Krish reached the hostel just as night had completely settled in.
The building stood at the end of a narrow lane—a four-storey structure of aging concrete, with paint peeling off unevenly. A flickering tube light hung above the entrance, buzzing softly, as if it was tired of doing its own job.
Mumbai Boys' Hostel.
The signboard outside was crooked. One screw was missing.
Yet somehow, everything else felt… right.
The hostel building was about a kilometer away from Mumbai University, while the girls' hostel stood right beside the MU campus.
Krish stood outside the gate for a moment.
He didn't hesitate—but he did pause.
Not out of fear.
Out of recognition.
This was the place his father had told him to go two days ago.
"Just for a few days."
"Until things calm down."
But Krish knew those "few days" were only words.
Because his father's second wife would never let him return home again.
She would find one excuse or another to stop him.
Krish, however, chose to see this as an opportunity—
an opportunity to escape that hellish life.
With that thought, he stepped inside.
The smell hit him first—detergent, sweat, instant noodles, and damp concrete. Voices echoed from upstairs. Laughter. Someone arguing loudly about a cricket match. From somewhere in the back, the whistle of a pressure cooker.
Life—compressed and shared, yet oddly comforting.
At the small reception desk, a middle-aged man wearing glasses sat hunched over, slowly chewing paan while looking at his phone.
"Yes?" the man asked without looking up.
"Krish Prabhakar," he said. "New admission. My father spoke to you."
The man immediately flipped through the register, then looked up properly.
"Oh. You're the one."
Just confirmation—no judgment.
"Room 203. Second floor.
Two roommates.
And since you arrived today, remember this—curfew is at 10 p.m. If you're late, you won't be allowed in.
Dinner time is on. Don't create trouble."
Krish nodded.
"Okay."
The man took out a key from the drawer and slid it toward him.
That was it.
Krish took the key and headed straight for the stairs.
---
The staircase was narrow, the railings cold to the touch. Posters were pasted on the walls—motivational quotes, exam schedules, and half-torn notices about water shortages.
On the first-floor landing, two boys were leaning against the wall, arguing.
"I'm telling you, Rohit Sharma's peak—"
"Shut up, man. You don't understand cricket at all."
They glanced at Krish as he passed.
One of them paused mid-sentence.
"…Bro, new guy?"
Krish didn't stop.
"Yeah."
That was all.
They returned to their argument.
---
Room 203.
The door was half-open, but Krish still knocked once.
"Who is it? Come in," a voice called from inside.
The room was small but functional. Three bunk beds—upper beds for sleeping, desks below. Two beds were already occupied. One was empty.
One boy sat cross-legged on his bed, laptop open, earphones hanging around his neck. Thin build, sharp eyes—calculating.
The other lay sprawled on his bed, scrolling on his phone, earphones playing faint music. Broad shoulders, decent height—average looking.
Both looked up.
The first one spoke.
"You must be the new roommate."
Krish nodded.
"Krish."
"Ooo! I'm Arjun," he said, extending his hand without standing up.
"And this idiot is Sameer."
"Oi," Sameer protested lazily. "At least I didn't introduce myself like a LinkedIn profile."
Krish shook Arjun's hand. His grip was firm—probably because he went to the gym.
Arjun's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Second year?" Arjun asked.
"First," Krish replied.
Sameer finally sat up, narrowing his eyes a little as he observed him.
"…You don't look like what I expected."
Krish tilted his head.
"How different?"
Sameer shrugged.
"Don't know."
Arjun smiled.
"That's a compliment in this place."
Krish didn't react much.
He went to the empty bed near the window and placed his bag down.
Outside the window, another building stood barely five meters away. Everything across was clearly visible.
Krish let out a slow breath.
This was it.
No history.
No labels.
No expectations.
Just a room. A bed. And people who didn't know him at all.
The system flickered softly—restrained, controlled.
---
[Environmental Shift Detected]
Previous Social Identity: Disconnected
Current Status: Unassigned
Opportunity State: High
---
Krish didn't focus on the screen for long.
He lay back on the bed, hands resting on his chest, staring at the ceiling fan rotating slowly.
Sameer asked again,
"So… what are you studying?"
Krish answered honestly.
"Not sure yet. I haven't really thought about it."
There was a brief silence.
Then Sameer laughed.
"Yeah, then you'll fit right in here."
After a while, Arjun closed his laptop.
"Lights keep going on and off, the fan's noisy—but you'll get used to it."
Krish nodded.
As the room settled into its rhythm—typing, scrolling, distant laughter from the corridor—Krish felt something strange yet solid form inside him.
This wasn't a place to heal.
It wasn't a place to rise.
It was a place to begin.
The fan kept spinning.
Outside, Mumbai didn't care who he was.
Inside, no one expected him to be anything.
Krish closed his eyes.
Tomorrow—
he would decide what came next.
From tomorrow,
a new journey of his life would begin.
---
Krish didn't fall asleep quickly.
Hostel nights were never truly quiet. Somewhere, a phone buzzed softly. Somewhere, someone snored. Somewhere, water dripped steadily from an overhead tank.
And in between— the fan. Constant. Unrelenting.
Krish lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
There was no anxiety inside him. No fear. Just… an emptiness.
The kind of emptiness that could be filled with anything.
Late into the night, the system registered its presence again—no glow, no sound. Just transparent text, as if someone had written on the air with their fingers.
---
[Integration Status: 62%]
Note:
Post-transformation UUP generation has shifted.
Passive suffering no longer yields points.
New Rule Activated:
UUP will now be generated through conscious choice, intent, and action.
---
Krish blinked.
So no more points for pain.
Now he had to act.
Before, the world pushed him down—and the system counted it.
Now, the world was neutral.
And the system was watching what he chose to do.
A faint smile appeared on Krish's lips.
"Alright," he thought.
"Let's play honestly now."
He turned onto his side.
Slowly, sleep claimed him.
---
The next morning.
In a hostel, the day doesn't begin with sunlight—it begins with noise.
"Fill the water fast!"
"Move your toothbrush, it's my turn!"
"Do we even have lectures today?"
Krish opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed—
His body didn't feel heavy.
No sluggishness.
No resistance.
He sat up—straight.
Sameer was still asleep, mouth open.
Arjun sat at the desk below, flipping through his notes.
"Morning," Arjun said without looking up.
Krish nodded.
He climbed down, put on his shoes, and stepped out without a word.
The corridor was crowded.
Boys rushing to get ready.
Some faces tense.
Some half-asleep.
Krish observed them all.
Earlier, he would have felt separate from them—weak, left behind.
Now?
Just… different.
Without comparison.
He walked down the stairs and stepped outside.
The morning air was slightly cool.
Tea vendors were lighting their stoves.
In the distance, the sound of a local train echoed.
Mumbai was awake.
Krish crossed the road and stopped at a small tea stall.
"One tea," he said.
The tea seller—a man in his fifties with slouched shoulders—looked at him.
"Sugar?"
"Less."
While the tea was being made, a boy nearby argued loudly on his phone.
"I told you, I can't come today!"
"Everything isn't my responsibility!"
The call ended.
Angrily, the boy kicked a chair beside him.
Krish watched him.
And for the first time—something shifted inside him.
Not pity.
Not anger.
Just… understanding.
He knew exactly what that boy was feeling.
But he didn't step in.
Didn't speak.
Didn't interfere.
He took his tea.
First sip.
Hot.
Clean.
The system vibrated softly.
---
[Micro UUP Gained: +0.5]
Reason:
Emotional recognition without reaction.
Impulse restraint detected.
Total UUP: 0.5
---
Krish's fingers paused around the cup.
So this was it.
Now it was about small decisions.
Small control.
Small honesty.
Each time he chose himself,
the system took note.
He didn't smile.
He finished his tea, paid, and started walking toward the college.
He wasn't going to be a hero today.
Nor prove anything.
Today, he was just going to observe, understand—and remain steady.
And that—was his new beginning.
---
When Krish reached the college, the first thing he felt was the crowd.
No grand feeling.
No shine of a "new beginning."
Just people.
So many people.
Someone was walking fast, as if running late. Someone was laughing in a group. Someone stood quietly in a corner. Someone was buried in their phone—cut off from the world—sitting on the campus ground.
Krish crossed the gate.
The security guard glanced at him once and then looked away.
Earlier, that used to sting.
Now—it felt calming.
His shoulders were straight, his steps steady.
As he walked deeper into the campus, he noticed a crowd near the notice board. First-year students. Confusion. Excitement. A little fear mixed in.
Krish went closer too.
Posters—Orientation. Department allotment. Club registrations.
Two boys were talking to each other.
"Getting into the Debate Society is tough."
"Yeah, but seniors notice you," the other replied.
Krish said nothing. He just read.
Debate. Culture. Sports.
Earlier, he used to think—these things aren't for me.
Now there was only one thought in his mind—
Will this help me grow without breaking me?
The system gave a faint signal.
No sound. Just a sensation.
---
[Decision Threshold Approaching]
Within one week, establish your identity in college.
On the first day, the host must register on the system the department they wish to major in.
[Note: The host is completely free to choose any department.]
Krish read the screen slowly, without any expression.
"One week.
Establish an identity.
Choose a department on the very first day—the one he would major in."
Now, the decision was his.
He closed the screen and looked back at the notice board.
Where the list of departments was displayed–
Humanities and Arts
Languages: Departments of English, Marathi, Hindi, Sanskrit, Gujarati, Kannada, Sindhi, German, and Russian.
Social Sciences: Departments of Economics, History, Civics and Politics, Sociology, Philosophy, and Psychology (including Applied Psychology).
Fine and Performing Arts: Departments of Music, Drawing & Painting, and Fine Arts.
Science and Technology
Basic Sciences: Departments of Physics, Chemistry (including Analytical Chemistry), Botany, Life Sciences, and Mathematics.
Applied Sciences: Departments of Biotechnology, Biophysics, Nanotechnology, and Statistics.
Engineering & Computing: Departments of Computer Science, Information Technology, Electronic Engineering, and Textile Technology.
Earth Sciences: Department of Geography and Department of Environmental Science.
Commerce and Management
Commerce: Department of Commerce, offering specializations such as Advanced Accountancy, Banking and Finance, and Business Management.
Management: Alkesh Dinesh Mody Institute for Financial and Management Studies and the general Department of Management.
Professional and Interdisciplinary Studies
Communication: Department of Communication and Journalism.
Law and Education: Departments of Law, Education, and Physical Education.
Information Science: Department of Library and Information Science.
Health and Medical Research: Medical and research departments located at affiliated hospitals such as Tata Memorial and G.S. Medical College.
Continuing Education: Department of Lifelong Learning and Extension and the Institute of Distance and Open Learning.
One by one, his eyes moved over almost all the departments.
Some names felt familiar.
Some felt completely unknown.
Nearby, two students were discussing department selection.
"BMS has good placements."
"Yeah, but the pressure is just as high," the other said.
Krish listened.
Then once again, he carefully studied the department list.
He still couldn't understand which department he should choose as his major.
Because till today, he had never had enough confidence to even think about his graduation seriously.
Throughout his life, he had always been underconfident.
He never really had a choice.
Nor did he ever have decision-making ability.
He knew—he had to choose something that would give him direction along with momentum.
Something that would work both in the long term and the short term.
Something good for the future, but that would also show results in the present.
When Krish still couldn't figure anything out, he decided to ask the system.
"APS,
can you give me some guidance on what I should choose?"
A few seconds after he asked, the window flickered.
A panel opened.
APS:
Guidance is possible, but the final decision will always belong to the host.
Krish let out a soft breath.
APS:
Your problem is not "which department is better."
Your problem is—which environment you can better survive in.
Krish's fingers curled into a fist on their own.
APS:
Initiating data analysis.
---