The first week in Kupam passed like a slow-moving dream. Lectures under banyan trees. Field notes scribbled in dusty notebooks. Teachers droning on about sedimentary rock formations while students fought to stay awake in the afternoon heat.
For most, it was boring. Peaceful, even.
For Rudra, it was reconnaissance.
He spent the days mapping the compound in his mind—every building, every blind spot, every weak point in the perimeter. At night, while others played cards or gossiped in the dorms, he walked. Silent. Observant. Learning.
The field center was larger than it looked. Behind the main academic block was an old abandoned wing—windows boarded up, doors chained. "Landslide damage," a teacher had mentioned offhand. "Been shut for years."
Rudra made a note.
There was also a forest trail at the back of the property, leading to a rocky hillside. Some students had already started sneaking there to smoke. Rudra didn't care about that. What interested him was the path itself—narrow, winding, with patches of disturbed soil that looked fresh.
Someone had been using that trail. Recently. Often.
He filed it away.
The Social Landscape
By the end of the first week, the social hierarchy had solidified.
At the top were the loud ones—Arjun's crew. The boys who made jokes during class, flirted badly with the girls, and treated the trip like a vacation. They controlled the best seats in the mess, the front row during campfires, the loudest voices in every argument.
Then there were the quiet achievers—girls like Sneha and Priya, who actually did the homework, took the fieldwork seriously, and kept to themselves. They weren't invisible, but they weren't important either.
At the very bottom was Dev.
Soft-spoken. Nervous. The kind of kid who apologized when you bumped into him. He was from a different section, someone Rudra had barely noticed before Kupam. But here, in this confined space, Dev stood out for all the wrong reasons.
He was a target.
And Rudra saw it happening before anyone else did.
The Bully
Karthik wasn't part of the ICSE batch. He was a local kid, enrolled in the Kupam institute, who'd joined the field program as part of an exchange arrangement. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of confidence that came from never being challenged.
He had a habit of picking victims.
Small things at first. "Accidentally" knocking over someone's water bottle. Making jokes that weren't really jokes. Testing boundaries.
By the second week, he'd chosen Dev.
It started in the common room. Dev had left his laptop on the table—an old, beat-up Dell that he'd probably saved up months to buy. He'd gone to get tea. Five minutes, tops.
When he came back, the screen was shattered.
Not cracked. Shattered. Like someone had taken a hammer to it.
Dev stood frozen, staring at the wreckage. His hands shook. His face went pale.
"What... what happened?"
No one answered.
Karthik sat in the corner, smirking.
"Bro, you should've been more careful," he said, voice dripping with fake concern. "Laptops are fragile, man."
Dev's lips trembled. He looked around, desperate for someone to say something. To help.
No one did.
The teachers pretended to care. They asked questions. Took statements. Promised to "look into it." But everyone knew nothing would happen. This wasn't a city school with CCTV and strict rules. This was Kupam. Things broke. People moved on.
Dev didn't complain. He just packed up the broken laptop, shoved it into his bag, and left.
Rudra watched the whole thing from across the room.
He didn't intervene. Didn't speak. But his eyes tracked every detail.
The fresh bruise on Karthik's knuckles.
The way he kept glancing at Dev with satisfaction.
The nervous laughter from his friends.
Rudra's jaw tightened.
He didn't do this for justice. He didn't do it because he cared about Dev. He did it because he hated bullies. Hated the kind of people who hurt others just because they could.
And more importantly, he hated sloppiness.
Karthik had made it too obvious. Too easy.
Rudra decided, right then, that Karthik needed a lesson.
The Setup
That night, Rudra returned to his dorm and pulled out a small black case from under his bed. Inside was a collection of tools most students wouldn't recognize—micro screwdrivers, wire strippers, a soldering iron, and a few other items that technically violated school rules.
He also had cameras.
Tiny. Pin-hole. Wireless.
He'd installed one in the common room three days ago. Not because he expected trouble, but because Rudra always expected trouble. Preparation wasn't paranoia—it was survival.
He pulled out his laptop, connected to the hidden camera's feed, and scrubbed through the footage.
There.
3:47 PM.
Karthik, pacing the common room, muttering to himself. Then, in a sudden burst of rage, he grabbed Dev's laptop and smashed it against the metal frame of a bunk bed.
The sound was sickening even through the low-quality audio.
Rudra's expression didn't change. He simply copied the file, encrypted it, and began planning.
The Message
The next morning, whispers started.
Someone had posted a video in the Kupam boys' WhatsApp group. Ten seconds. Grainy. No faces visible. Just the sound of glass shattering and a voice—Karthik's voice—saying, "Think you're so smart, huh?"
Students watched it on loop.
"Bro, is that Karthik?"
"Sounds like him..."
"Who recorded this?"
Karthik went pale when he saw it. His hands shook as he typed furiously, denying everything. "Fake news, bro. AI or something."
But the damage was done.
By lunch, the teachers had heard about it. Karthik was called to the staff room.
And that's when Rudra played his second card.
A printed photo of Karthik—pulled from the school website—was taped outside the staff room with the words: "WE SEE WHO YOU REALLY ARE."
No signature. No explanation.
Just a message.
Karthik came out of that meeting looking like he'd seen a ghost. His swagger was gone. His confidence shattered.
That evening, Rudra passed him in the corridor. Their eyes met for just a second.
Karthik looked away first.
Rudra kept walking, face blank, steps measured.
He didn't smile. Didn't gloat.
He just knew.
Justice wasn't loud. It was silent, precise, and inevitable.
And Kupam was starting to teach Rudra a different kind of lesson—one he wasn't expecting.
Because while he'd been watching Karthik, someone else had been watching him.
And they were much, much better at it.