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... like a dagger. "Now you’re speaking my language."
She twirled the pencil between her fingers, eyeing the backs of the ’students’ heads—faceless, grey NPCs filling the rows. "So, what’s the play? Do I stab the teacher? Or start a fire in the trash can?"
"No stabbing," I whispered, keeping my eyes on Lysandra. "She’s the anchor. If you kill the teacher, the simulation might crash and delete her mind along with it. We need to get sent to the principal’s office. Or whatever the equi ...
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