
Before he could protest, she snapped her fingers.
A holographic wheel made of purple light spun above his coffee table.
"Now that I'm here," she said, "we can review the core mechanics. You'll need them to not die."
He sank onto the couch beside her, defeated. "Fine. Hit me."
"Mechanic one: Stats." A screen opened.
[STATS]
VITALITY: 7
AGILITY: 9
LUCK: N/A (unstable)
SEXUAL APPEAL: 4
STRENGTH: 5
"What the--"
Sera tapped the LUCK field, which flickered.
"This one change daily based on the universe's mood and your idiocy," she explained. "Daily Luck Level affects your chances at succeeding in an 'event'."
"Event? Like the Tyson intervention thing?"
"Exactly."
"Fantastic. Kill me now."
"Mechanic two: Abilities. These unlock from Jackpots or rare rolls. You already have one."
[ABILITY UNLOCKED: CHAOTIC MOTION]
[EFFECT: Movement becomes unpredictable when panicked.]
"I KNEW it wasn't skill," Judas groaned. "I fight like a glitchy NPC."
Sera smiled sweetly. "That's good. Glitches can break games and other players."
"Stop encouraging this!"
"Mechanic three: Relationship Tracker."
Another screen unfolded.
[RELATIONSHIPS]
AMELIA HART – 31%
SERA – 42%
Judas blinked. "Forty-two?"
Sera stiffened.
A faint blush touched her cheeks, something he'd never seen on her.
"That's baseline," she said, voice carefully neutral. "Guides start with built-in familiarity metrics. It's not—" She waved her hand dismissively. "I-it doesn't mean anything."
"Then why does it track at all?"
"Because the system tracks everything." She looked away, suddenly very interested in the holographic display. "Don't read into it."
But her fingers curled slightly against shirt, and she wouldn't quite meet his eyes.
"…do you… like being my guide?" he asked slowly.
She crossed her arms, defensive.
"What kind of question is that?"
"A genuine one."
"I'm a guide. Liking or not liking it isn't part of the equation." She stood, moving toward the window like she needed space. "I exist to monitor quest progression and keep you alive long enough to finish. That's it."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the answer you're getting." She glanced back at him, smile returning. "Besides, someone has to make sure you don't trip into another trash bin. Might as well be me."
The deflection was so obvious it hurt.
He laughed weakly, which only made her blush deeper.
"Mechanic four," she snapped, desperate to change the subject. "Items. You can earn them from quests or spins. They can modify stats, grant 'special' one time use abilities, or cause catastrophic problems. Use responsibly."
"And mechanic five?"
"Daily Spin Requirement" she said. "The one that keeps you alive."
He swallowed.
"That's… a lot."
"You're a player now," she said gently. "The roulette won't wait for you to catch up."
Before he could reply, his vision pulsed.
[ALERT: PROXIMITY EVENT POSSIBLE]
[TARGET: AMELIA HART APPROACHING]
Judas shot upright.
"WH—WHY WOULD AMELIA BE COMING HERE?!"
Sera waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. Your apartment's near campus. It's probably a coincidence, or—"
Three knocks hit the door.
Sharp confident, and definitely Amelia.
Judas and Sera locked eyes.
"Hide," he hissed.
Sera blinked. "What?"
"Amelia cannot see another girl in my apartment right now. That looks really bad."
"I'm your guide."
"She doesn't know that!" He grabbed her wrist without thinking and pulled her toward the kitchen. "Just stay out of sight. Please."
For a moment, Sera just stared at where his hand held her wrist.
Then a purple light erupted, and she was gone.
Reappeared behind the kitchen counter, crouched low with her arms wrapped around her knees, expression unreadable.
"This is stupid," she muttered.
Three knocks hit the door.
Sharp. Purposeful. Not the "delivery guy" kind. The "your fate is standing outside" kind.
Judas froze.
Sera froze, mid-goblin posture behind the counter.
"Don't answer it," she whispered.
"It might be the landlord," he whispered back.
"Are you late on rent? "
"Shut up." He hissed to a now pouting Sera.
The knocks came again firmer.
Judas swallowed. Straightened his hoodie. Ran a hand through his hair. Tried to look like someone who wasn't a walking disaster caught in 4K on campus.
He opened the door—
And Amelia Hart stood there.
Her cheeks slightly flushed from the walk, breath soft, curls bouncing around her shoulders. She wore a cropped UNLV hoodie that made his lungs forget oxygen existed, and leggings that made the universe unfair.
"Morning, Judas," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her voice sounded… different today.
Less ice. More… warmth.
Judas squeaked. "H–hi."
She looked past him into the apartment—taking everything in.
The couch. The cluttered textbooks. The hoodie on the floor. The faint smell of air freshener desperately losing a war.
Her lips pressed together like she was fighting a smile.
"I… asked around for you," she said quietly.
Judas blinked. "You… what?"
A soft blush warmed her cheeks.
"I mean after yesterday everything just happened so quickly. And I wasn't sure if you were okay. "Her eyes drifted down almost shy. "So I might've asked a few people where you lived."
He stared at her like she'd just confessed to murder.
"You asked for my address?"
Her blush deepened. "I didn't break into the student database or anything. I just… asked."
"Oh my god."
She straightened suddenly, forcing composure back onto her face.
"I came because it's the right thing to do. You stood up for me, and I wanted to make sure you weren't—"She gestured vaguely at him, "Dying or traumatized. Or suspended."
Amelia continued before he could respond:
"And I found out something else while asking around."
Judas' stomach dropped. "Found out… what?"
She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, crossing her arms.
"You're failing arithmetic."
Judas slapped a hand over his face. "Why does you even know that?!"
"Because you scored a 42% last quiz," she said bluntly. "And apparently you skipped the tutoring program three weeks in a row."
"That's okay, in my defense those sessions were at 7 a.m."
"That's not a defense."
He groaned.
Amelia walked closer, the scent of her perfume settling around him, calm and expensive and insanely distracting.
Then she pointed at his open notebook on the coffee table.
"Sit," she ordered.
He blinked. "Sit?"
"Yes."
"Like… now?"
"Yes."
"Like a dog?"
"Judas."
He sat.
Amelia crossed her arms like a general preparing for war.
"I'm going to help you study."
He stared at her.
"Wh—what?"
"You defended me yesterday," she said softly. "So I'm returning the favor. Don't read into it."
Her eyes flicked away a moment, cheeks warming again.
Sera looked over the counter like a meerkat.
Amelia continued:
"You clearly need help. And I refuse to watch someone who actually tries crash their GPA because they don't understand how functions work."
He opened his mouth to protest.
"I—uh—I don't think—"
"No. Conversation over. "She sat beside him, flipping through his hopelessly disorganized notes with an expression that hovered between pity and academic despair. "I'm helping. Whether you like it or not."
Judas felt his soul leave his body for an entirely different reason now.
Amelia Hart. Campus idol. Ice queen. Perfect GPA. Tutor extraordinaire.
Was sitting in his living room.
Voluntarily.
Tutoring him.
And blushing.
A notification flickered softly:
[AMELIA HART – AFFECTION: 31% → 35%]
She didn't seem to notice the number floating above her head. But Sera did. And Sera's eyes widened in genuine shock.
"Oh wow," Sera whispered from behind the counter. "She's serious about this."
Judas was too dazed to respond.
Amelia leaned closer, pointing at a problem on his page, her hair brushing his shoulder, voice dropping into a warm, focused tone:
"Alright, Judas. Let's start with the basics."