The room began to glow, slowly illuminating around Finn as he pushed himself to his feet. He spun around, frantic, searching for an exit—anything.
But before he could even think about bolting, a white-hot flash lit up the entire space. "Ah—what the hell!" Finn hissed, shielding his eyes.
When the light faded, Finn cautiously lowered his hand.
And froze.
No swamp. No talking severed head. No sexy goddess riding him like a pack mule.
He was back.
Back at his college.
He stood in the middle of the outdoor commons—the exact place students would come to eat lunch. All around him were benches, backpacks, food wrappers, and the unmistakable buzz of chatter. The sky was blue. The sun was out. And the buildings were just as depressingly beige as he remembered.
"There's no way this is real…" Finn whispered.
He stepped forward in disbelief, moving through the familiar space, scanning every corner. This was exactly how it had been. Not a single thing off.
'This has to be part of the trial… right? But it's just… too real.'
He made his way to an empty bench when someone bumped into his shoulder.
"Watch where you're going, Wiggles!" the student laughed and kept walking.
Finn blinked.
They even knew his name.
He sat down on the bench slowly and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Then—he remembered.
'Wait… my phone?'
Finn shoved his hand into his hoodie pocket—and there it was. His phone.
Fingers trembling slightly, he unlocked it and scrolled through his contacts. There it was: Mom.
His thumb hovered over the call button.
'I forgot about her… I've been so wrapped up in my own mess, I haven't thought about my mom, or anyone. God, what's wrong with me…'
He tapped the call button.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then someone picked up.
"M-Mom…?" Finn said, voice soft.
"I think you've got the wrong number," said a gruff, unfamiliar voice.
Finn immediately pulled the phone away and hung up. He stared down at the ground. Legs still. Mind spinning.
'This… this can't be real.'
"AAAAAH!"
A scream echoed across the commons.
Finn snapped his head toward the noise.
A small crowd had formed in the middle of the courtyard.
"Whose box is that?!" someone cried.
Finn's stomach dropped.
"No no no—oh God no."
He bolted through the crowd, brushing past students giving him weird looks, until he reached the center.
Two people stood by the box.
Finn's past hit him like a truck.
Isaac—the golden boy with long blond hair and smug brown eyes. And Lilith—his crimson-eyed crush with flowing raven hair, effortlessly gorgeous and wrapped in a student council uniform.
Finn froze.
Both of them were staring straight at him.
Lilith tilted her head. "What are you doing here, Finn…?"
Finn swallowed hard. "Stay away from that box."
Isaac stepped between them like the smug bastard he always was. "Is this your mess? Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"
"I don't think—"
"No." Isaac cut her off, voice sharp.
Then—
"WILL ALL OF YOU SHUT YOUR YEAST-INFESTED MOUTHS?!"
The box exploded open. The severed head inside bellowed at the students.
Gasps. Screams. Horror.
"FINN MURDERED SOMEONE!" Isaac screamed like a drama club understudy, grabbing Lilith's arm and sprinting away.
Lilith looked back at Finn as she was dragged off—disgust and disappointment in her eyes.
Finn's chest tightened. That look. That look. He wanted to scream, to explain—but there was no point.
Everyone scattered. Voices shouted things he couldn't make out. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the box, hugging it to his chest like a lifeline.
The head squinted up at him. "What the hell is this, piss boy? Where have you dragged me now?"
Finn didn't respond. He stared into the distance, breathing shallow, mind spinning.
Then, it clicked.
'This is the trial. This isn't real. This is all just… fake. A projection. My fears.'
But the emotions felt real. The pain. The guilt. The regret.
Another flash of white.
Then—darkness.
Everything was gone.
Finn stood alone, breath echoing in the void.
Lights flickered on.
Finn blinked, suddenly back in the mirror room—as if the entire college illusion had been a cruel mental prank.
He looked down at the box in his arms. He was holding it way too tightly. His knuckles were white. The severed head inside squinted up at him with a raised brow.
"Are you gonna keep cradling me like a possessed gremlin or…?"
Finn flinched. "Right, sorry." He quickly shut the box and shifted it to one hand, trying to act casual like he hadn't just had a full mental breakdown in a lunch courtyard illusion.
Then, with a mechanical whirr, the mirrored wall opened. A sleek balcony descended like a discount stage lift.
On it stood Arsenio—and behind him, Majestria and the elf.
Finn felt a wave of exhausted relief wash over him. He never thought he'd be glad to see the goddess who used his back like an Uber, but after that nightmare… even her sarcastic smirk was a welcome sight.
They stepped forward to meet him. Arsenio raised a hand.
"You did well. You have pass—"
"You looked like a complete loser!!"
Majestria burst into uncontrollable laughter, pointing directly at Finn.
Finn's soul deflated like a punctured juice box.
The elf tilted her head, choker pulsing faintly, watching Finn in silence. Her expression unreadable, but her interest growing.
Finn exhaled, dropped the box onto the floor with a thud, and rubbed his face.
"Eh?" Majestria stopped laughing mid-cackle.
Then—
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
Finn lunged.
Majestria blinked. "Wait—what are y—"
"BWAAAHHH!"
Finn dove straight into her chest like a missile of raw emotion and perversion.
"G-Get off of me!!" Majestria staggered backward, flailing. "GET OUT OF MY BOOBS!"
But it was too late.
Finn had gone full mental breakdown and was now motor-boating her divine chest while sobbing into it.
"WHY IS THIS MY LIFE?!" he wailed, voice muffled between divine boobs of glory.
SMACK!
A celestial palm cracked across his skull, launching him sideways like a crash test dummy. He landed in a heap, twitching on the floor, tears still flowing.
Majestria stood over him, patting down her chest with pure revulsion. "Ugh. You got your crusty man-tears on my perfect goddess body."
The elf watched the entire scene with wide eyes, her hand slowly rising to grab her own very flat chest.
Her choker pulsed.
"…I want that," she whispered, envious and mildly aroused. "Why does she get the emotional breakdown and the boobs?"
Arsenio cleared his throat like he'd just walked in on a cursed fanfiction.
"Well then." He stepped forward, twirling his staff. "Now…" his eyes turned to Majestria. "You shall be the next to enter the trial."