Chapter 1

The official announcement page for the National Coding Competition glowed on my monitor, the list of winners a testament to years of investment. My company, a leader in the tech industry, had poured resources into two prodigies, Sarah and Emily. I watched them grow, mentored them myself, and gave them access to labs and technology most professionals could only dream of.

And they delivered.

Right there, under the grand prize winners, were their names. It was more than just a win, it was their golden ticket. Coupled with their early acceptance letters, this meant they were both heading to MIT, the same top-tier program I was set on attending. One was a coding genius, the other a robotics whiz. They were supposed to be my future partners, the cornerstones of the next generation of our company. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled my chest. My family' s investment, my personal time, it had all paid off.

Then the email came. It was a forward from my father's assistant, a notification from the MIT admissions office.

Sarah and Emily had both chosen to defer their admission.

I felt a knot form in my stomach. It made no sense. They had reached the pinnacle, the goal we had all worked toward for years. I scrolled through the competition' s lower-tier results, looking for a reason, any reason at all. And then I found it. They had re-enrolled in another, much smaller competition, one for a junior developer position. A position light-years beneath their skill level.

They were doing it for a guy named Alex. A charismatic but unremarkable developer from a humble background who had somehow caught their attention.

I found them in the main lab, huddled together, their faces lit by a shared screen. They looked up as I approached, their smiles bright but somehow hollow.

"Ethan! Did you see the news?" Sarah asked, her voice cheerful.

"I saw you deferred MIT," I said, keeping my tone level. "I also see you've re-enrolled in the junior dev competition. I don't understand."

Emily gave a small, gentle-looking shrug. "It's a new challenge, Ethan. We want to test our skills in a different environment."

"A junior developer role isn't a challenge for you," I said directly. "It's a step backward. A massive one. You're throwing away a guaranteed future at the best tech university in the world for... what? A small-time competition?"

I was about to lay into them, to remind them of the contracts they signed, of the years of support my family had given them, of the future they were about to destroy. I opened my mouth to speak, to caution them, to tell them they were making a monumental mistake.

But the words never came out.

A shimmering, holographic text box materialized in the air right in front of my face. It was translucent, blue, and hummed with a low, synthetic energy that only I seemed to see.

If the male lead continues to interfere, the female leads will conspire to lose his competition entry, causing him to trip and fall from the stage, resulting in a career-ending injury.

My blood ran cold. I blinked, but the text remained, stark and unwavering. Another line of text appeared beneath it, this one tinged with a scornful red.

He deserves it! Anyone who obstructs the plot will face dire consequences!

Male lead? Plot? It sounded like something out of a cheap web novel. But the vision that flashed behind my eyes felt terrifyingly real. I saw myself on a brightly lit stage, my name being called. I saw Sarah and Emily in the wings, a shared, cold look on their faces. I saw a cable stretched taut across the floor. I saw myself trip, a fall that was too fast, too brutal. The snap of bone, the searing pain in my leg, the darkness.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I swallowed the words I was about to say. My future. My career. These two, who had been raised on my family' s money and resources, were somehow tied to a "plot" that could ruin me. I couldn't let that happen.

I took a deep breath and forced a neutral expression onto my face.

"If you've made up your minds," I said, the words feeling like ash in my mouth, "then go back to the competition."

They exchanged a quick, triumphant glance.

"We knew you'd understand, Ethan," Sarah said, her smile returning, genuine this time.

But they forgot one crucial thing. Without my family's company, without the top-tier mentorship, the cutting-edge tech, the private servers, and the proprietary algorithms they had been using for years, they were not prodigies. They were just two smart girls who were about to find out what it was like to compete on their own.