"Where are you?" Raha screamed in my ear as I finally answered her third call.

I hadn't picked up earlier—not because I'm lazy, but because my phone was a little out of reach. And besides, I was busy pinning my saree.

"Getting ready, girl," I replied as calmly as I could, adjusting my pleats. The red saree looked perfect today. After all, I was heading back to university after a two-day break courtesy of our dear government.

After spending my peaceful time in the central prison.

"Oh, come on! You're already gorgeous," Raha groaned. "Can you please hurry up? There's some idiotic class meeting going on. The group chat is exploding. And I know you haven't checked a single message."

She wasn't wrong.

I hadn't glanced at either the official or the unofficial group chats. There were always a dozen people who had the time to read everything, react with those overused laughing emojis, and debate nonsense endlessly.

"Who the heck helds a meeting on a Saturday?" I muttered, pressing the tiny bindi onto my forehead — the final touch to my look.

The mirror reflected a woman who looked more composed than she felt. I grabbed my bag, slung it across my shoulder, and stepped out, the faint jingle of my bangles keeping time with my hurried footsteps. The morning air outside smelled of damp soil and diesel — the familiar scent of campus weekends.

"Who else?" Raha's voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with sarcasm. "Our iconic University Central Institute of Strategic Studies." She stretched out the name like it was a bad joke.

I smiled to myself. "We should—" I began, ready to throw a jab back, but the words froze on my tongue.

From the doorway, I caught sight of the guards scattered across the fields — their khaki uniforms standing out against the pale green grass, their postures stiff, watchful.

"I'll see you at the stop," I said quickly, cutting the call before she could reply.

I adjusted my saree pleats once more, squared my shoulders, and started walking — each step pulling me closer to the waiting bus stop and whatever this strange Saturday had in store.

"The government is so wealthy, they don't even bother with buses in Sector 17," I muttered sarcastically, shifting from foot to foot as we waited for over forty-five minutes.

"Of course. Buses are only for the elites the ones who wipe their shoes every minute," Raha shot back, smirking.

"Exactly," I said, and when the bus finally arrived, we climbed aboard, standing in a corner after buying our university tickets.

Stepping into Sector 17, a hollow loneliness hit me like a punch. I'd left my parents behind. I had no idea where my brother was. And somehow, they expected me to survive here.

That's when I realized Rahasya was here too my best friend from school. I hadn't known she'd been assigned here.

I'd thought she'd moved to Sector 5 for further studies. But luck — cruel or kind, I couldn't tell had made us classmates once again. And just like that, the only familiar face in a new, ruthless place was standing beside me.

My phone buzzed in my hand. A notification from our group chat.

Besharam guyss 🐒 ( Shamless guys )

Kevin: Missing case no. 10020

Missing: Arna and Raha 🦭

Age: Doesn't matter both are aunties 🐌

I shook my head, trying not to laugh as Raha typed back.

Raha: You look like 💩

Kevin: What do you mean by that? Have you seen me properly, sweetheart? I'm offended 🤒

I rolled my eyes as we stepped off the bus, the chat still buzzing in the background. Walking toward the university, I spotted Kevin talking to one of our classmates.

As soon as he noticed us, he waved goodbye and jogged over.

"You guys finally found the route to uni," he said, grinning.

"You always seem to find routes, it seems," Raha teased, her eyes glinting as she looked at him.

"Guys, leave that what meeting do we have today ? Which idiot is coming ?" I asked, settling on the desk. Raha settled in the next table.

Kevin leaned in slightly, his voice dropping as though it carried scandal. "Some new professor's supposed to join today, it seems. Everyone's been going crazy with wild guesses."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wild guesses? Like what—he's secretly royalty here to rescue us from mandatory push-ups ?"

Raha laughed. "More like the girls are hoping he's... you know—tall, dark, handsome."

I rolled my eyes so hard it nearly hurt. "Why the hell does everyone here act like we're in some kind of warped matrimony audition? As if we're expecting suitors instead of surviving another day without being killed or broken. God. People here need a therapist more than they need a good-looking professor."

"Right?" she chuckled, nodding in agreement, but then she started telling me the incidents that happened in my absence.

she moved on to recount the little dramas that had unfolded during my absence. Some girl passed out during weapons drills. Two cadets got into a fight and were locked in solitary.

"Why don't they ever bring female professors?" Kevin whispered, his voice cutting through the low hum of chatter that filled the lecture hall. The room was restless — clusters of students still buzzing about the same topic, as if repeating it could make sense of it.

"We should file a serious complaint on Arxline, Kevin. You're right," I said, leaning closer so only he and Raha could hear.

"Stop boosting his ego, Arna," Raha muttered, rolling her eyes.

Kevin smirked. He was my junior back in school — an elite. Not just the word everyone threw around, but the kind that came wrapped in privilege and polished opportunities. Raha and I were different; middle-class, government-assigned to Sector 17.

Kevin wasn't forced here. His family sent him. For them, this was prestige — a badge of belonging to something structured, superior.

For elites, this is fame.

"See, this is crazy," he said, angling the screen toward us. The unofficial student group chat flickered with messages — a chaos of emojis, inside jokes, and theories.

Someone had started a poll.

Guess who's coming today?

The laughter in the room dimmed as everyone stared at their screens, waiting.

On Kevin's tablet, the poll numbers blinked like a headline:

Mentor Gugan — 2%

Mentor Hridhan — 98%

And then the chat below it — pure chaos.

Sammyyy 🦦:

GUYS. There's no way Mentor Hridhan is coming today 😭😭 he doesn't even breathe the same air as lecture halls. Be serious.

Jhanuu 🦎:

LMAOO this poll isn't even real 💅 everyone just wants a fairy tale. It's obviously Gugan. Calm down, fandom nation.

Sammyyy 🦦:

sends screenshot of the Crown Prince's story — two crossed swords, captioned "with my best friend 💀⚔️" and tagged @HridhanOfficial.

HELLOOO?? He was in the palace TWO DAYS ago. No way he's travelling down south for a bunch of sleepy students.

Gurls, go drool over Mentor Gugan, he's cute at least 😭😭 Let's wait for the real king to appear another day 👑

Lora🦡:

Bro they tracked his palace schedule now?? 💀💀 someone call security.

Niv_404🦍:

Nooo I saw someone zooming into his sword tattoo last night 😭😭😭 this fandom has no peace.

RandomGirly🌸:

Okay, fine. For science.

Mentor Hridhan's Insta ID: @HridhanOfficial

Visual. Treat. Incoming. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

The chat exploded — hearts, sword emojis, fangirl shrieks, and gifs that made no sense. The light from Kevin's tablet flickered like a small storm between us. Raha leaned in, half horrified, half laughing.

"Holy shit," I muttered. "They've lost it. It's like they're stalking him together."

Raha snorted. "Welcome to academia, but make it royal."

"Hey," he said, smirking, "at least they're enthusiastic learners."

Raha snatched the tablet from Kevin's hands before he could scroll any further.

"Let's at least see how he looks," she said, her earrings swaying as she bent over the screen. "He's already overhyped."

She tapped the Insta ID. The profile loaded — sleek, minimal, painfully aesthetic.

"What the— eleven million followers?" Raha blinked. "Seriously? And he's following one person?"

Kevin leaned closer, practically breathing over her shoulder. I stayed where I was, arms crossed, pretending indifference. I didn't want to see his picture.

Kevin exhaled a low whistle. "He's... kind of hot."

Raha squinted. "Kind of?"

Kevin zoomed in on the profile picture. "Okay, no. Damn. He's— Damn." He kept scrolling, muttering like he'd found a new religion.

"Click on 'following,'" Kevin said, eyes bright. "Let's see who's that one person. I bet it's the Crown Prince."

Raha nodded, grinning, and tapped the list.

The screen loaded. One name appeared.

They both froze — mouths parting in the same silent gasp before they turned toward me in perfect sync.

Kevin's voice cracked through the stillness.

"Oh my god," he said dramatically, clutching his chest. "The rabbit is dead!"

Raha smacked his arm.

"What the hell?" I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I meant.

Raha looked at me like I'd just confessed to treason. "You're a traitor, Arna."

I blinked. "What? How am I—what's wrong?"

Kevin was still frozen, eyes glued to the screen. Slowly, he turned toward me, face pale but amused. "He's following only you."

"What?!"

The word shot out of me. My mind tripped over itself, replaying the image of that profile — eleven million followers. One following. And now they were saying that one was... me?

"What on earth—" I started, but my voice faltered.

Raha's expression softened into disbelief. "I can't believe it's you. You took a week to accept my Insta request, Arna. A week!"

Kevin laughed under his breath. "Selective socializing, huh? Guess you make exceptions for royalty."

"When did you even follow him?" Raha demanded, shoving the tablet closer like the answer might change something.

"I didn't," I said. The words came out too quickly, too defensive. "I don't even know him."

The air between us thickened. Raha's teasing faded, replaced by something quieter—curiosity, maybe a flicker of unease.

Kevin's grin slipped a little. "Well... looks like he knows you."

The sound of chatter outside the room seemed to fade away. My heartbeat filled the silence instead—steady, too loud, too real.

Even I was trying to make sense of it. After the car incident he'd said, cool as if it were nothing, I know. I'd told him I wanted to live. He'd nodded, handed me a stack of papers — marriage papers and I had signed them without thinking. I asked, breathless and half-terrified, "Is there anything else I should know?"

"No," he'd said. Then he'd dropped me off in front of my apartment and the world had gone soft around the edges.

I walked inside and collapsed onto the bed. I hadn't slept properly for two days; my phone had been a carousel of reels and headlines. Somewhere between a reel about puppy facials and a dance challenge, sleep had taken me. In that half-wake haze a notification flashed — a follow request. I thought it was some random classmate and tapped accept before I blinked away into sleep.

I clicked the storm-icon — then slept. Oh God. I groaned now, the memory prickling like cold water.

"Yesterday," I managed, the word sticking like a bad film.

Kevin, who had been lounging with the tablet like it was holy text, piped up, eyes bright with mischief. "Arna, you should text him — ask if he has a brother or sister."

Raha slapped his head with the flat of her hand. "Shut up," she hissed, but the grin didn't leave her face.

"How does he even know you?" she asked me, suddenly serious again.

"Who knows?" I said, the words flat and hard. I wanted to laugh, wanted to choke, wanted to throw the tablet against the wall.

Hridhan was going to get crushed by my hands for pulling a stunt like this. Bastard.

"Arna, what about our plan? Shall we go today?" Kevin asked, his voice low but eager — that glint in his eyes that always meant trouble.

"Oh! Yes, let's go," I said, almost too quickly. The words felt like sparks.

Raha turned, arms crossed, her expression already a warning. "I told you guys not to go. That library is prohibited for a reason. Why do you even want to risk it?"

"To have fun!" Kevin said, flashing that careless grin that could convince anyone to join a rebellion.

Raha groaned, pressing her fingers to her temple. "He's got no brain, Arna. But what's your excuse? You were already dismissed for two days. Two more warnings and they'll throw you out completely!"

Her words should have stung — but they didn't. They just echoed and vanished somewhere behind the thrum of my pulse.

"Rules aren't for the rulers, Raha," I said quietly.

Kevin smirked, as if that settled everything.

She sighed, but didn't argue again. Maybe she knew it was pointless.

Before she could react—before I could even pretend to laugh it off or demand she take it back—a voice sliced cleanly through the lecture hall, low and commanding, resonating with a calm that didn't need to rise to be heard.

"Good morning, trainees."

_______________

How is the gang  ?