Vrooooooom...
The V12 engine growled softly before falling into total silence. Its smooth vibration felt like the purr of a luxurious predator that had just finished a satisfying run.
The metallic maroon Bentley came to a smooth halt right in front of the main campus gate. Its paint reflected the gray morning sky, refracting the thin drizzle into a majestic ruby shimmer. At this peak morning hour, the area was packed with students walking to class or hanging out front.
And instantly, all activity stopped.
Hundreds of eyes watched.
Steps slowed, conversations were severed, and even the sound of rain falling on the pavement seemed to dampen.
All chatter ceased. All movement froze. The entire attention of the campus grounds was now locked onto a single point: the gleaming red car that seemed to have landed from another planet right in their midst.
Whispers started immediately, and this time, they weren't directed at Arka, but at his ride.
"Crazy... That's insane, that's a Bentley..."
"Not just any Bentley, Bro! Look at the color! That's a rare edition!"
"Seriously? Oh my god... look at the grille..."
"Latest edition, right? Released just last month? Crazy, do you know the features? They say it can go fully autonomous..."
"Filthy rich... Who is inside?"
Their admiration was dramatic. They crowded around at a safe distance, some even openly pulling out phones to take photos. Camera flashes blinked, reflecting off the Bentley's metal surface like tiny stars.
They admired the car as if it were a rare work of art displayed in a museum.
The whispers about chrome grilles and V12 engines stopped abruptly.
Replaced by a total silence laden with anticipation.
Click.
The driver's side door opened. The movement was so smooth, it was as if the door had been trained to perform on a runway.
All eyes fixed on it.
First, a tan high-heeled stiletto appeared. The heel touched the wet asphalt with a light, almost sensual click.
A long leg, perfectly wrapped in expensive ivory fabric, followed, stepping gracefully onto the drizzle-dampened asphalt.
Then, she appeared.
Arlene—Arka's Mother—didn't just "exit" the car. She emerged like a mythical figure summoned by celestial light. She seemed to descend from a throne.
She stood tall, her posture perfect. Her bright ivory jumpsuit seemed to glow, contrasting with the still-gloomy morning sky. Raindrops fell around her body but seemed to avoid the expensive fabric as if afraid to touch it.
She flipped her perfectly glossy copper-brown curls behind her shoulder.
Then, with one slow, dramatic, and very camera-conscious movement, she lowered her designer sunglasses to the tip of her nose. Her gaze swept over the crowd like a queen inspecting her subjects.
The entire campus courtyard held its breath.
The silence shattered into a wave of hysterical, exaggerated admiration.
"OH... MY... GOD..." sighed a female student, her hand covering her mouth.
"Who... who is that?" whispered a male student, his eyes glued to her, having completely forgotten how to blink.
"She... she's not human, is she? She must be a Goddess!"
"Crazy! Crazy! Crazy! Her beauty doesn't make sense!" shouted another.
"THE AURA, BRO! LOOK AT THE AURA!" exclaimed a guy in the back.
"The aura is different! Like a Queen! I swear!"
"No! She must be an actress!"
The students who were busy photographing the car now hurriedly shifted their phone lenses.
The cameras moved like a flock of birds, simultaneously hunting a more glamorous target.
Their focus shifted entirely from the expensive metal to the enchanting woman now leaning casually against the Bentley's door.
"Look at her bag! Oh my goodness! That's authentic!" shrieked a girl who knew fashion.
"And the jumpsuit! Who is she?!"
Inside the passenger seat, Arka could only sink deeper. He closed his eyes, wishing he could turn invisible. His stomach tightened, his heart pounding like a war drum.
This was a thousand times more embarrassing than being accused of having sugar mommies.
"Let's get out, darling," Arlene said, her voice cheerful.
"We're here. You'll be late."
Arka opened his eyes with resignation.
This was punishment.
The passenger door opened.
Arka stepped out.
If Arlene's arrival made the crowd hold its breath, Arka's appearance made them choke.
All gazes—hundreds of pairs of eyes—that had locked onto the "Goddess" in the driver's seat, now shifted and locked onto Arka with laser intensity.
The scene was recorded rapidly, like a camera flash:
The unreal, beautiful woman.
The rare edition Bentley.
Arka.
The collective brain of the campus immediately tried to connect the three dots.
Before anyone could theorize, Arlene—who was clearly enjoying this show immensely—walked gracefully toward Arka.
Her walk was slow but measured, like a queen approaching her prince.
She smiled, a mother's proud smile... which, unfortunately, to 99% of the audience, looked like the satisfied smile of an owner.
In front of hundreds of pairs of eyes, Arlene hugged Arka, who was as stiff as a board.
Then she did it.
Smooch! She kissed Arka's forehead.
(The Crowd: GAAAASP!)
Smooch! Smooch! She kissed both of Arka's cheeks.
(The Crowd: OH MY GOOOOD!)
And finally, she chuckled softly, then—
Smooch! She kissed the tip of Arka's nose adorably.
(The Crowd: Silence. Total shock.)
Adding more lipstick marks to his face.
The entire campus courtyard froze.
Some students holding phones dropped them right there.
Someone even whispered,
"This isn't a scene we should be watching for free."
Then, the whispers exploded like a bomb.
"Wait... WAIT! LOOK AT ARKA'S OUTFIT!"
"Those are the sneakers I saw last night! They cost as much as a motorcycle!"
"Not just the shoes! The jacket! The jeans! Good Lord! It's all expensive! He's so fashionable!"
"He... he... Oh my God... so that beautiful woman is... his sugar mommy??!"
The statement spread like wildfire.
"SO IT'S TRUE! OH GOD! THE MORNING GOSSIP WAS TRUE! He's a pet for an older woman!"
"Not some tacky hotel cougar! THIS IS A SULTAN-CLASS COUGAR! ROYAL TIER!"
"No wonder he drives a Bentley! That must be pocket change to her!"
"Idiot! Obviously! Look! Look!"
"LOOK AT THE LIPSTICK MARKS! OH GOD! THE COLOR IS MAROON! ALL OVER HIS FACE!"
"He is completely... thoroughly used..."
The crowd stared at Arka with a mixture of horror, envy, and scorn.
Arka could only stand stiffly beside the red Bentley, his face burning red, marked by his mother's "evidence of crime," while his Mother just smiled proudly.
Arka stood rigid.
His body felt hot and cold at the same time, like being thrown onto center stage without a script.
He could feel every pair of eyes piercing him.
Thanks to his cursed hearing—which was now far too sharp—he could hear every word they whispered.
"Sultan's sugar baby."
"Pet."
"The lipstick marks..."
Oh, yes.
Lipstick.
He could feel it.
The sticky, fragrant, and utterly humiliating trails clinging to his forehead, both cheeks, and his nose. The sweet-floral scent stung his nose, mocking him every time he took a breath.
It felt like a branding iron, marking him as property.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Arka cursed in his heart. What a terrible day.
Why? his mind screamed, bordering on panic. Why is Mom doing this?
He glanced at his mother. Arlene was still smiling proudly at him, eyes full of a petty victory that made Arka want to sink into the asphalt.
She knows, Arka thought, a horror mixed with cold anger crawling down his spine.
She did it on purpose.
She knows exactly what these crazy people are thinking.
And she... she's enjoying it!
Last night, he was accused by his own mother of having "sugar mommies."
This morning, he was framed by his mother in public, and now the whole campus was convinced he was his own mother's kept boy.
I'd rather face Aunt Daisy again.
I'd rather practice with real swords against Dad until my arms break.
I'd rather be abducted by aliens.
Today is the worst, worst, WORST day. Period.
He just wanted the ground beneath his expensive sneakers to split open and swallow him alive.
✧ ✧ ✧
The day passed like a drawn-out torture session.
The rumor spread faster than a forest fire.
In five minutes, the entire faculty knew.
In ten minutes, the class group chats were in turmoil.
In twenty minutes, his name was trending on the campus forums.
In every corner of the campus, in every corridor, in the cafeteria, even inside the toilets, Arka's name was mentioned. He was the main star of the hottest scandal of the year. Thanks to his hearing, which was now incredibly sharp, he couldn't run from it.
Now, late afternoon had arrived.
The sky, previously gloomy, was beginning to turn orange.
Arka walked sluggishly toward the campus gate.
He was exhausted.
His eyes were heavy, shoulders slumped, breath short—not from physical exertion, but from the crushing social weight.
He just wanted to go home, lock himself in his room, or maybe practice swords with Dad until he passed out—anything but this.
He lowered his head, pulling the hood of his new hoodie over his hair, hoping to become invisible.
But he was not invisible.
As he approached the gate, the crowd of students waiting for their rides instantly went silent.
They saw him.
And worse, they saw what was waiting for him.
There, in the exact same spot as this morning, parked the metallic maroon Bentley, shining arrogantly under the streetlights that were starting to flicker on.
And leaning against the door, as if she had never left, was his Mother.
Arlene had changed clothes.
She now wore an elegant navy blue bodycon dress, with a soft sheen that followed the curves of her body when she moved.
Somehow, she looked even more stunning than in her jumpsuit this morning.
She saw Arka.
Her smile bloomed, bright and proud.
She raised her slender hand and waved at him.
"Arka, darling! Come here!"
The cheerful call shattered the silence.
And that was the gasoline.
The gossip that had only been whispered now heated up instantly, exploding into suppressed hysteria.
"THAT'S HER! SHE CAME AGAIN!"
"OH MY GOD! HE'S BEING PICKED UP! FOR REAL, HE'S BEING PICKED UP!"
"Good Lord! The Sugar Mommy changed clothes! Even more... WOW!"
"LOOK! SHE WAVED! SO INTIMATE!"
"So it's true... Arka really is a kept boy..."
"No! My senior said he's the most successful sugar baby on this campus. This morning was the morning 'gift'. This afternoon is the pickup 'service'."
"So jealous... When will my life be that good..."
Arka's face, previously pale with fatigue, turned beet red with shame and anger.
His sluggish trudge turned into panic.
He couldn't take this for another second.
He didn't care about his image anymore.
Arka ran.
His hoodie fluttered, his steps pounded, his breathing rapid like an escape from a battlefield.
He broke through the staring crowd, sprinting as fast as he could toward the car from hell.
He snatched the passenger door handle, pulling it roughly.
SLAM!
The door shut hard, nearly shattering the expensive soundproof glass.
He collapsed into the plush leather seat, burying his face in both hands. The scent of premium leather stung his nose, ironically making the shame feel even more real.
He didn't care that his mother was staring at him.
He didn't care that the world was staring at him.
He just wanted to vanish from this world immediately.
_______ ✧ _______ ☾⚜☽ _______ ✧ _______