"Alright. Since everyone else has already introduced themselves, it would be rude for me to be the only one who hasn't—though my existence does not truly matter," the robot said.
We'd been calling it the robot the entire time. That was all it was to us—a machine at the front of the classroom, smiling like it knew something we didn't.
"My name is R-23," it continued. "I am an artificial humanoid instructor assigned to the Elite Education program. I execute tasks designated by the Grandmaster."
Every word was precise. Too precise. The blue smile never flickered, never hesitated, like it had been bolted onto its face.
It reminded us of the application. Two classes a day. One after breakfast. One at ten at night. One hour each.
Bonding.
The word made my stomach tighten.
Not learning. Not training. Bonding—like we were parts meant to be pressed together, whether we fit or not.
"Wait," Charlotte said.
She sat in front of me and hadn't spoken until now. She turned in her seat, brows knit. "What about learning the material for our professions? That's what the application said."
She looked straight at R-23.
There was a brief pause.
"That was a lie," R-23 said calmly.
The room exploded.
"What the hell do you mean it was a lie?" Marcus snapped, shooting to his feet.
"I didn't come here for friendship nonsense," Isabella said.
"And the guaranteed successful life after graduation?" Charlotte pressed. "Was that a lie too?"
"Please remain calm," R-23 replied. "Lowering your voices is advised."
"Why wouldn't we be mad?" Marcus shot back. "We came here to learn careers—not whatever this is."
"The program is fully government-approved," R-23 said without hesitation. "Without such support, this academy could not exist."
That didn't help. If anything, it made my skin crawl.
"For those seeking professional knowledge," it added, "a comprehensive library is located at the end of this hall."
The room went quiet after that.
A guaranteed job. One hundred percent success rate. No exams. No competition.
Just... talk.
"Consider it this way," R-23 said. "You will learn nothing of your chosen profession. However, you are guaranteed a successful life—if you can answer one question posed by the Grandmaster."
The silence deepened.
"Can people truly form strong friendships with one another?"
The words felt heavy.
"The rules are simple," R-23 continued. "You will meet here every morning after breakfast. You will meet again at ten at night."
It paused.
"You are not permitted to leave academy grounds for one full year. All students have already agreed to this condition."
My chest tightened.
"As today is January first, your final day will be January first of the following year."
A year with this system.
"Entertainment and leisure resources will be provided," it added. "However, one additional rule exists."
Its smile looked sharper.
"This rule will be revealed after the campus tour."
No one spoke.
"To celebrate your arrival," R-23 continued, "the Grandmaster has approved a gathering following today's classes. Food, drinks, and recreational facilities will be available."
"Wait—we have an arcade?" I blurted out.
"For morale," R-23 said.
Then it added, "Each of you has been assigned a guide to assist with orientation."
My chest tightened again.
Ria.
.The girl from the train.
That's right. She'd said she would be our tour guide
"To avoid delays," R-23 said, "all groups will tour simultaneously."
That was when it hit me.
There were twenty students total.
Only six of us were here.
Were there other classrooms? Other robots? Other groups realizing the same thing at the same time?
Jax leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. "So no real classes. No leaving. And we just... vibe our way into a future?"
"A simplified interpretation," R-23 replied.
"Sounds like a cage with better furniture."
Isabella shook her head. "You can't force friendships. Especially not like this."
"And if we don't?" she asked quietly. "If we fail?"
"There is no punishment," R-23 said. "Participation is strongly recommended."
Amber, silent until now, spoke from near the window.
"Recommended," she repeated. "And if we refuse?"
For the first time, R-23 hesitated.
"That information is classified."
Amber nodded once. "So we're not students. We're variables."
No one argued.
"And the party?" Jax asked. "Step one—get us drunk so we can brainlessly connect with each other?"
"The gathering is intended to increase morale."
"Of course it is."
R-23 straightened. "All concerns have been logged. Further discussion is unnecessary."
Unnecessary.
The room felt smaller after that, like the walls had shifted closer.
Twenty of us.
Trapped for a year.
Meant to prove something about friendship.
I swallowed.
What kind of school does this—and calls it education?