The village passed by in fragments. Amy's eyes tracked each detail from her position on Mira's back, comparing them against memories. It was all just so... perfect.

"You know," Mira huffed between breaths as she jogged, "you really need to eat more. You are so light! My mom says you city girls are always worried about weight," Mira continued, adjusting her grip on Amy's legs and turning her head to see her. "But honestly, Amy, you really do look pale. Are you feeling okay? You're not sick, are you?"

Amy's jaw tightened, and her eyes wandered away from the girl. "I'm fine," she managed to whisper.

"That's what you always say," Mira said with a small laugh. "But I'm serious! You need to take better care of yourself. Did you even eat breakfast? Because I have an extra rice ball in my bag if you want it. It's got pickled plum in the middle—oh no."

Mira's jogging suddenly faltered, her whole body going rigid.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no—"

"What?"

"My school bag!" Mira's voice pitched higher with panic. "Amy, I forgot my school bag! I left it at home! All my homework, my textbooks, my lunch—everything!"

"..." Amy stared at Mira in silence, observing the girl's panic slowly escalating.

"Oh god, this is the worst day ever." Mira's pace had picked up again, but now jogging faster than before. "First, I oversleep, then I'm late, and now I don't even have my bag. And it's too late to go back and get it. Ughhhh! Mom specifically reminded me to check before I left, and I was like 'yes, mom, I will, mom,' and then I just ran out the door like an idiot and—"

Amy stopped listening.

It wasn't intentional. Mira's voice just sort of... faded into background noise, becoming part of the ambient sound of the village around them. Her gaze drifted away from the back of Mira's head and across the buildings they were passing.

Beautiful. It was all just so beautiful.

Too beautiful.

Amy's gaze lingered on the left side of the street. There was a small house with blue shutters and a garden that was supposed to be abandoned, but was now fully well-maintained.

An elderly woman knelt among the flowers. Beside her, a golden retriever sat patiently, watching its owner work.

Mrs. Henderson, a woman who spent most days either tending the plants or painting. She was supposed to be dead around seven or eight years ago. Heart attack, sudden and unexpected. Amy remembered attending the funeral and crying. She had been almost like a granny to her, and whenever her parents fought, she let her stay in her house and paint.

But here she was. Alive. Healthy. As if nothing had ever happened.

The wrongness of it settled over Amy. Her eyes lingered on the woman and her dog... until the woman looked up.

Mrs. Henderson's head turned slightly, then, out of complete chance, she saw Amy.

Amy froze as she saw the old woman smile warmly and lift a hand to give her a small wave. Her muscles tightened. Her brain short-circuited for a full second. Then, almost automatically, she raised one hand from Mira's shoulder and hesitantly returned the gesture.

Mrs. Henderson's smile widened, satisfied, and she turned back to her garden as if nothing unusual had happened.

Amy's hand fell back to Mira's shoulder. Her gaze dropped to the road, expression unreadable, but a faint crease formed between her brows.

"—and then my dad said I needed to be more responsible, but how am I supposed to remember everything when there's so much to— Ow, Amy!" Mira's voice woke Amy from her trance. "Easy there, you're gripping kinda tight," she said, glancing back over her shoulder.

Amy blinked, realizing her fingers had unconsciously clenched around Mira's shoulder. She loosened her grip, muttering a faint, "Sorry."

"It's fine. I'm sorry too. I know I ramble a lot. My mom says I could talk the paint off cars if I wanted to."

The paint comment made Amy think of Mrs. Henderson again, but she pushed the thought away.

The village center was giving way to slightly larger buildings now. They were getting close.

"Almost there!" Mira announced, her breathing heavy, but her pace not slowing. "Just around this corner!"

She wasn't wrong. As they rounded the bend, the two-story building came into view, significantly larger than most structures in the village. This was one of the few rural villages that had its own high school, Amy remembered. Most kids from the other areas had to travel hours to reach one.

And currently, there were students everywhere. Standing in small groups, chatting near the entrance, clearly waiting until the last possible moment to go inside.

"Excuse me! Sorry!" Mira called out, picking up speed despite her exhaustion. "Sorry! I'm late! I'm really sorry!"

Students jumped aside as Mira barreled past. Amy caught glimpses of surprised faces, heard scattered laughter and comments.

The voices blurred together. Amy kept her head down, her hand traveling as usual towards her satchel where Libris rested.

The school's entrance loomed ahead—a wide doorway with steps leading up to it. Mira took them two at a time.

Eventually, they reached the top. Mira carefully lowered Amy down, and the moment Amy's feet touched solid ground, Mira bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for air.

"Finally..." she wheezed between breaths. "Amy... you really need to eat more..."

Amy stood there, swaying slightly. Her legs felt like jelly, and her head buzzed with residual magic use. But she did feel better now that she had rested for a bit.

It took Mira a few seconds to catch her breath, and once she did, she turned towards Amy with surprising energy.

"Okay, okay, let me just—" Mira's hands moved to Amy's uniform, straightening the collar, smoothing down wrinkles that had formed from the piggyback ride. "Your uniform got all messed up. Can't have you going in looking like that; Madam Chen likes you too much, and right now you are our best bet in case we get caught."

Amy stood still, letting it happen. There was something surreal about this moment. Here she was, being taken care of by the girl she had driven to suicide.

Nothing in this world made sense.

This isn't reality, she reminded herself. This is just a puppet wearing Mira's face.

"Your hair," Mira–no, her clone—muttered, reaching up to fix the blonde strands that had come loose during their run. Her fingers worked quickly, tucking wayward pieces behind Amy's ears, adjusting the rest so it looked presentable. "There. Much better. Now we can see your pretty face perfectly."

Amy just stared at her in silence, not taking her eyes away from her face.

Once the clone was done with Amy, she turned her attention to her own appearance, quickly fixing her own uniform, adjusting her glasses, and trying to tame her wild curls into something resembling order. It was a losing battle, but she tried anyway.

"Okay," the clone said finally, taking one last deep breath. "Ready?"

Amy looked at the school entrance. Through the open doors, she could hear the distant sound of students talking.

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A school. A normal, mundane high school. The kind of place where the biggest worry was being late to class or forgetting homework.

Not chaos creatures. Not apocalyptic futures. Not the weight of everyone's survival resting on her shoulders.

Just... school.

"Amy?" The clone asked, concern creeping into her voice again. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been really out of it this morning."

Amy looked at her. Really looked at her. At the concern in her eyes, the worry lines creasing her forehead, the way she was fidgeting with her glasses—a nervous habit Amy had forgotten about until this moment.

This illusion was too real. It made her even doubt herself for a second if this wasn't the real Mira.

"I'm fine," Amy said again, and this time she tried to put more conviction into it. "Let's just go inside."

The clone studied her face for another moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But if you need to go to the nurse's office or anything, just tell me, okay? Don't try to push through if you're feeling sick."

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The clone smiled brightly and then nodded. "Good. Now come on, we're already late enough as it is."

She grabbed Amy's hand and pulled her forward.

Together, they stepped through the entrance.

The hallway was quieter than Amy expected. Most students had already made it to their classrooms, leaving behind only the stragglers and the perpetually late.

The clone pulled Amy forward, still holding her hand. The walls were lined with the usual school decorations, such as bulletin boards covered in student artwork, announcements for upcoming events, and motivational posters that nobody actually read.

All so normal. All so perfectly, impossibly normal.

As they kept walking, Amy's eyes landed on a boy who was staring fixedly at her.

Once their gazes crossed, he suddenly blushed, and his hands fumbled with the papers he was holding, nearly dropping them. He straightened up quickly, trying to look casual and failing miserably.

Amy recognized him. The baker's son. What was his name again? She couldn't remember. Didn't particularly care to, either.

Their eyes met again for a brief second. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he gave a stiff nod and quickly looked away.

Amy stared at him for another moment. Then she looked away, her attention already moving past him to more important things. Like, whether this trial was going to make her sit through an entire school day. Because if so, she might actually prefer fighting chaos spiders.

"Come on," The clone whispered urgently, tugging at Amy's sleeve and pulling her past the boy. "That's our classroom right there."

They approached a door with a small window set into it. Through the glass, Amy could see rows of desks, students already seated, and at the front of the room—

A woman. Older, maybe in her fifties, with graying hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a dark blazer and skirt.

Madam Chen. She hadn't seen her since she quit school.

"Okay, here's the plan," The clone whispered, pressing herself against the wall beside the door. "Madam Chen likes to do roll call in the middle of the class. When she is not looking, we just slip in quietly, take our seats, and pretend we've been here the whole time."

Amy looked at her with an unimpressed gaze.

"It's worked before!" The clone said defensively. "Well, once. Okay, half a time. The point is, it's our best shot. Unless you have a better idea?"

Amy didn't. Honestly, she didn't care enough to formulate one. For her, all this was... inconsequential.

"Fine," she said simply.

The clone's face brightened. "Okay! Just follow my lead and—"

The door opened.

Both girls froze.

Madam Chen stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes moving between them. Her arms were crossed, her posture radiating disapproval, and the silence that followed her appearance was deafening.

"Miss Mira," she said, her voice cold. "Miss Amy. How wonderful of you to join us. And only—" she glanced at a watch on her wrist, "—fifteen minutes late."

The clone's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Madam Chen, I can explain—"

"I'm sure you can." Madam Chen's tone suggested she had absolutely no interest in hearing it. "Inside. Both of you. Now."

They shuffled inside, heads down, while every student in the classroom turned to stare. Amy could feel their eyes on her, heard the whispers starting up immediately. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her hand instinctively moving to her satchel.

Libris was still there, and for some reason, that knowledge made this slightly more bearable.

"Take your seats," Madam Chen commanded, gesturing to two empty desks near the middle of the room.

The clone scurried to one immediately, practically diving into her chair. Amy followed more slowly, taking the chair to the clone's left, her exhausted body moving on autopilot.

As she sat down, she noticed the other students were still watching. Some with curiosity, others with amusement, a few with something that looked almost like pity.

"Now then," Madam Chen said, moving back to the front of the classroom. She picked up a big, thick book from her desk. "Since Miss Mira and Miss Amy have so graciously decided to interrupt our morning with their tardiness, I think it's only fair they help us with today's lesson."

Amy felt her tiredness increasing at an alarming rate. She truly wanted nothing but to lie down and take a nap.

"We're covering advanced literature analysis today," Madam Chen announced, moving to the chalkboard. "Specifically, the symbolic interpretation of classical texts." She began writing on the board, her chalk making sharp scratching sounds. "I was going to ease everyone into this gradually, but since we have volunteers..."

The clone had gone very pale beside Amy.

"I'm going to give you both a short quiz," Madam Chen said, turning back to face them with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Ten questions. You'll have fifteen minutes. If you both pass, I'll consider your tardiness forgiven. If you fail..." She let the implication hang in the air.

Amy heard the clone let out a soft whimper.

Madam Chen moved between the rows of desks, placing a sheet of paper face down in front of each of them. "No talking. No looking at each other's papers. Begin."

"Wait—" The clone's sudden voice halted the teacher as she was leaving. "Ma'm I forgot my bag... Could I have a pencil?"

The teacher didn't respond, only stared at the clone with a cold gaze before sighing, getting back to her desk, and returning with a pen and an eraser.

The class resumed around them as Madam Chen refocused on another topic.

Amy stared at the back of the paper for a moment, then flipped it over.

The questions stared back at her, and even in her exhausted state, she could tell immediately that this wasn't normal high school-level work. These were university-level analysis questions, the kind that required not just knowledge but deep critical thinking.

Discuss the role of the unreliable narrator in post-modern literature, with specific reference to—

Amy's eyes glazed over slightly. Beside her, she could hear the clone's panicked breathing getting faster. She glanced sideways. The clone was staring at her paper with an expression that Amy did not like on her face. Her hands were shaking slightly as she picked up her pencil.

Amy looked back at her own paper. Then, despite the exhaustion, the numbness, and the surreal horror of this entire situation, she felt something that might have been amusement.

Fine. I'll play the game.

She closed her eyes and reached for her ability. The familiar pull came immediately, though weaker than usual; her mana reserves were still dangerously low. But she didn't need much. Just enough.

Fate's Road activated, and golden threads bloomed in her mind's eye.

It took barely any effort at all. The answers flowed into her consciousness. She could see exactly what Madam Chen wanted to hear, exactly how to phrase each response, exactly which examples to cite.

Amy opened her eyes and began writing.

Her hand moved across the paper easily, filling in answers that she had no business knowing.

She finished in seven minutes.

Setting down her pencil, Amy glanced at the clone again. She was on question three, her face scrunched up in concentration. Every few seconds, she'd erase something and try again.

Amy watched her struggle for another moment. Then, with a sigh, she made a decision.

She activated her ability again, this time focusing not on her own paper but on the clone's. The golden threads showed her exactly what the clone needed to write, and what errors she should make to not make it obvious she had cheated.

Amy cleared her throat softly. When the clone glanced over, Amy made a show of adjusting her paper, then rapidly, with a very quick movement, almost ninja-like, exchanged it for the clone's.

The clone's eyes widened. She shook her head frantically, mouthing "no."

Amy gave her a flat look, then silently began writing on the paper. She could feel the clone's subtle gaze the entire time. At least she knew to conceal it from the teacher.

Several minutes later, Amy had finished, returning the paper to the clone.

"Time's up," Madam Chen announced finally, moving between the desks to collect their papers.

She took the clone's first, her expression neutral. Then Amy's. Her eyes scanned the first few answers, and something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe, or suspicion.

Madam Chen read through both papers with a frown. Finally, she looked up.

"Well," she said, her tone clipped. "It seems you both have... exceeded expectations."

Amy caught the subtle emphasis on 'exceeded.' Yeah, the teacher definitely suspected something.

"Your answers are remarkably thorough," Madam Chen continued, her gaze boring into Amy specifically. "Almost suspiciously so, for students who couldn't be bothered to arrive on time."

The classroom was dead silent now.

Bunch of gossipers...

"However," Madam Chen said after a long, uncomfortable pause, "I cannot fault the accuracy of your responses. Both of you have demonstrated adequate understanding of the material." Each word sounded like it physically pained her to say. "Your tardiness is... forgiven."

The clone let out a visible sigh of relief, then looked at Amy with a radiant smile, seemingly whispering thanks.

"But don't let it happen again," Madam Chen added sharply, her eyes still on Amy. "Next time, I won't be so lenient."

She turned back to the front of the classroom, setting their papers aside with more force than necessary. "Now then, let's continue with today's actual lesson..."

Amy barely heard what came next. She leaned back in her chair, letting her eyes drift closed for just a moment. The sounds of the classroom faded into background noise—Madam Chen's voice, the scratch of pencils on paper, the occasional whisper between students.

"That was pretty impressive."

Amy's eyes opened.

The voice had come from her left side, from the desk beside hers. With a sigh she turned her head, expecting to see another student-shaped illusion.

Instead, she found herself looking at the Goddess.

She sat there, perfectly at ease in a school uniform identical to Amy's, her star-filled eyes twinkling with amusement. Her golden hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she had a notebook open in front of her, though Amy suspected she wasn't actually taking notes.

Amy stared. Then kept staring.

The Goddess gave her a small wave, her smile widening. "Maybe I should nerf that ability of yours. Just a bit. For balance, you understand. Right?" She said with a teasing smile.

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