Later at corridor__.
The corridor buzzed with its usual noise—students gambling on the steps, others sprawled across benches, shouting over each other.
Then Zorvath walked in.
He didn't need a mic, or a stage, or even to shout—just standing there in the middle, hands in his pockets, was enough. One by one, voices faded. Heads turned. The restless noise of KHSS stilled under his weight.
"Listen up."
Every gaze snapped to him.
"From today onwards—no Room Zero."
The words dropped like a stone in water, rippling through the crowd. Students blinked, muttered, shifted uneasily. Some looked lost, some angry, some already whispering about what this meant.
Zorvath let the tension breathe before his voice cut through again.
"From now on, KHSS isn't about wasting time. You want money? You'll earn it—through studies and talent. Aria will lead this. If she fails, she shuts up forever. If she wins—we follow her."
Shock. Whispers. Doubt and sparks of curiosity colliding all at once.
Zorvath's eyes flicked toward Aria, sharp and deliberate. She didn't look back—her chin lifted, but her gaze slid away, hiding the storm beneath her calm face.
Aria's pov __
All eyes turned to me.
Zorvath hadn't warned me. He just threw the words into the crowd, letting the weight of them land squarely on my shoulders.
For a heartbeat, I froze. My palms prickled with sweat. Ninety-four pairs of eyes, waiting. Expecting. Judging.
I forced my legs to move. One step. Then another. The center of the corridor felt like a stage, and I hated it.
"I…" My voice wavered at first, then steadied. "I've planned to divide you into batches. Each batch will have a leader. That way, things will be simpler for us—to study, to organize, and even… to earn cash. Through quiz, through events. I already have a proper financial plan in mind. But the first step is this: dividing you all into groups."
Murmurs rippled. Confusion. Skepticism.
"So for that," I continued, my throat tightening, "I need a quick test. Just something to check your IQ level. Your intelligence. Because right now, I don't know many of you—you're all new to me. So… I hope you'll cooperate."
Groans. Faces twisting. No one liked the word test.
Before rebellion could grow, Zorvath's voice snapped like iron. "Do it."
That was enough. Reluctantly, they shuffled toward their classrooms.
I exhaled, hard. My heart still thudded in my ears. I hadn't even prepared a test—I'd just blurted it out. Now I had no choice.
I rushed toward the staff room, clutching my bag like a lifeline. My mind raced. What kind of paper? What questions? Would I even find a printer that worked?
The staff room door creaked open, the faint smell of old files and chalk dust greeting me. And then—Mr. Rahandas.
He stood near the shelves, flipping through papers, his face set in that unreadable, stern mask he always wore. Cold, distant. The kind of man whose silence carried more weight than most people's shouting.
His eyes lifted, meeting mine. A flicker—curiosity? suspicion?—passed, quickly buried.
"What," he said flatly, "are you doing here?"
I swallowed. His tone wasn't warm, but I sensed something behind it. He wanted to know more. He just wouldn't admit it.
So I told him. Everything. About Zorvath's announcement. About the students. About my plan to split them into groups, the test, the financial strategy I was still building. Words tumbled out faster than I intended, but I kept going, because once I started, I couldn't stop.
Mr. Rahandas listened in silence. His face never softened, not once—but I caught the tiniest flicker in his eyes. Pride? Relief? No… more like approval buried deep beneath layers of discipline.
When I finished, he gave a single nod. Almost invisible. Then, curtly, he said, "Do it properly. Don't waste their time."
That was it. He turned back to his papers, expression unreadable.
But I walked out with the faintest sense that, behind his coldness, he was rooting for me.
Even if he'd never say it.
Sona's POV ___.
After Zorvath barked his order, the whole school dragged itself into the classrooms like prisoners on their way to punishment. None of us wanted this test—who in KHSS even remembered what a test felt like? We hated the word itself. But because it was Zorvath who gave the order, we had no choice. His words carried weight like chains. If he said sit, we sat, no matter how much we hated it.
I looked around for Aria, but she was nowhere. My chest tightened. Where had she gone? Probably running herself ragged to fix the mess she'd just promised. She was already so stressed, and it burned me that this was all because of him—because Zorvath wanted to humiliate her, wanted to shut her up. He was the leader; wasn't it his responsibility to manage the school? Why did he throw it all on her just to make it into some cruel game? My poor Aria…
Before I could sink deeper into my thoughts, that idiot Mirzand shoved me toward the door. "Move inside already, Sona," he teased with that infuriating grin of his. Always the same—smirking, poking, trying to get under my skin. My blood boiled. I cursed him silently, biting down hard so I wouldn't snap back in front of everyone. One day I'd throw his smirk right back at him, but not today.
There weren't too many of us. Only two classrooms were enough to hold everyone, packed in like restless cattle. We sat stiffly, whispering and muttering, waiting—not for the test, but for Aria. And then my eyes flicked to Zorvath, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he couldn't care less. His expression said it all: this wasn't about the school, wasn't about us—it was just a game to him. A challenge. He wanted Aria to fail. That thought made me sick.
Then the door burst open. Aria stumbled in, hair a little messy, arms full of papers, her breath uneven like she'd run the whole school twice. My heart clenched—she looked so small, so weighed down, and yet she still walked straight, determined, refusing to break. She began passing out the question papers, one stack after another, and for the first time in years we all held a test sheet in our hands.
The room grew tense. Pens scratched. Pages rustled. Even the air felt heavier as silence filled the classroom. My fingers tightened around the pen, my heart hammering with nerves. It had been so long since any of us wrote an exam, and the pressure felt suffocating. But beneath it all, one hope burned inside me: I want to score well. I want to prove myself. If I become a leader in one of these batches, I can stand beside Aria. I can help her. She won't have to carry this alone.
That was all I wanted. For her sake.
When the bell rang, I dropped my pen with a sigh. My fingers were stiff, my shoulders aching, but inside me… there was this strange little spark of pride. I had tried my best. Honestly, I didn't even know if half my answers were right, but compared to the rest of KHSS—kids who hadn't even touched a pen in years—I was sure I did better than most. Maybe, just maybe, Aria would see that. Maybe she'd make me a leader. Heh. I grinned to myself. After all, I'm her front light. Who else but me?
As I stepped out of the classroom, I spotted her. Aria, walking toward me with that tired but beautiful smile, arms full of answer sheets like trophies. My heart lifted—until my eyes fell on Ruby.
That girl was right beside her, fluttering around like a shadow, already pulling out tissues and a water bottle to "cleanse Aria's hands." My teeth clenched. Of course it's Ruby. Always desperate to be seen. Always sliding into the spotlight that doesn't belong to her. She knows Aria's famous here—famous because she's brave, because she's strong, because she's different. And Ruby? She just wants to sponge off that fame. Attention-seeker. That's all she is.
But not with me. I won't let it. Aria is my friend. My best friend. I don't need her for fame or eyes on me—I need her because she's Aria. Because she matters. And I'll never let someone like Ruby wedge her way between us.
Before Ruby could even stretch her hand to Aria, though, Mike appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed Ruby by the arm, said something I couldn't hear, and dragged her off down the corridor. I almost laughed. Served her right.
Aria didn't even notice. She was too busy hurrying toward me, her arms stacked with papers, her smile bright with relief. "Sreya and Danvy are coming to my house later," she told me breathlessly, "to help me correct these papers."
I nodded, though a pang twisted in my stomach. "I can't come. I've got a doctor's appointment."
She just waved it off, that same easy smile. "It's okay. Sreya already mentioned it. Don't worry."
And just like that, we fell into step together, her happiness spilling over, my heart lightened just by walking beside her.
Because no matter what—Ruby or Zorvath or anyone else—Aria would always be at my side.