Threads of Control

chapter 1:The transfer student

Prologue: Strings in the Dark

Control.

Everyone desires it—some chase it, some fake it, and others destroy themselves for it. But for me? I was born understanding it. Control isn’t loud. It doesn’t bark orders or demand submissions. It whispers. It manipulates. It pulls strings no one sees until they’re dancing to a tune they never choose.

Since I was a child, I’ve studied people the way others study books. I observed every twitch, every glance, every silence. People are puzzles. Patterns. Emotions may lie, but actions never do.

Veritas Academy—hailed as a sanctuary for the best minds—is nothing more than a masked battleground. Elites with polished shoes and fake smiles. They think they rule this place.

But they haven’t met me.

I’m not here to join their games. I’m here to rewrite the rules.

Let them play kings and queens. I’ll be the one pulling the threads from the shadows.

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Chapter 1: The Transfer Student

The iron gates of Veritas Academy stood tall, reflecting the morning sun. Engraved above: Virtus et Veritas—“Virtue and Truth.” A fitting lie.

Aarav Ishin stepped past the gates, his black shoes silent on the stone path. His eyes swept the campus in seconds: three security cameras, two blind spots, multiple entry points. Useless data to some. Crucial patterns to him.

The students milling around looked confident, rehearsed. Wealth showed in their accessories, power in their posture. They were used to controlling their world.

Aarav gave them a single glance and moved on.

Inside the classroom, the teacher didn’t even look up. “Name?”

“Aarav Ishin.”

“Back row. Don't cause trouble.”

He walked through the rows, analyzing faces. Smirks. Judgments. Curious stares. He noted them all. But only one girl held his gaze—a girl with glasses and a braided ponytail. Her eyes didn’t judge. They analyzed. Like his.

A watcher, he noted. Interesting.

As he took his seat, the teacher added, “Introduce yourself.”

Aarav stood without hesitation. “Aarav Ishin. You don’t need to remember that. But I’ll remember each of you by the end of the day.”

A hush fell.

A boy near the window scoffed. Another smirked. But the girl didn’t blink.

Aarav sat, pulled out a black notebook—unmarked, simple. He flipped it open and began to sketch. Not drawings. Patterns. Circles and lines. People and connections. Threats and opportunities.

The web starts now.

Chapter 2:Eyes in the mirror (part 1)

Lunch break was chaos—organized, polished chaos. Cliques gathered like animals to water. Sports elites, political offspring, scholarship outliers. Everyone had a place. Everyone, except Aarav.

He sat at a lone bench beneath a sycamore tree, untouched food before him. Not because he was shy—because he was watching.

From this angle, he saw everything.

He wrote names and behavior patterns in his notebook. Who deferred to whom. Who avoided eye contact. Who lied with smiles. Every social thread was a potential string to pull.

Then—

"You're the new guy, right?"

Aarav looked up.

It was the girl with glasses from before. Her tray balanced in one hand. Her posture straight, voice calm.

He nodded. “And you’re the only one here who isn't pretending.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That's either a compliment or a warning.”

“Both,” he said.

She sat. Just like that. No hesitation. No false politeness. Aarav found it…intriguing.

“I’m Anya,” she offered.

He didn't respond. Instead, he stared at her eyes. Searching for the mask. He didn’t find one.

Which made her dangerous.

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