Next morning, Askai trudged through the campus halls, the light too sharp, footsteps too loud, and the pounding in his head too relentless. His skull felt like it had been split open and stitched back together.

The hangover was brutal—whatever the hell was in that bottle wasn’t meant for a person alone. It was the kind of thing that knocked out your memory and good judgment in equal measure.

He winced as fragments of the night before drifted back. A quiet corner, a bottle, a stranger with eyes like grey mist and a mouth that kissed too softly for someone so sharp-edged. Askai rubbed a hand down his face, groaning under his breath.

What the hell had he been thinking?

Flirting with someone at a party like that was a death wish and he thought he knew better than that. Attention never came free at parties like those. He wondered what he would do, if he saw him again. May the sweet Gods have mercy on him and let him not walk in his path again.

The man was irresistible.

As he neared the cafeteria, the smell of toast and watery coffee hit him—but something felt off. Just to the east of the main student building stood the on-campus elite dining hall, a sleek, private lounge-like setup with high glass walls and minimalist furniture. They didn’t even shy away from calling it exclusive. The membership was not guided by money but family title.

It usually buzzed with life around this time. All those manicured kids in tailored outfits, laughing too loud over too little, sipping smoothies with names longer than their essays. But now?

Silent.

Askai paused. It was nearly 11 a.m. on a weekday, and the place was practically deserted. No laughter, no clinking of overpriced cutlery. Even the servers at the counter were standing still, looking slightly confused behind the glass.

His brows furrowed. All skipping classes? That wasn’t their style. Those kids didn’t just skip—at least not together.

Gut uneasy, he kept walking toward the cafeteria, eyes squinted toward the glass windows that gleamed in the sunlight. Something definitely went down at the party last night. Recalling the fidgety and nervous glances, shaking hands of those serving drinks, the earlier ruckus in the seminar hall about Steve’s party, joining the dots together wasn’t so difficult.

Staying clear off campus today was probably a smarter thing to do. He could afford to miss class one day.

Once the storm blows over, he could return.

Those dumbasses! Askai thought.

Anyways, he had more pressing things to deal with. Like moving.

He turned around and started walking toward the dormitory that was built across the college sports grounds. He was done with packing and finally had the cash he needed. He only had to find the Warden now and rattle him enough to allot Askai any room that was still unoccupied. He’d live in a closet if he had to. As long as it had a bed and didn’t screw with his focus.

The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he cut across the football ground, opting in for a shortcut. The air felt different here—like the campus itself was holding its breath. He moved quickly toward the residential block, a low concrete building bleached in white.

But suddenly he froze.

Just ahead, near the west fence that bordered the dorms, he saw a group of boys. Familiar ones. The so-called “servers” from last night’s party. Kneeling.

Great.

There they were, heads down, knees in the dirt. Their matching white shirts were smudged, and some had tears near the collars. And standing in front of them—too far to make out clearly, but unmistakable in posture and clothes—were the Entitled Elites. Probably the same pack from Steve’s circle. Their backs were too straight, too smug. Hands in pockets, heads tilted in that lazy predator way.

Askai’s pulse jumped.

He cursed low, barely audible. He spun on his heel, already retreating. He couldn’t be near this. Not now. Not ever. Whatever this was—it reeked of filthy power games and punishment. And if he got dragged into it...

But just as he turned, his gaze brushed against one of the kneeling boys.

Shit.

Eye contact.

The boy’s face was already swelling—left cheek purple, split lip. But even then, recognition flared in his eyes.

Askai swore again, sharper this time, and walked faster. Too late to pretend he hadn’t seen it. And now, someone else knew he had.

The trouble he’d been avoiding? It had just seen him back.