By the time the sun lifted itself fully over Yangon Learning University, the campus wasn't just awake.
It was divided.
Not by faculties.
Not by grades.
By sides.
Team "She's innocent."
Team "She knew what she was doing."
Team "It's all Naya Thone's fault."
Team "Min Yatu is the problem."
Team "I don't care, but I'm watching."
The war didn't start with a fight.
It started with a notification.
Soung Ka Byar lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself she could stay there forever and the universe would politely move on without her.
Her phone vibrated against the pillow.
She didn't move.
It vibrated again.
And again.
The sound grated against her nerves.
She finally reached for it, squinting at the screen.
SCARLET THREAD UPDATE — 07:03
Of course.
She opened it with the numbness of someone expecting pain.
"CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER: YLU FINE ARTS WAR EDITION"
At this point, pretending this isn't a full-blown saga is pointless.
So let's lay it out:
Player 1 – The Scholarship Girl
Poor. Talented. Catches feelings and trouble like a magnet.
Player 2 – The Professor
Dark, intense, known for "breaking and rebuilding" students.
Player 3 – The Heir
Rich. Reckless. Punches people for the girl he won't admit he's in love with.
Player 4 – The Ex-Favorite
Our queen of Fine Arts before this year's chaos. Pretty. Sharp. Very, very done.
Comment your team:
🖤 #TeamScholarship
🎨 #TeamNaya
💸 #TeamMin
🔥 #TeamKlar
Beneath it, the comments were already exploding.
"#TeamScholarship she didn't ask for this 😭"
"#TeamKlar idc what y'all say, that girl WORKED for her place."
"Lowkey #TeamNaya, he's the only reason Fine Arts is interesting."
"#TeamMin he punched a guy, that's devotion 💀"
"Delete all of them and give Soe Hlaing May the story."
"This is better than any series."
Ka Byar's stomach twisted.
They'd turned her life into a poll.
She scrolled.
There were memes. Edits.
A split-screen of her beside a painting of a girl in ruins.
A photo of Min Yatu on the stairs, captioned:
"Imagine being this mad over a girl who might not even notice you."
And then something new.
A comment pinned at the top by Scarlet Thread:
"If any of you have actual PROOF
(screenshots, recordings, etc.)
send it to us.
Let's see who's really guilty."
Cold spread slowly through her body.
Proof.
They were hungry now.
Not for stories.
For blood.
By nine a.m., a second account appeared.
No one knew who made it.
No one admitted it.
But by noon, everyone knew its name.
SilverWire.
It started with a single post.
"YOU'RE NOT FUNNY. YOU'RE CRUEL."
No, this is not Scarlet Thread.
No, this is not admin drama.
We're just tired.
Tired of watching people break and calling it 'content.'
Tired of anonymous accounts tearing apart students who are already trying not to drown.
This page will not drop tea.
This page will drop context.
If you've been lied about, send the real story.
Consider this a little balance to the chaos.
At first, people laughed.
"LMAO a moral version of Scarlet?"
"Ok social justice warriors."
"SilverWire is going to be so boring."
Then came the second post.
A screenshot of a message, anonymous sender:
"I didn't sleep with him.
I just asked for help.
They turned it into a scandal."
And below it, the caption:
"They called her 'N.T.'s obsession' last year.
She dropped out.
No one asked why."
Ka Byar stared at that.
Her chest tightened.
She'd heard whispers about "last year's girl."
Klar had weaponized it quickly: He gets bored. He moves on. You won't survive him.
But here, in plain text, was something else.
Not seduction.
Not scandal.
Just a girl swallowed whole by a hungry university.
Soe sent the link to Ka Byar with a message:
"Not everyone is against you."
For the first time in days, something inside Ka Byar shifted away from pure defensiveness.
This wasn't just about her.
This was about a system that had decided drama was more entertaining than truth.
Still…
Drama was what people clicked.
The cafeteria buzzed like a hive.
Phones open. Screens glowing.
Scarlet Thread vs SilverWire being passed around like rival political parties.
Ka Byar walked in with Soe, tray in hand, feeling the air divide around her.
Left side of the room:
"Honestly, we need Scarlet. YLU's boring without it."
"They just say what everyone's already thinking."
Right side of the room:
"SilverWire is right. We all pretend it's fun until it's you."
"Posting silhouettes and private moments is messed up."
She and Soe took a spot near the windows.
Soe broke her bread into tiny pieces.
"They're fighting over your life like it's a sports match," Soe muttered.
"I didn't ask to be the ball," Ka Byar replied.
"Are you… okay?" Soe asked.
"No," Ka Byar said. "But I'm… awake."
Before Soe could respond, someone walked up to their table.
Klar Za Min.
Perfect hair.
Perfect posture.
Perfect mask.
She set her tray down without asking and slid onto the bench opposite them.
Soe tensed immediately.
"What do you want?" Ka Byar asked, too tired for subtlety.
"Relax," Klar said. "I'm not here to throw food or slap you or whatever people think I do in my free time."
"You trash me online instead," Ka Byar said quietly.
Klar's smile sharpened.
"I don't run Scarlet Thread," she said. "If I had time for that, my grades would be worse."
"That's not a denial," Soe murmured.
Klar ignored her.
"I came to say something… generous," she said.
Both girls stared.
Klar leaned in slightly.
"The war that's building?" she said. "It's going to get uglier. People are already sending things in. Screenshots. Photos. Audio."
"Of what?" Ka Byar demanded.
"Of you," Klar said bluntly. "Of Naya. Of Min. Of me. Of everyone. The whole department is about to be flipped into a spectacle."
Ka Byar's fingers tightened around her cup.
"You seem excited," she said.
"I'm prepared," Klar corrected. "There's a difference."
"What's the generous part?" Soe asked suspiciously.
Klar looked straight at Ka Byar.
"You're not built for this," she said.
Anger flared instantly.
"You don't know what I'm built for," Ka Byar replied.
Klar's eyes flashed.
"I know you were soft two weeks ago," she said. "I know you cried when your easel fell. I know you apologized for existing at the front of the room."
She tilted her head.
"This game?" Klar said. "It's played by people who already decided they don't care what it costs."
"And you?" Ka Byar asked. "You don't care?"
"I've cared enough," Klar said. "It didn't help. So now I don't."
Silence stretched between them.
Klar's voice softened—not kind, but almost… tired.
"Here's my advice," she said. "Drop the tutor candidacy. Step out of the spotlight. Scarlet Thread gets bored eventually. SilverWire will move on to another sob story. The war will move elsewhere."
"And you win?" Ka Byar asked.
Klar smiled.
"I stay," she replied simply. "You don't shatter. Everyone's happy."
Soe's jaw clenched.
"That's not generous," she said. "That's strategy."
Klar shrugged.
"Call it what you want."
She stood.
"Think about it," she said. "Before the first real bomb drops."
She walked away, leaving the smell of expensive perfume and expensive cruelty behind.
Soe turned to her.
"You are not dropping out of anything," Soe said firmly. "That's what she wants."
"Maybe she's right," Ka Byar whispered. "Maybe I'm not built for this."
Soe leaned closer.
"Or maybe," she said, eyes shining with fierce quiet loyalty, "you just haven't decided how you want to fight yet."
It dropped at 3:17 p.m.
Ka Byar was in the library, trying to read but failing, when her phone vibrated violently on the table.
Messages poured in.
Hsu: "Girl, check Scarlet. Now."
Aung Pyae: "You okay???"
Unknown number: "You didn't deserve this."
Soe: "Don't look at it alone. I'm coming."
Her breath quickened.
She opened Scarlet Thread.
There it was.
"EXCLUSIVE: THE REAL REASON MIN YATU THREW THAT PUNCH"
Everyone thinks it was about the scholarship girl.
Cute. Dramatic. Wrong.
What if we told you:
Someone made a complaint.
Someone reported that boy for "violent tendencies" and "harassment."
Who?
A "concerned student from Fine Arts."
We've seen the draft.
We've seen the name.
And, well…
Let's just say, being a muse comes with sharp edges.
At the bottom, blurred like a tease, was a screenshot of a report form.
Only one line was highlighted clearly:
"The student in question has shown alarming aggression toward others on behalf of a female friend. I worry this behavior will escalate."
The name field was blurred.
But the username of the email address underneath?
Just clear enough for anyone to guess.
soung.k.b*@ylu.edu.mm
The room spun for a moment.
Her chest constricted.
"I didn't fill that out," she whispered.
She hadn't.
She hadn't.
Her fingers shook as she scrolled through the comments.
"Oh she's fake 😭 acts all innocent but goes behind his back???"
"Report then let him take the blame? Yikes."
"Imagine punching someone for a girl who tells admin you're dangerous."
"She's done."
Her mind screamed.
I DIDN'T DO THIS.
Her vision blurred.
"Ka Byar."
Soe slid into the chair beside her, breathless.
"I saw," Soe said. "Tell me you didn't—"
"I didn't," Ka Byar choked out. "I didn't report him. I didn't write that."
Soe believed her.
Immediately.
"Okay," Soe said. "Then someone else did. Someone with your email. Or someone who wants them to think it's you."
Klar's words from lunch echoed:
"Before the first bomb drops."
Ka Byar's chest ached.
"He's going to think it was me," she whispered. "Of course he is. It looks like me."
Soe's face hardened.
"Then we don't wait," she said. "We go to him first."
They found Min Yatu behind the main building, under the same stairs where he'd once warned Ka Byar about walking alone.
He was sitting on the steps, elbows on his knees, phone in hand, jaw tight.
He looked up when they approached.
His eyes went first to Ka Byar.
Then to Soe.
Then to Ka Byar again.
"Did you see it?" he asked.
She swallowed.
"Yes."
He stared at her.
"Did you write it?" he asked.
"No," she said. "I swear—"
"Don't swear," he snapped. "Just answer."
Something inside her recoiled.
"I didn't," she said. "I would never—"
"Because it uses your uni email," he said. "It talks exactly like someone who stands far enough away to claim it wasn't their fault."
Her eyes stung.
"You really think I'd report you after you defended me?" she whispered.
"I don't know what to think," he said. "Because lately I find out more about you from Scarlet Thread than from you."
That hurt.
Deep.
"Do you trust that page more than me?" she asked quietly.
He flinched.
"That's not what I said."
"It's what it feels like," she said.
Soe stepped forward.
"Min Yatu," she said, voice calm but sharp, "someone is framing her. We both know whose brand that is."
"You think this is Klar?" he asked.
Soe didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"Does she hate you enough to drag me into it?" he muttered, looking at Ka Byar.
"She hates anything that moves attention away from her," Ka Byar whispered. "And you… punch harder than she expected."
He exhaled sharply.
The anger in his eyes had nowhere to go.
"Okay," he said finally. "Let's say I believe you."
"You don't?" she asked.
"I do," he said. "Now. But the rest of the school doesn't."
Ka Byar's stomach twisted.
"You're not going to get in trouble?" she asked.
"I will," he said. "But I've been in trouble before. This isn't new."
"You're in trouble for me," she said. "Again."
He smiled bitterly.
"Exactly," he said. "Which is why if you truly didn't report me… you deserve better than what they're saying."
Relief and guilt tangled.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You didn't do it," he said. "Stop apologizing for things the world throws at you."
He stood.
"Whoever wrote that report," he said quietly, "started something."
He looked off toward the Fine Arts building.
"It's war now," he said. "Is that what they want?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
He just walked away, leaving Ka Byar feeling like she was standing in the center of something that no longer cared if she survived.
That night, in Ka Byar's room, the atmosphere was something new.
Not just fear.
Strategy.
Soe sat cross-legged on the bed, laptop open, eyes narrowed.
Ka Byar sat on the floor with her back against the side of the bed, knees pulled to her chest.
"There are ways to track form timestamps," Soe murmured, clicking. "But we don't have access to the admin side. Which means we can't prove who filled that report."
"We know, though," Ka Byar said.
"Yes. But knowing and proving are different weapons," Soe replied.
Ka Byar stared at the window.
"What if I don't want weapons?" she whispered.
Soe looked at her.
"Then you'll keep getting hit by them," she said gently.
Silence.
Ka Byar's fingers tightened around her knees.
"I'm tired of being hit," she said. "Tired of being the canvas. Tired of being the excuse. Tired of being the victim in someone else's narrative."
Soe waited.
Something cold and clean settled inside Ka Byar.
"What if," she said slowly, "I stop being the target and start… aiming?"
Soe's eyes widened.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
Ka Byar looked up.
"SilverWire defends," she said. "Scarlet Thread attacks. Klar uses them. We wait. We react. We get eaten."
She took a breath.
"What if we throw something first?"
Soe hesitated.
"That sounds like becoming the thing you hate," she whispered.
"It sounds like not dying quietly," Ka Byar corrected.
There was a long, loaded pause.
Soe closed the laptop slowly.
"I won't help you destroy yourself," she said.
"I'm not trying to," Ka Byar replied. "I'm trying to… tilt the frame. Even once. Even a little."
"Do you have something?" Soe asked reluctantly.
"On Klar?" Ka Byar said. "No. I don't dig through people's trash for fun."
Soe looked away.
"I do," she said softly.
Ka Byar blinked.
"What?"
Soe sighed.
"I don't look for blackmail," she explained. "I just… notice things. Screens left unlocked. People talking loud. Files mislabeled in shared drives."
She took a deep breath.
"Klar's father," Soe said quietly, "nearly pulled funding from the Fine Arts department last year when she didn't get a solo exhibition slot. There were emails. Messy ones. Threats. Promises. It got buried because they smoothed it over. But if that comes out…"
"She looks like everything she accuses me of being," Ka Byar finished.
"Entitled. Manipulative. Dangerous for the university's image," Soe said.
Ka Byar exhaled.
"This is real?" she asked.
"It is," Soe said. "I've seen the mail headers. Someone from admin leaked them into a student chat as a joke and deleted them, but I saved them."
"Soe," Ka Byar whispered, "that's—"
"Obsessive?" Soe suggested wryly. "I live on the sidelines. I see what everyone else ignores."
Another stretch of silence.
"We send it to SilverWire," Ka Byar said.
Soe hesitated.
"If we do this," she said, "there's no going back. Klar will know it was us."
"She started this war," Ka Byar said softly. "I'm tired of folding."
Soe studied her.
"You're changing," Soe murmured.
"I know," Ka Byar said. "And I'm done pretending I'm not."
Soe closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them.
"Okay," she said. "If you're going to fight like them, at least fight smarter."
She opened a blank message.
Attached the screenshots.
Typed:
"If you're going to talk about who doesn't deserve their position,
maybe start with the girl whose family threatened to bankrupt the department when she didn't get special treatment.
– someone who's tired of being quietly devoured."
She hovered over the send button.
"Last chance," Soe said. "We can delete this."
Ka Byar thought of:
Klar's smirk.
Min Yatu's bruised knuckles.
The fake complaint.
The assembly.
Naya's almost-kiss.
The whisper: We made a monster, didn't we?
Her jaw set.
"Send it," she said.
Soe clicked.
And somewhere, in the invisible veins of YLU's digital bloodstream, the war shifted.
For the first time—
not away from her.
Because of her.
SilverWire didn't post it immediately.
They waited.
Hours.
It gave Ka Byar time to doubt herself.
She sat on her bed, knees drawn up, staring at nothing while Soe pretended to read.
"What if I became exactly like them?" Ka Byar whispered.
Soe closed the book.
"No," she said. "They attack for sport. You retaliated to stay alive."
"Is there really a difference?" Ka Byar asked.
"Yes," Soe said. "But only if you remember you still have one."
A soft buzz from her phone cut through the room.
New post.
SilverWire.
Soe and Ka Byar looked at each other, then opened it at the same time.
"WHEN POWER BUYS A CANVAS"
Fine Arts rumor wants you to believe it's about talent.
Let's talk about the parts money tried to erase.
Last year, when one particular student didn't get a solo exhibition,
her family threatened to pull funding from the department.
Screenshots below.
Make your own judgment about who really 'earned' their place.
Screenshots.
Names blurred.
But context obvious.
Too obvious.
The comment section ignited.
"Wait… so Klar almost got her daddy to cut money just because she didn't get a show?"
"And she's calling other people unprofessional??"
"This is worse than anything the scholarship girl did."
"Scarlet Thread where you at now?"
"Everyone's dirty omfg."
Scarlet Thread responded three minutes later.
"We never said we serve justice. We serve tea.
But damn. That's some imported-grade caffeine right there."
The war wasn't one-sided anymore.
It was chaos.
Real chaos.
Not the kind built on whispers.
The kind built on receipts.
Klar Za Min saw the post standing outside the studio, sunlight catching on her polished earrings.
Her hand tightened around her phone so hard her knuckles paled.
"What is it?" Hsu asked, leaning in.
Klar said nothing.
Her heart lurched into her throat as she read the message, the lines of old, half-forgotten panic re-etching themselves across her mind.
"They found it," she whispered.
"Found what?" Hsu pressed.
"The emails," Klar said. "From my father. From the funding office."
Hsu's eyes widened.
"How?" she whispered.
Klar's stomach twisted.
She looked up and across the courtyard, her gaze immediately finding Ka Byar near the fountain, Soe beside her.
Ka Byar wasn't looking at her.
That made it worse.
If she'd smirked—
If she'd stared—
If she'd gloated—
Klar could have hated her comfortably.
But Ka Byar just stood there, head bent, expression unreadable from a distance.
"Did she do this?" Hsu asked.
Klar swallowed hard.
"Who else would know?" she muttered.
Hsu frowned.
"SilverWire isn't her style," she said. "Too… righteous."
"It's not about style," Klar snapped. "It's about motive."
"Then this is war," Hsu said.
"No," Klar replied, eyes narrowing.
"This?"
Her lips curled.
"This is a declaration."
She straightened her shoulders.
"They wanted a villain," she murmured. "Fine. Let's see what happens when I stop holding back."
For the first time since this began, Klar wasn't just playing defense.
She was going to hit back.
Hard.
And somewhere across that courtyard—
Ka Byar felt it.
Not in her body.
In the air.
Like the weather had shifted around her soul.
That night, as the city breathed and the campus slowly dimmed, Ka Byar sat by the window, knees up, chin resting on them.
Her phone was face down on the bed.
Soe was asleep.
The world outside hummed with faraway traffic and closer secrets.
You did this, a quiet voice in her head said.
Not as a curse.
Not as praise.
Just as fact.
She'd pulled a string.
She'd sent a shot.
She'd chosen a side, finally.
Hers.
Was she a monster now?
Was she a strategist?
Was there even a difference in a place like this?
A shadow flickered in the reflection of the window.
For a moment, she almost thought she saw herself—
not as a fragile first-year with paint on her fingers—
but as something else.
Someone.
A girl with sharper eyes.
Straighter spine.
Less apology.
The war had begun.
And for the first time, she wasn't just caught in it.