Morning stretched itself over Yangon Learning University like a pale ribbon of silk—soft, glowing, deceptive.
The air held the quiet chill of early light, the kind that made the buildings look taller, the pathways longer, the students sharper.
This was not a place built for ordinary people.
It was a university polished with privilege—sons and daughters of CEOs, officials, diplomats, and families whose names held weight like inheritance stones.
A place where mistakes became headlines.
A place where ambition was a currency, and innocence…
was a liability.
Into this world stepped Soung Ka Byar.
Her hands trembled slightly as she walked through the grand iron gates, their gold engraving gleaming like a warning.
For a moment, she stood still, inhaling deeply as if the air might grant her courage.
You can do this, she whispered silently.
You belong here.
You earned this.
But at YLU, earning something mattered far less than who your father donated to.
Her scholarship papers felt too thin inside her bag, too fragile compared to the heavy bank accounts walking around her.
She tightened her grip around her bag strap and stepped forward.
Students flowed past her in waves—beautiful, expensive, confident. Girls with perfect hair glided across the courtyard holding iced coffees; boys in tailored uniforms joked loudly about weekend yacht parties. Laughter rang like bells dipped in privilege.
And Ka Byar felt painfully… visible.
Not in the way that made people admire her.
In the way that made them stare.
Whispers flickered behind her like fireflies dipped in poison.
"She's the transfer?"
"Fine Arts?"
"Scholarship, I heard."
"Poor thing. She looks scared."
Ka Byar swallowed, cheeks warming.
Her dreams of belonging already felt like they were slipping through her fingers.
The Fine Arts courtyard towered before her—marble floors, tall statues carved to perfection, paintings framed behind glass.
It was breathtaking.
And intimidating.
She walked slowly beneath the archway, absorbing every detail.
The faint smell of linseed oil.
The echo of students discussing compositions.
The rustle of sketchbooks.
This place should have felt like home.
She prayed it eventually would.
The sound of polished car tires sliding to a stop broke her concentration.
A black luxury sedan pulled up near the courtyard fountain.
The door opened.
Min Yatu Htun Paing stepped out.
Everything about him seemed sculpted for attention:
Tall enough to command a room.
Black hair falling perfectly.
Tie loosened as if rules bent for him.
Eyes sharp with quiet arrogance.
The heir of a powerful fundraising magnate—everyone whispered the moment he arrived.
The atmosphere shifted.
Students' conversations stilled.
A quiet awe rippled across the courtyard.
Min Yatu didn't need to demand respect.
He wore it like a second skin.
Ka Byar froze mid-step.
He walked past her, steps measured and confident, the faint scent of warm cologne trailing behind him.
Her heart fluttered unexpectedly.
They locked eyes for a fraction of a second.
Time caught its breath.
Something unfamiliar sparked in her chest—soft, fragile, dangerous.
Then someone called his name, and he looked away.
Ka Byar exhaled, her pulse unsteady.
Don't be ridiculous, she scolded herself silently.
You just got here. Don't start dreaming.
But the seed had already been planted.
She made her way toward the administrative building—its interior pristine, walls lined with portraits of wealthy donors whose smiles seemed to judge her existence.
She knocked on the door labeled:
Academic Affairs & Tutor Applications
Inside, Daw Wint Phyu sat behind an immaculate desk, glasses perched low on her nose.
"Yes?" she said, not looking up.
"I'm here to submit my Fine Arts tutor application," Ka Byar said softly.
Wint Phyu raised her gaze, eyes scanning Ka Byar with clinical precision.
"You're new."
"Yes."
"You believe you are capable of tutoring already?"
Ka Byar took a breath.
"I believe my portfolio shows enough skill. Professor Hla said—"
"This university runs on standards," Wint Phyu interrupted.
"Not belief. Results will be announced later."
She reached out a hand, not to welcome the application—
but to dismiss the girl holding it.
Ka Byar placed the paper on the desk and bowed slightly.
"Thank you."
As she turned to leave, the door swung inward.
She collided with someone.
She looked up.
Professor Naya Thone.
Tall.
Sharp.
Impossibly elegant.
Eyes unreadable, framed by lashes too dark for innocence.
He stepped back politely.
Ka Byar's breath caught.
"Apologies," she murmured.
"It's fine," he replied, voice low, smooth, calculated.
His gaze flickered over her face—not in interest, but in assessment.
"New?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Fine Arts?"
"Yes."
He nodded once.
"Good."
One word.
Yet it felt like a stamp.
It lingered in her chest long after she stepped into the hallway.
The Fine Arts building felt warmer now, buzzing with activity.
But warmth meant little here.
As Ka Byar approached the courtyard, a cluster of students turned.
In the center stood Klar Za Min—the undisputed queen of YLU Fine Arts.
Flawless hair.
Perfect uniform.
A smile that could wound.
"Oh, it's the new girl," Klar said sweetly.
"What's your name?"
"S-Soung Ka Byar."
"How adorable," Klar laughed.
"You're already applying as a tutor? Ambitious—or delusional?"
A few girls giggled.
Ka Byar felt her face burn.
"I'm just trying my best," she whispered.
"Oh sweetie," Klar purred,
"effort doesn't matter at YLU.
Connections do."
Ka Byar lowered her eyes.
Klar smirked.
"Good luck, transfer girl.
You'll need it."
They walked away in a cloud of perfume and cruelty.
Ka Byar blinked rapidly, fighting tears.
A soft voice from behind said:
"Don't let them get to you."
She turned.
Soe Hlaing May stood quietly with a sketchbook clutched against her chest.
Her smile was gentle—like the first warm breeze after winter.
"Everyone starts out small," Soe said.
"What matters is that you keep walking."
Ka Byar exhaled shakily.
"Thank you."
"Come on," Soe offered, "I'll show you around."
She didn't know that one day, this girl would become her greatest support—
and later, the one to replace her.
But for now, Soe was simply the first kind hand YLU had offered her.
As they walked away, someone leaned against a pillar, watching.
Min Yatu.
His gaze followed Ka Byar's steps, curious but guarded.
Her voice.
Her small gestures.
The way she clasped her hands when nervous.
He couldn't explain it.
He didn't want to.
But his attention was hooked.
They reached the studio wing—tall glass windows, canvases stacked neatly, sunlight streaming in.
Soe opened a door.
"This is the First-Year Studio," she said.
"You'll love it. The atmosphere is—"
She stopped.
Because inside stood Professor Naya Thone, sleeves rolled up, reviewing a student's charcoal work.
Ka Byar's heart tripped.
Naya glanced up.
His gaze lingered on her for a second longer than necessary.
Soe leaned in and whispered, "He's intense. Don't let it scare you."
Ka Byar nodded nervously.
Naya approached them.
"You're the new student?" he asked Ka Byar.
"Yes, sir."
"Show me your sketchbook."
Ka Byar hesitated.
"It's not very—"
"Show me," he repeated.
She handed it over.
Naya flipped through the pages.
His expression remained unreadable.
Then, quietly:
"You have instinct."
Ka Byar's eyes widened.
"T-Thank you—"
"But instinct without discipline is useless."
Her throat tightened.
"You will work harder than everyone else here.
If you can't, you'll fall behind quickly.
Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He handed the book back.
Then he added softly:
"You have potential.
Don't waste it."
Her heart fluttered—not romantically, but painfully.
Because she wanted to prove herself.
Needed to.
Soe whispered, "That's high praise, actually."
But Ka Byar's hands trembled as she tucked her sketchbook away.
During lunch, Ka Byar sat alone beneath a banyan tree, scribbling tiny sketches in her notebook.
A shadow fell over her.
She looked up.
Min Yatu.
He stood with one hand in his pocket, expression unreadable.
"You're new," he said.
"Yes."
He eyed her sketchbook.
"You like drawing people."
She blinked.
"How did you—"
"You look at them differently."
A beat.
"That's rare here."
She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a warning.
He added,
"I saw you in the morning. Near the statue."
Her face warmed.
"Oh."
Min Yatu smirked slightly, as if amused by her awkwardness.
Then Klar Za Min appeared behind him, looping her arm through his.
"Oh Yatu, darling," Klar said sweetly, "don't bother the transfer girl. She has enough on her plate."
Ka Byar stiffened.
Min Yatu's smirk faded.
His eyes hardened.
"Klar," he said flatly, "don't."
Klar pouted.
"You're too nice to these little charity cases."
Ka Byar froze.
Min Yatu's voice dropped dangerously low.
"Klar. Walk away."
Klar's eyes glinted, but she obeyed.
After she left, Min Yatu sighed.
"Don't take her seriously," he said softly.
"She feeds on weakness."
Ka Byar swallowed.
"Do you think I'm weak?"
Min Yatu tilted his head.
"No.
But you don't know how dangerous this place is yet."
Then he walked away,
leaving Ka Byar's pulse shaking inside her chest.
Later that day, students gathered around a bulletin board where a familiar notification pinged on their phones.
Ka Byar's buzzed too.
SCARLET THREAD UPDATE
"THE FINE ARTS NEWCOMER
Who caught the attention of both the department's star boy
AND a certain mysterious professor?"
Ka Byar's heart dropped.
Her face burned.
People whispered around her:
"Oh my god, her?"
"She just arrived!"
"Min Yatu AND Professor Naya?"
"Are you serious?"
Soe placed a gentle hand on Ka Byar's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered,
"Scarlet Thread is cruel.
Just… don't let it crush you."
But Ka Byar could feel it—
the beginning of the story she never asked to star in.
And she was already losing control of the narrative.
Her first class ended with chaos.
Paint spilled.
Her canvas tore.
Her brush snapped.
Students laughed.
Naya Thone approached, frowning.
"What happened?"
Ka Byar burned with embarrassment.
"I—I messed up."
Naya crouched beside her ruined canvas.
"No," he said quietly.
"Someone loosened your easel."
Her breath froze.
"Someone… sabotaged me?"
Naya stood slowly.
His eyes hardened.
"This department is competitive in ways you are not prepared for."
He paused, lowering his voice.
"But you will learn."
Ka Byar looked at him, the weight of the day collapsing on her chest.
"Why me?" she whispered.
Naya held her gaze.
"Because you have something others don't."
Her heart raced.
"And what is that?"
His voice dropped, barely a whisper:
"Potential that threatens them."
She swallowed hard.
"You'll decide later whether that's a gift…
or a curse."
As Ka Byar left the building, exhausted, she found Min Yatu leaning against the railing outside—looking as though he'd been waiting.
He straightened when he saw her.
"You look like someone dropped the whole world on you," he said.
"It feels like it."
Min Yatu stepped closer, voice quieter.
"Listen… this place? It will eat you alive if you let it.
If you need anything—"
"I'm fine," she whispered quickly.
He studied her.
"You're lying."
Ka Byar blinked.
"I don't even know you."
"But I know this place," he said softly.
"And you're not ready for it."
She stepped back.
"I'll learn."
Min Yatu's expression softened just slightly.
"Good," he murmured.
"Just… be careful."
She didn't understand the strange ache in his voice.
But later, she would.
She would understand everything.
Too late.
Later that afternoon, the Fine Arts department gathered in the Assembly Hall.
The Dean—Daw May Khin—stood at the podium.
Her voice echoed sharply:
"We have new tutors to select this semester.
Only the best will be considered."
Whispers shot through the room.
Klar smirked.
Hsu Myat Thin rolled her eyes.
Ka Byar's stomach twisted.
The Dean continued,
"Merit. Discipline. Professionalism.
We do not tolerate scandals."
Students laughed quietly.
Everyone knew YLU was built on scandals.
Afterward, as students filed out, Klar stopped Ka Byar.
"A little warning," she said sweetly.
"Don't get too excited about being a tutor.
They won't pick someone like you."
Ka Byar cleared her throat.
"And what am I?"
Klar smiled.
"Invisible."
Ka Byar flinched.
But before Klar could walk away, a deep voice behind them spoke:
"That's enough."
Both girls turned.
Naya Thone stood behind them, expression unreadable.
"Klar," he said calmly,
"focus on your own portfolio.
Leave others alone."
Klar's smile cracked for a second.
She bowed slightly and walked away.
Ka Byar stared at Naya, breath shaking.
"I didn't—
I wasn't trying to—"
"You don't owe anyone an explanation," Naya said gently.
Ka Byar tried to breathe.
But her lungs felt too tight.
"You handled that well," he added.
"No, I didn't."
His gaze softened.
"You will."
After sunset, the campus transformed—quiet, haunting, bathed in orange lamplight.
Ka Byar walked alone, hugging her sketchbook.
She passed the tall windows of the library.
The benches near the fountain.
The darkened studios where ghosts of old ambitions lingered.
Her thoughts tangled like thread:
Min Yatu's warning.
Naya Thone's intensity.
Klar's cruelty.
Soe's kindness.
The Scarlet Thread rumor.
YLU wasn't at all like she imagined.
It was beautiful.
Glittering.
Prestigious.
And dangerous.
She sat beneath the banyan tree, exhaling.
Why did she feel like she had stepped into a story already in motion?
Why did she feel watched?
Why did everything feel fated?
Her heart wouldn't quiet down.
A shadow approached.
Ka Byar jolted.
Then—
"Soe?" she whispered.
Soe Hlaing May sat beside her, setting down a thermos.
"You skipped dinner."
Ka Byar blinked.
"I wasn't hungry."
"You were overwhelmed."
Ka Byar exhaled.
"How do you handle it?" she asked softly.
"All of this?"
Soe looked up at the sky.
"By not pretending everything is fine.
By letting the right people in."
Ka Byar hugged her knees.
"And who are the right people?"
Soe smiled.
"You'll find them."
Ka Byar didn't know why that made tears sting her eyes.
But Soe gently leaned her head against Ka Byar's shoulder.
"You're not alone," she whispered.
From the shadows of the courtyard balcony,
someone else watched them.
Min Yatu.
He didn't know why he couldn't look away.
Why seeing Ka Byar cry made something twist inside him.
Why her softness made him feel protective.
She wasn't like the others.
Her sadness was quiet.
Her strength was quiet.
Her presence was quiet.
And that quietness unsettled him.
Because it pulled him in
in a way he didn't know how to fight.
He leaned against the railing, staring down at her under the tree.
He didn't know it yet—
but this girl would become the beginning of his unraveling.
Ka Byar finally went back to the dorm, exhaustion pulling at her limbs.
When she closed her door behind her, she didn't cry.
She simply sat on her bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Hair messy.
Eyes tired.
Uniform wrinkled.
She didn't look like the girl she wanted to be.
But she whispered to the girl in the mirror:
"You can survive this."
She didn't know how true—or how false—those words would become.
The next morning, she returned to campus early.
The air felt different.
Heavier.
She entered the Fine Arts studio.
Naya Thone stood inside, alone, reviewing a stack of portfolios.
He glanced up.
"You're here early."
"I wanted to practice."
"Good."
He closed the folder.
"Sit."
Ka Byar sat, her heart quickening.
"We will start with basics," he said.
"You need discipline. Precision."
Ka Byar nodded.
They spent an hour practicing strokes, pressures, shading.
Naya corrected her form gently, precisely.
When she made a mistake, he guided her wrist.
When she hesitated, he murmured:
"Don't fear the canvas.
It mirrors your fear back at you."
At one point, their hands brushed.
Ka Byar froze.
Naya didn't react.
But something inside her shifted.
A whisper.
A warning.
A pull.
She wasn't sure which.
When Ka Byar stepped outside the studio, Klar stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed.
"Early sessions with Professor Naya?" she said sweetly.
"You work fast."
Ka Byar stiffened.
"It's not like that."
"Oh, darling," Klar smirked,
"everything here is like something."
Hsu Myat Thin snickered behind her.
Klar leaned forward, voice colder.
"Don't forget your place.
Transfer girls don't survive long if they become… noticeable."
Ka Byar held her ground.
"I'm not trying to compete with you."
Klar smiled cruelly.
"Everyone competes with me."
Then she walked away, heels clicking sharply.
Ka Byar's hands shook.
Later that day, as Ka Byar crossed the courtyard, Min Yatu appeared beside her.
"You look like you haven't slept."
She sighed.
"Maybe I haven't."
Min Yatu watched her for a moment.
"Tell me who bothered you."
Ka Byar blinked.
"I'm not telling you that."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to create more trouble."
Min Yatu shoved his hands into his pockets.
"You won't create it," he murmured.
"I will."
The threat was soft.
Silent.
Sincere.
Ka Byar shook her head.
"I don't want anyone fighting for me."
He studied her.
"You really don't understand this place."
"Maybe I don't."
Min Yatu leaned closer.
"Then let me teach you."
Her heart jumped.
She stepped back.
"I don't need saving."
He smiled slightly.
"That's what everyone says before they fall."
As the day ended, Ka Byar found a small note slipped inside her bag.
A neat red ribbon tied around it. Hands trembling, she unfolded it.
Only one sentence:
"Be careful what rooms you enter.
Not all doors are meant for you."
— S.T.
Her heart dropped.
Scarlet Thread.
Someone was watching her.
More closely than she thought.
That night, Ka Byar sat at her desk, sketching something she didn't understand at first.
Her hand moved on its own.
Shadows.
Figures.
Eyes watching her from behind glass.
Hands reaching out.
Threads tightening around her throat.
When she finally stopped,
she stared at the page—
and felt her blood run cold.
She had drawn YLU.
But twisted.
Dark.
Haunting.
With a girl standing alone in the center.
Her.
The room felt too small when she whispered:
"What is this place doing to me…?"
But the wind outside answered only with silence.
And somewhere in another part of campus—
Min Yatu stared at the ceiling of his dorm, unable to sleep.
Naya Thone closed his office door, eyes lingering on Ka Byar's name on a list.
Klar Za Min scrolled through Scarlet Thread, smiling.
Soe Hlaing May whispered a quiet prayer for the girl she barely knew.
And the university—
the glittering, dangerous universe she had stepped into—
began to close around her like a velvet trap.
But Ka Byar didn't know yet This was only the beginning