CHAPTER 142: WEIRD DUDE

CLARK POV

Memoville.

I had finally arrived. And no—the pictures on the web hadn’t lied. It was grand. It was beautiful. Castle-like buildings stood like monuments to some ancient, arcane legacy. The architecture blended gothic spires and modern glass in a way that felt like something out of a fantasy novel. Whoever designed it, they were a genius—or a lunatic. Possibly both.

Buses rolled in and out of the looped driveway, dropping off dozens of fresh-faced students. Luggage clanked against stone pavements, suitcases rolled over cobblestone paths, and students snapped photos like they were visiting Hogwarts. But underneath the buzz of excitement, laughter, and orientation chatter... something felt off.

It wasn’t anything visible or concrete. No one screamed. No one stared. But my skin prickled.

You know that feeling when you’re walking alone, and your gut tells you someone’s behind you—someone bad? That subtle electric tension pulling at the back of your neck? That’s what it felt like the entire time we passed through the main gates. Like the shadows were watching. Like the walls had eyes.

Sara, of course, was all smiles and energy, tugging my arm as we moved through the throng. "Come on, Clark! We need to get to the admissions block before the line gets crazy."

I smiled for her sake. Grinned where I could. Laughed once when she made a bad joke about student IDs being soul tags. But inside? I was grinding my teeth. The feeling wasn’t going away. Every step I took on Memoville soil only made it stronger.

I told myself I was just tired. That it was the travel. That being far from Clare—really far—was starting to mess with me. My twin and I had never been apart like this. Maybe it was just separation anxiety. Or maybe I was paranoid. Overthinking again. Like Clare always said: "You make shadows out of butterflies."

Still... I couldn’t ignore it.

And speaking of ignoring things—I couldn’t ignore my most urgent task either. Now that I was finally in Memoville, I had a short window before the system locked down access and synced all data to physical ID cards.

I had to hack into their system before registration.

Yeah, I know how it sounds. Crazy. Illegal. Stupid. But it was already done—technically. I’d swapped my and Clare’s admission data a week ago, before the final files were printed. All that was left was making sure my hacked credentials synced into the system here on-site, through their internal network. If I didn’t, someone might notice the mismatch. And if they did...

Well, let’s just say getting expelled for impersonation on day one would really ruin the semester.

I gripped the strap of my backpack. My laptop was in there. Preloaded. Ready to go.

Sara was pulling me toward the archway entrance where dozens of new students were crowding beneath a large black and gold banner that read: "WELCOME TO MEMOVILLE — SHAPE YOUR FUTURE."

Perfect. All I needed was some privacy, a secure connection, and five minutes. Ten, tops.

"Hey, Sara," I said, stopping abruptly. She turned around, slightly breathless.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh... I forgot I need to make a quick call. Before Mom has a panic attack." I gave her the sheepish smile I’d perfected.

Sara tilted her head. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, she’s just been... having high blood pressure stuff lately," I lied. "She was already freaking out about me leaving. I promised to let her know the second I landed safely. She’ll totally blow up if I don’t call soon."

Her face softened immediately. "Aww, that’s so sweet. Yeah, definitely go call her. Tell her you made it in one piece."

"Thanks," I said, gripping the strap of my backpack tighter. "I’ll meet you at the admissions block in a bit."

"I’ll be waiting!" she said with a wink and vanished into the crowd.

As soon as she was out of sight, I darted left, past a row of bushes and onto a side path that twisted around one of the older buildings. The atmosphere shifted immediately. The noise of the students faded, swallowed by the tall, ivy-covered stone walls and rustling trees.

I found a bench tucked into an alcove—probably a smoking spot or old reading nook—and yanked my laptop out. My fingers flew. I’d already mapped out the Wi-Fi handshake protocol. All I needed now was access to the registrar’s subdirectory and a few file pushes to update my student record.

Piece of cake.

At least, it should’ve been.

I connected to the network. Immediately, my laptop screen flickered once, twice.

UNSECURE CONNECTION DETECTED.

Not unusual. Public networks throw that kind of warning all the time. But this one came with a secondary flag: ENCRYPTED FIREWALL BREACH ATTEMPT BLOCKED.

That was new.

I frowned and reran the script. No dice.

Tried again.

Still nothing.

I cursed under my breath, fingers clenching. It had been five minutes, and I was getting nowhere. The Wi-Fi encryption here was insane—definitely not standard WPA2. This was military-grade nonsense. It was like trying to punch through a digital brick wall. Who the hell makes their campus Wi-Fi this secure? It’s just Wi-Fi, not a CIA database.

Frustrated, I leaned back, exhaling through my teeth. If I just knew the password, I could bypass this crap altogether. Even the banks back home had laxer protocols. What exactly were they trying to hide?

My thoughts were a whirlwind of irritation and worry—mostly about getting caught.

That’s when I heard it.

A voice. Deep. Hoarse. Like gravel scraped across metal.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

I froze.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

It wasn’t just the tone—it was the weight behind it. Like whoever had spoken wasn’t asking a question, but issuing a challenge. That voice had an authority that gripped the spine and squeezed.

I turned slowly, heart thudding, expecting to see some university official, security guard, or worse—someone from IT who’d tracked my intrusion in real time.

But what I saw made my breath catch.

He wasn’t an official.

He looked maybe nineteen or twenty. A student, definitely. Probably a senior. He was tall—too tall. At least 6’4, with broad shoulders that stretched the seams of his black hoodie. His face had that flawless, chiseled look a lot of the natives here seemed blessed with. Cheekbones like sculpted marble. Smooth bronze skin. No blemishes. No stubble.

But it was his eyes that got me.

They were brown—but not normal brown. A faint ring circled his pupils. Yellow. Not gold. Not hazel. Yellow.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. I shifted my head, blinking.

Still there.

And he was staring at me. Hard.

His gaze wasn’t angry, exactly—it was intense. Focused. As if he were studying me like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. But there was something beneath it. Something... hostile.

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "Just, uh... calling my mom. She gets anxious. Blood pressure issues."

He didn’t blink.

"You don’t belong back here," he said, voice low.

The words hit like ice water. Not what he said, but how he said it. Like I’d wandered into sacred ground. Like I’d trespassed where I shouldn’t.

"Yeah, I was just looking for somewhere quiet," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Didn’t mean to intrude."

He took a step closer. Not threateningly—but the way his boots hit the ground made me flinch anyway.

"People don’t come here on their first day," he said. "They go to the admissions building. They follow the crowd."

"Guess I’m not like most people," I said with a weak smile.

Still no blink.

"You should stay with the others. This place... doesn’t like loners."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

But he was already turning away, moving with fluid grace down the path between the buildings. His steps made no sound after the third pace. One moment he was there, the next—gone.

Like he melted into the shadows.

I sat there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty path for a full thirty seconds.

My skin crawled. My stomach clenched.

I wasn’t paranoid now. That wasn’t nothing. That wasn’t imagination. Something was seriously off about this place. And that guy? He knew something. Something he wasn’t telling me.

And the way he’d said "this place doesn’t like loners"...

I looked back at my laptop, still open, the screen flickering again. For a split second, something weird flashed on the screen.

But then again, I was in.

Finally.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

"Fucking yes."

My fingers moved fast. I slipped into the registrar’s directory, bypassed their access logs, and found the student file indexed to Clare. Our birthdays were the same—we were twins, after all—and that was the key. All I needed to do was swap the first name, gender marker, and credentials.

No need to touch the rest.

It was a perfect fit. I was currently seventeen, like her. I’d turn eighteen by the end of my second semester. Everything lined up. All I had to do was make the name Clark replace Clare , change the academic record and details, update the gender to M, and substitute the profile photo. The rest was untouched.

Just a ghost of a switch. Silent and clean.

It took all of five minutes.

I double-checked the changes, encrypted my trace files, and executed the purge protocol to wipe all evidence of the login. The system reset. Smooth as silk.

No one would ever know.

And just like that, Clare was out—and I was officially in.