STAR ACADEMY

CHAPTER EIGHT

Carter spent an hour in his room trying to calm down. The Protocol eventually stopped glitching and returned to normal. He studied the campus map it provided, and tried his best to memorize building locations and his schedule.

First class was at two. Ascension Theory, taught by a Professor called Lucien Kane. The Protocol flagged it as mandatory attendance and marked Kane as important.

Carter changed into clothes more appropriate for class. The blazer felt like a costume. Actually everything about this felt like a costume. But he put it on anyway and headed to the lecture hall.

Carter followed the Protocol's directions to the third floor, down a hallway lined with photographs of successful alumni, celebrities and socialites.

The lecture hall was already half full when Carter arrived. It was a stadium seating, and Carter could count about a hundred students total. He chose a seat toward the back, hoping to avoid attention.

The Protocol immediately began scanning faces and tagging students.

LIAM CROSS – BRONZE CLASS – REP: 2,800

RELATIONSHIP: VIVIENNE'S BROTHER. HOSTILE TO OWEN.

REASON: OWEN DATED AND DUMPED VIVIENNE.

Great. Another person who hated Owen. Carter made a mental note to avoid him.

ISLA NGUYEN – SILVER CLASS – REP: 8,900

SPECIALIZATION: DATA ANALYTICS

INTELLIGENCE: EXCEPTIONAL

THREAT LEVEL: NEUTRAL

This Isla was a girl in the front row with black hair in styled in bob. She was typing on a laptop, completely focused on whatever she was working on. She did not look up when Carter entered.

RAINA VOLKOV – GOLD CLASS – REP: 18,300

SPECIALIZATION: PERFORMANCE CONTENT

COMPETITIVE WITH OWEN. HISTORY OF RIVALRY.

This one was a blonde curvy girl sitting with a group of other students. She glanced at Carter when he sat down. He wasn't able to see her exact expression due to the distance between them but he has a feeling it wasn't nice. Soon, more students filled in. The Protocol tagged them all, flooding Carter's vision with information he could barely process. He focused on breathing. On staying calm. On not letting the overload show on his face.

At exactly two o'clock, the door at the front of the hall opened and Professor Lucien Kane entered. Instantly, the room went silent.

He looked to be in his fifties, thin to the point of gaunt, dressed completely in black, his shirt, pants, and jacket blending together. His face was all harsh angles, with eyes that seemed to cut through everything they looked at, and he moved in a calm, deliberate way, like someone who always knew exactly what he was doing.

He walked to the front of the room and stopped. He did not say anything, and instead just looked at the students, letting the silence stretch.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was calm but it carried through the entire hall.

"Welcome to Ascension Theory." He said. "Some of you will leave this academy as stars. Most of you will leave as ash. The difference between those two outcomes will be determined in rooms like this one."

Several students shifted uncomfortably.

"Let me be clear about what this place is." Kane began to pace, slow and deliberate. "Star Academy is not a school in any traditional sense. Schools teach you average skills. They give you knowledge. They prepare you for careers. We do something far more important here: we teach you how to matter."

He stopped, letting that word hang in the air for a moment before continuing: "In the world you're entering, popularity and relevance is important. Everyone is talented. Everyone is educated. Everyone has something to offer. So how do you rise above that? How do you become someone people listen to? Someone people follow? Someone whose words can move markets, shape opinions, change minds?"

A student near the front raised her hand and answered, "Through authenticity, professor? By being genuine with our audience?"

Kane's smile was thin. "Authenticity is a performance. The most successful one, perhaps, but a performance nonetheless." He walked closer to the student who'd spoken. "People don't want authenticity. They want the feeling of authenticity. They want to believe they're connecting with something real, even if that reality is fake."

He turned back to address the full room. "Let me make this simple. Image is truth. What people believe about you is more real than what you actually are. If a million people think you are kind, you are kind. Even if you are secretly a psychopath. If a million people think you are stupid, you are stupid. Even if you have three doctorate degrees. Reality does not matter. Perception is everything. The person you actually are, in private, is irrelevant. What matters is the collective belief about who you are."

Kane pulled up a holographic display showing the Beacon's current rankings. Names and numbers glowed in the air.

"This is your truth. These numbers. Not your grades. Not your talent. Not your potential. These numbers represent how much you matter to the world outside these walls. And they are brutally, beautifully honest."

A Silver-class student near the middle raised his hand. “Professor Kane, how exactly does the Rep system calculate our rankings? Is it just follower count or something more?”

“Good question, Mr. Torres.” Kane adjusted the display, zooming in on the graphs and numbers. “The system looks at several things. Follower count matters, but it also measures engagement, sentiment, how often your content spreads, how valuable your brand is, how much the media talks about you, and what we call 'cultural penetration,' which simply means how far your influence reaches across different groups of people.”

He pointed to the rankings. “Bronze-class students usually have between one and five thousand Rep. They’re invisible, replaceable. The academy keeps them around because a few might rise higher, and because we need their tuition money.”

Uncomfortable laughter from the Bronze section.

"Silver class, five to fifteen thousand Rep. You're visible now. You have leverage. People know your names. But you're still climbing. Still hungry. Still dangerous to yourselves and others because you'll do almost anything to reach Gold."

The Silver students sat straighter, some looking proud, others anxious.

"Gold class, fifteen to fifty thousand Rep. You've made it. You have real influence. Brands want to work with you. People outside this academy know who you are. You're no longer just students. You're assets."

Raina and her Gold-class friends looked smug.

"And Platinum..." Kane smiled. "Fifty thousand and above. There are currently eleven Platinum-class students at Star Academy. They are untouchable. They make more money than most of your parents. They have direct contact with corporate executives, politicians and moguls. When they graduate, they don't look for jobs. The world will work for them."

The room was completely silent now, everyone absorbed in their own calculations about where they stood and where they wanted to be.

Then Kane's eyes found Carter. "Mr. Grace. Welcome back."

Carter's stomach dropped. Every eye in the room turned to look at him. The Protocol suddenly screamed warnings but offered nothing useful.

Kane consulted his tablet. "You left six months ago. When you did, your Rep was approximately 8,400. Silver class, respectable for a second-year student." He looked up. "Do you know what it is now?"

Carter's mouth was dry. He checked the Protocol's display.

CURRENT STATUS:

OWEN GRACE – SILVER CLASS

RANK: 487

REP: 5,200

His Rep had decayed. Badly. He was barely holding onto Silver class. Another 200 points and he'd drop to Bronze.

"Five thousand, two hundred," Carter said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The room murmured. Several students smirked.

"Indeed." Kane's expression was neutral. "That's what happens when you go silent for six months. Your followers forget you. Your engagement dies. Your relevance evaporates. In this environment, absence isn't mysterious—it's self-destruction."

A student in the middle raised his hand. It was Liam Cross. "Professor, I have a question about climbing rankings."

"Go ahead, Mr. Cross," Kane said.

Liam stood up, and Carter instantly knew nothing good was coming. “What’s the rule for Silver-class students who’ve dropped too far? Students who were given resources and investments but wasted them? Should the academy keep supporting them, or focus on students who are actually committed?”

The question was aimed at Kane, but Liam’s eyes stayed locked on Carter.

Kane’s smile grew slightly and he replied, “An excellent question. The academy’s Silver-class resources are limited, and we have to choose carefully who deserves continued investment.” He turned fully toward Carter. “Mr. Grace, tell us...why should we keep investing in you?”

The Protocol was scrambling, trying to generate a response, but the system was lagging. Carter was on his own.

"I..." Carter started, his mind racing. "I had personal issues I needed to resolve. But I'm back now. I'm ready to rebuild."

"Personal issues," Kane repeated the words like they were foreign to him. "How remarkably vague."

Laughter rippled through the room. Carter's face burned.

A Gold-class student in the front—a guy with perfect hair and an expensive watch—spoke up without raising his hand. "Come on, we all know what happened. Grace had a breakdown. Couldn't handle the pressure. Ran away to 'find himself' or whatever excuse weaklings use."

More laughter. Louder this time.

Raina Volkov leaned forward in her seat. "I heard he was in rehab. Pills, wasn't it?"

"I heard it was alcohol," someone else added.

"I heard he tried to—" another voice started.

"Enough." Kane's single word cut through the noise like a blade. The room went silent. "Speculation is beneath us. We deal in facts, not gossip."

He turned back to Carter with a stern look, and somehow that was worse than the mockery.

"Mr. Grace, let me explain something about how this academy works since it seems you have forgotten. Every student here signed a contract. In that contract, you agreed to maintain a minimum level of engagement, content production, and public presence. You agreed to this because the academy's reputation is built on your success. When you fail, we all fail."

Carter felt like the walls were closing in.

Kane pulled up another display. "In three days, we have our quarterly Evaluation. Every student's online presence will be analyzed. The results determine not just your Rep score, but your class status, your access to resources, and in some cases, your continued enrollment."

The Protocol finally caught up, displaying information that made Carter's blood run cold.

QUARTERLY EVALUATION – 72 HOURS

MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS FOR SILVER CLASS:

- 50K COMBINED SOCIAL MEDIA FOLLOWERS

- 5% AVERAGE ENGAGEMENT RATE

- MINIMUM 10 POSTS IN LAST 30 DAYS

- AT LEAST 1 BRAND PARTNERSHIP OR SPONSORSHIP

WARNING: OWEN'S ACCOUNTS CURRENTLY DO NOT MEET THESE REQUIREMENTS

PROJECTED OUTCOME: DEMOTION TO BRONZE CLASS.

Carter's mind reeled. Fifty thousand followers? Owen's accounts had been dormant for six months. Whatever followers he'd had were probably ghost accounts by now. And engagement rate? You couldn't have engagement without content, and there'd been no content.

"I can see from your expression, Mr. Grace, that you're aware of the problem." Kane's voice was almost gentle, which made it more terrifying. "You've been gone for six months. Your accounts are dead. Your followers have moved on. And in three days, you'll be evaluated alongside students who have been working every single day to build their presence."

Liam Cross spoke up again, his voice dripping with false concern. "Professor, is it even possible to recover from that kind of deficit in three days?"

Kane looked at Liam, then back at Carter. "Theoretically, yes. If Mr. Grace produced exceptional content and If he leveraged existing relationships with high-profile students, he could do it. But realistically?" He paused. "The odds are not in his favor."

A Silver-class girl Carter didn't recognize raised her hand. "What happens if someone fails the Evaluation? If they don't meet the minimum requirements?"

"Excellent question, Ms. Park." Kane pulled up another display showing the academy's class structure. "Failure to meet minimum requirements results in immediate demotion. Silver to Bronze. Bronze to..." He smiled. "Well, Bronze students who fail are placed on academic probation. If they fail the next quarterly Evaluation, they're expelled."

The room was completely silent now.

“But there’s another consequence, one that’s not official but far worse,” Kane said, his eyes moving across the room. “When you fall, everyone sees it. Your name drops on the Beacon for all to notice, and the people who used to call you a friend start keeping their distance because no one wants to be linked to failure. Brands cut you off, opportunities disappear, and climbing back up becomes almost impossible because everyone already sees you as someone who couldn’t handle the pressure.”

Carter’s hands trembled under the desk. Three days. He had three days to build a social media presence from nothing, in a world where he didn’t even know Owen’s passwords, using accounts he had never touched, for an audience that didn’t even know he existed.

Raina Volkov raised her hand, and Kane nodded at her.

"Professor, I'm curious about something." Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were malicious. "Owen Grace comes from one of the wealthiest families in the country. His father controls a media empire. Couldn't he just... I don't know... buy his way through the Evaluation? Fake followers, paid engagement, that sort of thing?"

Carter's stomach dropped. She was baiting him. Setting a trap.

Kane’s smile turned darker as he replied, “A sharp observation, Ms. Volkov. Yes, it’s possible to fake your numbers. Some students have tried it before.” He paused, letting the tension hang. “But our analytics team is advanced. They can spot fake followers, bot activity, paid trends—anything that isn’t real. And anyone caught trying to cheat the Evaluation is expelled on the spot. No warnings, no second chances.”

His gaze fixed on Carter. “So while Mr. Grace does have resources available to him, I’d suggest he use them carefully. Authenticity, or at least the illusion of it, is everything.”

The word “authenticity” felt almost like a joke coming from Kane, especially after everything he’d said earlier.

A Bronze-class student in the back, emboldened by the spectacle, called out without raising his hand. "Yo, Grace, didn't you used to date Vivienne Cross? And didn't she blow up on TikTak last month? Hit like two million followers? Maybe you could—"

"Maybe I could what?" Carter snapped, his frustration finally breaking through. "Use my ex-girlfriend for clout? Is that what you're suggesting?"

The student shrank back. "I mean, people do it all the time here..."

And that's when Carter realized the full horror of where he was. This place didn't just encourage using people—it required it. Relationships weren't relationships. They were strategic partnerships.

Liam Cross stood again, his jaw tight. “Professor, about what you said earlier, that a few high-profile students could help Owen pass the Evaluation...I’d like to say that no one should even think about helping that bastard. He had every chance already and threw it all away. Now he comes crawling back, hoping someone else will carry him across the line?”

He looked around the room, voice rising. “Some of us have been fighting for every scrap of recognition we get. We don’t have rich parents or a family name to fall back on. We earn everything ourselves. And now we’re supposed to hand him another lifeline? Not this time.”

The room erupted in agreement. Students were calling out, their voices overlapping.

"He doesn't deserve to be here!"

"Some of us are actually trying!"

"Why should he get special treatment?"

Carter looked desperately toward Kane, hoping the professor would shut this down like he had earlier. But Kane just stood there, arms crossed, watching with what looked like mild interest. Almost like he was enjoying it.

Raina stood, her voice sharp and clear. “Professor Kane, I have a question. Has anyone ever recovered from a deficit like this? Has any student ever gone from Owen’s current position to passing the Evaluation in just three days?”

Kane glanced at his tablet. “In the academy’s twelve-year history? Yes. Twice. Both cases were extreme. One student staged a public confrontation with a celebrity that went viral. The other leaked a scandal about a rival school. Both passed, but both also made permanent enemies in the process."

"So it's possible," Raina said, "but it requires doing something desperate. Something that will get you in trouble."

"Precisely, Ms. Volkov."

She turned to look at Carter, her expression unreadable as she said, "Good luck with that, Grace. I'm sure you'll figure something out. You always were good at burning bridges."

The Protocol managed to display one piece of information before glitching out completely:

RAINA VOLKOV: HOSTILE

The Protocol then noted that Owen betrayed her in a previous collaboration, which cost her a major sponsorship deal. "Great," Carter whisperee to himself. Another person Owen had screwed over. Another enemy Carter had inherited just like that.

Carter tried to speak, to defend himself, but his voice came out weak. "I'm not—I didn't—"

"You didn't what?" Liam cut him off. "Didn't abandon everyone who was counting on you? Didn't disappear when things got hard? Come on, Grace. At least own it."

The mockery was relentless now. Students were laughing, some filming on their phones, already talking about how this moment would play on their social media. Content. Everything was content.

Carter's hands clenched into fists under the desk. He wanted to stand up, to shout at them, to tell them they didn't know anything about what he was going through. But he couldn't. Because they were right. Owen had abandoned people. Owen had burned bridges. And now Carter was paying for sins he hadn't committed.

Kane finally spoke, his voice cutting through the chaos with effortless authority. "That's enough." The room fell silent immediately. "While I appreciate the passion, let's remember that Mr. Grace's failure or success is ultimately his own concern. You should be focusing on your own Evaluations, not his."

He turned to Carter. "Mr. Grace, you're dismissed. I suggest you spend the next seventy-two hours very productively. Because if you don't meet the minimum requirements on Friday, you will be demoted to Bronze class. And given your current trajectory, I'd say Bronze class would be reasonable. There are students in this room who would kill for your family connections, your resources, your last name. Don't waste them."

Carter stood on shaking legs. The Protocol was still glitching. He could feel every eye in the room on him as he made his way to the aisle. Laughter followed Carter out of the room.

He made it to the hallway before his legs gave out. He caught himself against the wall, breathing hard, his vision swimming with glitching text and error messages.

The Protocol finally rebooted enough to display a message:

SOCIAL THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL

REPUTATION DAMAGE: SEVERE

EVALUATION DEADLINE: 72 HOURS

CURRENT PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 0.0000002 %

RECOMMENDATION: EMERGENCY MEASURES REQUIRED

Carter's phone vibrated, and he looked down to see a text from Reginald.

"I watched the live feed from Kane's class. Get back to your room. We need to talk. Now."

Carter pushed off the wall and started walking, his mind reeling. Three days. He had three days to build a social media presence from nothing, navigate a school full of people who hated Owen Grace, and somehow pass an Evaluation that seemed designed to destroy him.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, one thought kept repeating:

‘What the hell did Owen do to these people? And how am I supposed to fix it?’