Glass-Sharp Eyes

Just as we were starting to relax, Shrishti Dishayen addressed the class one final time.

"Now, about your school uniforms," she said, her tone back to business. "They're customized according to your year and your origin, which is listed on your OAR profile. You will collect your uniforms from the Vaya Store, located inside the school campus."

She picked up a marker and wrote the store's name on the board, as if we might forget.

"There are two sets of uniforms," she continued. "One is for daily academic use, and the other is for physical and sports activities."

She held up her Prestige-issued phone and added,

"All you need to do is take your school phone with you to the store. The staff will scan your ID and handle everything else. Just follow their instructions. Understood?"

Most students nodded, murmuring their agreement.

"But before that," she said, pausing for emphasis, "you are required to hand over your previous phones. No exceptions."

That announcement sparked hesitation.

Some students clutched their old devices instinctively, reluctant to let them go.

A few exchanged glances, as if weighing whether they had a choice. But one by one, they stood up and dropped their phones into a collection box near the teacher's desk.

I didn't hesitate.

There was no use holding onto something that clearly wouldn't work in here.

After all the phones had been collected, Shrishti checked the box, then gave a curt nod.

"That concludes today's session. You're free to explore the campus now."

With that, she exited the room, leaving the class to its own devices—both literally and figuratively.

But something strange happened.

Only a handful of students left the classroom.

Most of them stayed behind—talking, laughing, forming small groups, already beginning to socialize like it was second nature.

I stood up from my seat and watched them for a moment.

They were introducing themselves more casually now, comparing phones, talking about their rooms, sharing small thoughts about the school and the OAR system.

But me?

I wasn't that type of guy.

Large groups made me uneasy. Small talk didn't come naturally to me.

So I quietly slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the classroom.

As I stepped into the corridor and exited the building, the crisp morning air hit my face.

I made my way to the campus map display just outside.

I stood there for a few seconds, studying it again—this time with more understanding.

The entire campus was divided into two main sections.

The first section was the Big Block Zone, where all the classroom buildings were located. It took up surprisingly little space, considering how many students were enrolled.

The second section was massive—the Recreational and Utility Zone.

This part included everything: malls, cafes, theaters, parks, training arenas, and more.

Somewhere in that second section was the Vaya Store—the place I needed to visit to get my uniform.

I took a deep breath, checked the map again, and started walking.

started walking toward the Vaya Store.

Walking's always been my favorite activity. You don't need a reason, a plan, or a destination. Just walk slowly… and admire the view.

And here?

There was a lot to admire.

The path out of the Big Block was smooth, clean, and almost unreal. The aesthetic sense of the campus was mesmerizing—marble archways, futuristic streetlamps, and subtle carvings that whispered of different cultures. Even the pavement tiles seemed hand-picked to match the architecture.

It was like walking through a painting.

As I passed out of the academic zone and into the second section of campus, I noticed a distinct change in atmosphere.

The Recreational and Utility Zone was like an entirely different city.

Each building had its own theme—Japanese-style tea houses next to sleek modern cafés, a towering mall designed like a medieval fortress, and tech stores that looked like they'd been flown in from 2070.

I couldn't help but smile. This was exciting.

Who wouldn't be?

Out of curiosity, I stepped into two or three stores.

And that's when the strange feeling returned.

Every store was… empty.

Spotless. Fully stocked. Employees standing politely behind counters. But not a single customer inside.

It wasn't just one or two stores.

All of them were deserted.

Where is everyone?

I began to notice something else.

Not a single student I passed was wearing a school uniform.

Sure, first-years like me hadn't been issued one yet. But what about second, third, and fourth years? Shouldn't they be walking around too?

Was everyone off-campus? Or… were we really the only batch present today?

Just like in our own building, I saw no noise, no movement, no crowds in any of the other Big Blocks either.

I told myself it wasn't my business.

But the feeling… it stayed.

Eventually, I arrived at the Vaya Store.

And yes—it was huge.

It looked less like a uniform store and more like a luxury showroom. Polished floors, soft lighting, mannequins dressed in elegant schoolwear behind glass, and a holographic logo gently spinning in the center of the store.

As I walked in, something caught my eye.

Nitya Goyal.

She was standing near a display, quietly examining a set of sports uniforms.

My immediate instinct was to walk the other way.

Not because I was afraid. I just didn't want the trouble.

There was something sharp about her presence—like a glass shard hidden in clean water.

I turned and walked straight to the reception desk.

"Hello," I said.

The receptionist smiled. "Your ID, please."

I handed over my Prestige-issued phone, and she scanned it without a word. Then she made a quick call.

A few minutes later, a store assistant arrived carrying a massive package. From that, they pulled out a smaller box—not tiny, just small compared to the monster it came from.

The receptionist handed the package to me.

"You may open it here if you'd like," she offered.

I shook my head. "No, it's fine."

She nodded, slid a form toward me, and passed a pen.

After filling it out, she handed me a receipt slip.

I was about to leave when I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey, you. The one with the tiny package."

Of course.

I didn't turn around right away. Maybe if I pretended not to hear—

"You really think you're not the only one carrying a package in an empty store?"

I sighed. There was no escape.

I turned around slowly. "Are you talking to me?"

Nitya raised an eyebrow. "Who else? The furniture?"

Her expression was calm, but her eyes were too sharp to be casual.

"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my tone flat.

She crossed her arms. "Just wanted to confirm a few things."

"Like what?"

She tilted her head slightly. "What's the purpose of this school? Why would the Royal Family invest so heavily in a school that cuts off its students from the outside world?"

I frowned. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I watched you in class," she said simply. "Your face. The way you observed things. I saw the same questions in your eyes. You noticed the odd things. Just like I did."

I wanted to brush her off. To tell her to go ask a teacher.

But she wasn't done.

"I think you already know this school isn't normal. I just want to know—what are they really preparing us for?"

I hesitated. "Why don't you just ask Shrishti?"

Nitya's expression turned cold.

"Did you even read the rulebook? There's a very specific clause that says we are not allowed to ask any faculty about the origin or foundation of the academy. And did you notice the date listed for the opening of the first branch?"

I blinked. "No. Why?"

"It was established just a few years after Aurora's formation as a republic, and right after the new royal structure stabilized. The timeline… it's too clean."

She stepped closer.

"Think about it. This entire campus is massive—larger than most universities. And yet, we only have 360 students in total. The facilities are luxurious. The staff is discreet. There are no leaks to the outside world. No one really knows how this place operates."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Just how much money do you think goes into running this place every year? And for what?"

I didn't reply.

Not because I had no thoughts—but because for the first time, someone had spoken the thoughts I wasn't ready to say aloud.

She lowered her voice. "Whatever this school is… it's not just about education."

And then, without waiting for a reply, she turned back toward the uniforms.

Leaving me standing there, the tiny package in my hand suddenly feeling heavier.