Chapter 4 : Light, Camera and... Chaos!

Malang slowly made his way into the orientation hall, his feet dragging with each step, his body tense with unease as he slid into one of the empty seats at the back. His heart was racing, the fear and confusion from his encounter outside still swirling around him.

As he settled into his seat, the sudden eruption of cheers and applause shook him from his thoughts. The speakers crackled to life, amplifying the buzz in the air as the host’s voice called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the university’s very own professional dance crew—The Ruthless!”

The crowd erupted into applause, some standing to cheer and whistle, while others exchanged eager whispers. The teachers at the front of the hall glanced toward each other, some nodding in approval. Everyone knew The Ruthless, a notorious group not just for their skill but also for their presence—their undeniable dominance on and off the stage.

As the crowd’s cheers grew louder, Malang’s heart skipped a beat. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. He recognized them immediately—the same group he had encountered earlier, the ones planning to “clean up” the academy. The ones who wanted to make life difficult for students they deemed unworthy.

No, no, no. They can’t know.

The words echoed inside Malang’s mind. The fear of them piercing through his veil of secrecy and the idea of being discovered—of being exposed—became more unbearable with every passing second. Sweat dotted his forehead, and a tiny bead trickled down the side of his temple, disappearing into the edge of his dark, messy hair. His brows were tightly furrowed, tension etched between them.

His wide eyes, heavy with unshed tears, darted nervously, unable to settle.

Then, The Ruthless strode onto the stage like they owned it, their energy palpable as they entered with an unshakable confidence. Neil, Rihaana, and the others took their positions on the stage, and Malang knew something was about to happen.

Their outfits were striking—sleek, black leather that reflected the spotlight, each outfit tailored to perfection. Silver chains adorned their necks and wrists, giving them a sense of high-status rebellion and an almost otherworldly, warrior-like appearance.

Rihanna, as the leader, stood at the forefront. Her outfit was more intricate than the rest. It was adorned with a shimmering silver harness that crisscrossed her torso, paired with silver studs, making her look like a force to be reckoned with—a queen commanding her army.

Neil towered beside her. His sharp jawline and cold, intense gaze were amplified by his perfectly tailored jacket, with a high, dramatic collar.

As the music began, it hit like a thunderclap—heavy beats and sharp rhythms that sent vibrations through the floor. The Ruthless exploded into action, their movements fierce and precise. The choreography was a perfect blend of power and grace. The dancers weaved through the space with incredible fluidity, each move to express their dominance and control.

In one sharp motion, Neil dropped low into a smooth glide, his sneakers skimming the floor as his body twisted effortlessly. With a quick pop, he rose into a controlled wave, his arms rippling fluidly before snapping into a sharp freeze, locking the beat perfectly.

Neil’s eyes scanned the audience—he was used to performing, to commanding the room. Still, tonight his gaze unexpectedly kept lingering back to the back of the auditorium where Malang was sitting. It wasn’t intentional at first, but once his eyes caught the sight of the boy, something shifted. For a split second, their eyes met, and Neil’s chest tightened. His pulse quickened, but he pushed the feeling down, focusing instead on the task ahead. He couldn’t afford to lose control now—not in front of all these people. But there was something about Malang, something about the way he’d looked earlier that made Neil’s mind wander. What had been that fleeting moment in the alley? That hesitation? Focus, Neil told himself.

Amid the intensity of the performance, where Neil’s eyes found Malang again and again, Malang oblivious to all this sat frozen, but his gaze wasn’t on Neil. It was on Rihanna. She danced with an intensity that was both fierce and beautiful, her every move mesmerizing. She was powerful, and at the same time, ethereal. The way her hair caught the light, the way her body flowed with the music—it was as if the world had dimmed, and she was the only one shining.

Malang's heart ached, not with desire, but with quiet, impossible adoration. He was too shy to approach her, too terrified of what might happen if she or anyone else found out the truth about him. He didn’t dare to hope; he only allowed himself to watch from afar, captivated by her grace.

As the tempo picked up, Neil and Ishaan moved toward Rihaana, locking eyes with her. Without missing a beat, they lifted Rihanna—each taking one of her legs, holding her high between them in a show-stopping, gravity-defying moment.

The audience gasped in awe as Rihanna effortlessly held the position, her body suspended between the two men like a queen held aloft by her loyal subjects. She reached her arms high into the air, her fingers splayed as if commanding the crowd to worship at her feet.

I can't let them find out. They can't know.

He couldn't let them know who he was. If they ever found out his secret—whatever that truth might mean to them—he didn't just fear what they might do to him. The thought of Rihaana knowing, of her looking at him with the same disdain, was unbearable.

As the last note of the music echoed through the auditorium, the performance reached its crescendo with an epic final lift—Neil and Ishaan spun Rihanna high above their heads in a rapid, controlled motion, before delicately lowering her back to the stage with impeccable timing. The crowd roared in approval as the three landed together in perfect harmony, their faces frozen in expressions of pride and triumph. The lights dimmed, and the applause erupted like thunder.

The Ruthless had a reputation to uphold, and tonight, they ensured the entire auditorium knew it.

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