I spent the next few days asking questions no one wanted to answer.
At first, people brushed me off with forced smiles and muttered excuses. Some even walked away the second I mentioned credits, as if the word itself could harm them. But if you were stubborn enough—and I definitely was—eventually cracks appeared.
A muttered complaint here. A bitter laugh there. A scared look. A helpless shrug.
Everyone knew the system was rigged. Everyone hated it. And yet, everyone played along.
By the time Cali found me wandering between lecture halls with more frustration than answers, I was ready to scream.
“Elise will kill me if she finds out I’m helping,” she whispered, tugging my sleeve, “but I can’t keep watching you run in circles. Come with me. There are a few people willing to talk to you
