COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

Monday afternoons were usually when Eathan's brain filed for temporary leave.

Especially during CHN 104.

The lecture hall buzzed like usual—students chatting, scrolling through InterGram, someone struggling to open a can of peaches at the back. Professor Quine Long, dressed today in a crisp dove-grey suit like some runway prince lost in academia, was setting up his notes at the podium.

Eathan slouched into his seat, letting his backpack slump to the floor. Luke dropped into the chair beside him, peeling open a bag of spicy shrimp chips and offering it wordlessly. Before Eathan could accept, however—

Creak.

The white sensory doors slid open. A collective shift went through the room. Heads turned, whispers exploding like popcorn.

Striding into the lecture hall—moving as if he owned the building—was none other than Mister Taeril White.

Eathan nearly dislocated something falling half out of his seat.

Dressed in a long, dark coat over an open-collar shirt, silver hair ruffling slightly with every step, his corner store was the image of refined danger. He didn't pause, didn't even glance at the crowd. Just picked an empty seat among the students like he belonged there.

Students in the row ahead of them were already vibrating with excitement.

"Is he a guest lecturer?"

"New visiting prof, maybe?"

"Too handsome to be admin staff, right??"

Luke leaned over, stage-whispering, "Man, we've been seeing a lot of new faces lately. What's going on with Westpoint?"

Eathan internally screamed.

Why is my crazy boss here?!

Before he could launch into full panic mode, his wristpad screen blinked into view with a crisp chime:

NEW MESSAGE FROM [Li Wei]

[Text]: "Enjoy the show. [Sunglasses Emoji]"

[Attachment]: 1 Link

Eathan blinked. He had added the Commander of Area 003's contact information upon the meeting last week, but he didn't expect the man to text him out of nowhere. Brows furrowing, he tapped the exclusive link. Instantly, a page exploded onto his HUD—a social media platform he had never seen before.

[RealmNet]

The trending feed was on fire. A new post, already racking up thousands of shares:

@AzureDragonOfficial:

[Attachment]: Photo of sepia-tinted battlefield scenes—ruined armour, broken banners, shadowed faces.

[Caption]: "Some people forget what guardianship truly means. Mortals deserve better leaders. #OldWounds #NewLessons"

Eathan blinked. Then blinked again. It seemed that he'd stumbled upon some divine platform not built for mortal eyes.

Hold on… He froze.

Deities use social media?

To shitpost???

Another chime popped up, this time from the [SYSTEM]:

[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION

RealmNet Access Granted! Linked to [SYSTEM] Core Functions!

Host can now receive quests, alerts, and updates tied to RealmNet events.

Eathan was too stunned to even close the window properly. Meanwhile, at the front of the hall, the Azure Dragon had frozen mid-swipe on his tablet when he spotted the new "student." He recovered a second later with an overly bright, thin-lipped smile.

"Let's begin today's discussion," he said, voice almost too casual. "We'll be covering transitional leadership from the Six Realms' early eras into contemporary practice—"

Translation: How to erase certain ancient figures from history without getting sued by the heavens.

As Quine segued into his lecture, Eathan watched in horror as Taeril casually crossed one leg over the other and raised a hand.

"Excuse me," he said politely, voice carrying just the right amount of ordinary curiosity.

Professor Quine visibly twitched.

"Would the esteemed Professor Long kindly elaborate," Taeril continued, "on how modern strategies maintain inter-realm security without acknowledging their ancient foundations?"

The temperature in the room plummeted by three degrees. Luke blinked beside him, sensing the weird tension but not understanding it. Meanwhile, Eathan sat perfectly still, praying for invisibility.

Professor Quine smiled tightly, attempting to steer the conversation.

"A fine question," he said with the strained patience of a man forced to host a family dinner with his worst enemy. "Modern tactics have evolved significantly. While ancient systems recorded in the myths—like the White Tiger's militancy—were effective in their time, today's methods prioritize diplomatic stabilization over brute force."

Taeril tilted his head slightly, an air of polite interest hanging around him like mist. "Ah," he said. "So you're suggesting foundational strength is now considered obsolete?"

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Quine's smile thinned further.

"Adaptation is necessary for progress."

"And what happens," Taeril asked, very softly, "when a foundation rots quietly under that adaptation?"

The entire class leaned forward unconsciously. Even Luke stopped chewing halfway through a chip.

Quine Long tried to laugh lightly. "Surely, we don't need to cling to the past so tightly—"

"Without roots," Taeril's reply cut across the room like velvet-wrapped steel, "a tree collapses in the first strong wind."

A murmur rippled through the mortal students, thinking it was some deep philosophical metaphor.

Meanwhile, having managed to sneak into the back row at some point during the lecture, Chewie stealthily tapped away on her wristpad.

[CloudBo Post from Anonymous User]:

"When you try to rewrite history but the history itself enrols in your class. #StayInYourLane"

She posted the screenshot of Quine's earlier RealmNet scandal immediately. Within minutes, the algorithm fed her post into SpiritTube, FeatherScroll, and even platforms from the Mortal Realm. Eathan's own mortal wristpad buzzed with a trending alert from InterGram:

"Is this a new drama series?"

"Why are mythological creatures beefing in real time?? #AncientWarsSeason2"

Lips parting involuntarily, he could only sit frozen in his seat as RealmNet continued detonating in real-time. Across the room, the Azure Dragon's elegant posture tightened fractionally as he registered the shift in online karma.

RealmNet's trending page:

#StayInYourLane

#SelectiveHistoryExposed

#AzureDragonFumbles

Watching the Azure Dragon slowly unravel under polite cross-examination, Eathan could only conclude:

This... might be better than any reality TV show.

One moment, it was students scrambling to screenshot Quine Long's awkward smiles, the next, ancient deities airing out thousand-year-old beef on RealmNet's trending hashtags. His brain—already overloaded after surviving a rift, a fake crush attack, and an impromptu audit—finally waved a small white flag.

Eathan rubbed his temples. He needed backup. Preferably mortal backup. Desperately, he fumbled for his wristpad and called the only other semi-sane adult he knew.

Li Wei picked up after two rings.

From the background noise, Eathan could hear the crunch of someone slurping instant noodles and the faint hum of monitors.

"Captain Li," Eathan squeezed out, lowering his voice and entire body beneath the table. "These immortals. They're fighting. They're fighting with posts."

A loud slurp echoed through the line. Li Wei didn't even sound surprised. "Welcome to heavenly subtweeting," he said. "Stakes: public humiliation. Prize: absolutely nothing but ego."

There was a pause as Li Wei presumably crunched into another mouthful.

"Get used to it, intern. This is what happens when immortals get Internet access."

The call ended with a mechanical beep, leaving Eathan to digest this horrific reality.

Even after class ended, the chaos didn't die down.

If anything, it evolved.

Taeril—still lounging like he had all the time in the world—pulled out his wristpad and opened RealmNet. Within five minutes, a new post floated up from an anonymous account:

A set of declassified battle records. No flashy captions, no name-drop flexing. Just simple numbers: evacuees sheltered, villages preserved, wounded civilians treated.

One silent headline above it all:

"Efficiency without compassion is simply annihilation."

Subtle as a whisper, but sharp enough to draw blood. The tides of RealmNet sentiment began shifting again.

Back in the Mortal Realm, students were whispering now not about Quine's sharp suit, but about "that white-haired guy" and "what was actually covered up in history class." Eathan, watching the delicate seesaw of public opinion swing back and forth, felt a chill settle into his bones.

High-level immortal politics weren't just petty.

They were deadly. A few words, a few facts—enough to tilt entire eras.

He shivered faintly. This wasn't the kind of world you could just study from textbooks and history slides—this was the kind of world that moved mountains with a post.

Professor Quine Long kept his composure until the end, dismissing class with a professional smile that looked more brittle up close. Students filtered out of the lecture hall, chattering and glancing between him and Taeril in growing confusion. Some even lingered, trying to muster the courage to approach the white-haired stranger.

One particularly bold girl fluttered over, asking brightly, "Excuse me, are you new faculty—?"

Taeril, without missing a beat, smiled politely and brushed her aside with effortless elegance, continuing his slow stroll toward the exit.

His target?

Poor, poor Eathan Lin, who was hunched among the crowd, craning his neck down low as he desperately tried to blend into invisibility. The white-haired man stopped directly in front of him. He tilted his head slightly, studying Eathan as if seeing him under a new light.

"What happened to your neck?"

Eathan froze, heat rushing to his face. Before he could answer, Taeril patted the top of his head, like someone humouring a confused kitten.

"Study harder," he said, his voice low but somehow carrying a warm amusement. "The world's messier than textbooks say. Let's go."

Eathan nearly collapsed out of sheer embarrassment. Behind him, Luke gaped openly. His eyes screamed: Bro. HOW. WHY?

Eathan coughed into his sleeve, muttering, "My boss," before trailing after Taeril with the resigned obedience of a man being dragged toward his public execution, his ears burning all the way to the door.

As they passed through the threshold, Luke's voice called after him: "Bro! My birthday party's in three days, remember? Don't ghost me!"

Eathan lifted a hand weakly in acknowledgment. As he stumbled after Taeril, still burning with secondhand embarrassment, his wristpad buzzed in his pocket like an overeager mosquito. He almost didn't check it.

Almost.

But curiosity was a crueler master than pride.

He flicked open the [SYSTEM] tab—and immediately regretted it. RealmNet's feed was blowing up even worse than before.

Under some account titled @SpiritTube_LiveFeed, a newly uploaded video blared across his screen. It was a 30-second clip of the classroom debate, titled:

"EPIC ROAST: Visiting Scholar Destroys Mythology Professor with Facts and Calmness."

2.1M plays | 78k reposts

The thumbnail showed Taeril (face-censored) mid-sentence, calm and composed, while Quine (less censored) looked like he'd swallowed a lemon whole.

Eathan choked on air. And that wasn't even the worst of it. Scrolling down, he spotted another post from @FeatherScroll_Rumors:

"Is it just me or does the back of the 'mortal scholar' who schooled Qing Long today look mysteriously... charismatic?"

#MysteryScholar

Someone even attached a candid photo of Taeril, sitting leisurely among the students, one hand supporting his chin like some disillusioned philosopher. The lighting was annoyingly flattering. His cream-blond hair gleamed like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, but his face had been mostly blocked off by hair strands.

Eathan slapped a hand to his face, only to realize it didn't stop there. Some account titled @LadyFoxfireOfficial had posted a story on RealmNet, showing a filtered selfie overlaid with bright, sparkling text:

"Let the old men fight. More mortals for me. [Kissy-Face Emoji]"

#VoteLadyFoxfire

"…"

Who lets literal deities have social media accounts?

Where were the cosmic regulators when you needed them?

He swiped again—and saw something that made him freeze. A rare post from @CaptainLiWei.

No pictures. No hashtags. Just text:

"Watching ancient immortals beef over lecture slides while fixing a rift node. Universe truly peaked."

[Coffee Emoji] [Thumbs-Up Emoji]

Eathan closed his eyes momentarily, feeling the headache crawl back behind his temples. The final blow landed when the [SYSTEM] politely chimed:

[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION

New RealmNet Trending Topic Subscribed: "Council Beef 101"

Host may receive future notifications when divine gossip reaches critical mass.

At last, as Eathan stared blankly at the floating panel, somewhere deep inside him broke. Beside him, white-haired menace kept walking, coat fluttering lightly in the wind, unbothered by the chaos he left smouldering behind him.

And Eathan could only trudge after him, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, wondering—not for the first time—what in the world he'd gotten himself into.