Chapter 2: The World Is Watching

The next day was the usual opening ceremony, with a parade of local dignitaries giving speeches. They droned on all morning, and most students were half-asleep. Maybe out of boredom, Maddy started chatting with that man in her head. It was weird.

From their talk, I learned this so-called world isn’t real. Except for Quinn Mason and Maddy, who entered with their consciousness, everyone else is just data. Wild.

It was like finding out you’re living in a Truman Show rerun—everyone else is an extra, and you’re the only one who doesn’t know the script.

Originally, this world was supposed to be a place for justice, but over time, it got totally corrupted.

Here, the rich control everything!

The script is written by Maddy, and everyone else’s data is tailored to fit her story. Quinn Mason, who can’t be scripted, can be controlled by Maddy. Brutal.

Yesterday’s order was just a small part of the script: the “sugar baby” accusation.

No wonder everything here is so nuts.

All the poor people have twisted values. Supposedly top students, but nobody studies—just cares about who’s carrying what brand of bag. Supposedly promising advisors, but they’ll bend the rules for a little perk. Supposedly parents who worked hard to raise their only daughter, but they’re shallow, and for a little pride, take huge risks—using other people’s cars and houses to show off.

The rich, meanwhile, are low-key and humble, never picking fights, just waiting for the poor to self-destruct and then destroying them when the crowd’s anger peaks.

It’s like the whole place is a funhouse mirror—everything warped, everyone acting out someone else’s fantasy of American life. Nothing feels real, but the consequences sure do.

I wonder if, as a consciousness out of control, Maddy can still win the crowd’s hearts!

In the afternoon, orientation drills started.

In the previous timeline, Quinn Mason faked a doctor’s note to skip. She partied every day, posting on Insta to show off and irritate people.

I’d already shredded that note after taking over.

I wasn’t under her spell, so of course I did the drills honestly.

Surprisingly, during the afternoon session, because I toughed it out, the instructor joked that I was tough as nails. Not bad.

Maybe it was a little inspiring—later, I heard the man report to Maddy that my support rating had gone up, from fifteen to nineteen percent.

I caught a few classmates giving me nods of respect. It felt weirdly good to earn something for once, even if it was just sweat and sore muscles.

Then, I listened to Maddy cursing me in her head for hours.

She kept repeating the same insults—her vocabulary is seriously lacking.

It was almost funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic. Girl needs a thesaurus.

Maybe because she was so busy cursing, she lost focus, kept messing up, got called out for extra drills, looked bad, and her support rating actually dropped two points.

But the wild thing is, even after dropping two, she still had thirty-five percent.

This crowd has no taste!

From the man’s words, I learned another rule: after six months, there’s a judgment. Whoever’s support rating is above fifty percent, the other is found guilty and gets fifty years in prison. No pressure, right?

As for the specific crime, they’ll make something up.

I pictured myself in an orange jumpsuit, trying to explain to my cellmate how I got here. “It’s complicated.”

After dinner, Maddy went to the back gate.

Before leaving, she shot me a look, clearly confident.

I said I was headed to the campus market, dragging Felicia Yang along a little later.

“Quinny, look! Isn’t that Maddy?”

Felicia and I watched the classic scene: the butler delivering skincare in a luxury car.

At that moment, something inside tried to force me to take a photo. I didn’t fight it.

I pulled out an old flip phone from my pocket—no camera.

The force vanished.

That’s how you beat magic with physics.

In the last life, Quinn Mason snapped a pic and posted it online, claiming Maddy was being kept, then bullied her in the dorm, leading the others to isolate her.

Maddy didn’t explain—she just said, “I didn’t do anything.”

Now it’s obvious: innocence doesn’t matter. The outside crowd sees everything. Only the support rating matters.

Felicia snapped a bunch of pics. “Quinny, do you think Maddy... is being kept?”

“From what I’ve seen, she’s not like that.” I said seriously, “She hasn’t said anything. We should respect her privacy. If we’re worried, we can ask—not just gossip.”

Maybe I sounded too straight—Felicia awkwardly agreed and left.

Maddy could play Quinn Mason like a fiddle last time because her cheats were too strong, but she’s not actually that smart.

This time, even though I’m immune to her tricks, I can’t go after her—the crowd is watching everything.

She can mobilize way more social resources than I can. If I go head-to-head, I’ll lose.

So, all I can do is wait—wait for her to make a move, then lay my plans on top.

I stayed out longer, didn’t go back with them. But Felicia couldn’t keep quiet.

Back in the dorm, Maddy wasn’t there.

“Quinny, look.” Sadie handed me her phone.

On the screen was an anonymous post on the campus confessions page: “Who’s this big shot? Is this for real?”

The attached photo was the exact scene of Maddy getting a gift box from the butler. Her face was blurred, but the butler and car were clear.

The comments blew up—gossip and insults everywhere.

It was like watching a wildfire spread—one spark, and the whole place was up in flames.

I immediately spotted an anonymous comment: “Isn’t this Maddy Quinn from Law 101? Looks like she likes older men.”

This comment existed last time too.

It was posted by Maddy herself.

She’d hidden in the bathroom then, and as a wandering spirit, I’d been right there with her.

Many of the nastier comments were also posted by her to stir things up.

Given the whole “audience” and “support rating” thing, I’m sure scenes like the bathroom or shower aren’t visible to the crowd—otherwise she wouldn’t dare.

“Felicia, what happened?” I frowned.

Felicia stammered, “It wasn’t me. I was just curious who the guy was, so I sent the blurred pic to some friends to see if they knew. Who knew someone would post it online...”

“What do we do? Will Maddy... come after us?” Sadie looked panicked.

I put my arm around Sadie. “Don’t worry. My gut says Maddy’s not like that. We’re the last people who should attack her like those folks online.”

Felicia ducked behind her curtain. “But she still has to explain. Otherwise, who wouldn’t wonder?”

“What! Twenty-three percent? Are you kidding me? That bitch’s support rating didn’t drop—it went up?”

Hearing Maddy’s outburst, I knew she was back. I’d tested it: only when I’m within about sixty feet can I hear her thoughts.

“This—” the man said, nervous, “Miss Yang, I can only give you special abilities and real-time support checks. I can’t check anything else.”

“So what now?”

“Let’s wait and see. The post is up—logically, her support shouldn’t...”

It seems, after so many easy wins, they got cocky and didn’t set up a backup plan.

But how is my support rating rising? I still need hers to fall.

Maddy came in, furious. Sadie glanced at her and shrank back into bed.

Felicia yanked open her curtain: “Maddy, today Quinny and I saw you at the back gate, getting something from an old guy in a luxury car. What’s your relationship?”

Maddy glared at me. “So you posted that, huh? Don’t think just because you’re shady, everyone else is too!”

“Maddy, you’ve got it wrong.” I walked over and, catching her off guard, hugged her, gently patting her back. “You must feel awful after what happened. Don’t be upset—I believe you, and I’ll help you.”

She froze. She looked totally thrown.

But she was still herself, and shoved me away. I hit the desk with a thud.

The desk rattled, my pride bruised more than my hip. I tried to play it off, but my cheeks burned.

“Maddy, you...” I looked at her, hurt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything.”

Felicia helped me up, muttering, “You really have no self-respect. Even now you’re nice to someone who just knocked you down. Some people never change!”

Maddy muttered under her breath, “Stop pretending...”

That man’s voice again: “Miss Yang, your support rating dropped eight points—it’s at twenty-seven now. Quinn’s... rose five, now at twenty-eight.”

I saw Maddy’s face twist.

Then she screamed in her mind: “Why? Why the hell? That bitch did the photo rumor—why did her support go up? Why did mine drop? What is wrong with these people?”

The man said, “Miss Yang, calm down! Your support can’t go lower—you know the consequences!”

Reminded, Maddy took a breath and composed herself.

She stared into my eyes. “Quinny, sorry, I’m not used to people hugging me.”

Her dark eyes were like a deep pool, trying to drown my mind.

She’s trying to use her cheat again!

I slipped my hand into my pocket, fought the urge to insult her, and smiled. “It’s nothing, I get it. You’re just in a rough spot.”

Seeing I wasn’t affected, Maddy kept trying, acting all emotional.

“Quinny! You’re so sweet.”

“Maddy! Don’t be sad,” I replied gently.

We stared at each other with fake affection.

The awkwardness was so thick, Sadie and Felicia curled their toes in secondhand embarrassment.

Actually, I was screaming inside. It hurt!

To resist her, I was stabbing my palm with a thumbtack, blood welling up. Good thing the orientation T-shirt was dark enough to hide it.

But Maddy’s power failed. She panicked, cursing the man in her mind, calling him a fraud.

In the end, Maddy didn’t reveal her real family—just said it was a distant relative dropping off sunscreen.

Felicia, already feeling guilty, let it go.

This time, I just made Maddy lose some “blood.” The first move is set—just waiting for the right time.

After repeated failures, Maddy’s trust in that man tanked. They barely spoke for two weeks, so I got no new info.