Carl stood still, as if the moment itself had asked him not to move.
He was about 170 centimeters tall, neither short nor especially tall, the kind of height that disappeared in crowds but felt just right when standing alone. His black hair was slightly messy, the kind that never obeyed a comb no matter how much effort he put into it. A black hooded sweatshirt covered his upper body, the hood resting loosely against his neck, matching perfectly with his black pants and black shoes. His clothes were simple, quiet, almost invisible—but his sharp chin and focused gaze gave him an unexpectedly mature look.
Beside him, trees lined the road leading toward the academy gates. Their leaves swayed gently, responding to the calm sea breeze drifting in from the nearby beach. Beyond the trees, the ocean stretched endlessly, reflecting the pale blue of the sky. Waves rolled in softly, their sound distant yet comforting, as if nature itself was welcoming him.
In front of Carl stood a massive, modern structure made of glass and steel. Sunlight reflected off its surface, making it shine like something unreal. At the entrance, a large digital billboard glowed brightly.
DEXSCROB UNIVERSITY
The letters were bold and confident, impossible to ignore.
Carl's eyes widened slightly as he read it again, just to be sure. His heart beat faster—not from fear, but from a quiet, overwhelming sense of achievement.
"So… I really made it," he murmured.
His thoughts began to spill out, one after another, careful yet excited.
Finally. I got admitted into a very professional institute. Actually… no. It's the best institute.
Dexscrob University wasn't just famous—it was legendary. Stories about it circulated everywhere: online forums, news articles, even whispered conversations in classrooms. People who graduated from here didn't just get jobs. They built futures.
Some students launched startups before they even graduated. Others were recruited directly by companies like Microsoft and Google. And if someone failed to secure a placement, the university itself supported them—funding their ideas, helping them grow their own startup businesses instead of abandoning them.
To Carl, it sounded almost unreal.
A place that doesn't give up on you… even if you fail, he thought.
The entrance exam alone had been brutal. Weeks of preparation, sleepless nights, mock tests that made him question his own intelligence. He still remembered staring at the final question in silence, unsure whether he had done enough.
Yet here he was.
Accepted.
A small smile formed on his lips.
"I'll study here for four years… very peacefully," he thought. "No running around, no chaos. Just learning, improving myself."
His imagination began to run ahead of him.
Maybe I'll get accepted into a big company. Maybe I'll create something of my own. Something meaningful.
Then another thought followed, softer and slightly awkward.
And maybe… I'll get a girlfriend.
Carl scratched his cheek lightly, embarrassed even though no one was listening.
"I've never had one," he admitted to himself. "Not even close."
The idea wasn't his main goal, but it lingered quietly in his heart. University was supposed to be a new beginning, after all. New people. New chances.
As he stood lost in thought, footsteps passed in front of him.
Carl's eyes instinctively followed.
A girl walked toward the academy entrance, her presence immediately standing out against the bright glass background. She had long black hair that fell smoothly down her back, catching the sunlight with every step. Her eyes were dark and clear, carrying a calm confidence that made her seem completely at ease.
She was around 160 centimeters tall, slightly shorter than Carl, yet her posture made her feel taller somehow. Everything about her looked balanced, almost perfect—not in a flashy way, but in a natural, effortless manner.
She was wearing the same student badge as him.
A freshman… like me, Carl realized.
For a brief second, time seemed to slow.
She didn't notice him. Or perhaps she did, but didn't show it. She simply walked forward, passing by him and heading straight into Dexscrob University without hesitation.
Carl watched her until she disappeared through the doors.
His heart skipped once.
Beautiful… he thought, surprised at how quickly the word came to mind.
Then he shook his head lightly.
"What am I thinking?" he muttered. "Focus."
Still, his gaze lingered on the entrance she had walked through.
Maybe… I should go for her, a bold thought whispered inside him. Talk to her. At least once.
The idea scared him more than the entrance exam ever did.
Carl took a deep breath and looked up at the billboard one more time. The trees continued to sway peacefully. The ocean remained calm. Everything felt aligned, as if the world had paused just long enough for him to step forward.
"This is it," he said quietly.
Adjusting the strap of his bag, Carl took his first step toward the academy gates—toward Dexscrob University, toward a future filled with possibilities he couldn't yet imagine.
The glass doors slid open with a soft mechanical sound as Carl stepped into the reception hall.
The interior was far quieter than he expected.
The space was wide and polished, the floor reflecting the white ceiling lights almost too perfectly. A long reception desk stood at the center, minimalistic and cold, with no decorations except a small digital clock ticking silently on the wall behind it.
A woman stood up as soon as she noticed him.
She was wearing a neatly fitted suit, dark gray in color, her posture straight and professional. Her hair was tied back cleanly, not a single strand out of place. When she smiled, it was polite and warm—but practiced.
"You are a little late," she said calmly. "All the first-year students have already arrived."
Carl froze for a brief moment.
"I… I'm sorry," he replied quickly, bowing his head slightly. "I got delayed."
The woman nodded as if she had heard the same excuse countless times before.
"It's fine," she said. "You are the last among the one hundred and sixty students admitted this year."
The last, Carl repeated in his head.
For reasons he couldn't explain, that fact made his chest feel slightly heavier.
She gestured toward the desk. "Please come here. We need to complete your registration."
Carl walked forward and placed his bag down beside him. The woman handed him a stack of documents—thicker than he expected.
"Fill in your personal details here, here, and here," she said, pointing efficiently. "And sign at the marked sections."
Carl picked up the pen and began filling out the forms. Name. Date of birth. Academic background. Emergency contact. Everything looked normal—standard paperwork any university would require.
Then he reached the last page.
His eyes slowed as they moved across a particular line.
> The student agrees to abide by all campus regulations. In the event of violation, the university authority reserves the right to take full control over disciplinary actions under institutional law.
Carl frowned.
Institutional law? he thought. What does that even mean?
He glanced up at the woman, but she was already organizing another set of files, her expression unchanged. The clock behind her ticked again, louder than before.
Students had already arrived. Orientation would be ongoing. He didn't want to draw attention to himself on the first day.
I'll read it properly later, he told himself.
With a small hesitation, Carl signed his name.
The woman immediately collected the papers, sliding them into a folder as if that line had never existed.
"Thank you," she said. "Here are your hostel keys."
She placed a keycard and a small metal tag on the desk.
"Wing 003," she continued. "Single-occupancy room."
Carl blinked. "Single?"
"Yes," she replied. "You'll find the directions on the map provided. Curfew details and rules are uploaded to your student portal."
She smiled again—polite, distant.
"Welcome to Dexscrob University."
Carl took the keys and bowed slightly. "Thank you."
As he turned away from the reception, the silence returned almost immediately, swallowing the sound of his footsteps.
---
The hostels were massive.
Rows upon rows of identical buildings stretched across the campus, each one tall and uniform, like carefully arranged blocks. Wing numbers were engraved cleanly at the entrances, glowing faintly under the afternoon sun.
003… Carl muttered as he walked.
The pathway was clean. Too clean. Not a single piece of litter, not a single voice. For a place that housed hundreds of students, it felt strangely empty.
He found his building and stepped inside.
The hallway smelled faintly of disinfectant. The lights turned on automatically as he walked, responding to his movement. Doors lined both sides, all closed, all identical.
Carl reached his room and tapped the keycard.
The door unlocked with a soft beep.
Inside, the room was exactly as promised.
A single bed neatly placed against the wall. A wardrobe beside it. A study table positioned near the balcony door, with a clean chair tucked under it. To the side was a private toilet and shower, spotless and unused.
Carl stepped in and slowly turned around.
"It's… spacious," he said quietly.
The room wasn't luxurious, but it was more than enough for one person. Everything looked new, untouched, almost as if no one had ever lived here before.
He walked to the balcony and slid the glass door open.
Outside, a massive playground stretched across the view. Multiple courts. A wide field. Perfectly maintained grass.
But there was no one there.
Not a single student.
Carl leaned on the railing, scanning the area.
"That's strange," he murmured. "Where is everyone?"
Classes? Orientation? Break time?
Maybe everyone's busy, he reasoned.
Still, the silence bothered him.
The entire place felt clean—but sterile. As if life itself had been scrubbed away.
Carl placed his bag down near the bed and exhaled slowly.
"Good room," he said to himself. "No complaints."
Just as he turned toward the study table, a sudden sound broke the silence.
Knock. Knock.
Carl froze.
He looked at the door.
Someone was knocking.
Who would come now? he thought.
He walked over carefully and placed his hand on the handle. For a brief second, his mind flashed back to the document he had signed. The line he hadn't questioned.
Don't overthink, he told himself.
Carl opened the door.
And came face to face with someone who would make him question that thought immediately.
---
The door opened slowly.
Standing outside was a boy slightly taller than Carl, around 175 centimeters. He had blond hair that looked naturally messy rather than styled, and sharp blue eyes that immediately scanned Carl with curiosity rather than caution. He was wearing black jeans and a plain white shirt, casual but clean, like someone who hadn't expected trouble today.
"Oh—hey," the boy said, breaking into a quick grin. "I'm Max. I guess you're my neighbor."
Carl blinked once, then relaxed a little. "Carl. Yeah… looks like it."
Max glanced past him into the room. "So this is how the rooms look, huh?"
"Pretty much," Carl said, stepping aside. "You can come in."
"Thanks."
Max walked in and whistled softly as he looked around. "Single room. Not bad. I thought we'd be stuffed into shared dorms or something."
They both sat down, Carl on the chair near the study table, Max dropping onto the edge of the bed like he owned it already.
"Man," Max said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I arrived a little while ago, but this place feels… weird."
"Weird how?" Carl asked.
"I don't know. Quiet. Too clean. Like a hospital pretending to be a university."
Carl gave a small shrug. "Probably because you've never stayed in a hostel before."
Max looked at him, surprised. "How'd you know?"
"You talk like someone who's never had to share space or follow dorm rules," Carl replied calmly.
Max laughed. "Yeah, never. Always lived at home. Guess that's why it feels unsettling."
"That's normal," Carl said. "You'll get used to it."
Max leaned back slightly. "Hope so."
There was a short pause before Carl spoke again.
"First year?"
"Yeah," Max replied immediately. "You too?"
"First year."
Max smiled. "Good. At least I won't be alone."
Carl nodded, then asked, "Which department?"
"Computer science."
Carl's eyes narrowed just a little—not in suspicion, but interest. "Same."
Max's face lit up. "Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Nice," Max said. "Didn't expect that. I heard there are only eight departments here."
"That's right," Carl replied. "Computer science, business and finance, electrical and chemical engineering, biomedical sciences, physics, chemistry, and aerospace."
Max frowned slightly. "Only twenty students per department, right?"
"Exactly," Carl said. "Which means only one hundred sixty students total."
Max let out a low whistle. "That's… insanely low."
Carl didn't respond immediately.
"It sounds impressive," he said finally, "but it also means competition never stops."
Max nodded slowly. "True. Still, cracking that entrance exam was brutal."
"It was," Carl agreed.
"I mean," Max continued, leaning forward, "students from all over the globe applied. And there are only two universities like this in Asia. This one… and one in America."
Carl looked toward the balcony as Max spoke, his expression unreadable.
"The question paper was on another level," Max added. "Some questions didn't even feel like exam questions."
"They weren't testing memory," Carl said. "They were testing how you think under pressure."
Max smirked. "Figures."
He stretched his arms. "Still, once we graduate, the payoff is huge. The salaries, the opportunities—"
"The money is high," Carl said quietly. "But that's if we graduate."
Max paused. "You say that like it's not guaranteed."
Carl didn't answer.
Before Max could speak again, a sudden loud sound cut through the air.
"Attention all first-year students. Please assemble outside immediately."
The voice boomed from a megaphone somewhere outside the hostel.
Max stiffened. "What was that?"
Carl stood up. "Looks like they want us outside."
"Why?" Max asked, his voice tightening. "Orientation already happened, didn't it?"
"I don't know," Carl said, grabbing his hoodie. "But we shouldn't ignore it."
They stepped out into the hallway, doors opening one after another as other first-year students emerged. The once-empty corridor slowly filled with quiet footsteps and uneasy murmurs.
Outside, the scene was completely different from before.
A group of senior students stood gathered near the open area, forming a loose barrier. They were taller, louder, and far more relaxed than the first years. Some were laughing. Some were chewing gum. And some—
Carl's eyes narrowed.
Rods.
Several seniors were holding metal rods casually, resting them on their shoulders as if they were nothing more than props.
Max swallowed hard. "Carl… why do they have those?"
Carl didn't answer immediately. His gaze moved calmly from face to face, observing posture, expressions, spacing. The seniors weren't aggressive yet—but they weren't friendly either.
The first years were slowly being herded together. Boys and girls stood close, whispering nervously. No teachers were in sight.
"This doesn't feel right," Max said under his breath.
Carl took a small step back.
"We don't know what's going on," he said quietly. "Panicking won't help."
"So… what do we do?"
Carl looked at the seniors again, then at the gathered students.
"Let's go and see," he said.
Max hesitated, then nodded.
They walked forward, blending into the crowd of first years.
Above them, the sky remained clear.
But something told Carl that the calm of Dexscrob University had already ended.