The bell rang sharply, cutting through the classroom like a blade while also snapping Alexander out of his thoughts.
He took a look at the clock and saw that it showed 11:00, which made him realise that it was time for lunch break, the perfect time to complete a few tasks in the long list he had mentally created during the various periods.
Coming to that conclusion, Alexander didn't hesitate anymore.
The moment the sound faded, he was already moving. His chair slid back, books closed, bag lifted; he did everything in a clean, efficient, and practised way.
While others stretched, chatted, or lingered, he was already halfway to the door when someone suddenly called him out, "Hey, Alexander—"
He slowed just enough to turn his head and look at who it was, and seeing one of his classmates, he cut him off and simply replied, "Sorry, I'm in a hurry. I've got something urgent to take care of. If you need something, you can ask me during math later."
He made sure not to sound rude or dismissive, just final.
After all, even if he doesn't care about them, it isn't enough reason to treat them as trash, and more importantly, a positive image will help him more in the long run.
The other student blinked, then nodded, "Ah... yeah, sure. It's not urgent."
Alexander gave a brief nod in return and continued on his way, slipping out of the classroom and into the corridor.
More voices followed as he walked across the now busy corridor.
"Lunch together?"
"Can I borrow your notes later?"
"Alexander—"
Each time, the same pattern repeats. A glance, a short reply, a polite excuse. No pauses or openings, just enough to maintain the connections he had already established in these years, nothing more, nothing less.
Before long, he reached his first destination. The cafeteria was loud. Voices overlapped, chairs scraped, and trays clattered; it was an unstructured mess of noise and movement.
Groups clustered together, conversations layered on top of each other, small social hierarchies playing out in every corner.
Alexander barely looked at any of it as he was already very familiar with it.
Then he moved through the line, picked up the bare minimum of what he needed, found the nearest available seat and started to quickly eat.
That was it; he didn't waste time with other distractions.
The food was decent, in fact, better than average, just as one would have expected from a place like this, but he barely registered it.
Each bite was quick, mechanical, efficient, as he just needed enough fuel to sustain himself and fully focus on what he had to do.
Yet, even while eating, his mind was still surging with countless ideas and plans to survive and maybe even thrive in this crazy world, but he mostly dismissed them or put them in the back of his mind, as it was still too soon to fully flesh them out.
Within minutes, he was done, so he quickly stood, returned the tray, and left the cafeteria.
The noise faded behind him as he stepped into the quieter corridors, and a few turns later, the library doors came into view.
Alexander pushed them open and stepped inside, and what awaited him inside was silence, or something close enough.
The air felt a bit different here, more still, ordered, and peaceful, traits that Alexander learned to appreciate a bit thanks to the memories of his other self.
He walked toward the front desk where the librarian sat, quietly organising a stack of returned books.
She looked up as he approached and asked, "Yes? How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for archived newspapers," Alexander said, his tone calm and precise. "Specifically, the Guardian and the Los Angeles Times."
The librarian took a slight pause as she looked at him with interest before she said, while gesturing toward a set of shelves further inside, "Archives are in the back section. Left aisle, third row. You'll find what you need there."
Alexander turned his head to check where she pointed, then he focused back on her and said, "Thank you."
She nodded, already returning to her work as Alexander moved on.
The archive section was tucked away from the main reading area; there was a lot less traffic and noise, which is expected considering that almost no one would review the newspapers unless they needed to do a very specific kind of research.
Alexander scanned the shelves briefly before pulling out the most recent issues of both newspapers he had requested.
The Los Angeles Times is a news outlet active in the city of Los Angeles, the perfect source for local news.
On the other hand, the Guardian is a major international news outlet, reporting on global events, government affairs, and high-profile incidents. If there were any kind of very crucial information, he would surely find it here.
Alexander didn't sit immediately; instead, he flipped through a few pages while standing, skimming headlines, absorbing structure while filtering useful information from the garbage ones.
Then he took a seat and checked on the nearby clock on the wall and realised, 'Shit! Lunch took longer than I hoped. My time is limited. I only have about forty-five minutes... Oh well, it is more than enough if I use it properly.'
Having reached that conclusion, he didn't waste any more time and started reading like someone who already knew what he was looking for.
His eyes moved quickly, but his mind moved faster, trying to find the connection and grasp the hidden truths.
Headlines. Subtext. Word choice. Omitted details. Particular keywords.
He wasn't just reading what was explicitly written on paper but paying attention to what wasn't.
The knowledge from his other life surfaced naturally, while what his father taught him in this one filled the gaps.
Context, expectations, assumptions about how information was framed, how certain topics were handled, how others were buried, and all that were constantly scrutinised as he reviewed the articles.
Piece by piece, he built a clear surface-layer picture of the current state of the world, and most of what he saw seemed to indicate that the current state of the world is relatively safe, but then something else stood out, a concerning pattern that revealed a disconcerting detail.
Articles scattered across different sections, different authors, different tones, but all circling the same subject: Mutants.
They framed it as public concern, isolated incidents, speculation, fear, all carefully worded, but unmistakable.
Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly as he read through one article, then another, until he muttered, "...There it is."
No direct mention of "superheroes activities" or open acknowledgement of organised groups of any kind, but the signs were there and were clear enough.
Mutants existed, which meant, "The X-Men exist... And if they exist, the Brotherhood of Mutants exist too, and with them all the other problems connected to them likely exist too. That means I also have to worry about things like the Phoenix Force, the Sentinels, and who knows what other dangers... Shit..."
He leaned back slightly, the newspaper lowering just a fraction as the implication settled in, 'This isn't good. My knowledge has limits. That much is obvious now. Thanks to the memories of my other self, I know the Marvel Cinematic Universe well enough. I remember the major events, the key figures, and a few timelines connected to it. But the comics... That is different. Way too vast and detailed. At best, I have some surface-level awareness.'
Alexander knew about some of the big threats, the very famous names, but not the specific details, the hidden dangers, or the things that didn't make headlines.
In the end, he could only resign himself and comment, "So, I'm partially blind..."
The realisation wasn't comforting. Knowing some things could help, but not knowing the rest? That could get him killed quite fast in a world as dangerous as this one.
He exhaled quietly and folded the newspaper before he briefly checked the clock on the wall once more and noticed that his time was almost up.
Seeing that, Alexander quickly decided that he had learned enough for now and that there was no point pushing further, as he wouldn't be able to learn much else from the newspapers.
He stood, returning the newspapers to their place before making his way back toward the front.
The librarian glanced up as he passed and asked, "Find what you were looking for?"
"Enough," he replied before giving her a small nod and adding, "Thank you for your help. Have a pleasant day."
Then he stepped out of the library and headed toward the next classroom.
The rest of the day passed without incident as classes blurred together, their content irrelevant like all the previous ones.
Alexander sat through them, outwardly attentive, inwardly occupied, reviewing, adjusting and refining what he learned today.
The world he was in was unpredictable, which meant his margin for error was smaller than he'd hoped, yet there was the small grace that not all his knowledge was completely useless.
For example, he knew for certain that Howard and Maria Stark were still alive as he met the couple with his father during a charity event for veterans, but he was also aware that they were likely going to die soon in a "car crash," which seems to be a canon event for Tony Stark, like the death of Uncle Ben is for Peter Parker.
The final bell rang, and students began to disperse, conversations picking up as they filtered out of classrooms and into the halls.
Alexander followed at a steady pace while his classmates said their farewell.
"See you tomorrow."
"Later, Alexander."
"Please, don't forget to bring your Physics notes. I beg you!"
He responded where necessary, using the usual short and polite tone, then he exited the building and left the campus.
Outside, Roland was already there waiting beside the car, exactly where he was supposed to be.
Alexander approached as Roland opened the door and said, "Welcome back, Master Alexander," before asking. "Was your day productive?"
Alexander paused for half a second, then nodded slightly and replied, "Let's say it was... Enlightening."
Roland inclined his head and commented, "Good."
Then Alexander stepped into the car, and the door closed after him. A moment later, Roland took his place in the driver's seat, and the engine started.
They pulled away from the academy, and as the scenery shifted outside the window, Alexander's thoughts turned inward once more.
More specifically, the next step that is to pitch the idea to his father and get the funding necessary to start developing the game.
At first, the answer seemed obvious, present the idea to his father, explain the immense potential, and leverage his position to get as much benefit as possible, but then he realised something and muttered, "No..."
He dismissed his initial plan almost immediately, 'A mere idea isn't enough, not for someone like Father. For him, results matter; proof matters. I need something tangible, concrete.'
Coming to that conclusion, he added, "…I need a prototype. Something real. Something I can show. Only then would the conversation have the necessary weight to succeed."
His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest as he quickly made a decision and realigned his priorities, 'Create the cards first, then everything else would follow.'
He slowly reached forward and lightly tapped the partition. Shortly after, a soft sound followed as the screen lowered, revealing Roland in the driver's seat.
He kept his eyes on the road ahead as he asked, "Yes, Master Alexander?"
"Change of plans," Alexander said calmly. "I need to make a stop."
Roland didn't question it but simply asked, "Of course. Where to?"
Alexander leaned back slightly, already thinking ahead before he said, "I need to gather some materials. Go to the most stocked stationery store or craft shop. It's for a personal project."
There was a brief pause before Roland calmly replied, "As you wish."
The partition rose again, and then the car adjusted its route.
Alexander's gaze drifted toward the window once more as he realised that the time for planning was over, and now it was time to start moving toward his objective and grasp it with his own hands.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter