The smooth, peaceful purr of the engine.

The stereo playing classical music in soft, hushed tones.

The headlights piercing through the night's darkness to illuminate the blurry, incomprehensible mess of yellow lines and stoplights before him.

His passenger in the seat beside him, immersed in the bright screen of his phone.

A life forever lost.

Miles Hern woke up in a hotel bed drenched in his sweat. A dream. That's all it was. "I'm okay. Everything is okay," said Miles between gasps. "I'm okay." He continued reaffirming that he was, in fact, okay until the fear in his heart subsided. Eventually, his gasps faded into even breaths as the reality of the situation began to set in.

He was sitting upright in an unwashed twin-sized bed, surrounded on all sides by a dusty, dilapidated hotel room. There were two thick metal plates covering the wall on his right side—standing in substitution of where one would expect to find windows. A barren desk sat beside the wall across from him. The room was deprived of the typical luxuries of modern hotel rooms: paintings, decorations, even carpets. Built into the wall across from him was a door—cracked open to show a small bathroom containing a shower, sink, and toilet crammed into as small a space as possible. The room possessed three light sources. Two of which—a small lamp and alarm clock displaying the time 8:30—were located on the bedside table. The third was a bright LED screen built into what seemed to be the room's exit.

All things considered, the room was a far cry from what he was used to.

Miles retraced his memory, looking for any clues for his current whereabouts. Let's see, yesterday was Sunday, meaning that today had to be Monday. He had spent most of the day performing his usual job, driving his clients to and from work. Was that everything? Wait, there was something else, wasn't there? It was the last day of Summer vacation until he started his Senior year. He had spent Kindergarten through Junior year attending a local, elite private school, but this year he would be transferring to a new school. He was going to attend… Hope's Peak Academy, right? Yeah, the new school was Hope's Peak.

Hope's Peak Academy was something of a household name. It had schools everywhere—Japan, the United Kingdom, the United States, and so forth. But even among the most elite schools, Hope's Peak was an oddity. It specifically targeted adolescents with an "ultimate" ability. In other words, it was less of a school and more a "bizarre talent agency," equipped to train students to rise to the top of society. To Hope's Peak Academy, Miles was the "Ultimate Chauffeur." While he didn't plan on remaining a chauffeur, a diploma with a "Hope's Peak" stamp on it was never anything to pass up.

So, was this dilapidated excuse for a room supposed to the school dorms? No, it couldn't be. For starters, there was no way that a school as famous as Hope's Peak would make its students be content with such… undesirable living conditions. Secondly, he had spent the previous night at his father's condo. Not to mention, Miles was wearing a slim grey suit and pants with a small white ascot around his neck. In other words, he was in the clothes he normally wore to work. Why would he be wearing his work attire to bed? Perhaps today was not Monday, and he had been working late last night before clocking out at a nearby motel in his exhaustion. He didn't have his phone or wallet on him, so maybe the front desk had a policy where they kept your personal belongings for you? It was unlikely, but it was the most rational explanation he could come up with.

Well, he couldn't solve anything by staying where he was. Putting his nervousness aside, Miles got out of bed and tried to open the door, not bothering to check the screen. It was locked, unsurprisingly.

The LED screen displayed a rotating 3D model of a smiling baby's head on a white background. Below it was the words "Welcome to Hope's Peak" written in large neon pink letters. So this was Hope's Peak after all? Why was it so filthy? More importantly, when and how did he get here? He tried opening the door, and surely enough, it was locked. Miles sighed in frustration. He didn't have his phone on him, but Miles made a mental note to inform his parents of the "elite" school's unprofessionalism.

Thinking it through, however, Miles wondered if telling his parents about this was really the best course of action. His parents could be fussy when it came to him, and it wasn't out of the question that they would sue the school should they hear about this. And although Miles didn't like the room in question, the school would probably lose money and they would have to lay off some teachers who had absolutely nothing to do with the actual problem and then they would be out of a job and their family would lose their primary source of income and they would have to mortgage their homes and they'd go homeless and then Miles would see them on the street and he'd have to spend every day knowing that he ruined their entire lives and… ugh. Miles shook his head, cutting off this train of thought.

Miles had promised himself years ago that he would stop letting such irrational thoughts take ahold on him. After all, it was an embarrassment towards the Hern family for their third child to lack even a semblance of self-control. Perhaps it was just the anxiety of the situation getting to him, but that didn't make it any less inexcusable. He remembered that old proverb his brother would always tell him: "Focus on what's in front of you. Everything else is irrelevant."

"Focus on what's in front of you," muttered Miles to himself. In other words, unlock the door.

Turning his attention to the most obvious thing in front of him, Miles tapped the screen. The faint sound of a young child's laughter rang out. The white background and pink welcome message faded to black, leaving only the spinning 3D model of an infant. Then, the baby's head stopped rotating and it stared at Miles, still retaining the smile on its face. After what felt like an eternity, it spoke.

"Welcome to Hope's Peak Academy. I am Justine. You will begin your semester at Hope's Peak Academy shortly after some quick preparations."

Its voice was low, tinged ever so slightly by a rough, electronic murmur.

The bizarre 3D model, or rather "Justine," disappeared from the screen and was replaced by a long wall of text. Noticing that he could scroll down, Miles noticed that the text seemed to be one of those "terms and conditions" things that most people couldn't make heads or tails of. He skimmed through it, before coming to the end where a small, blue label reading "Accept" laid at the bottom of the screen. There was no option to decline.

The last few sentences of the Terms and Conditions caught Miles' attention.

"By accepting the terms and conditions, as written on behalf of Hope's Peak Academy, I understand that I hereby waive all of my human rights as described in the International Bill of Human Rights, the United Nations Convention Against Torture, and the International Convention for the Protection of all Persons from Enforced Disappearance. Hope's Peak Academy cannot and will not be held responsible for any emotional damages, physical injuries, or loss of life."

Ignoring the dread weighing down on his heart, Miles selected "Accept."

The door clicked open.

Remaining Participants: 16

Dimitri Gavin: Alive

Simon Casulton: Alive

Alex Shimere: Alive

Jackson Blackwell: Alive

Richmond Wellington: Alive

David Lay: Alive

Julia Skye: Alive

Miles Hern: Alive

Melissa Shields: Alive

Maria Hawthrone: Alive

Valerie Foster: Alive

Kevin Brenberg: Alive

Christine Prim: Alive

Maya Faithe: Alive

Danny Sutzen: Alive

Briana Wellington: Alive