The corridor outside the Dean's office was unusually quiet.

Arnav leaned against the wall, casually twirling his bike keys around his finger as if he hadn't just been summoned after the mid-semester results.

Aman looked at him nervously.

"Do you think you're in trouble?"

Arnav shrugged.

"When am I not?"

Before Aman could reply, the office door opened.

"Mr. Arnav Singh Rajvansh."

The peon gestured for him to enter.

Arnav sighed dramatically.

"Pray for me."

"Should I call an ambulance too?"

"Keep one ready."

With that, Arnav walked inside.

The smile on his face disappeared the moment he saw the Dean.

The man sat behind his desk, expression stern, a file lying open in front of him.

"Sit."

Arnav obeyed.

The Dean adjusted his spectacles before sliding the mark sheet across the table.

"Do you know what this is?"

"My report card?"

"It is proof that you've barely survived this semester."

Arnav scratched the back of his neck.

"I still passed."

"Barely."

Silence.

The Dean folded his hands.

"Mr. Rajvansh, this college has academic standards."

Arnav looked at him politely, though his mind had already wandered somewhere else.

"If your performance continues like this, you will not be promoted to the next academic year."

That sentence finally caught his attention.

"...What?"

The Dean continued in the same firm tone.

"You have six months before the final examinations."

"Okay..."

"You will significantly improve your grades."

Arnav blinked.

The Dean might as well have been speaking an alien language.

Improve... grades?

Him?

The Dean leaned forward.

"I don't care how you do it."

"You may study harder."

"You may seek guidance."

"You may ask your classmates for help."

"But when you sit for your final examinations, you will write those papers like every other student."

"No special treatment."

"No excuses."

"And certainly no promotion simply because your family owns successful businesses."

Arnav's carefree smile faded.

The Dean's voice grew colder.

"If you fail to score the required marks..."

"...I will personally ensure that you repeat the year."

The room fell silent.

For the first time that day, Arnav had nothing witty to say.

"You may leave."

Arnav stood up slowly.

"Yes, sir."

Outside the office, Aman rushed towards him.

"What happened?"

Arnav stared blankly ahead.

"I think..."

"What?"

"My life is over."

Aman frowned.

"What did he say?"

"He wants me to score good marks."

"That's not impossible."

"For you, maybe."

"I don't even know what's taught in half the subjects!"

Aman burst into laughter.

"I'm serious!"

Arnav groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"Six months."

"Six months to become a topper."

He looked up at the sky dramatically.

"God, this is emotional torture."

Aman patted his shoulder.

"You'll figure something out."

Arnav wasn't so sure.

He had faced angry professors.

Strict parents.

Business meetings.

Even reckless bike races.

But books?

Books had always been his greatest enemy.

And now...

They had become the only thing standing between him and repeating an entire year.