In a Civilized Manner

The atmosphere in the room was pressing, to say the least.

Edris kept his poker face intact, pretending to be fully attentive to the discussion that, truthfully, he had no idea about. He leaned back on his armchair, fingers drumming lightly on the table.

Including himself, everyone in the room wore a long, dark robe, its hood drooping over half of their faces. Perhaps because he already had a robe, Edris realised that he’d remained in the same clothes he’d worn prior to being pulled into the Labyrinth.

The people aside, his eyes fell on a familiar, ugly-looking symbol engraved on the corner of the board.

“...”

Edris blinked twice.

Although he’d hate to admit it, there was no mistaking it.

The symbol was the one he’d half-heartedly scribbled on and handed around the room back when they had the [FINAL EXAM]. He and Ives decided to use a random marking for the latter to establish her [SECRET ORGANIZATION] in order to complete her [MAIN QUEST].

Who would have thought that he’d one day see a continuation?

“As we all know, after the events from the first year, the [FINAL EXAM] was cancelled for the first time in MW history,” No. 39 said. “But that didn't stop the Academy. Protests emerged, waves of students were expelled… Even students like No. 1 and No. 12 became sacrifices to their schemes.”

As she said that, No. 39 curled her hands into fists. The others in the room lowered their heads in mourning.

“Yet, here we are.” She gritted her teeth. “The system persisted, but so did we. Revolution is harder than it seems. But it’s time—three years of planning have led to this moment.”

Edris’s brows furrowed ever so subtly. He was wondering how the Labyrinth would readapt Celio and Ives’s stories, now that the two were no longer here.

To think the Labyrinth would just kill them off and frame them as martyrs for the cause…

He glanced discreetly at Ace, who sat a few seats over, also playing his part. The two shared a fleeting glance, the absurdity of the current situation passing silently between them.

From what he’d gathered so far, Edris’s role this time around was that of a “spy” for a literal [SECRET ORGANIZATION] first founded by Ives and now led by No. 39, a player who’d been on amicable terms with the seven-year-old but ended up becoming assimilated in the last Labyrinth.

Currently, that person was detailing plans for their final mission—how to infiltrate MW Academy and bomb the tower for a second time.

Releasing a small exhale, No. 39 turned to Ace.

“Thank you for offering us your support,” she said, her voice calm but intense. “Your father’s legacy lives on in you. I know Professor 004’s passing wasn’t easy to handle.”

Ace’s face remained blank, but Edris choked on his own air at the words coming out of the woman’s mouth.

Whose father now?

He shot a quick look at the white-haired man, whose features gave nothing away.

Confronted with the confused looks delivered towards him from the others in the room, Edris covered his reaction with a nod, clearing his throat.

“Sentimental,” he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips.

He barely managed to stifle a laugh at the absurd turn of events. Just a little over a week in the real world, and three years in the Labyrinth had turned them into traitors, and Ace was his own father’s legacy?

No. 39 ignored the blatant awkwardness, her focus returning to the plan. “Graduation day is in three days. That’s when the revolution begins.”

She stood up and leaned over the table, unfurling a leather scroll onto the surface. On the scroll was a detailed illustration of the entire MW campus, marked by the legend on the side.

“Remember these spots,” she said, pointing to the blots of black on the scroll. “These are the blind spots outside of the Shadows’ patrol route. These will be key to the success of our plan’s execution.”

She glimpsed up through her bangs, sharp eyes surveying the room of people.

“MW cannot exist,” she said, tone absolute. “The day of graduation will be the day for true revolution. It will be a day that will go down in history.”

“If only 112 was here…” One of the members muttered under his breath, only for the person beside him to nudge him at the elbow.

No. 39 eyed the two in cold silence. Edris took in her reaction, noting her hands, which had curled into fists.

“No. 112 had been too optimistic,” she stated sternly. “Three years ago, she still had faith in this school. We all did. But times and times over, all the Academy returned to us was disappointment. That’s why I’ve reached this conclusion—MW needs to go down.

“MW Academy will fall. And when it does, we will rebuild from the ashes.”

The room stood, fists in the air.

“Down with MW Academy!” the group roared, a momentum that swept up Edris, who instinctively followed the wave as well. He shot a brief glance at Ace, who met his gaze before looking away in what seemed like disappointment.

“Down with the Academy!” Edris echoed with the rest, slipping into his role like second nature.

***

MW ACADEMY. LABYRINTH 53.

After changing back into their maroon uniforms, Edris and Ace snuck into the auditorium through a side door using the [SWAP PORTAL] card, a tool which had become normalized in this version of the Labyrinth even among the natives.

They swapped places with a hidden item on campus, an advantage they’d been instructed to use carefully by No. 39. It was their last card, they were told; after this, they were on their own.

As they blended into the crowd of students heading into the pre-graduation assembly, memories flooded back into Edris’s head like a deluge.

His speculations were on point: Mia’s Playroom really did act as a buffer for complete amnesia. Now that he was back in the same environment, he immediately felt a sinking sense of familiarity.

The grand auditorium stretched wide, its vaulted ceiling arching like the ribs of some colossal beast. Rows upon rows of students filled up the seats in silence, their maroon uniforms muted against the dark, polished wood of the seating.

The once vibrant colours now seemed to blur into a sea of dull fabric, barely distinguishable from the sombre tones of the room. Faces, once fresh with curiosity and anticipation, now looked hollow and bleak, their expressions weighed down by something far heavier than mere exhaustion.

Edris leaned back against his chair, his gaze sweeping across the room. The air was thick, almost suffocating in its stillness. It was unsettling, even more than he remembered.

Perhaps it was the unspoken weight of three long years, but the atmosphere was far more oppressive than when they’d first stood here as “first-years”.

Back then, despite the strangeness, there had been a sense of anticipation—hope, even from both players and natives. But now, the same students who had once brimmed with potential and determination seemed faded, their spirits worn thin by whatever horrors the Labyrinth had forced them to endure.

Edris briefly wondered if it was the nature of the Labyrinth that had changed, its challenges growing crueller, or if it was simply that time and hardship had drained them all dry.

The sound of shuffling feet and low whispers filled the air as the last few students took their seats, but no one spoke louder than they had to.

No laughter, no idle chatter. Just silence.

Edris couldn’t help but shake his head. It had only been just over a week in the real world since they had escaped, yet here they were, three years later in the Labyrinth, about to “graduate”.

On the stage was someone he recognized all too well. Moss approached the podium with long strides; his composed voice carried over the auditorium, confident and assured.

Unlike the student body, it was as if the last three years had barely left a mark on him.

Edris quickly opened his [PROFILE], scanning through the details. The role descriptions were gone, as were the initial quests and rankings. Instead, the only thing left was the [MAIN QUEST]:

MAIN QUEST:

Complete your final journey as a student of MW Academy!

TIME LIMIT: 00:70:45:31

NOTE: To optimise [PLAYER] experience, in the final hour, all Labyrinth restrictions, including mana usage, will be lifted!

Ace leaned over slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “The [MAIN QUEST] seem to be the same,” he observed, sending his own [PROFILE] information his way.

“Time limit,” Edris noted under his breath. “Three days.”

“It’s uniformed across the players,” Ace confirmed with a glance at his own display interface.

Moss’s voice cut through their quiet conversation.

“Three days from now will be your big day; it will be your last moments as students of MW Academy,” he announced, standing beneath the imposing mosaic window that cast a blood-red hue over the vast room. “I hope you all cherish these next three days before you move on from this safe haven into a society that is much crueller in nature.”

Edris regarded the man closely. Three years had passed, and Moss looked even more put together than he remembered.

His emerald-green hair had grown past his shoulders, neatly tied back into a sleek ponytail, and his features were framed by silver-rimmed glasses that had since been upgraded to gold. Not a single speck of dust was found on his dark robe, hanging with the kind of calculated elegance that only came with a high level of self-control.

Behind Moss stood Aureolin and Sky, two other professors Edris remembered well.

Sky’s handheld mirror shimmered under the dim lighting, his gaze cold and unreadable as he appreciated himself in the mirror. Aureolin, with her bright eyes and flamboyant fedora, stood with chin high, exuding her usual air of lively confidence.

Moss continued to address the students, but his attention wandered to the stage, where Aureolin and Sky stood behind him. There was no sign of Magenta, which struck him as odd, as she had always been the unspoken leader of the four professors.

Edris took in the room around him. The students were listening attentively, but their faces betrayed less confusion than before.

Returning players, just like him and Ace.

"Final exams have ended," Moss continued, his voice cutting through his thoughts. "You are free to explore and relive your final moments at MW Academy until graduation in three days."

According to the [MAIN QUEST], all they had to do was live through the next three days and graduate. Simple. Yet Edris, and probably most players here, knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

H was amidst his thoughts when he felt an abrupt heaviness on his hand. Edris glanced down to see that a mask had appeared out of nowhere, birch wood texture weighing at his grip.

He exchanged a look with Ace, who now also held the same mask in his own hand, a phenomenon that befell the entire student body simultaneously.

“For the next three days, you are to wear this mask at all times.” Moss’s voice cut through the murmur of confusion. “You may remove it only in designated [GREEN ZONES] and during curfew. The purpose of this is for you to enjoy yourself solely as a student of MW Academy. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Now, please put on the mask.”