Sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, shifting from the soft glow of morning to the sharper light of afternoon. Students filled the room, heads bent over their papers. A heavy silence lingered as they worked, completely absorbed.
The two professors moved slowly between the rows. Frustration flickered across a few faces. Tension thickened. A few whispers broke through before fading again. Still, the professors remained composed, their steps steady as the ticking clock pressed against the room's nerves.
In the meantime, Yug Satya had already finished his answer sheet. He reviewed it once more before setting it down. Drawing in a slow breath, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and steadied himself.
"I still have time," Yug whispered as the tension eased from his shoulders, remaining seated instead of leaving.
Then a voice rose, cutting through the heavy atmosphere that hung in the air.
"Five minutes to go," the professors called out.
Yug followed the professors' voices as they moved through the class. He turned back to his desk, but the faint whispers around him were already growing louder.
Today, the second-year final exam was about to end in five minutes. After this, he would finally have a break—time to organize himself and begin preparing to join his family business while continuing his studies.
The thought lingered, bringing a faint sense of relief. Perhaps working in the family business would give him something else to focus on—something that might dull the bitterness of falling short.
RING! RING!
The final bell echoed across the hall, pulling the students out of their focus. Yug blinked as his thoughts were interrupted. Then the professor's voice followed.
"Time's up! Drop your pens. No one writes another word, or marks will be deducted!"
The professors didn't move immediately. They paused, scanning the room to ensure no one was still writing. Once they were satisfied, they began walking between the rows, collecting the answer sheets one by one.
As a professor approached, Yug stood and handed over his paper. "Thank you," he said with a polite smile.
"Hm." The professor paused as he looked at Yug. Something seemed to click in his mind—the familiarity of the face, the voice he had heard many times before.
"Aren't you Rank Six?"
Yug flinched at the professor's words. His eyes narrowed briefly before an awkward smile formed on his lips. In truth, the remark stirred a quiet surge of anger within him. He concealed it behind that same smile, snapping his fingers once to steady himself.
"No. I'm Yug," he replied sharply.
He grabbed his question paper and hurried toward the exit, not wanting to stay any longer.
"You should let it go. Those five are not meant to be compared with you," the professor called out.
Yug paused at the doorway. The words were clear—too clear.
"Yes… I will," he whispered to himself.
But the answer brought no comfort. Irritation flickered beneath the surface. His nails pressed into his palm as anger slowly rose.
This was never my plan. I had always been ranked high. No one had ever looked down on me. Two years had passed, and yet… I couldn't see any real result. Where was the problem?
"Isn't he Rank Six? What was his name?"
The whisper broke through Yug's thoughts, making him pause. His eyes widened—not in surprise, but at the sudden stir of something rising within him. He slowly turned back toward the voice.
"He turned to us, guys," one of them muttered mockingly. There was no fear in his voice—no tension in his posture.
Yug noticed that three of them had stopped and were now looking back at him.
"Ha. So what?" another one scoffed. "He's the same as before. At first, he shows his claws, and then… ugh…"
He tapped his finger against his lips, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if searching for the right word.
"Then he shrinks back," one of them said, grinning.
"Hahaha, right. I almost forgot."
They laughed.
Something twisted inside Yug.
"Hey, fuckers!" His voice cut through their laughter.
They turned.
"You think I'll just let you walk away?" He stepped toward them. "You fucking losers. You don't even rank in this university, and you dare mock me?"
His breathing grew heavier. He kept walking. One of them stepped forward, smirking.
"Yes, we are. What are you going to—" He didn't finish.
Yug's fist shot forward.
BAM.
***
"Ahh… hah…"
Bruises mottled Yug's body, yet his eyes gleamed faintly.
"Now I feel a little better."
He rolled his sore shoulder, testing loosening his stiff muscles. A sharp ache flared, but it only deepened the strange satisfaction settling inside him.
For the first time in a long while, the pain felt earned.
"Maybe this is better," he muttered under his breath. "Even if there were three of them… a win is still a win."
The relief slipped out before he could stop it.
"Hey, Yug!"
He froze instantly. The voice was familiar—concerned even—but instead of comfort, tension tightened his body. His guard went up at once.
"What happened to you? You look messy."
The words didn't help. If anything, they dragged up an old, bitter memory—the version of himself he hated most.
He bit his lip.
After a brief pause, he turned his head—just enough to face her.
For a moment, he was caught off guard by her beauty. He had seen her countless times, spoken to her just as often—yet something about her always felt different.
His gaze lingered. She stepped closer, lifting her hand as if to touch his face. Yug stepped back instinctively. His eyes widened, breaking whatever spell had held him.
"What are you doing, Nitya?"
He studied Nitya, his heart racing as a troubling realization formed in his mind.
Something wasn't right.
He wasn't sure what he felt for her anymore. His body reacted with something close to affection—but beneath it lingered unease. That unease tightened inside him, refusing to disappear.
And most importantly… she was not someone he had ever allowed himself to see that way.
His desire regarding her had always been different.
She was one of the top five rankers in the university. Because of them, his reputation had crumbled. His name had faded into "Rank Six."
For years, his only thought had been to surpass them. But today, he had promised himself to stop chasing that shadow. To stop hating himself for falling short.
They were monsters—talents beyond reason.
He had once seen someone else with such monstrous ability, but she had been his junior then, distant and irrelevant to his pride.
This was different. These monsters stood beside him, in the same year, under the same sky. And that proximity stirred something darker in his chest. His blood ran hot.
"You're hurt. And that cut will get worse if you don't treat it. Come here. Let me bandage it—I have a kit."
Her hand slipped into her purse as she spoke.
Yug watched her, lips pressing into a faint grimace.
This wasn't the first time she had done something like this. She had looked after him before—quietly, without explanation.
Yet he had never understood why. Whenever he asked, she would simply say it was her fault. That it had happened because of her.
"Why are you carrying a medical kit?"
Yug had grown used to her care. He had never rejected it—never felt shame in front of her. Somehow, it felt natural to be tended to by her like this.
"I saw you struggling against those three," she said calmly. "So I went to the infirmary. I figured you'd need it."
She walked ahead without waiting for his reply.
Yug followed.
She stopped at an empty bench near the open field. From there, the university buildings stretched into view beneath the fading light.
She sat down and opened her kit.
"Can I ask you something?"
Yug sat quietly on the bench as she treated his wounds, his eyes fixed on her face. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air—subtle, distracting.
She glanced at him when he spoke.
"There. Done."
Nitya finished applying the ointment and stepped back, creating a little distance between them. She rose from the bench, smoothing out her clothes as if she hadn't heard his question at all.
"Please, Nitya. Before you leave… I need to hear this for myself."
Yug's voice was steady. His back straightened as he watched her retreating figure.
When his tone reached her, she stopped.
He was certain she already knew what he was about to ask.
Nitya lowered her gaze to the ground and let out a quiet sigh—one that carried more weight than she intended.
She knew he wouldn't take it well. But she also knew he needed to hear it. Otherwise, he would never free himself from this cycle.
"What is it?"
She turned back to face him, her voice cold and unwavering. Her dark brown eyes met his directly.
"Do you think…"
His fingers pressed into the edge of the bench. He couldn't finish the sentence.
He looked at her, then lowered his head. He never thought he would ask something like this. His emotions churned inside him, clouding his thoughts. Even asking the question felt like admitting defeat.
Nitya didn't hesitate.
"No. I don't think you'll ever reach us."
His head lifted at once. Her eyes were cold—steady, unwavering. He flinched. Not at the words alone, but at the blunt certainty behind them.
Their silence was broken by a voice.
"Nitya, let's go."
The call came from behind her.
Yug's gaze shifted past her shoulder.
A tall young woman stood at a distance—striking, composed, her blonde hair catching the light. Her eyes were unusual, sharp in a way that defied simple description.
He recognized her immediately.
Nitara.
The top-ranked university.
She wasn't alone.
Beside her stood Rudra—the one ranked second. Though he followed Nitara almost obsessively, rarely sparing attention for anything else, his status alone commanded respect.
Whenever Yug spoke to him, he addressed him as "Sir."
Two others stood with them.
They followed Rudra closely—loyal, almost like shadows—but they were no less formidable. Both ranked within the top five.
The hierarchy was clear:
Nitara.
Rudra.
Nitya.
Arun.
Karan.
Those five had shaped Yug's past two years more than anything else.
They had turned him obsessive, restless, unsteady. Standing before them, fear came naturally. As their fame rose, his own reputation faded. In the university's eyes—and in theirs—his value had quietly fallen to nothing.
Yug's vision blurred. Frustration surged through him, sharp and unstable—so sharp he feared he might lose control.
Then her voice stopped him.
"Coming," Nitya called out.
She glanced toward them briefly before turning back to him.
"I'm leaving. Don't take my words to heart."
She said it calmly, almost gently. Yug tried to speak. Nothing came out.
The words felt lodged in his throat, heavy and painful. If he didn't say it now, he never would.
He had already decided—he would leave this university. Leave the rankings, the rivalry, the bitterness.
He would start over somewhere else. But before walking away from all of it, he needed to say one thing. He needed to thank her. Because without her, he might have disappeared long ago—faded into nothing beneath the weight of his own failure.
As Nitya began to walk away, Yug rose abruptly from the bench. He cleared his throat, forcing his voice steady.
"Nitya—Do you have time this week? Or next? Let me treat you once."
His voice carried farther than he intended. A thin sheen of sweat formed at his temples as he held her gaze.
She didn't turn fully—only her head shifted slightly.
"No. I don't."
Her rejection was flat, though a faint crease formed between her brows.
"It'll be the last time," he said quickly. "After this, I won't ask again. I just… want to thank you. In my own way."
He didn't step back. The hope in his eyes remained, steady and stubborn—as if he had already prepared himself for refusal.
He watched her carefully.
She raised her index finger slightly, glancing toward the others as if weighing something in her mind. After a brief pause, she lowered her hand.
"Fine. I'll arrange it and let you know," she said. Then, more firmly, "This week isn't possible. Next week. And it will be the last time."
Yug nodded quickly, a wide smile breaking across his face.
"Yes. I'll wait. And it will be the last time."
Relief washed over him. For the first time that day, the tightness in his chest eased.
He would finally be able to thank her properly.
Nitya nodded once and walked away, leaving him standing there.
Even after getting the answer he wanted, something still tangled inside him.
Had he given up on them to finally face reality…
—or was he simply running from it?