[Liam's POV]
The sun hadn't even finished yawning when I stood outside the college gate.
My old self would've slipped in unnoticed, hood up, eyes low, trying not to take up space.
But today?
I walked in like I owned the pavement.
Two months. That's all it took. A summer that forged me — not just physically, but mentally. The weight I used to carry in my gut now sat in my chest, solid and proud. My body had sharpened. My face was lean. My posture screamed quiet confidence.
And the moment I stepped in, I felt it.
Silence — then whispers.
"Who is that?"
"New admission?"
"Nah, bro, he's in our batch… wait, seriously?"
I didn't flinch. I walked slowly. Purposefully. I let them wonder.
I passed a group of girls standing near the canteen railings. One of them, in pink, tilted her head and asked her friend something. The friend glanced at me, then back, wide-eyed. They giggled — the kind of giggle I had never heard directed at me before.
It was addictive.
I took the stairs like I was floating. Guys I used to sit near during lectures stared like they were seeing a hallucination. Some pretended not to care, but their eyes kept slipping back to me.
I passed by a group that once completely ignored me.
"Damn, who's that?" one of the girls muttered, thinking I was out of earshot.
That's when I heard it.
"Liam…?"
I turned, and there she was.
Sara Rane.
The same girl who once borrowed my pen and never said thanks. The one who used to talk over me in group discussions like I was a wall.
She stood frozen, blinking twice. "Wait… Liam?!"
I smiled just a little — not arrogance, just peace.
"Hey, Sara. How've you been?"
She looked me up and down like I was a puzzle. "You look… wow. Like, completely different. I didn't recognize you at all!"
"Yeah," I said with a small shrug. "Summer was intense."
"I'll say…"
Before she could ask more, I waved casually and walked off. Not too cold. Just enough to leave her wondering.
I walked into the classroom, and once again — all eyes.
The seating arrangement was the same, but the energy had flipped. I wasn't Liam the background character anymore. I was the glitch in their reality.
A few girls sitting together whispered. One nudged the other when I passed by. I sat down, back straight, eyes calm, letting the new reality settle.
And then…
She walked in.
Melissa Pork.
My philosophy lecturer. Her elegance hadn't changed one bit — long wavy black hair, her fine ass, subtle makeup, a long skirt that flowed like water. She didn't need to try. She just was.
She placed her books on the desk, looked around — then her eyes landed on me.
For half a second, her brows lifted. She didn't recognize me.
Then, a slight squint… a pause… realization.
"…Liam?"
"Yes, ma'am."
A small smile touched her lips. "I almost didn't recognize you. You've… grown."
"Philosophy changes people," I said.
The class chuckled. Even she gave a soft laugh.
"Apparently, it works better than the gym."
The lecture began.
Today, it was Plato's Allegory of the Cave — a perfect topic. She talked about people trapped in shadows, only seeing what they're shown. I couldn't help but think — That was me. For years, I'd lived in a cave of my own making, watching other people live life while I only imagined it.
Now?
I was standing in the sunlight.
I raised my hand once. My question was deep — something about the subjective nature of light itself. She paused before answering, visibly impressed.
"Well, that's… a unique way to see it. Nicely put, Liam."
I nodded. I didn't need to smile or show off. The confidence was in my tone.
The rest of the class? Some stared in disbelief. Others took mental notes. And the girls?
Let's just say, for the first time in my life, I wasn't the one trying to be seen.
The bell rang for break.
And for the first time since childhood, I didn't want to leave class.
Because for the first time — this was my stage.
[Liam's POV]
After 2 hours the bell rang like a soft drumbeat echoing in my chest.
It wasn't just the end of a lecture.
It was the beginning of phase one.
Melissa gathered her notes — organized, graceful — like always. I watched her from the back of the class, unseen yet seeing everything. She had this habit. Every break, like clockwork, she'd walk down the west corridor, past the old water cooler with the leaky tap, and into her small, window-lit office. There, she'd spend ten minutes flipping through her notebook, sipping her tea, probably grading papers or scribbling philosophical questions into the margins.
Today was no different.
Except I was.
She stepped outside the class, and I gave her a five-second head start. Not too fast to look eager. Not too slow to lose the moment.
Then I stood.
I walked — slow, silent, confident.
Each step was calculated.
The corridor was mostly empty, students flooding the courtyard and canteen. I saw her, just ahead, the soft sway of her skirt catching little flickers of light. She was alone, a shadow cutting across sunlight-stained tiles. She walked without hurry — unaware of the plan unfolding behind her.
Then, just as she reached the turn near her office, I closed the distance.
I didn't speak.
Instead, I gently placed my hand on her shoulder.
She froze — not from fear, but from surprise.
She turned slowly.
Those deep, thoughtful eyes met mine.
For a heartbeat, there was silence — the kind that crackles with something unnamed.
I smiled.
"Ma'am," I said, voice calm, "I had a doubt. Thought I'd ask before I forget."
Her gaze lingered. Not confused. Curious.
Then, in that soft, level tone of hers —
"Okay. What is it?"
I stepped beside her, walking slowly now, like we were two minds strolling through an idea.
"It's about Plato's cave," I said, eyes ahead, not staring, keeping it natural.
"You said people can become so used to the shadows that the real light blinds them. But… what if someone already saw the light once, long ago? Then forgot? Would the pain of returning be less?"
Melissa stopped.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, finally —
"That's a good question."
Her voice had a slight edge now. More personal.
She looked at me — eyes narrowing, not out of suspicion, but thought.
"People who've seen the light and returned to the dark usually carry traces of it," she said.
"Memories. Dreams. A restlessness that shadows can't satisfy."
Her answer wrapped around me like silk dipped in thunder.
"I like that," I said softly. "Memories like sparks in the dark."
She smiled — not fully, but a ghost of one.
"I'll explain the rest tomorrow," she said. "More… thoroughly."
I nodded. "Thanks, ma'am."
And with that, I turned and walked away.
I didn't rush. I didn't look back.
But I could feel her watching me.
Like something had shifted.
I headed to the canteen, the noise and chatter crashing around me like waves I wasn't swimming in anymore.
Phase one: complete.
I had touched her.
Not just her shoulder. Her thoughts.
She had felt something — not just the pressure of a hand, but the curiosity in the question. And now, I lived in her mind, even if she didn't realize it yet.
The next step?
The exam. The kiss. The moment her world tips just a little toward mine.
And as I sat at a table, surrounded by a hundred meaningless conversations, I smiled to myself.
"She'll be mine."
The exams arrived like chessboards dropped in front of me.
Two back-to-back.
Philosophy on Day 1.
Theology on Day 2.
But this wasn't just about scoring well.
This was about placing perfectly.
I didn't need first place. Not yet. I needed third in the second semester. That exact spot. Because Melissa — my target, my muse, my obsession — had a habit.
She only shook hands with the top three in Philosophy.
I had to be on that list — no higher, no lower.
But what if some nerds got lucky? What if marks in other subjects pushed me down to fourth? That couldn't happen. I had to be flawless in Philosophy and just human enough in Theology.
---
Day 1: Philosophy Exam
The room was still. Pens clicked nervously. Sweat mixed with deodorant and ambition.
I opened my paper.
A smile played on my lips.
Questions like:
"Explain the Allegory of the Cave in modern context."
"What would Nietzsche say about today's society?"
"Define Existentialism with reference to Sartre."
Perfect.
I tapped my pen twice — a silent trigger.
And boom.
My vision shimmered for a second — just a flicker — and then the System activated. An invisible layer over reality. Data flowed in, answers arranged like soldiers. Clean, neat, undetectable.
I began to write.
Line after line. Point by point.
Not robotic — no.
My answers were art.
A blend of original flair with textbook perfection.
I even made small errors here and there, on purpose — to make it human. Too perfect is suspicious. I knew that.
Nobody suspected a thing.
I handed in the paper like a prince finishing a poem.
---
Day 2: Theology Exam
This one needed more… restraint.
Theology wasn't my strong suit. Melissa didn't care about this subject. But the school did.
I opened the paper and scanned it.
Easy MCQs. Some short answers. A few long ones. Basic stuff like:
"Differentiate between agape and philia."
"What does the Book of Revelation teach us?"
"Name three theological virtues."
I could've aced it too. But no.
I had to play dumb strategically.
I answered most MCQs correctly, but missed 2 on purpose. One short answer I made vague.
Target score: 98 or 99.
Just enough brilliance.
Just enough flaw.
I submitted it calmly. Mission complete.
---
Three Days Later – Assembly Hall
The results were supposed to come out yesterday. They didn't. Maybe some clerical delay.
So today was the day.
The whole college gathered in the assembly hall. Hot lights, buzzing fans, whispers floating like feathers. The principal was on stage, flipping through a sheet of gold-colored paper.
Students fidgeted in their uniforms. Some hopeful. Others already defeated.
"Now announcing the First Semester toppers," the principal declared.
The crowd quieted.
"First Place: John."
"Second: Andrew."
"Third: Natasha."
They stepped on stage one by one, proud and glowing. Each received a certificate. Each shook hands with the teachers. A wave of applause followed.
But I didn't clap. I was waiting for my cue.
The principal cleared his throat.
"And now, the Second Semester toppers—"
A pause.
"First Place: Jack."
"Second: Sasha."
"Third…"
I leaned slightly forward.
"Liam."
Boom.
Right on target.
The crowd turned, some murmuring.
I walked to the stage like a shadow stepping into the spotlight. Calm, collected. No smile. Just presence.
The first handshake was from Mr. Fenn, the math teacher. Then Ms. Riya from history. And then—
Her.
Melissa.
Wearing that same crisp white blouse tucked into a long black skirt. Professional. Elegant. But her curves? They didn't listen to the dress code.
She extended her hand.
"Congratulations, Liam," she said. "I'm… proud of you."
Her voice had warmth — but there was something else. A flicker of curiosity? Maybe respect?
I shook her hand.
Firm. Confident.
Our skin touched.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Touch Bond Initialized]
That single handshake was more than it looked. More than anyone in that hall could understand.
I took the certificate from her hands, nodded, and stepped down.
The first real link was made.
---
After the Assembly – Melissa's Office
As students returned to class, Melissa's voice called out behind me.
"Liam. One minute."
I turned.
Expression neutral.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"In my office."
I followed.
Her office was small, filled with books and sticky notes. One side had philosophical quotes pinned all over.
She handed me another certificate.
"This is for 'Excellence in Philosophical Expression'," she said. "Your answers… they stood out. They weren't just accurate — they had soul. You thought, Liam. That's rare."
I took it. Said nothing for a moment.
"Thank you," I finally replied.
She was tapping something on her phone. Half-distracted.
Then she looked up. "You should go. Class must've started."
I turned to leave.
Paused at the door.
"Ma'am… actually, I've been thirsty since morning. May I have some water?"
She barely looked up. "On the table. That's my bottle. Help yourself."
Her bottle.
No cups. No extra glass.
I walked to the desk.
Lifted the cold steel bottle.
And drank directly from it.
Her lips had touched it.
And now —
mine had too.
I swallowed slowly, savoring the coolness… but mostly the moment.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Phase 3 – Indirect Kiss Complete]
Slave Bond Stabilizing – 1 hour until effect begins.
I put the bottle back exactly where it was.
Turned.
Smiled once — just slightly.
"Thanks, ma'am."
And left.