Arka practically fled the café, his destination singular: the safety of a classroom across the campus grounds. The humid morning air hit his face as he stepped out, as if trying to brush away the remnants of chaos from his mind.
But the further he walked, the louder his usually 'normal' world felt.
"Hey, I swear, that's Arka. Looking so handsome this early..."
"Crazy, that's the guy from the café, right? So hot..."
He passed a group of female students near the library. Their whispers sounded crystal clear, as if they were speaking directly into his ear. The voices pierced him like an echo that was far too close, as if the distance between the whispers and his eardrums had vanished entirely.
Arka kept his head down, trying to ignore it. Great-grandkids... great-grandkids... great-grandkids... His grandfather's voice rang in his head, making the compliments sound like threats. His heart beat faster, not out of shyness—but out of an absurd terror that had taken root since morning.
He quickened his pace, passing the engineering faculty lobby. There, he skirted a group of male students huddled together.
"...Just look at his style. Definitely a heavy-duty playboy."
"...Nah, Bro. My friend says he's a sugar baby for some eager cougars. That's where the money comes from."
"Oh, really? I heard he's a 'pet' kept by a rich old man. Very well taken care of..."
Arka's steps faltered for a second. He turned his head slightly. They were all looking at him with looks of scorn and envy. His jaw hardened, and his breath grew heavier.
The earlier lethargy and horror shifted into a cold anger.
God, what day is this?! he thought, his hands clenching inside his pockets. It feels awful! Why is everyone talking about me, huh?!
He couldn't take it anymore. Arka practically half-ran, bounding up the stairs toward his classroom, slamming the door behind him, and collapsing into the very back seat, startling several students who had already arrived. The door rattled violently as it shut, echoing in the previously quiet room.
He buried his head on the folding desk, trying to muffle the noise of the world. The surface of the desk felt cold against his forehead, the only thing that offered any calm.
It wasn't just today that people talked about Arka.
Truthfully, he knew he attracted attention. He was always the subject of gossip, whether it was praise from girls or envious sneers from guys.
It was just that... usually, it all sounded like background hum. Like a radio playing in another room. Something he could easily ignore.
But not today.
From the moment he stepped out of his grandfather's gate, everything sounded too clear. He could hear whispers from across the corridor. He could distinguish every word of mockery from behind his back, as if they were shouting through megaphones.
Small noises became explosions, and distance seemed to cease to exist.
His sense of hearing, without him realizing it, had become sharper. Much sharper.
Something within him had shifted, awakened at the stroke of midnight. Something that began the moment he turned nineteen.
The moment he, unbeknownst to himself, rose as an Aksesa. A fact that felt alien, yet his body spoke the truth more honestly than his logic.
The classroom was silent, filled only with the sound of pens scratching against paper and the frustrated sighs of other students. This pop quiz was notoriously difficult; applied calculus that induced headaches.
The neon lights on the ceiling reflected off the desks, creating a tense academic atmosphere.
Arka stared at the question sheet in front of him. Initially, he prepared himself to struggle as usual.
But... something strange happened.
As he read the first question, his head didn't ache. On the contrary, the formulas and concepts that were usually complex, requiring repeated reading, now felt incredibly clear. Everything made sense. It was as if a transparent door in his brain had silently swung open.
He began to write. His hand moved fast, his pen dancing across the paper. He didn't need to think hard. The answers and the flow of calculations seemed to pour effortlessly from his brain, as fast as he could read them. His handwriting was neat, rhythmic, without the usual frantic pauses.
He didn't feel tired at all. Usually, after thirty minutes of problems like this, his brain would feel hot and drowsy. But now, he felt sharp, alert, and focused.
Within twenty minutes, he was at the final question. Done.
He put down his pen. The room was still silent. Other students were still hunched over their answer sheets, some looking desperate. The sound of shifting paper was loud in his ears.
Arka stared at his fully filled paper.
He tapped his own temple lightly with his knuckles.
Am I this much of a genius? he thought, confused yet arrogant. I felt like I was still stupid last night.
He shrugged. Whatever. Done meant done.
He stood up. The screech of his chair caused several students to lift their heads in annoyance. Arka walked casually to the front and placed his answer sheet on the lecturer's desk.
The Lecturer, a middle-aged woman known for her strictness, lifted her head from her book, surprised.
"That was very fast, Arka," she said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"This is an important exam, not a daily quiz."
Arka just grinned broadly. He waved his hand casually.
"Bye, Ma'am!"
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving a silence filled with question marks behind him. His footsteps echoed softly in the hallway, giving off an impression of strange victory that even he didn't fully understand.
"This kid..." the Lecturer muttered, shaking her head in irritation. She was certain the answer sheet would be blank or filled with nonsense.
Reluctantly, she picked up Arka's answer sheet to see how bad the damage was.
She began reading the answer to number one. Her eyebrows shot up.
She read the answer to number two. She sat up straighter.
She checked the calculations on three and four.
The hand holding the red pen trembled slightly.
Her eyes went wide. She gripped her red pen, searching for a mistake. There were none.
The Lecturer stared at the door Arka had just closed, then back at the paper in her hand.
"The time... was so fast," she whispered to herself, her voice filled with disbelief. "And the work... the writing... is perfect."
✧ ✧ ✧
The day passed in a blur, feeling like a dream that was too pleasant. Night had fallen.
Arka stepped out of the game zone at the mall, his ears still ringing slightly from the sound of gunfire and loud music. The neon arcade lights still danced in his memory, as if the bright colors were etched onto his retinas. He was happy. He had spent hours there, trying every latest VR booth and burning through a ridiculous amount of virtual currency at the arcade.
As he walked, he checked his mobile banking app. He looked at the balance he had squandered on all that fun—an amount that would usually give him a headache for a month.
He laughed. That balance was nothing compared to the insane figure still remaining in his account.
He had eaten well at his favorite steakhouse. In his right hand, he carried two large plastic bags: one super supreme pizza box and a whole honey-roasted chicken package. Rations for Grandpa. The warm aroma of pizza still seeped out of the box, teasing his nose even though he was full.
The weather had worsened drastically since the afternoon. The bright sky this morning was just a deception. As Arka stepped out of the mall, a cold drizzle greeted him. He opened his new folding umbrella and started walking home, taking a shortcut through a busier district. The raindrops bounced off the umbrella, creating a soft rhythm above his head.
The shortcut took him past a row of bars and... one hotel.
It wasn't a business hotel. It was a hotel with gaudy, colorful neon lights blinking—pink, purple, and green—casting a strange glow on the wet street. The reflection of the colors danced on the muddy pavement, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere.
Just as Arka passed, several girls dressed in skimpy, revealing outfits, sheltering from the rain in front of the lobby, noticed him.
One of them whistled softly.
"Hey, handsome..."
"All alone, cutie? You're getting wet."
Arka's face heated up instantly. He blushed. He lowered his head, pretending not to hear, and quickened his pace. His fingers gripped the pizza bag tighter, as if it were a shield.
But it was too late. His tired brain had already processed the sight. And a voice in his head was instantly triggered.
His Grandfather's voice.
"Great-grandkids... great-grandkids... great-grandkids... bring home as many great-grandchildren as possible!"
Arka stopped walking, freezing on the wet pavement. The drizzle hit his face, adding a chill to the panic crawling over his skin.
He swallowed hard.
He remembered the gaze of the girls in the window.
He glanced at the plastic bags in his hand.
Then he remembered the balance in his bank account. His very fertile balance.
He was tempted.
Only for a second. But the temptation felt real and terrifying. Unlimited money, Grandpa's mandate, and the temptation right in front of him.
He immediately raised his free hand—the one not holding the umbrella or the pizza.
SMACK!
He slapped his own face hard enough to make several passersby stare at him strangely. His left cheek burned instantly, but it cleared his mind.
"LUNACY!" he hissed to himself.
He no longer walked. He ran.
He charged through the drizzle, clutching his pizza and roasted chicken tight, sprinting away from that tacky hotel as fast as he could, as if chased by demons. The rain, the neon lights, and his panting breath blended together, painting the silhouette of a hilarious yet dramatic escape.
_______ ✧ _______ ☾⚜☽ _______ ✧ _______