The second week at Kupam began like a slow simmer—quiet skies, chalky wind, and students finally adjusting to life outside the city. Lectures took place under banyan trees, experiments were scribbled in dusty notebooks, and the town's sleepy rhythm began lulling most of them into a false sense of peace.
But Rudra didn't believe in peace. Not without checking the locks twice.
He was on the terrace before sunrise, every morning—stretching, training, listening. It wasn't just habit; it was instinct. He could feel tension creeping into the air like pressure before a storm.
It broke on a Wednesday.
Karthik's Target
The school was affiliated with a local private institute in Kupam, where a few regional students also joined the ICSE batch for the four-month field course. Among them was a boy named Karthik—loud, cocky, quick to laugh at his own jokes, and with an ego too big for the dorms.
Karthik had a habit of picking targets. And today, he picked the wrong one.
Dev, a soft-spoken student from Rudra's class, had left his laptop unattended in the common room. It was supposed to be a five-minute tea break. But when he returned, the screen was shattered. Brutally.
No one confessed.
Whispers spread fast—Karthik had been bragging about "teaching Dev a lesson" for making him look stupid during a geology quiz.
The teachers pretended to investigate. But nothing happened.
Dev didn't complain. He just swallowed his loss. That was the rule here: survive quietly.
But Rudra saw everything.
Silent Justice
He'd watched Karthik's smirk as Dev passed by. He'd noticed the fresh bruise on Karthik's knuckles. And more importantly, he had footage.
He had installed a hidden pinhole camera in the common room three days ago—not because he expected trouble, but because Rudra always anticipated it.
That night, Rudra walked to the dark corner of the storage shed behind the dorms. He knelt beside a half-buried toolbox, unscrewed the false bottom, and retrieved a small chip from a mounted drive.
Minutes later, in his room, lit only by a flickering emergency light, he watched the footage on his own laptop—Karthik, furious, pacing, muttering. Then, without warning, he picked up Dev's laptop and smashed it against the iron bunk.
Rudra didn't flinch.
He didn't report it. He didn't speak to Karthik. He simply began setting the trap.
By morning, whispers of a strange message had begun circulating in the Kupam boys' WhatsApp group. Anonymous. A 10-second video: blurred, eerie, showing only the sound of smashing glass and Karthik's voice saying "You think you're smart, huh?"
Students were tense. Karthik looked pale. His confidence cracked.
Then the final nail: a printout of his class photo with the words "WE SEE WHO YOU REALLY ARE" was taped outside the staff room.
No one saw who did it.
Karthik was summoned. He stammered through the interrogation, sweating. He denied everything. But the fear had set in.
Later that evening, Rudra walked past Karthik in the corridor. Their eyes met.
Rudra didn't blink. Didn't smile.
He simply knew.
That night, Karthik left the common room alone. And didn't return for dinner.
Rudra sat silently in the shadows of the terrace, watching the stars. Calm. Detached. His job was done.
But this was only the beginning.
Kupam was starting to show its true face.