"The banquet hall glittered like a polished lie.
Crystal chandeliers hovered beneath the domed ceiling, refracting light into soft rainbows that drifted over the guests below. Music flowed gently through the air—string instruments tuned to perfection, calibrated by the system to evoke calm, admiration, and compliance.
Every detail had been optimized.
Noel Arvind stood near the edge of the hall, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, watching conversations unfold like rehearsed scenes. Laughter rose and fell at calculated intervals. Smiles were exchanged between people who measured one another not by words, but by rank.
Above their wrists, faint glows shimmered.
A+. A. B.
No Fs were invited tonight.
"Enjoying yourself?"
The voice came from behind him.
Noel turned to see Ethan Crowley, a long-time associate of the Arvind family. Tall, fair-haired, impeccably dressed—Ethan wore his Rank A badge openly, as if it were part of his attire.
"As much as one can," Noel replied calmly.
Ethan chuckled. "Always the philosopher. You know, people say you'd be far more dangerous if you cared about ambition."
"People say many things," Noel said, taking a small sip from his glass.
The taste was slightly off.
He frowned internally, but dismissed it. High-end liquor often carried unfamiliar notes. Still, he set the glass down a moment later.
Across the hall, Victor Hale and Margaret Lawson—two prominent board members of the city's Ranking Council—were deep in conversation with Noel's father, Rajiv Arvind. Rajiv stood straight, dignified, his silver-streaked hair lending him authority earned through decades of influence.
Yet something about his posture felt… strained.
Noel noticed it immediately.
His mother, Meera Arvind, stood beside Rajiv, her smile flawless, her eyes never lingering too long on Noel. Not once had she approached him since he arrived.
That stung more than he cared to admit.
"Rhea looks beautiful tonight," Ethan said casually.
Noel's gaze flicked toward the woman at the center of the hall.
Rhea Malhotra stood beside Arjun, elegant in a dark blue gown that mirrored the night sky beyond the glass walls. Her Rank A badge gleamed steadily, unwavering. She smiled when spoken to, nodded when praised, but her eyes were alert—measuring, judging.
Prepared.
"She always does," Noel replied.
Ethan studied him for a moment. "You don't sound bitter."
"No reason to be."
"That's what worries people about you," Ethan said lightly. "You don't react the way you're supposed to."
Before Noel could respond, a server approached, bowing slightly.
"Apologies, Mr. Arvind," the server said. "Your brother requested you in the west wing. Said it was important."
Noel raised an eyebrow. "Did he?"
"Yes, sir."
Ethan smiled. "Family matters. Better not keep the groom waiting."
Noel hesitated only a moment before nodding.
The west wing was quieter, removed from the music and laughter. The lights dimmed automatically as he walked, motion sensors responding to his presence. The air felt cooler here, heavier somehow.
His steps echoed softly against marble floors.
Halfway down the corridor, his communicator chimed.
[Incoming Message – Arjun Arvind]
Room 317. Just you.
Noel frowned.
Room 317 was a guest suite. Private. Isolated.
Still, he continued.
When he reached the door, it slid open at his approach.
The room inside was dimly lit, curtains drawn. A faint scent lingered in the air—sweet, almost floral.
And someone was inside.
Rhea stood near the window, her back to him.
She turned slowly when she heard the door close.
For the first time that night, her composure cracked.
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.
Noel froze. "I was told—"
Before he could finish, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him.
His vision blurred.
The room tilted.
Rhea's expression shifted—from confusion to alarm.
"Noel?" she said, taking a step forward. "You don't look well."
He tried to answer, but his tongue felt heavy. His limbs refused to respond the way they should.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The door slid open again.
Arjun stepped inside.
Calm. Unhurried.
Prepared.
"There you are," Arjun said softly, closing the door behind him. His eyes flicked over Noel's unsteady posture, then to Rhea. "Perfect timing."
Rhea's face paled. "Arjun, what is this?"
Arjun sighed, as if disappointed. "Rhea, please. Let's not make this more dramatic than it needs to be."
He moved closer to Noel, lowering his voice. "Brother… you really should have been more careful."
Noel tried to speak. Tried to move.
Nothing.
"The drink," Arjun continued. "A simple compound. Undetectable. Temporary. The system won't flag it until it's far too late."
Rhea took a step back. "You drugged him?"
Arjun looked at her, genuinely surprised. "Of course not. I let him drug himself."
He gestured subtly toward the corner of the room.
Hidden lenses activated.
Recording.
"This is madness," Rhea whispered.
Arjun's smile returned. "This is necessity."
Noel felt himself collapsing, his knees giving way. Arjun caught him before he hit the floor, positioning him carefully.
Like a prop.
"Rank decides everything," Arjun said quietly, almost kindly. "And tonight, brother… your rank ends."
Somewhere deep within Noel's fading consciousness, a thought surfaced—sharp, clear, and cold.
So this is how it begins.
Then the lights flared.
The door opened again.
And the system began to watch.