In Avalis, everyone was eager to take it slow as the weekend loomed large on the horizon. Though work didn’t cease when Saturday and Sunday rolled around, the Ascendants had their fair share of initiatives designed to relieve stress during these times.
Slash sighed in relief as the final indicator on the panel blinked green.
The Superstar System was officially underway. The lines of code, the temporal threads, the trigger points—everything had aligned just as he had calculated.
Leaning back, Slash let his eyes wander up to the high silver ceiling. The glass walls around him reflected a crystalline version of a world that no longer shimmered with surprises. It was all too familiar, a sterile environment where nothing seemed out of place.
Yet, at that moment, he had done it. The breach alert wasn’t activated.
Rows upon rows of others like him surrounded him—figures with different faces, all sporting that same calm smile. They moved in perfect synchrony, monitoring with robotic efficiency, and wandering like marionettes in a well-rehearsed show.
“It won’t suit him,” Slash whispered to himself, shaking his head.
He clicked his tongue and turned his chair slightly, his sharp eyes making another sweep of the area. All clear. Then, he pulled up the mission menu again.
[Mission: Attend Dance Lesson — Sent.]
A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was such a mundane command, but he was convinced that Zeno would hate it.
Still, it had to be done.
“I’m doing this for you… Zeno,” Slash murmured under his breath, his affectionate tone rapidly cooling as his expression dissolved into a mask once more.
***
Back on Earth—
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Zeno asked. The building before them appeared too grand for a dance studio.
Doha popped a piece of gum in his mouth and nodded. “Yup. This is the one!”
Zeno sighed and shook his head. Of course Doha would say that.
Doha was currently rocking a pink speedo over purple leggings, paired with a tight neon tank top that did nothing to redeem the outfit from the fashion hell he’d dragged it from. The addition of yellow sunglasses made him look like he had jaundice, too.
“Why am I here with you?” Zeno massaged his temple, trying to will away the headache building with each passing second.
Doha grinned wider. “Because you asked me to!”
Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.
FLASHBACK – Yesterday
Zeno sat hunched on the couch, his hair still appearing perfect despite being unstyled and his skin still glowing.
“Hey Doha,” he muttered.
Doha, who had been engrossed in a video of skateboarding bulldogs1 (as one does), perked up. “Hmm?”
“…You know how to dance, right?”
Doha’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect. “Yes! I danced a lot during our high school years, remember? I was even part of the dance squad!”
Zeno pursed his lips. “Then… can I attend your dance class tomorrow?”
At that, Doha tilted his head. “But I teach Zumba to seniors. Some of them are already wheelchair-bound! They turn their hips so it doesn’t break later. It’s less ‘Let’s Get Physical’ and more ‘Let’s Just Physically Move!'”
“Besides, it’s been too long, so I don’t know how to teach a proper dance class now,” he added. “Why? Do you need to dance for a role?”
Zeno sighed softly. “Let’s just say that’s…true.”
He wasn’t even sure how to begin explaining why he was being shoved into a dance class against his will.
Doha examined him for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Well, I do know of a place.”
Zeno’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Great!”
“But… we need to pay.”
“Okay,” Zeno replied.
“I mean, like, pay pay.”
Before Doha could even blink, Zeno had already transferred an astonishing sum of money into his account, a decision that made him wince slightly as a sea of zeroes blinked back at him.
“…Holy crap,” Doha muttered. “That’s a lot of zeroes. Are you buying the place?”
Zeno crossed his arms defiantly. “You said you had a place.”
“Oh, I have the place,” Doha said.
And now, here they were.
“Welcome to Rev Up,” chirped the receptionist, her smile so bright it could probably power a small village, as she bowed slightly while Doha finished the confirmation of their appointment.
“What the heck is this place?” Zeno muttered under his breath, unable to contain his confusion as they ventured deeper into the expanse of the building.
“You gave me the money, so I took you here,” Doha winked, looking far too pleased with himself.
Zeno frowned. “Yeah, but I didn’t expect this scale for a dance class.
Doha waved a dismissive hand. “Look, I didn’t either. This place is even more extravagant than I anticipated. But you gave me a lot of money, so why not go all the way? This—” he dramatically spread his arms, “—is the best dancing class in all of Seoul!”
Zeno narrowed his eyes. “The best?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Doha nodded proudly. “Fully booked for months, but I got us in because of your money!”
Zeno stared down the hall, now suddenly lined with plush velvet carpets and tall glass trophies.
“I booked the most famous lesson,” Doha added giddily. “Come on!”
Zeno pursed his lips, his feet suddenly feeling like they were encased in cement. He hesitated, wondering if he could still flee to that zumba class for seniors.
But before he could backtrack, Doha had already swung the grand double doors wide open, revealing the studio inside—and in turn, shining a spotlight directly on him.
The room beyond was bright and spotless. On the far wall stood a roster of familiar faces—famous idols, actors, influencers.
And now, every one of them was looking directly at him.
Zeno felt every gaze hit him, making him feel like a deer caught in headlights.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“Oh, our last students are here. Welcome to the Premium Dance Class!” a voice boomed from within the room.
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