Arjun was up before the crows—seriously, even the sun was still stretching on the horizon. That busted old ceiling fan was doing its best impression of a dying dinosaur, but it couldn't drown out the thumping in his chest. His mind was still wired from last night. Making that vow, deciding he'd finally stand up for himself? It kind of zapped him awake, left him buzzing with nervous energy.
He splashed his face at the crooked little basin, staring at that mess of a reflection, and—man, there it was again. That weird shimmer of the System, hovering in the corner of his eye, all soft-blue glow and silent judgement. Market Analysis was still running, charts blipping away, whispering promises of both disaster and paydays. It was like the world, or at least Arjun's corner of it, had flipped upside down in the middle of the night.
But yeah, guess what? The System wasn't the only stuff he had to worry about.
His phone buzzed—reminder from the university. Some big business seminar, supposedly full of hotshot guest speakers. You know the kind: students lining up to peep at Mumbai's rich heirs, half of them flaunting their last names instead of brains. For Arjun, though, it wasn't about any fancy networking or Insta stories. It was just a chance to step out of his usual mess, maybe remember who he was before part-time gigs and hospital bills nearly buried him. Just for a sec, even breathing felt like a privilege.
From the next room, his mother rustled and called out, her voice more air than sound.
"Arjun beta, up so early?"
He smiled, trying to sound all chill. "Yeah, Maa. Got a seminar at uni, that's all. Promise I'll be back by evening."
She coughed, rough and dry, but didn't say anything else. Didn't have to—she already knew what went down at these things. The looks, the muttered jokes about "scholarship cases." Fact was, she'd watched Arjun slog through too much already to expect him to quit now.
He loaded up his old notebook, grabbed a ballpoint with most of the ink left, and tucked her prescriptions into the bag for later. Gave her a look before heading out—just a quick one, but it said everything.
Campus was wild. Students everywhere, polished up and turning out like it was a fashion show—nice shoes, shiny watches, perfume following in clouds. If there was a BMW made after 2018, it was probably parked there. Arjun locked his creaky bicycle by a fence that might fall down with a sneeze. His shirt was washed, but let's not lie—the color had seen better days. Sleeves rolled up neat, hair combed. He didn't fade in, not really, but he made himself as small as possible.
Inside, holy crap—the seminar hall was all mahogany and golden lights, banners swaying up top like some business Olympics. "Emerging Markets: India's Youth in Global Business." Seats filling up like crazy. Arjun did what he always did—slid right into the back.
He noticed Riya up front, serious as always in her pale blue kurta, sitting straight and looking every bit the model student. She glanced over once—they locked eyes, but just for a heartbeat. There was something in her look: proud, maybe, but also worried, like she already saw trouble headed Arjun's way. He dropped his eyes, didn't want to test fate before the day even started.
The whole vibe in the hall changed when this guy walked in—tall, sharp suit, hair styled so perfectly it probably had its own team of stylists. People started whispering like it was a movie star.
"Vikram Singhania," someone stage-whispered. "That's him—the Singhania Group's next boss."
Arjun's jaw clenched. Yeah, he'd heard of the Singhanias. Their money went back generations—old school family business types, but with enough shady deals and rumors swirling around them that you'd need a spreadsheet just to keep track.
Vikram strutted up, cool as you please, fake-friendly with the old professors, all smiles and handshakes. He could've run for class president and won in ten seconds flat, just by standing there.
"Good morning, everyone," Vikram started, and you could tell, he knew every eye in the place was glued to him.
Then the whole room shifted. Professors started out inviting students to share thoughts, which was hilarious—like anyone besides Vikram was going to get a word in. Dude basically took over, lounging in his seat like he was about to buy up the whole university.
He didn't hold back, either: "India's problem isn't shortages, or even corruption—it's laziness. People need to stop living in the past. My family? We're successful because we keep pushing—innovating—destroying inefficiency."
A wave of laughter followed. You could practically hear people sucking up, and even the professors gave these weak little smiles that said "please don't get me fired."
Arjun just sat there, pen poised, hand steady but heart in knots. "Inefficiency"? For guys like Vikram, it meant people like Javed getting fewer hours or families skipping dinner so someone could pay for asthma meds. Calling that laziness? You had to laugh, or else you'd scream.
Riya looked mad enough to break her pencil in half, but like almost everyone else, she kept quiet. Nobody really wanted to push back against the guy with the billion-rupee backing.
Then, the System clicked on, just a flicker at first. It started highlighting buzzwords in Vikram's speech—crush inefficiency, outdated models, corruption—and cross-linking them with the numbers Arjun saw last night. Market manipulation, cover-ups, outright lies—the System saw it all, paraded it in front of his eyes.
This was so not his fight. Not right now, anyway. He came to stay unremarkable, soak it in, nothing more. But sitting there… man, hearing the applause, seeing everyone nod like wind-up toys, it gnawed at him. Something riled up. He couldn't let that kind of BS float by unchecked forever.
The System pinpointed it:
"Opportunity Detected. Probability of Impact: 68%."
Arjun started scribbling notes, nerves fizzing. He hadn't planned on saying a word, but life doesn't really care about your plans, does it? Sometimes it throws you in, ready or not. And right then, with those spotlights and the smell of expensive aftershave, Arjun realized something: sometimes you don't get to hide at the back. Sometimes, the moment picks you—even if you're a broke kid with a cheap pen and too many reasons to stay quiet.
And that feeling? That feeling was loud.