The alarm went off at 6:00 AM.
Rix's arm shot out from under the blankets and smacked it without opening his eyes. He lay there for a few more seconds, staring at the ceiling.
It was Friday....
One more day before the weekend.
If he skipped today, that was three days off in a row.
To be honest he'd already done that once-twice, actually.
Procrastination was his specialty afterall.
If there was a championship for it, he'd be the reigning champion.
But alas today was different. He had an assignment due. No way to skip it,
He dragged himself out of bed and showered, got dressed, and stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a moment. His hair was still a mess, but at least he was awake now, kind of.
Back in his room, he noticed the family photo on his desk, there were four people in the picture-his parents, his younger sister Siya, and him at some beach trip years ago.
He smiled looking at it without thinking, then felt a small pang of guilt twist in his chest.
His phone buzzed.
He didn't need to check. Mom always called around this time.
"Hey, Mom," he answered, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"So you actually woke up early," she said, and he could hear the amusement in her voice. "I'm impressed."
"I'm always up early," Rix said, which was obviously a lie.
She laughed. "Sure you are. You're going to college today, right? No skipping?"
"Yeah, I'm going. I promise."
"That's what you said last time," she said, but her tone was gentle. "Living alone isn't easy, but I'm really proud of how you're managing everything."
Rix felt the guilt tighten. "I know, Mom. I'm doing fine. Really."
There was a brief pause. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice even when she tried to sound cheerful. "Your dad's still buried in work. Leaves early, comes back exhausted. And Siya..." she laughed softly. "She acts like she owns the apartment now. Won't admit it, but she asks about you constantly."
"Tell her I miss the trouble machine," Rix said, smiling despite the guilt pressing on his chest.
"I will," she said. "Just promise me you're eating real food. Not just cup noodles."
"I promise."
"Alright, I won't keep you. I just wanted to hear your voice."
"I'm glad you called," Rix said, and he meant it.
"Love you, okay?"
"Love you too, Mom."
He hung up and set the phone down on his desk.
For a moment, he just sat there. Then he placed his phone on the table and headed out the door to get ready .
He lived alone in his house just a few minutes from campus. With the college that close, staying in a dorm like most students simply didn't make sense to him.
A modest two-story place with a kitchen and bathrooms scattered across-nothing too fancy, just enough.
He headed downstairs, threw together some breakfast he couldn't identify, ate it -though only god could know what it was. After eating he came back upstairs.
Standing infront of the mirror, he saw what he always saw. Average height. Average face. The kind of guy people forgot about immediately. A perfect guy who is suited for background character role. But his eyes were different-sharp and observant. He noticed things others didn't. Small details. Inconsistencies. It made up for the laziness.
He pulled on a plain white hoodie and grabbed his backpack and headed out to the so called garage or atleast what he called a garage anyway.
It was just a small sheltered space that fit his bicycle. Yep Pedal-Powered cycle.
Just a two-wheeler he'd owned for years.
The thing is, Rix Alder didn't grew up swimming in money.
His family wasn't poor, just... not rich. His parents had moved to some far-off city for a better-paying job, taking Siya with them. They'd wanted to keep the family together, but Rix had already been admitted to college in Ashford. The house was close enough that staying made sense. Uprooting would've been pointless.
His parents trusted him to handle it alone.
The house felt quieter without them. Emptier. But he'd gotten used to it.
He brushed off the cycle's seat and swung a leg over it.
"Fine, let's get this done," Rix muttered, pushing off from the ground.
The wheels glided smooth over pavement as he pedaled out of the narrow lane. Morning breeze caught his hair. For a moment, there was only the soft click of the chain and the quiet hum of dawn.
Then—BROOOOM—shoooosh.
A sleek black BMW M4 Competition tore past him like a beast unleashed, engine snarling, tinted windows flashing obsidian in the sun.
The BMW slowed near the parking lot. Its window rolled down, just a crack.
The driver glanced back, Young and Sharp-jawed. Sunglasses that screamed money. And a wide smirk. Not the friendly kind, But The 'your cycle shouldn't even be here' kind.
Rix met his eyes for half a second, then offered a casual shrug and a grin.
The window rolled up. The BMW purred away.
He'd seen that look before. More times than he could count.
He rolled through the college gates, front tire squeaking as he stopped.
The parking lot stretched out in three sections: the two-wheeler zone packed with bikes and scooters.
Second, the cycle stand--- empty... Almost empty. Except for his poor, loyal bicycle, chained to the rail like it was serving a life sentence in solitary confinement, probably convicted for the heinous crime of being affordable.
Rix exhaled slowly. "I should just peel my skin off at this point," he muttered,
But he didn't care much.
Or so he told himself.
His eyes drifted to the four-wheeler section--mostly teachers' cars. Hatchbacks, second-hand sedans, vehicles with monthly payments and hope.
But a few cars stood out like lions in a herd of cows.
First, right at the edge, was the same monster that had passed him earlier. Black BMW M4 Competition from earlier, crouched low and gleaming like polished obsidian.
Next to it, a Mustang GT500--deep red with matte-black racing stripes.
Then the Maybach S680, pearl white and absurdly long, shimmering like a chandelier that learned to drive. Even its door handles looked like they had stock portfolios.
A matte-black Mercedes G-Wagon sat beside it, tinted windows darker than his financial future. Less car, more military tank on a luxury vacation.
Finally, a stretch limousine at the end. Jet black, mirror-polished, absolutely refusing to acknowledge it was at a college.
Rix stared.
"I'm in the wrong tax bracket," he whispered, then chuckled and patted his cycle. "Don't worry, buddy. At least you don't guzzle premium fuel. And you've never once made me feel poor."
He paused.
"Well. Poorer."
Rix didn't waste time gawking at the automotive flex parade. He locked his cycle, gave it one last reassuring pat like a soldier heading to war, and started toward class.
Ashford University sprawled out before him like a small city. It had everything you'd expect from a top-tier institution: multiple academic blocks for every department, a massive library that looked more like a corporate HQ, a cafeteria that served food. and even a fully-equipped gym Rix had only heard about but never dared to enter.
The main admin building stood dead center—glass facade, towering presence, giant clock on top that literally no one looked at it anyway.
Academic buildings surrounded it like loyal guards: Engineering, Business, Arts, Sciences. Students moved between them in sleepy waves, half-awake and operating on autopilot.
And then the dorms.
Two seven-story buildings. One for boys, one for girls. Separated by what Rix could only describe as continental distance. He'd once measured it on his phone-800 meters. The architect had either been a monk or someone deeply scarred by teenage hormones.
"Whoever designed this campus," Rix had muttered once, "either really values personal space... or watched way too many high school dramas."
Still. It was the Ashford University. Biggest, most prestigious college in the city. Students came from everywhere, chasing dreams and opportunities.
He entered the main academic block.
The hallway was less hallway, more highway—wide enough to drive a bus through, packed like a mall on sale day. Students everywhere. Talking, laughing, scrolling, huddled in groups like tiny kingdoms.
Rix weaved through quietly.
He wasn't social. But Not antisocial either, just... selective and Introverted. He had a tight circle. Two friends, maybe. One and a half on bad days.
He reached his classroom, slid the door open, and slipped inside like a shadow trying not to be noticed.
The classroom was nearly deserted. Three, maybe four students scattered around like lonely houseplants.
Rix stepped inside and exhaled. Empty. Perfect.
He checked his watch. 8:20 AM.
Class started at 9:00.
He stared at the numbers like they'd personally betrayed him.
"Why the hell am I here this early?" he muttered.
Normally, he rolled in at 10:00 AM like a misunderstood genius. Maybe at 9:30 in a disciplined day .
The classroom was clean, modern even. A large smart board mounted at the front, sleek and ready for presentations nobody would pay attention to. Pale blue walls with motivational posters on the side ("Strive for Progress, Not Perfection") was ironically peeling off.
Three ceiling fans hummed quietly, and the AC vents looked like they'd been cleaned this decade.
The desks were solid wood with smooth surfaces, some still had the occasional doodle or stray pen mark, but nothing too chaotic.
Windows lined one side, letting in soft morning light. The floors were polished tiles.
Ashford University didn't mess around with its facilities.
Rix didn't mind. He marched straight to his spot, to the back row, window side. The unofficial throne of introverts everywhere.
Dropped his bag with a dull thud.
Lowered his head to the desk, arms folded beneath it like a makeshift pillow.
The cool surface pressed against his forehead. His eyes closed.
Might as well use the extra forty minutes wisely.
Within seconds, he was out.
TIME ::::: 9:00AM...
At exactly 9:00 AM, the bell rang sharp through the corridor.
The hallway buzz died down. Students shuffled into the classroom, dropping into their seats .
A middle-aged man stepped through the door—Professor Harin. Neatly combed hair, square-rimmed glasses. He was strict but not unbearable. He didn't mind if you zoned out, as long as you kept it quiet.
The class stood in unison to greet him.
Well... almost everyone.
At the back, Rix remained peacefully unconscious, head buried in his arms.
Back Row Privileges....
But something pulled at the edge of his sleep. Not the usual sounds but Something... off.
Murmurs..... Whispers.....
He cracked one eye open, vision blurry.
People were standing. Good, Class started. okk...
But they weren't looking at Professor Harin.
They were staring at someone beside him.
Rix blinked, trying to force his eyes into focus.
And then he saw her.
She stood beside Professor Harin, dressed casually. Soft pastel blue sweater, high-waisted black jeans. Her hair was long—bluish-white, almost silver—falling down to her waist.
Her eyes, pale blue and distant, scanned the room with quiet disinterest, as if everyone here was beneath her notice. The thing is She wasn't trying to stand out, but her very presence made the air feel different
Rix blinked, still groggy, trying to piece together what was happening.
He leaned back slightly and muttered under his breath:
"A transfer student? In college? What is this, anime?"