Monday mornings at Delhi Public School always felt longer than they should.The assembly field shimmered under the sun, the teachers stood with clipboards, and the sound system cracked with feedback before the anthem began.Aryan stood in the back row, hands behind his back, watching rows of students shift and whisper.
He didn't need to hear the words to know what they were saying.Every few seconds, a face turned toward him, then away."Ghost," someone muttered.He ignored it.
The Whisper Network
By second period, the whole class knew the story.A junior leaned across two desks and said, "He dropped Raghav's guy like it was nothing."Another corrected him: "He didn't even hit. Just touched."Someone else added, "My cousin saw it — said his eyes went blank like a psycho."
Aryan kept writing notes from the board.To him, chalk on the green surface was a sound he liked — sharp, predictable.The teacher called his name twice before realizing he was paying attention.
When the bell rang, Aditya leaned over."They're all talking about you," he said. "Half the guys want to be friends, half want to test you."
Aryan replied without looking up, "Then no one has learned anything."
Lunch Break: The First Test
The canteen smelled of oil and cardamom tea. Groups sat on benches, phones out, sharing memes, talking about the upcoming basketball tournament.
Aryan and Aditya took a corner table near the window. Aditya was halfway through his sandwich when three boys blocked the light.
They weren't Apex — different energy. Street Kings, judging by the unbuttoned uniforms and wristbands.Their leader, Dev, grinned. "So you're the Ghost?"
Aryan looked up, quiet."Not me," he said. "Just a rumor."
Dev smirked. "Rumors start somewhere. I just wanna see how strong you really are."He set his tray down loudly. The clatter drew half the canteen's attention.
Aditya whispered, "Bro, let it go."
Aryan nodded slightly, stood up slowly. His movement wasn't aggressive — just steady, deliberate.The air changed. The laughter around them dimmed a little, like everyone sensed something was about to happen.
Dev threw the first push — playful, maybe, but too strong.Aryan shifted his weight a few centimeters, let Dev's shoulder glance off his. Dev stumbled forward, off-balance. Before Dev could turn, Aryan's palm lightly tapped his chest.Not a strike — just a push timed perfectly with Dev's momentum.
Dev fell back a step, hit the bench edge, and sat down hard.
Nobody laughed. It was too clean. Too quiet.
Aryan picked up his tray. "Eat your food before it gets cold."Then he walked out.
The noise returned a few seconds later, a buzz of voices."Bro, he didn't even swing.""Like fighting air.""Ghost, yaar… total ghost."
After School
Aditya caught up with him near the bus stop."You know what's crazy? Even Dev's guys said you didn't hurt him. Just embarrassed him."
Aryan half-smiled. "Better than blood on the floor."
Aditya nodded. "You fight like you don't want to."
Aryan looked at the traffic for a long moment."There's no winner in a real fight," he said. "Only people who walk away sooner."
They waited in silence until the bus arrived.Across the road, Aryan noticed a man standing under a tree — not a parent, not a teacher.Black jacket, head tilted, watching.For a second, Aryan thought he saw recognition in the man's posture.
Then a car passed, and the man was gone.
Aryan looked down at his reflection in the bus window.Maybe it's nothing, he told himself.But the faint unease under his ribs said otherwise.
That Evening
At home, Aryan dropped his bag on the chair and opened his locker notebook.A folded scrap of paper slid out.
Same handwriting as before.
Keep your distance, Ghost. The Circuit doesn't forget.
He stared at the words until they blurred.Then he tore the note in half and flushed it down the drain.
Outside, the city was alive — horns, voices, the distant rhythm of trains.Inside, Aryan's world had gone quiet again.He sat back, eyes on the ceiling, thinking of Jackal's voice:
"Control is everything, Aryan. Control the fight. Control the fear."
He took a deep breath.Tomorrow would be another normal school day — or that's what he needed it to be.