Chapter: The Hayabusa Network
As the bus hummed along its route, I pulled out my smartphone. I didn't open any of the standard social media apps. Instead, I navigated to a hidden URL, a private gateway that flickered to life on the screen.
Hayabusa login...
The interface was sparse, encrypted, and built for efficiency. I quickly created a temporary group and typed out a single directive: Report on Mr. Hulwan's behavior immediately. I didn't wait for the responses. I swiped the app into the background and pocketed the device.
After seeing Ananya off at her stop, I walked the remaining distance to my apartment. The evening air was cool, but my mind was racing. Once inside the safety of my room, I checked the phone. The notification light was blinking—a frantic pulse of data.
I opened the secret club's chat. The network we operated in the shadows was as active as ever, and the replies from the scouts were already piling up.
Bunny:The rumors said he was a bad guy, but I've done the legwork. I can confirm he's actually got a good heart.
Pinocchio:He isn't nearly as crooked as the stories make him out to be.
Pikachu:Found something deep. He was actually on track to join the Indian Army years ago. He saved someone during a training exercise or an incident, got injured, and had to withdraw. It's highly classified personal info, but it's verified.
Krish:He's been secretly coaching students who want to enlist. Gives them workout routines and subject-specific tutoring for the Army entrance exams.
Okay, fine. Leave the group, I typed back, unimpressed by the sentimentality. I deleted the group, wiping the digital trail instantly.
I went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to wash away the day's grime. Refreshment was temporary; the investigation was paramount. It was time to switch from observation to active research.
I sat at my study table and pulled open the bottom drawer. Tucked away in the back were the components of a secondary device. I worked with practiced ease, assembling the shell, clicking the battery into place, and sliding in a specialized SIM card. The screen glowed to life—a "burner" phone, untraceable and dedicated to a single purpose.
I typed a message to an old contact: "Yuvaraj Hulwan. My new class teacher."
Once sent, I didn't leave the phone sitting out. I disassembled it again, hiding the device back in the drawer and securing the SIM card to the underside of the table with a strip of heavy-duty duct tape.
I spent the next hour preparing a simple dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables helping me process the information. After the meal, I cleaned the dishes, the clink of porcelain against the sink the only sound in the apartment. Finally, I returned to the table and logged back into the core network of the secret club.
Hayabusa:Did you find anything?
Harry:I've uploaded the full dossier to a secure mail server. Check the credentials. Login, download, and get out. ;)
Email: Abcd1111@yhgmailPassword: 111111yh
Without wasting a second, I accessed the account. The file sat there—a silent, heavy container of data. I initiated the download, watching the progress bar creep across my screen. Whatever secrets Mr. Hulwan and Ananya were hiding, they were now resting in the palm of my hand.
I read through the documents thoroughly. This level of intrusion was something I only reserved for situations of absolute necessity, especially when students were involved.
The data was a mixture of standard biography and unsettling anomalies. Mr. Hulwan had recently shifted into a high-end apartment complex with top-tier security—far beyond a typical teacher's salary. Even more suspicious were the sightings of him with a much younger girl around the premises.
However, the military section of the file corroborated Pikachu's intel. He had indeed received a joining letter from the Indian Army, but a catastrophic accident while saving another recruit had left him with injuries severe enough to end his career before it truly began.
I don't want to believe in rumors about Mr. Hulwan, I mumbled, closing the file. That's why I have to see the truth with my own eyes.
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The Breaking Point
The next morning, the atmosphere at school felt brittle. I sat in the classroom, ostensibly reading the study notes Mr. Hulwan had provided, but my mind was elsewhere.
Suddenly, a cacophony of raised voices erupted from the hallway. My classmates rushed to the door to see what was happening. I stayed in my seat but leaned toward the window to get a better vantage point.
"Say it one more time!"
The voice was Ananya's, but the soft kindness I knew was gone, replaced by a sharp, furious edge. She stood in the center of a growing crowd, her hands on her waist, facing down a group of gossiping students.
"If you are going to say bad things about people based on false rumors, that is an immoral thing to do!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the lockers. "What nonsense! Don't be controlled by such an illusion—judge with your own eyes! I have ignored this until now, but this has gone too far. If you make fun of Mr. Hulwan, I will not forgive you!"
A murmur rippled through the crowd. "Why is she backing Mr. Hulwan so much?" someone whispered. "The student representative is acting so strange."
"I've seen her once, talking happily with Mr. Hulwan," another girl piped up as I finally stood and approached the crowd.
"Seriously?" a third girl added, her voice dripping with malice. "This is so shocking; I actually admired her. Is she making money by going out with him?"
The air was thick with the scent of a brewing scandal. Before the situation could spiral into a physical fight or worse, I stepped forward and roared.
"Hey, morons! Can you keep your voices down!?"
The crowd went silent. I pushed my way through until I was standing right in front of Ananya. I grabbed the edges of my sleeves and rolled them up, purposefully exposing the jagged scar on my right hand—a silent reminder of my own history.
"What are you looking at me for?" I snapped, looking directly into Ananya's eyes. "If you want to defend your favorite teacher, then go do it somewhere else, not in front of my window seat."
I glared at the surrounding students. One by one, they wilted under the pressure, scurrying back toward their respective classrooms. The commotion died down, leaving only Ananya standing there, her chest still heaving with indignation.
"What?" I asked, my voice low and threatening. "You want to get beaten up too?"
Before she could respond, another girl grabbed Ananya's arm and pulled her away. I watched them leave, finally feeling the adrenaline subside. I was relieved the scene was over, even if I had to play the villain to end it.
As I turned back toward my classroom, I caught a glimpse of a figure standing further down the hall. It was Mr. Hulwan. He had been there the whole time, watching silently from the shadows.
A pang of guilt hit me. I wanted to go to him and apologize for my behavior, but this wasn't the time or the place. I had a role to play. With a heavy heart, I ignored him, walked back to my desk, and forced myself to start reading the notes again.
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