Mirabe poised her pen above the exam sheet and confidently scrawled her name at the top. With a deep breath, she dove into the questions.


    The first section was a hodgepodge of arts and sciences, a veritable smorgasbord of disciplines that tested rote memory, analytical prowess, and depth of understanding. Even deciphering the questions posed a challenge for those students with a less–than–ster breadth of knowledge.


    This prelims round was a marathon, not a sprint, clocking in at a hefty three hours.


    As the first hour ticked by, while most of her peers were still wrestling withprehension and multiple–choice questions, Mirabe was already tackling the hefty essays at the end.


    The invigtor, a seasoned professor, paced the ssroom with the slow gait of a watchful guardian, asionally ncing over the students‘ progress.


    The presence of a single girl in the <b>sea </b>of anxious faces was a spectacle that he couldn’t ignore. Mirabe’s calm, collected demeanor starkly contrasted with her peers‘ furrowed brows and nervous ticks. Drawn to herposed aura, he found himself circling back to her


    desk more often than not.


    His surprise was palpable when he noticed Mirabe had already progressed to the final questions. He checked his watch in disbelief–had she really breezed through the initial sections in just an hour?


    Impressed and slightly incredulous, the invigtor couldn’t help but recall the conversations had among the professors during the exam’s construction. They had voiced concerns that the allotted time might be insufficient due to the difficulty of the questions. The consensus was that even the faculty might struggle toplete the test in under two hours.


    Casually, he nced at the name on the answer sheet beside her.


    Mirabe.


    As one of thepetition’s organizers, he was familiar with the name. Her track record was impressive: top scores in the initial rounds, city prelims, and city finals–dominating her peers. with perfect scores, save for one instance where the answers to the questions had exceeded the curriculum.


    Such results had made her the subject of keen interest among thepetition’s faculty. If she maintained her performance through the national prelims and finals, she stood a chance at ranking internationally.


    gāzē un


    The thought alone sent a ripple of excitement through the invigtor<b>, </b>his her shining with admiration. Yet, not wishing to disturb her concentration, he lingered but a moment before resuming his pacing.


    With another <b>hour </b>gone, Mirabeid down <b>her </b><b>pen</b>. The final questions had posed a


    <b>12:32 </b>


    challenge, indeed. Since she needed to answer them with the knowledge within the hight. school curriculum, the circuitous paths to their solutions had demanded a good half hour of her time.


    An hour remained on the clock, but she was done. She handed in her paper, leaving the exam. room while others gawked in disbelief. Her early submission sent shockwaves through the ranks. This was a cutthroatpetition, where only the crème de crème advanced to the nationals, and her audacity heaped pressure on those who had only just started on thetter sections<b>. </b>


    Stepping out of the exam hall, Mirabe retraced her path down the academic building. Perhaps it was the quiet of a Saturday morning or maybe the school’s deliberate scheduling, but she encountered not a single soul from Prestige College on her way out.


    Adjacent to the academic building were the administrative offices and a lounge area where teachers from various provinces and cities waited for their students to emerge from the battleground.


    The administrative door was ajar, and next to it, arge ss window offered a clear view of the building’s exit.


    Anthony was deep in conversation with a colleague from another school when something caught his eye.


    “Huh, someone’s turned in their exam early?” he remarked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.