Varun stared at the man sleeping on the charpai, then at the boy sitting frozen on the broken bench.
The father's words still hung in the air like smoke that refused to clear.
If you don't learn a skill, you won't even have a charpai.
Varun's jaw tightened.
He walked toward the cot, each step crunching softly on the layer of dust that had settled into the floor like sediment. The smell grew stronger up close—sweat, old clothes, stale tobacco. This was not neglect. This was occupation.
He grabbed the man's shoulder and shook it, hard.
"Hey," Varun said. "Wake up. Get out."
The man groaned, lips smacking as if tasting something pleasant in his dream. One eye cracked open—bloodshot, unfocused. He scratched his chest under the dirty vest, flakes of skin falling onto the sheet.
"What?" the man mumbled.
"This is a classroom," Varun said, keeping his voice low, tight, controlled. "Not a bedroom. Get your things and leave. Now."
The man—Ramu—let out a lazy chuckle.
He rolled onto his back, deliberately slow, stretching his arms before lacing his fingers behind his head. The charpai creaked under his weight as he made himself comfortable again.
"Relax, Master-ji," Ramu said, eyes still closed. "I'm comfortable. You do your teaching. Don't mind me. Pretend I'm not here."
He shifted his leg, the rope of the cot rubbing loudly.
"Just keep the noise down, okay?" Ramu added. "I have a headache."
Something hot surged up Varun's spine.
The casual disrespect. The certainty. The way the man spoke as if Varun were a guest in his own class.
Varun's hands curled into fists. For a split second, he imagined grabbing the charpai and flipping it over—ending this farce in one violent motion.
Then the world changed.
A translucent blue rectangle shimmered into existence in front of his eyes.
Varun froze.
The room didn't disappear, but it blurred slightly, as if reality had been pushed a step back to make space for something else. The interface hovered mid-air, perfectly aligned, its edges sharp and clinical.
He knew it.
He had seen it once before.
Yesterday.
In the Principal's office.
The moment his pen had lifted from the contract paper, the moment the last signature dried, the screen had flickered into view—silent, precise. A soft chime had sounded in his ears, too clean to be real.
He had nearly dropped the pen.
He had looked up, heart racing, but the Principal had been busy stamping forms, already moving on to the next file, oblivious to the fact that Varun's reality had just fractured.
Heat, Varun had told himself then.Delhi heat. Eight years of Dubai AC has softened my brain.
If he told anyone he was seeing floating blue screens, they wouldn't just fire him.
They would institutionalize him.
But now it was back.
Clearer. Sharper.
And it was watching.
[Analyzing Class Environment…]
The text typed itself, line by line, emotionless.
[Environment Status: CRITICAL]
Varun swallowed.
New panels unfolded across his vision, overlaying the room—dusty desks tagged with faint markers, the pile of scrap computers pulsing red, the sleeping squatter highlighted in an aggressive warning orange.
[CLASS STATUS: COMPUTER HARDWARE – BATCH 1]
Instructor Authority: 0% (Non-existent) Student Morale: -90% (Despair) Equipment Status: 98% BROKEN / SCRAP Environment Hazard: High (Unauthorized Occupant Detected)
Varun stared.
Zero percent.
Not low. Not insufficient.
Non-existent.
He glanced at Amit. The boy hadn't moved. His shoulders were drawn inward, his gaze fixed somewhere near his feet, as if trying to disappear into the floor.
Ninety percent despair.
The system wasn't exaggerating. It was quantifying what Varun could already feel in his bones.
Then the interface shifted.
A new window snapped open, flashing once—urgent.
[NEW MISSIONS AVAILABLE]
The words made his stomach tighten.
This wasn't a hallucination.
Hallucinations didn't structure problems.
Mission 1: Establish Territory
Objective: Remove unauthorized occupant (Ramu) from classroom without violence.
Reward:+5% Instructor Authority+10 XPUnlocks: Inventory Feature
Failure Penalty:Permanent loss of respect from Student Amit.
Varun's eyes flicked to the last line.
Permanent loss.
The system wasn't threatening him.
It was stating a fact.
He scrolled—no, thought—and the next mission expanded.
Mission 2: The First Spark
Objective: Locate and successfully boot up ONE (1) working computer.
Reward:+5% Student Morale+20 XP
Failure Penalty:Class is cancelled.
Then the third.
Mission 3: Engage the Student
Objective: Get Student Amit to perform one successful technical action.
Reward:+5% Student Morale+10 XP
The interface stopped.
Waiting.
Varun looked from the glowing blue text to Ramu, who was already snoring again, and then to Amit—small, silent, watching everything without hope.
The system wasn't saving him.
It wasn't giving him power.
It was cornering him.
For the first time since he had walked into the institute, Varun understood something clearly:
If he backed down now, this room would never be his.
If he failed this, Amit would never stand straight again.
Varun inhaled slowly, forcing his hands to unclench.
No shouting.No violence.
He looked down at Ramu.
"Get up," Varun said again—calm this time, flat, unyielding.
It wasn't a request anymore.
The system hovered silently.
Mission Active: Establish Territory
And Varun realized—this wasn't about removing a squatter.
This was about teaching the room who it belonged to.