The atmosphere at St. Margaret’s had turned cold. The National Mock Exam results were being posted, and the air in the main hall was thick with the scent of nervous sweat and ink.
Madison stood at the front of the crowd, her face a mask of stone.
1. Arisaka, Ren – 498/500
2. Glose, Madison – 495/500
A three-point difference. To anyone else, it was a victory. To Madison’s father, who had already sent a "disappointed" text message, it was a failure. To her classmates, it was proof that she was a machine that had slightly malfunctioned.
"Three points, Madison-san?" a rival student sneered softly. "Maybe you're spending too much time 'resting' lately."
Madison didn't respond. She walked to her desk, sat down, and opened her textbook. But for the first time, the numbers on the page didn't make sense. They looked like static. All she could think about was Floor 82. All she wanted was to be Asuna—someone who fought monsters with a sword, not someone who fought for decimal points in a hallway.
The Breakdown
By the time she got home to the Skyline Apartments, Madison was vibrating with suppressed stress. She didn't even change out of her uniform. She threw her bag on the floor, put on her headset, and dove into the game.
But she wasn't playing to win. She was playing angry.
She was in a high-level field area, swinging her rapier at monsters far above her level. Her movements were jagged, desperate. She was taking damage she shouldn't have been taking.
Thump-thump-thump.
The wall. Chris was knocking. Madison ignored it.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.
"Madison! Stop!" Chris’s voice shouted from the other side. "I can hear your keyboard from here! You're going to break something!"
Madison ripped her headset off, her chest heaving. "Go away, Chris! I have to level up! I have to be better! I'm already failing at school, I can't fail here too!"
A moment later, her front door clicked. (She had given him a spare key 'for emergencies,' which mostly meant 'for pastry deliveries'). Chris walked into her room, but he didn't look at her monitors. He looked at her. She was still in her school blazer, her eyes red-rimmed behind her glasses.
"You got 495 out of 500, Madison," Chris said softly, standing by the door. "That’s not failing. That’s incredible."
"It's second place," she snapped, her voice cracking. "Second place is just the first person to lose. In the game, if you're second, you're dead. The boss doesn't care if you almost won."
The Reality Check
Chris walked over and did something bold. He reached down and turned off her monitors. The blue glow vanished, leaving the room in the warm, orange light of her desk lamp.
"This isn't Aincrad, Madison," Chris said firmly. "There is no 'Game Over' for getting a 99% on a test. And you aren't a Solo Player. You’re human."
He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small, warm bundle wrapped in parchment paper. "I made these for the Exam celebration, but I think you need them now. Mille-feuille. A thousand layers. Just like all the pressure you're putting on yourself."
Madison looked at the pastry, then up at Chris. The "Ice Queen" mask finally shattered. She leaned her head against his chest and started to cry—not about the test, but about the exhaustion of having to be "Level 99" in two different worlds at once.
Chris didn't say anything. He just stood there, letting her ruin his hoodie with tears, his hand resting awkwardly but comfortingly on her shoulder.
"You don't have to be the Goddess today," he whispered. "You can just be the girl who likes bread and swords."
Madison took a shaky breath, the scent of vanilla and sugar from his clothes calming her heart. For the first time, being "Rank #2" didn't feel like a cage. It felt like a job she did during the day, so she could come home to the person who actually knew her name.
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and then Add to home screen.