Monday morning arrived with the peculiar clarity that follows a weekend of rain—the air washed clean, the campus grounds shimmering with residual moisture, and the sky a pale, limitless blue. Leo stood before the Computer Science building once more, but this time he wasn't arriving for an interview. He was arriving as a member of the team.
The weekend had passed in a whirlwind of competing demands: helping Sophia prepare for the final week of campaigning, attending Chloe's study group (which had somehow evolved into a semi-regular social gathering), checking in on Lily who was having a "low energy" cycle with her condition, and exchanging increasingly frequent messages with Isabella about art and meaning. Even Emily had dragged him to the gym for what she called "basic self-defense training" that left him sore in muscles he hadn't known existed.
But through it all, the research project with Professor Morrison had loomed in the background, a dark star exerting its gravitational pull. And now, at 9:55 AM, Leo stood at the threshold of Room 410, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.
He pushed open the door to find the conference room already occupied. Professor Morrison sat at the head of the table, her silver hair catching the morning light. Maya occupied her usual position at the farthest possible point from everyone else, hunched over a laptop that emitted a soft, steady hum. And Anastasia—of course—sat near the window, looking out at the campus as if she owned the view.
But there was a fourth person Leo hadn't expected: a young woman in her mid-to-late twenties, wearing a simple but elegant pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She had the kind of quiet, watchful presence that suggested she missed nothing.
[New High-Potential Nexus Detected]
[Target Identification:Unknown female, approximately 27 years old]
[Core Signature:Amber-class (Nurturing/Guiding affinity)]
[Resonance Potential:72%]
[Note:Target exhibits professional demeanor with underlying emotional availability. Social role: Likely authority figure/mentor type.]
The system's identification sent a jolt through Leo. Amber-class—that was new. And the description fit the "溫柔老師/輔導員姐姐" (gentle teacher/counselor sister) from the framework, though she was appearing much earlier than the projected chapter 120-220 range. Another ripple in the timeline, another piece moved on the board by unseen hands.
"Ah, Leo, perfect timing," Professor Morrison said, looking up from her notes. "Come in, take a seat. We're just getting started."
Leo chose a seat midway between Maya and the new woman—close enough to the former to not seem like he was avoiding her, far enough from the latter to maintain professional distance.
"For those who haven't met," Morrison continued, "this is Grace Chen, our faculty liaison from the Student Affairs office. She'll be ensuring our project complies with university ethical guidelines and student welfare protocols."
Grace offered a small, professional smile. "Please, call me Grace. I'm here to support the project, not police it." Her voice was calm, measured—the voice of someone accustomed to defusing tensions.
Anastasia turned from the window, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on Leo. "A full house. How delightful."
"Indeed," Morrison said, though her tone suggested something other than delight. "Let's begin with project overview for our new members."
For the next thirty minutes, Morrison outlined what she called "the most ambitious undergraduate research project in the department's history." On the surface, it was exactly as described: an analysis of anomalous signal patterns in urban wireless environments. They would deploy custom sensors across campus, collect terabytes of data, and apply novel machine learning algorithms to identify patterns that didn't fit known categories.
But between the technical jargon, Leo heard the subtext: they were hunting for Nexus signatures. The "anomalous patterns" were the echoes left by system users. The "novel algorithms" were tools to detect what conventional methods missed.
"Our working hypothesis," Morrison explained, "is that what we perceive as noise in wireless spectra may actually contain structured information from unconventional sources. Think of it as... listening for whispers in a crowded room."
Maya's hand shot up. "What qualifies as an 'unconventional source'? Are we talking about natural phenomena, human-made systems operating outside documented parameters, or something more speculative?"
Morrison and Anastasia exchanged a glance—a now-familiar pattern that suggested unspoken understanding. "All of the above," Morrison said carefully. "We're keeping an open mind. The history of science is full of discoveries that began as anomalies that didn't fit existing models."
Grace spoke for the first time since introductions. "I should emphasize the ethical considerations. Any data collection involving the campus community must be transparent and consensual. We cannot surveil students without their knowledge."
"Of course," Anastasia said smoothly. "All our sensors will be placed in public areas with appropriate signage. And we'll be conducting voluntary surveys to correlate environmental factors with signal patterns."
The answer was too polished, too ready. Leo felt certain there were layers to the data collection that weren't being discussed.
Morrison distributed assignments. Maya would work on the signal processing algorithms—her expertise was perfect for the task. Leo was assigned to "pattern interpretation and correlation analysis," which sounded benign but he suspected meant "identify which anomalies are actually Nexus signatures." Anastasia, as project benefactor, would "provide strategic guidance and resource allocation."
And Grace? Her role was "ethical oversight and participant welfare," which Leo interpreted as "the university's watchdog making sure we don't cross lines."
"First task," Morrison said. "Baseline data collection. We need to map the existing signal environment before we can identify anomalies. Teams of two will deploy sensors at designated locations across campus."
She assigned pairs: Maya with Grace ("to ensure technical and ethical considerations are balanced"), and Leo with Anastasia ("given your... complementary perspectives").
Leo felt the trap close around him. This wasn't random pairing—it was deliberate. Anastasia wanted time with him, away from the others.
"Any questions?" Morrison asked.
Maya raised her hand again. "The sensor calibration parameters on page 17 of the technical specifications appear to be optimized for detecting transient signals with specific harmonic properties. Are we targeting something specific?"
Morrison paused just a beat too long. "We're casting a wide net, Maya. But yes, transient signals with unusual harmonic properties are of particular interest."
The meeting broke up shortly after. Grace approached Maya with a gentle smile. "Shall we get started? I have to admit, the technical aspects are a bit beyond me, so I'll be relying on your expertise."
Maya blinked, processing this admission of limitation from an authority figure. "I... yes. Of course. The calibration process is actually quite logical once you understand the underlying principles."
As they walked out together, Grace asking careful questions designed to draw Maya out of her shell, Leo felt a surge of respect for the older woman. She understood how to connect with people, how to create spaces where they felt safe.
"Shall we?" Anastasia's voice came from beside him.
She held two cases of sensor equipment and was already heading for the door. Leo fell into step beside her, the cases surprisingly light for their size.
They walked in silence for a minute, crossing from the Computer Science building toward the main quad. The morning was fully awake now, students hurrying to classes, the campus buzzing with ordinary life that felt suddenly precious to Leo.
"You're quiet," Anastasia observed.
"Just thinking."
"About the project? Or about why we've been paired together?"
"Both."
She smiled, a small, private expression. "Direct. I appreciate that. Most people play games even when there's no need."
"And you don't play games?" Leo asked, skepticism coloring his tone.
"I play different games." She glanced at him. "Games with higher stakes and clearer rules."
They reached their first deployment location—a lamppost near the library entrance. Anastasia opened one of the cases, revealing a device about the size of a paperback book, matte black with a single status light.
"The sensors are more sophisticated than Morrison let on," she said as she mounted the device. "They don't just detect wireless signals. They detect... resonance. Subtle disturbances in what you might call the background field of reality."
Leo's breath caught. She was being more direct than he'd expected.
"You know what I'm talking about," she continued, not looking at him as she adjusted the sensor's alignment. "That feeling when someone is watching you even when you're alone. The coincidence that's a little too perfect. The sense of connection that defies explanation."
She finished with the sensor and turned to face him. "Some people call it intuition. Some call it fate. You and I... we know it's something else. Something quantifiable. Something real."
"What do you want, Anastasia?" Leo asked, dropping all pretense.
"The same thing you want. To understand. To not be alone in understanding." She took a step closer, her dark eyes holding his. "How long have you had your abilities?"
Leo considered lying, but something told him she'd know. "About a year."
"Mine manifested when I was fourteen." There was a shadow in her eyes, a memory she didn't elaborate on. "For years, I thought I was going insane. Then I found others. Fragments of research. Whispers in academic papers that danced around the truth without naming it."
"And Morrison?"
"She's one of the few academics who's asking the right questions. Most dismiss the anomalies as equipment errors or statistical noise. She looks deeper." Anastasia turned back to the sensor, checking its connection. "This project... it's not just research. It's a gathering point. A way to find others like us."
The implication was clear: she was using the project to find system users. And she'd found him.
"Why me?" Leo asked.
"Because you're different." She finished with the sensor and closed the case. "Most people with... sensitivities... they're passive. They receive impressions, feelings, intuitions. You..." She studied him. "You're active. You shape your reality. You collect connections like other people collect stamps."
The accuracy of her observation was unsettling. "What do you mean 'collect connections'?"
"Don't play naïve, Leo. The childhood friend who makes you soup. The ambitious politician who needs your calm. The artist who sees your soul. The athlete who wants to protect you. The genius who doesn't understand people but understands you." She counted them off on her fingers. "You're building a constellation. Each connection a star in your personal galaxy."
She knew. She knew about all of them. The surveillance was more comprehensive than he'd realized.
"Are you threatening them?" Leo asked, his voice dangerously calm.
"Threatening?" Anastasia looked genuinely surprised. "No. I'm admiring. It's a beautiful pattern you're weaving. Fragile, but beautiful." She picked up the second case. "Our next location is near the arts building. Shall we?"
They walked in silence for a while, the tension between them shifting from confrontational to something more complex—a wary acknowledgment of shared strangeness.
"What happens when the project finds what it's looking for?" Leo asked eventually.
"That depends on what we find." Anastasia's expression grew serious. "There are... factions. People who want to exploit these abilities. People who want to suppress them. People who want to understand them."
"And you?"
"I want to survive." The simple statement carried more weight than any dramatic declaration could have. "And I think you do too. Which is why we should work together rather than against each other."
They reached the arts building, its exterior decorated with student murals that splashed color across the gray stone. Isabella's gallery was on the ground floor, and through the window, Leo could see her arranging pieces for a new exhibition.
Anastasia followed his gaze. "The artist. She sees more than most, doesn't she? Not in the way we do, but in her own way. Her painting of you... it's remarkable."
Leo stiffened. "You've seen it?"
"I have eyes everywhere, Leo. But in this case, I simply visited the gallery. The painting isn't on public display, but Professor Morrison has connections in the arts department." She began mounting the second sensor. "It's called 'The Collector,' isn't it? Apt."
She finished with the sensor and turned, leaning against the lamppost. "Here's what I propose: a truce. An exchange of information. You help me understand how your abilities work—how you actively shape connections rather than just perceiving them. And I'll help you understand the larger landscape. The dangers. The opportunities."
"Why would you do that?" Leo asked, suspicion warring with curiosity.
"Because we're stronger together. And because..." She hesitated, a rare moment of uncertainty. "Because I've been alone with this for too long. I'm tired of it."
In that moment, she looked younger than she usually did—not a mysterious manipulator, but a young woman carrying a burden too heavy for one person.
"What would this 'exchange' involve?" Leo asked cautiously.
"Weekly meetings. Sharing what we learn from the project data. Comparing notes on... experiences." She met his eyes. "And no games. No hidden agendas. At least between us."
It was tempting. The offer of understanding, of not being alone. But Leo had learned from his previous life that nothing came without cost.
"I'll think about it," he said.
"Fair enough." She pushed off from the lamppost. "We have three more sensors to deploy. Shall we continue?"
As they worked, Leo's mind churned with possibilities. Anastasia was dangerous—that much was clear. But she was also potentially valuable. She had knowledge he lacked, connections he didn't have. And her offer of partnership, however self-serving, might be the fastest way to understand the rules of the game he found himself in.
They were deploying the fourth sensor near the student union when Leo's phone buzzed. A message from Sophia:
[Sophia: Emergency. Jason just released a poll showing him ahead by 8 points. His team is claiming momentum. Need damage control. My place in 30? - S]
Leo typed a quick reply: On my way.
He looked up to find Anastasia watching him, her expression unreadable. "The politician needs you."
"She's a friend."
"Of course." There was no sarcasm in her tone, just acknowledgment. "Go. I can handle the last sensor."
"You're sure?"
"Positive." She gave him a small smile. "We're partners now, remember? Or at least considering being partners. Partners cover for each other."
Leo hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you."
As he turned to leave, she called after him: "Leo? One piece of advice, free of charge. Jason Huang has connections beyond campus. His family has ties to certain... interested parties. Be careful."
The warning hung in the air between them, another piece of the puzzle falling into place. Jason wasn't just a political opponent—he was potentially connected to the larger world of system users and those who hunted them.
"Noted," Leo said, then hurried toward Sophia's apartment.
---
The atmosphere in Sophia's war room was grim. Poll numbers covered the whiteboard, all trending in Jason's direction. Sophia paced like a caged tiger, her usual composure stretched thin.
"He's spending money like it's water," she said without preamble as Leo entered. "Digital ads, campus flyers, even radio spots. And this poll..." She gestured angrily at the whiteboard. "It's from a firm his family hired. Probably biased, but that doesn't matter if people believe it."
Leo studied the numbers. Jason led in every category: "vision for campus," "approachability," "understanding student needs." Sophia only led in "experience" and "integrity," which in student politics often translated as "boring" and "rigid."
"We need to change the narrative," Leo said, his mind already working. "If he's the 'fun' candidate, we can't out-fun him. We need to make 'fun' seem superficial."
"How?" Sophia stopped pacing, her eyes desperate for a solution.
"By highlighting what matters. The election is in five days. We need a defining moment. Something that shows the difference between surface appeal and real substance."
Sophia sank onto the sofa. "Like what? A policy paper? A detailed budget proposal? Those are exactly the things that make me seem boring."
"Not a document. An event." Leo's idea took shape as he spoke. "A town hall. But not the usual format. We make it... intimate. Personal. You in conversation with students, not giving speeches. Listening. Really listening."
Sophia considered this. "Jason's doing rallies with free pizza and music."
"Exactly. Those are parties. What you'd do is a conversation." Leo sat beside her. "We find students with real concerns—not just about parties and events, but about academic support, mental health resources, accessibility issues. You sit with them. You listen. You promise action."
"And people will come to that instead of free pizza?"
"Some will. The ones who actually care about how the university is run." Leo leaned forward. "But more importantly, we film it. We make it into a series of short videos. 'Sophia Listens.' We show you connecting, understanding, committing to action."
A spark ignited in Sophia's eyes. "It's risky. If no one shows up, or if the conversations are awkward..."
"Then we edit around it. But they won't be awkward. Because you're good at this when you let yourself be." Leo remembered the debate, the moment she'd connected with the audience. "You care about this place, Sophia. Really care. Let people see that."
She was silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed on some middle distance as she turned the idea over in her mind. Then she nodded, once, decisively. "Okay. Let's do it. When?"
"Tomorrow. We don't have time to waste." Leo stood, already planning. "I'll reach out to student groups—the accessibility committee, the mental health awareness club, the first-generation student association. We'll get real people with real concerns."
Sophia stood too, a new energy in her movements. "I'll work on the format. Maybe in the student union lounge rather than an auditorium. Make it feel like a conversation, not a performance."
For the next hour, they worked in perfect synchronization—Leo identifying and contacting potential participants, Sophia crafting the approach and messaging. It was the same partnership that had carried them through the campaign, but deepened now by shared stress and the unspoken connection that had formed between them.
As they took a break, Sophia making tea in her small kitchen, she looked over at him. "Why are you doing this, Leo? Really?"
The question caught him off guard. "What do you mean?"
"You're not a political science major. You're not angling for a position in student government. You're not even that social, really." She brought two mugs to the coffee table. "So why spend so much time helping me?"
Leo considered his answer. The truth was complex—a mix of genuine affection for Sophia, the system's nudging toward deeper connections, and his own need to build something meaningful in this second life.
"Because you're trying to do something good," he said finally. "And because I believe in you."
Simple words, but they landed with weight. Sophia's eyes softened, and for a moment, the campaign strategist vanished, replaced by a young woman touched by genuine affirmation.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "I don't say it enough, but... thank you."
They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their tea as afternoon light slanted through the windows. In that quiet moment, Leo felt the resonance between them—not system-mediated, just human. Two people working toward something they believed in.
His phone buzzed, breaking the moment. A message from Grace Chen:
[Grace: Hi Leo, it's Grace from the research project. I'm following up with all team members to schedule our first one-on-one check-ins. Are you available Thursday afternoon? I want to make sure you're comfortable with the project parameters and have a chance to discuss any concerns privately.]
The message was professional, but Leo sensed the subtext: Grace wanted to assess him, to understand what he knew, to determine if he was a risk or an asset.
He typed a reply agreeing to the meeting, then looked at Sophia, who was studying her notes with fierce concentration.
So many threads, so many connections. The political campaign, the research project, the web of relationships, the mystery of Nexus systems—all converging, all demanding his attention.
And somewhere out there, Anastasia was watching, waiting to see what he would do next.
Leo took a sip of tea, the warmth spreading through him. The game was accelerating, the stakes rising. But for now, in this quiet apartment with a woman he was coming to care about deeply, he allowed himself a moment of peace before the storm.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But today, there was tea, and partnership, and the slow, steady building of something real.