That night, Akshat finally understood why the air in the college felt different.
The hostel system wasn't normal.
There weren't just dorm buildings. There were seven separate branches—seven hostels, each carrying its own status, its own weight in the invisible hierarchy that controlled AUMC.
At the very top stood Hostel 1.
It wasn't just a building. It was a domain.
The strongest students, the wealthiest, the most influential—all of them belonged there. They were the elite, the untouchables. The kind of people who didn't need to show up to control things. Their presence alone was enough to enforce authority across the campus.
And Akshat?
He had been assigned to Hostel 7.
The lowest.
"Late admission," they had said, as if that explained everything.
But now, standing there, he understood—it wasn't just a placement.
It was a ranking.
_____
After dinner, a sharp screech cut through the night air.
A megaphone.
"All Hostel 7 students, assemble immediately!"
The sound echoed across the ground, harsh and commanding.
Within minutes, students began gathering in the open field. No one questioned it. No one ignored it. They moved quickly, almost instinctively, as if their bodies already understood the consequences of disobedience.
Akshat followed, his steps calm but his mind alert.
Then he saw him.
Standing on a small stage under dim yellow lights—
Tae-jin.
The leader of Hostel 7.
He stood tall, around 6'2, his body built like someone who lived inside a gym. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, veins visible even under the faint lighting. His presence alone was enough to silence the crowd.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes were cold.
He didn't need to shout.
He simply raised the megaphone.
"Welcome to Hostel 7."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Before you get comfortable, you need to understand the rules."
No one moved.
No one even dared to whisper.
"Rule number one," Tae-jin said, his tone steady. "Every student here will pay 100£ per month if they want to live peacefully."
A brief pause followed, heavy with unspoken understanding.
"Rule number two. This entire college system is controlled by Hostel 1. You will not mess with Hostel 1. You will not speak against Hostel 1. You will not even look at Hostel 1 the wrong way."
The way he said it…
It didn't sound like a warning.
It sounded like obedience carved into language.
"Rule number three. If anyone tries to reveal this hostel system to outsiders—authorities, family—that person will be beaten until death."
The temperature of the ground seemed to drop.
Still, no one reacted.
No outrage.
No resistance.
Just silence.
As if this was already normal.
Then came the final rule.
"Rule number four," Tae-jin continued, his gaze slowly scanning the crowd. "The powerful survive. The weak get bullied. Money doesn't decide your rank here. Influence doesn't matter."
A pause.
"Only physical power."
Silence swallowed everything.
Akshat felt it again—that same suffocating tension he had sensed inside the lecture hall.
This wasn't just bullying.
This was a system.
An underground hierarchy.
And he had just been placed at the very bottom of it.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Hostel 7.
The lowest.
Fine.
---
The next day, Akshat walked across the campus, his eyes quietly observing everything around him. He wasn't just roaming anymore—he was studying the place, trying to understand the invisible structure that governed it.
That was when he saw a familiar face.
For a brief moment, he thought he was mistaken.
But he wasn't.
It was her.
Aavya.
The topper from his former coaching institute.
The girl who used to solve organic chemistry problems faster than teachers could explain them. She stood around 5'7, dark-skinned, always holding her books close to her chest like they were shields. She seemed slightly different now—maybe she had gained a little weight, or maybe it was just the stress of college settling in.
Akshat walked toward her.
"Aavya?"
She turned.
Her eyes widened in surprise before softening into a genuine smile.
"Akshat? You're here too?!"
There was real happiness in her voice.
Relief.
For a moment, they simply stood there, talking—about ranks, admissions, how unexpected it was to meet again in a place like this.
But as the conversation continued, Akshat began to notice something.
Something subtle.
Her smile faded a little too quickly.
Her eyes kept shifting past him, scanning the surroundings.
She looked… cautious.
At first, he didn't think much of it. He was still caught up in the coincidence of them being assigned to the same class.
"You didn't come yesterday?" he asked casually.
Aavya hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
"Yeah… I wasn't feeling well."
The answer came out smoothly.
Too smoothly.
It sounded rehearsed.
Akshat didn't question it.
He didn't know.
He didn't know that while he had been witnessing violence in the washroom the previous day, Aavya had been experiencing her own version of it.
Bullied.
Mocked for her dark skin.
Targeted for standing out—for being a topper, for being different in the wrong way.
And she hadn't told him.
Maybe she didn't want to appear weak.
Maybe she believed he wouldn't understand.
Or maybe…
This place had already taught her that silence was safer.
As they walked toward class together, Akshat felt something shift inside him.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't curiosity.
It was something else.
Responsibility.
He still didn't fully understand the rules of this college.
But he was beginning to see the pattern.
_____
After class ended, Akshat headed straight to the cafeteria. Compared to the suffocating silence of the lecture hall, the noise here felt almost normal. Trays clattered against tables, chairs scraped across the floor, and conversations overlapped in a chaotic rhythm.
He scanned the room instinctively.
Aavya wasn't there.
"She's probably in the washroom," he thought, picking up a tray.
But reality was different.
Aavya wasn't just in the washroom.
She was trapped inside it.
Cornered.
A group of girls surrounded her, their expressions carrying the same cold amusement he had seen before. Their voices were low, controlled, but every word carried sharp cruelty. They mocked her skin, her body, her "topper attitude."
One pushed her against a stall.
Another pulled her hair.
Someone splashed water over her clothes while laughing, reducing her presence piece by piece.
It wasn't chaotic.
It wasn't loud.
It was deliberate.
Controlled.
Exactly how the system functioned.
---
Nearly twenty minutes later, Aavya walked into the cafeteria.
Akshat noticed her immediately.
And something felt wrong.
She was wearing different clothes.
Her hair was slightly damp.
For a brief moment, his brows furrowed.
"When did she change?" he wondered. "Did she go back to the dorm?"
But then he noticed something else.
A few students glanced at her—and quickly looked away.
Not confused.
Not surprised.
Aware.
That was when the uneasiness settled in his chest.
Aavya sat down across from him, her expression calm, as if nothing had happened.
"You took long," Akshat said casually, studying her face. "And… when did you change your clothes?"
She paused.
Just for a moment.
Then she smiled faintly.
"Just normal bullying," she said lightly. "That's all."
Normal.
The word echoed in Akshat's mind.
The way she said it…
Like it was routine.
Like it was expected.
His grip tightened slightly around the spoon in his hand.
Normal?
Since when had something like this become normal?
And more importantly—
Why was everyone else acting like it was?
End of ch 10
To be continue...
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