Aarav Deshmukh sat at the back of the lecture hall, trying not to let his eyes glaze over as Professor Rao droned on about heat transfer mechanisms. The old classroom was part of the ancient wing of the university, its tall stone arches and intricate carvings a reminder of a time when scholars from across the world came to study here. The university itself was a relic—founded centuries ago, it had been razed to the ground by invaders during a brutal siege, its libraries burned and its students scattered. But in modern times, it had been rebuilt, merging its ancient heritage with sleek new buildings, where past and present collided in strange harmony.
The classroom Aarav now sat in was a blend of both. Its old stone walls were contrasted with modern equipment and projectors. The rows of wooden benches, worn smooth by generations of students, had seen the rise and fall of empires. For Aarav, though, it was just another Monday, and Rao’s lecture was the least of his worries.
"And now," Professor Rao said, turning from the projector screen with the hint of a smile, "Mr. Deshmukh, why don’t you enlighten us about Fourier’s Law?"
Aarav snapped out of his half-daydream. He hadn’t been paying attention, but the name "Fourier" was familiar enough. He racked his brain, searching for a quick way out.
"Right, Fourier's Law," Aarav began, trying to stall for time. "It's… like a pizza delivery. Heat, like a pizza, transfers from the oven—high temperature—to your plate—low temperature. And the faster you want that pizza, the bigger the thermal gradient you need."
The class broke out into muffled laughter, some groaning at the absurdity. Professor Rao shook his head but smiled slightly.
"Creative, Mr. Deshmukh, but I’d suggest using that imagination on your assignments rather than on thermodynamics."
Aarav gave a sheepish grin, shrugging off the light scolding. He wasn’t worried about Rao. After all, dodging pointed questions was a minor inconvenience compared to the other things lurking in his life. In a university as old and storied as this, the line between history and myth often blurred. Most students only saw the campus as a place of learning, but Aarav knew there were layers of reality most people would never encounter.
---
After the lecture, Aarav made his way through the ancient halls of the university with his friends—Ishaan, Meera, and Riya. The four of them strolled toward the campus café, their usual haunt. They passed through the more modern section of the university, where sleek glass buildings stood in contrast to the weathered stonework of the old campus. It was an odd juxtaposition, but Aarav had grown used to it.
"You know, if you spent half as much time studying as you do making up jokes in class, you wouldn’t have to dodge Rao’s questions," Meera teased, walking ahead with her books clutched tightly to her chest.
"Where’s the fun in that?" Aarav replied, smirking. "Besides, it’s all about survival, not perfection."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Riya, who had been quietly sketching something in her notebook, looked up and smiled. "Survival with style, apparently."
They reached the café, which sat at the crossroads of the old and new campus. It was an odd, cozy place, with its rustic wooden furniture and walls plastered with posters of university events long past. The café’s huge glass windows overlooked the sprawling gardens, where students lounged under ancient banyan trees. It was here, in these in-between moments, that Aarav almost felt like a normal student.
As they sat down with their drinks, Ishaan, forever glued to his phone, swiped through the latest memes. "You know, I’m starting to think Rao has it out for you, Aarav. The man doesn’t miss a chance to call you out."
"He just likes my charm," Aarav said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Keeps his lectures interesting."
Meera rolled her eyes, while Riya snickered into her chai. Aarav leaned back in his chair, letting the conversation flow around him. For a brief moment, everything felt normal, easy. But deep down, he knew the peace wouldn’t last and just as he expected.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen.
Dev calling..
Aarav’s casual demeanor shifted. Dev was the head of their exorcist team, one that operated outside the usual channels. In a country as vast and old as India, the supernatural was a tightly kept secret. Most people would never know the true depth of the paranormal world that lurked just beneath the surface. The government and certain branches of law enforcement were aware of it, of course. They even had specialized units to handle these matters. But with the sheer size of the country and the endless legends, myths, and spirits that haunted its corners, they often relied on independent teams like Aarav's.
His team was small but formidable, consisting of exorcists, occult specialists, and experts from various fields—both normal and paranormal. They handled the cases that slipped through the cracks of official channels, operating in the shadows to keep the balance between the living and the dead.
"Everything alright?" Riya asked, noticing the shift in Aarav’s expression.
"Yeah, just need to take this," Aarav said, standing up and moving out of earshot.
He answered the call, already anticipating what was coming. "Dev, what’s going on?"
"We’ve got a situation," Dev’s voice came through, calm but serious. "There’s been a sighting at a school just outside town. New spirit, aggressive. We’re calling it the Hanging Woman for now."
Aarav frowned. "A school? What happened?"
"Three students have been injured, two badly. We’ve confirmed it’s not a regular haunting—it’s something more malicious. The police have reached out, but they’re at a loss. They’re bringing in the paranormal branch, but they need us on this one. If we don’t move fast, it could escalate."
Aarav exhaled slowly. A new ghost, and it was already causing harm. The Hanging Woman—it didn’t take much to imagine what kind of spirit they were dealing with. Schools, especially older ones, were often fertile ground for hauntings. The blend of activity and history made them prime spots for spirits to manifest. But if this one had already injured students, it was more dangerous than usual.
"Alright," Aarav said, his voice steady. "I’ll meet you at the headquarters. Give me 30 minutes."
"Good. We’ll need everyone for this one," Dev replied before the call ended.
Aarav pocketed his phone, glancing back at the café where his friends were still chatting, unaware of the world that was about to pull him away. His life as a university student was a fragile illusion, one that crumbled the moment his phone buzzed. The reality was that Aarav wasn’t just here to study and make bad jokes in thermodynamics. He had a duty—a dangerous, exhausting duty—to keep the supernatural world from bleeding too far into the one his friends knew.
He took one last look at his friends, sighed, and turned away, ready to face whatever awaited him.
---