Kovacs woke early, as he usually did, the first rays of a pale dawn filtering through the narrow window of his flat. His body moved on autopilot, sliding out of bed and stumbling toward the shower, the chill of the tile floor shocking him into full consciousness. The sound of the water drumming against the metal walls of the tiny bathroom filled the silence, and he allowed himself a moment to let the warmth sink into his muscles.
As he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a threadbare towel around his waist, his eyes drifted over the room—a cramped but efficient space with just enough room for a bed, a desk cluttered with notes and blueprints, and a small kitchenette. “Almost luxurious,” he muttered, his voice tinged with sarcasm. He snorted, amused by the thought. The flat and its three hundred and fifty square feet was one of the largest places he had ever lived.
It wasn't half bad for a student scraping by on a meager stipend and the occasional freelance design gig. The rent was cheap, and the building was close enough to Rivenhall University that he could walk to class in under fifteen minutes. The walls were thin, and he could hear the dull hum of conversations and footsteps from his neighbors, but it was his space—his sanctuary in a city that never slept.
Kovacs sighed as he dressed, pulling on a worn set of work clothes that had seen better days. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. His mind, however, was already drifting to the day ahead, the endless list of tasks that awaited him—assignments, research, and, of course, the ever-present challenge of mastering the Design System. It was a lot for anyone to handle, but Kovacs had never been one to back down from a challenge. Not when there was so much at stake.
As he grabbed his bag and headed for the door, he cast one last glance around the room. Luxurious? No. But it was his, and for now, that was enough.
***
Kovacs stepped out of his flat into the crisp morning air, the city alive with the sounds of the day beginning. The walk to Rivenhall University was familiar, the rhythm of his steps uneven but steady—just one more thing he didn’t know about himself. The limp was subtle but noticeable enough to mark him as different—another flaw in a world that valued perfection.
As he approached the university, the towering gates of wrought iron came into view, flanked by imposing statues of historical figures. Beyond them lay the heart of the campus: the Quad. Kovacs felt a familiar twinge of awe and resentment as he entered the expansive courtyard, his eyes drawn to the grandeur surrounding him. The buildings, with their towering columns and intricate carvings, were modeled after the Greek Revival style, each structure a testament to wealth and power.
Massive slabs of polished marble made up the steps and facades, while the walls were adorned with friezes depicting scenes of ancient triumphs. The entire campus was a study in excess, the materials sourced from the finest quarries and crafted by the most skilled artisans. Every detail, from the gold leaf that edged the columns to the perfectly manicured lawns, screamed of privilege—a privilege that Kovacs could never claim as his own.
He adjusted the strap of his worn bag, feeling the rough canvas against his shoulder. His clothes, a simple set of work pants and a faded shirt seemed even shabbier in contrast to the finely tailored outfits of the other students. They moved through the Quad with effortless grace, their designer shoes clicking against the cobblestones, their conversations filled with the casual confidence of those who had never known struggle.
Kovacs felt their eyes on him as he limped past—a flicker of disdain here, a whisper there.
“Must be one of the maintenance men.” A young girl said to a friend.
“Shouldn’t he be coming in the back entrance…” The friend asked in disdain.
He straightened his back, refusing to let the looks and snide comments get under his skin. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt out of place, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The stares weren’t new, nor was the feeling of being an outsider in a world that valued appearances as much as talent.
“Nice limp, Kovacs,” a voice called from behind him. He turned to see a group of students lounging by one of the grand fountains, their expressions smug. One of them, a tall boy with a neatly pressed blazer and an air of entitlement, smirked as he took a step forward. “I guess you do know how to stand out.”
Kovacs met his gaze, his expression hardening. He recalled the boy from his classes from the day before. “You’d be surprised how far a limp can get you,” he replied coolly, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck. “I’m here to work, not to prance around like a show pony.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The boy’s smirk faltered, and Kovacs saw the flash of surprise in his eyes before he turned away, muttering something under his breath. The group of students resumed their idle chatter, but Kovacs had already dismissed them from his mind. He didn’t have the luxury of letting their petty jabs distract him. Not when there was so much at stake.
As he continued across the Quad, the ancient buildings loomed over him, a reminder of the daunting journey ahead. But Kovacs wasn’t here for the architecture or the prestige. He was here to learn, to prove that he belonged despite the odds. With the Design System in his corner and a determination that burned brighter with each challenge, he knew he could outwork any of his so-called betters.
They might have wealth, connections, and flawless appearances, but Kovacs had something they couldn’t buy—a grit forged in hardship and a mind sharpened by necessity. He wouldn’t back down. Not now, not ever.
Kovacs pushed open the heavy oak door to his first class of the day: Metallurgy and Materials Science. The room starkly contrasted to the opulence of the Quad, a utilitarian space filled with two rows of polished metal benches and gleaming workstations. The walls were lined with charts and diagrams, each detailing the properties of various alloys, composites, and metals. A faint scent of oil and burnt metal lingered in the air, a reminder of the experiments and practical work that defined the course.
As he entered, he couldn’t help but notice the students already seated—many of them dressed in crisp uniforms or stylish outfits that seemed out of place in the industrial setting. Like everything else at Rivenhall University, their clothes displayed status, the fabric finer, the stitching tighter, the colors richer. Kovacs glanced down at his own attire, a well-worn shirt and sturdy work pants, the cuffs frayed from use. A flicker of self-consciousness passed through him, but he quickly shook it off. This wasn’t a fashion show; it was a classroom, and he was here to learn.
The seats were filling up fast, and Kovacs moved to the back of the room, hoping to avoid drawing any more attention to himself. As he walked, he could feel the familiar unevenness in his gait, the slight limp that marked him as different. He caught a few curious glances, but most students were too absorbed in their conversations to pay him much attention.
“Hey, is that seat taken?” he asked, nodding to an empty spot beside a student meticulously arranging his notes.
The boy looked up, a quick scan of Kovacs’ appearance registering in his eyes before he shrugged. “Nope, all yours.”
“Thanks,” Kovacs replied, dropping his bag onto the floor and sliding into the seat. He pulled out his notebook, flipping to a fresh page as he tried to ignore the murmur of voices around him.
The professor, a tall, wiry man with graying hair and a stern expression, entered the room, silencing the chatter with a single glare. He moved to the front of the class, where a massive chalkboard was covered with complex formulas and diagrams.
“We have a new student. Welcome to Metallurgy and Materials Science, Mr. Kovacs. You are behind the class already.” the professor began, his voice crisp and authoritative. “For the rest of you, I assure you this course will challenge you in ways you may not expect. You will learn not only about the properties of metals and materials but also how to apply that knowledge to real-world problems—problems that, I assure you, will not tolerate mistakes.” The man said. “That being said, stop treating it as a place to gossip…” The professor stated as he looked at two finer-dressed girls in class.
Kovacs leaned forward, his attention sharpening. He could feel the weight of the professor’s words and their unspoken challenge. This was the environment where he thrived—where hard work and knowledge were the only things that mattered. He’d studied metallurgy before, and there was only so much you could learn from a textbook, but this was different. Here, the stakes were higher, the demands greater.
Kovacs’ mind was already racing ahead. He was eager to delve into the subject's complexities, to push the limits of what he knew. He had the Design System on his side, an edge that could turn the tide in his favor, but he couldn’t rely on it alone. He needed to understand the material on a fundamental level to internalize the knowledge so that it became second nature.
As the lecture progressed, the professor talked about crystalline structures, grain boundaries, and phase transitions. Kovacs made notes furiously, his handwriting quick and precise.
Midway through the lecture, the professor paused, scanning the room. “You,” he said, pointing directly at Kovacs. “What can you tell me about the significance of tempering in steel production?”
Kovacs felt the eyes of the class shift to him, a dozen gazes boring into his back. For a split second, he hesitated, the old insecurities threatening to rise. But then he pushed them aside, meeting the professor’s stare head-on.
“Tempering is a heat treatment process used to increase the toughness of steel by reducing the hardness,” Kovacs began, his voice steady. “It involves heating the steel to a temperature below its critical point and then cooling it at a controlled rate. This process relieves internal stresses and balances the ductility and strength of the steel, making it more durable and resistant to fracture.”
The professor nodded a hint of approval in his expression. “Correct. And what factors might influence the outcome of the tempering process?”
“The temperature and duration of the tempering, as well as the specific alloy composition of the steel,” Kovacs replied without missing a beat. “Different elements like carbon, manganese, and chromium can affect how steel responds to tempering, which is why precise control is crucial in achieving the desired mechanical properties.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the class, and Kovacs could feel the shift in the room’s atmosphere.
The professor moved on, but Kovacs felt a renewed sense of confidence. He wasn’t going to back down to anyone, not in this class or university. He might not have the money, the clothes, or the connections, but he had something far more valuable: Design System at his fingertips, he was ready to prove that he could stand with the best of them.