Lynae

In Startorch Academy's administrative system, Lynae's truancy record reads more like a colorful fantasy travelogue than a disciplinary file.

While her classmates sat in the lecture hall listening to Professor Mauclair's World Cultural History lecture, Lynae was several kilometers away, perched in a tree carefully reinforcing a nest of newly hatched Kronapuffs. While they drilled combat forms on the training grounds, she was in the Spacetrek Archive, helping a frantic Energy Sciences student recover crucial graduation data from a pile of corrupted files.

The hands once trained to grip weapons and crack security systems now wielded spray cans with the same precise, startling gentleness. Lynae simply couldn't sit still. Her curiosity tugged her from one corner of the Academy to the next, and her reasons for skipping class were always inventive.

"I was helping a senior stop her graduation project from escaping."

"I was recalibrating the cafeteria droid's seasoning algorithms. I may have accidentally triggered a system-wide strike."

"The Rimewisps in the sim pod were showing abnormal spectral fluctuations. Obviously, I had to document it!"

At first, Ms. Voss found it exhausting. That began to change. It changed with the formal commendation from the Engineering Department, crediting Lynae with safeguarding all upcoming frostlands survey equipment during a Void Storm. It changed as the suggestion box began to overflow with thank-you notes addressed to an anonymous "volunteer." It changed when Professor Mauclair, in an Energy Sciences meeting, excitedly presented a set of clear, unprecedented spectral data from a "special observation point," noting: "Provided by an anonymous student. Recommend inclusion in the curriculum."

Faced with Lynae's lengthy, bewildering, yet undeniably brilliant record, Voss could only sigh.

This girl was never in class, yet her presence was felt in every corner of the Academy. It seemed as though she was protecting the place she now called "home," in her own, unconventional way.

"…You still have to write the reflection report, you know."

"…Yes, ma'am."

Head lowered, Lynae shuffled out of the office. Still, her eyes twinkled at the familiar mix of exasperation and fondness in Ms. Voss's eyes.

The harbor at night loomed like a slumbering beast. She stood on the dock, her breath lost to the wind, her grip on the gun absolute. Its dark muzzle held the same cold stillness in her eyes, locked unblinkingly on the figure before her.

Even with the barrel pressed to his forehead, the "target" remained calm. A faint, taunting smile touched his lips as he met her stare.

"We both know this is just a game. And you? You're just a pawn in a much bigger lie."

"Look at you… so professional. But for what? Some fake promise? Put the gun down. Walk away. You could be anyone… anywhere."

"How long do you think you can keep hiding?"

—How long do you think you can keep hiding?

Her heart hammered. A bead of cold sweat rolled down her temple. That numb fear she thought she had long buried seized her once again.

"...Shut up."

Her own voice sounded foreign, hoarse, cracking like a stifled roar. Her finger trembled on the trigger.

"Bang—!"

The shot never left her gun, but a gunshot rang out. Lights blazed on. She flinched. The last bead of sweat fell, landing with a soft tap on the prop gun in her hands.

Then applause surged like a tidal wave.

"Cut! Yes, yes! That's it! Perfect!"

"...Lynae! That was incredible!"

"Arthus, your sound cue was early again!"

Blinking, Lynae looked around as if waking from a dream. The monochrome set began to fade. Color seemed to bleed back into the world, starting from her own palms. Her "target" approached excitedly, his expression no longer threatening but bright with admiration.

"You were amazing! Just like a real secret agent!"

—Of course, she was in the Drama Fan Club, standing in for a senior who had been injured during a field expedition. The play was adapted from a classic New Federation spy film.

Yet for a moment, she had truly felt as if she were…

"Lynae…? Are you okay?"

"…I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile and adding a theatrical wave. "Got a little too into it, hahaha. Blame Annan's script. It's just way too good!"

Laughter and chatter filled the rehearsal room again as members set out to prepare the next scene's set and props. Lynae sat in the corner as the club leader passed her a bottle of soda.

"Lynae, are you sure you don't want to join? Your acting is incredible!" the leader exclaimed, clenching his fists in excitement, "I've already got the perfect role for you at the next time at the Celebration—"

"Sorry, I think I'll pass…"

"Oh… no worries. I know you haven't joined any clubs yet, figured I'd ask. But if you ever want to, you're always welcome! You there, Germain! You can't place that prop like that!"

As the leader sprinted off to rescue the prop, Lynae's fingers tightened around the soda bottle.

—How long do you think you can keep hiding?

The words echoed again, prickling under her skin.

—How long do you think you can really stay here?

She didn't know. She didn't want to think about it.

So all she could do was live in the present and enjoy what was right in front of her.

At first, she dismissed them as phishing emails.

They would arrive without warning. Early in the morning, between classes, late at night, or even in the middle of laughing with friends. Lines of red, indecipherable code would suddenly flash across her Terminal. Seeing it was like having her chest pierced by a sharp needle. It threads itself through her heart, her veins, even her bloodstream itself.

It took time to decode them. But when she finally restored the original message, a chill seized her from head to toe.

The Fractsidus.

Perhaps she had known from the moment she picked up that acceptance letter, but had still clung to a sliver of hope. She chose not to think too much, allowing herself to sink blissfully into a campus life far more beautiful than anything she had ever dared imagine.

—Until that "mission" arrived.

"Infiltrate the Institute's system. Retrieve and alter the parameters of the Hyvatia Detector."

She knew the significance of the New Solar Ceremony to both the Spacetrek Collective and Lahai-Roi, and she knew how critical the Hyvatia Detector was to that event. A massive conspiracy was winding its way through the shadows of Lahai-Roi. In that moment, Lynae understood with chilling clarity: what she chose to do could very well plunge Lahai-Roi into danger. She didn't believe that a runaway mercenary like her could truly threaten an organization as big as the Fractsidus. Still, the thought circled her mind relentlessly, refusing to loosen its grip.

Startorch Academy, the "utopia" beneath the frostlands, had already become her home. How much longer could she turn a blind eye and play at this "school life" with a clear conscience?

Realizing she couldn't hide forever, she made up her mind. It was time for an end.

Step one: sever her role as their "inside person."

Her finger trembled slightly as she hit send. It was the first message she had ever written as the Fractsidus's insider:

"Target data extracted. Hand-off in person."

The attached coordinates pointed to the outskirts of the Voidworm habitat. After the gunshot sounded, the Void Storm would clean up any remaining evidence for her.

Message sent, she leaned against her motorbike and looked up at Lahai-Roi's sky.

The winds had already shifted. And this time, there would be no turning back.

It was meant to be another mission. Gray, black, pale as plaster. Just another task to eliminate several individuals the New Federation had flagged as "potential threats."

Why people who had done nothing threatening still needed to disappear was never a question she was allowed to ask.

She watched the target flee in panic through the dark alley. She was not the only hunter in the dark. Thin red targeting lines wove through the air, converging, locking, before delivering a silent, absolute end.

A harsh, static-laced gasp rasped in her earpiece.

"Don't worry… I'll arrive in Lahai-Roi at the appointed time… Startorch Academy…"

"I will complete… the Grand Architect's… mission…"

Futile resistance.

By the time Lynae approached her, the last trace of life was already gone.

It should have been an ordinary mission.

But this time, something was different. A streak of gold on a fallen acceptance letter caught her eye, like a blot of paint on chalk-white plaster, a sliver of light through a crack. She couldn't look away.

"Lynae"—the name embossed on the sheet felt like fate telling a joke, half lie, half truth. She bent down, brushing away dust and bloodstains. Her dark hair caught the reflected gold, igniting something in her chest that years of numb mercenary work had never been able to extinguish: a longing for freedom.

"Are you Lynae from the New Federation?"

Faced with the teacher's question, she felt a flicker of guilt. She curled a strand of her freshly dyed hair—once dark brown, now a soft pale gold, though she had kept a few strands of her original color—and nodded, summoning her brightest smile.

"Yes."

"No need to be nervous. We know how the New Federation treats Resonators… but here in Lahai-Roi, you're completely free. Every opportunity and every piece of knowledge is open to everyone."

She stayed quiet as the teacher flipped through the student file she had casually filled. She had assumed many disguises for missions, yet none had ever made her feel this tense.

"Hm? The 'Hobbies and Interests' section is blank…"

Not good. She should have written something... Graffiti, maybe? She did enjoy leaving a few flourishes of paint after a mission, a habit picked up from a movie, but a mercenary couldn't leave traces, so she always wiped them clean. Motorcycles, then? Nothing but the wind roaring in her ears as she sped down an open road, leaving a trail of pure, vivid color. Did those even count as "hobbies"?

"It's alright." Seeing her drift into thought, the long-haired woman with the hat closed the file. She smiled and placed a brand-new student ID card into her palm.

"You can take your time discovering them here."

Life after re-enrolling didn't feel all that different from before.

The first morning class still made her nod off despite her best efforts, though she had long mastered the art of feigning studious note-taking just before the teacher's sharp gaze found her. She had already taken this exact class before, written these same notes… So really, her drowsiness was perfectly justified.

Her breaks were still packed: helping Engineering seniors test new engines, crafting flashy "transition effects" for the Drama Fan Club's stage, and yes, still writing the occasional reflection report…

What was different, however, was getting to drag along the person who used to be her "junior" to stand in the cafeteria queue with her, and try out some "new flavors" together.

Since enrollment, he/she had been even busier. This was one of their rare moments together. Now the two of them sat shoulder to shoulder on a bench in Stargram Plaza, sharing a can of the new "Canned Surprise" flavor Lynae had insisted on buying.

In the past, silence would make her anxious. She would rush to fill it with tasks or chatter. Now, it felt warm. Comfortable.

Lynae turned to look at that ever-composed profile beside her, only to see those golden eyes widen slightly after a particularly… surprising taste. She burst out laughing. It reminded her of the first time they met—he/she had worn almost the exact same expression.

Back then, Lynae had no idea whether Rover, who had literally fallen straight from the sky, had witnessed the exact moment she carried out her plan. She had watched him/her get back up from the ground, her finger instinctively tightening on the trigger. But the cold ruthlessness in her eyes vanished the instant she saw a fallen acceptance letter drift down between them. In that moment, she realized—

—She was no longer the "mercenary" moving through shadows. She was just a student now. Someone who wanted nothing more than to live a free life.

She stashed the weapon at once, breaking out in a cold sweat. Had she just crashed into a new student? That would look even worse on her record than her abysmal attendance! If he/she refused to forgive her, she was done for!

So she reached out immediately, hauling Rover upright and dragging him/her onto the back seat of her motorbike. And in the same moment, a Voidworm writhed across the ground, primed to unleash its malign intent on them both.

She didn't know it then, but the story that truly belonged to Lynae had already begun at that very moment.

[Filed from Spacetrek Collective: Startorch Academy Student Records]

[Forte Examination Report RA2906-G]

Student Name: Lynae

Synchronist Qualification: Negative

Forte Overview: Tests reveal a Rabelle's Curve with a pronounced periodic waveform. Therefore, the student is classified as a Congenital Resonator. Her Tacet Mark is located on the posterior side of her left thigh.

According to the pre-admission personal file and the student's own account, the student exhibits a congenital sensitivity to visible light and an innate affinity for complex, uncommon colors. By using "pigment inks," she can change the wavelength or frequency of visible light within a limited area, effectively "mixing" colors at will. These colors are primarily used in spray paints. Testing indicates that these pigments differ from industrial materials, behaving more like non-physical optical projections.

Additionally, eyewitness reports from several students suggest that the subject can alter nearby visible-light wavelengths to disrupt frequency detection instruments, achieving an effect similar to "invisibility" from both visual and frequency-perception perspectives.

"Anyway, just make sure she doesn't use that ability to skip class again."

"…Also, can someone confirm whether that giant cat-head graffiti on the Energy Sciences building yesterday was her work?"

Rabelle's Waveform test sample analysis shows an elliptical oscillation pattern and a stable Time Domain. No abnormal fluctuations were observed. Examination results are determined to be within normal parameters.

Conclusion: Resonant Criticality is within normal range. Subject stability remains robust. No history of and no present risk of Overclocking. Rabelle's Curve remains stable.

Psychological counseling is currently deemed unnecessary.

"The test went smoothly. It's been ages since we've seen a waveform this stable, practically identical to the textbook samples by Mr. Rabelle… Honestly, it's so textbook that it feels a little unnatural."