**Sunday, September 10th**
After a week of break, I'm back to my usual routine. The past few days were quite relaxing. Now that class is over, I'm taking a breather. Meem, Rima, Saurav, and Tonni are chatting at our roundtable. Hasan's still on break, so his seat remains empty. Today, Saurav and Tonni officially registered as new members of our group. Until now, three of us would manage to stretch discussions over an hour, but now that our group's expanded, it might go up to an hour and forty minutes! Not even TV shows run meetings are this long. How do they come up with various topics? Forget it—I'd rather not drain my energy thinking about it. Time to read some manga instead.
Suddenly, Meem said, "The results are out today."
Rima asked, "What's the highest CGPA?"
"Three-point-eight-three," Meem replied.
What results are they talking about? I don't remember taking any exams.
Tonni asked, "Who got that?"
Meem answered, "Mr. Rabbi."
Mr.! so, that means it's the seniors' results. Good thing, then. I haven't missed any exams after all.
Tonni seemed shocked. "That high?"
Saurav chimed in, "He is really brilliant. Wish I could be like him."
Heh! If stealing someone's character was possible, I'd become Izuku Midoriya in a heartbeat. But it doesn't work that way; hard work is essential to achieve anything. Not really my style, though. Anyway, I will just read manga while watching them work hard.
Tonni sighed, "Wonder what we're even doing."
Before I could comment, Hasan made his entrance, and the conversation instantly shifted topics.
**The Next Day**
It's Mr. Sharif's class. He's explaining some math on the board, but something seems off with him. His words are jumbled, and he's constantly sipping water as if it's helping calm his nerves. For the first time, he's brought a water bottle to class. He's dabbing his forehead and cheeks with tissues, almost as if someone's holding a gun to his head, threatening to shoot if he doesn't teach well enough. Suddenly, he paused for two minutes before resuming, improving slightly, but it didn't last long. When the class finally ended, he instructed the CR to mark attendance on paper before leaving abruptly.
**September 12th**
In the classroom, Sharif sir sat down and asked us to read a theorem. He rubbed his forehead, deep in thought. Today, he looked more anxious than usual, leaving halfway through the class. Meem also slipped out with her books right behind him. Probably has a question on some topic; brilliant students tend to be curious like that.
Meanwhile, everyone started theorizing about Sharif sir's problem, each proposing a different idea.
"Maybe he had a fight with his wife," one suggested.
Oh, that could be it.
"Or maybe some gang kidnapped his family?" another proposed.
People were coming up with all sorts of theories. Rima turned to me, asking, "Sakib, do you know what's wrong with sir?"
I shrugged, "Only sir knows what's bothering him. I'd rather not make random guesses."
"True." Rima left without further questions.
After the chat, I got ready to head home. As I was getting on the bus, Meem said, "I need to talk to you about something important."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Not here. I'll tell you after we get off the bus."
"Okay."
After the bus ride, we said goodbye to Hasan and Rima, and Meem suggested, "Let's go to a café."
We headed to a nearby café, just as it started pouring rain. Heavy raindrops drummed on the roof, filling the café with their rhythmic sound. I ordered hot chocolate and picked a seat near the windows. Meem stared outside, lost in thought. I finally broke the silence. "Alright, let's hear it—what's the matter?"
She turned to me, saying, "Sharif sir is under a lot of stress."
Just then, the waiter brought our hot chocolate in black mugs. I gestured for Meem to take hers, then sipped my own and replied, "Yeah, I noticed. Everyone was coming up with different theories about it today. So, what happened?"
Meem explained, "Someone's been sending him letters regularly, threatening both him and his family. It's making him really anxious."
"I see."
For a moment, we both sat in silence, watching the rain as people hurried by with or without umbrellas, some caught by necessity, others maybe by choice. Finishing her coffee, Meem said, "I told sir you could help him solve the problem."
Half-listening as I drank my coffee, I absentmindedly replied, "Sure, okay." Then, I came to sense. "Wait—what?"
She pleaded, "Please, I promised him you would help."
I retorted, "Where'd you get this confidence in me?"
Meem answered, "After how you solved all those other problems, I figured this would be easy for you. But if you don't…"
"Do you have the letters with you?" I cut her off.
Her face lit up. "No, but we'll go see him tomorrow."
"Alright."
"Then I'll go home and let sir know."
"Sounds good."
Meem looked so pleased; her smile infectious. I couldn't help but smile back as she said, "Thank you so much."
Outside, the rain continued. I asked, "Another coffee?"
She nodded, "Sure."
**The Next Day**
Class ended at 1:30. Meem and I went to sir's office. I peered through the window, seeing his troubled expression. Meem knocked. "May we come in, sir?"
"Yes."
Inside, sir gestured for us to sit. Meem said, "Sir, this is who I was talking about yesterday."
He looked at me with weary eyes, dark circles under them from sleepless nights. He sighed, turning to Meem. "Does he even have time for something like this?"
Why am I here again? I could be home watching anime. I asked, "Sir, how many letters have you received so far?"
He opened a drawer, took out a few envelopes, and handed them over. Meem and I carefully examined each one. The letters were written with precision, and very professionally done. As we went through them, I spotted a fraction of a symbol on one of the papers and asked, "Sir, what is this logo?"
Sir looked closely. "It's our university's logo. They use it on class test papers."
I nodded. "Then the culprit might be a student from our university."
Meem exclaimed, "Really?"
I nodded. Then I asked sir, "Since when have you been receiving these letters?"
"Since the start of this month."
"And how many courses are you teaching this year?"
"Three: your class, the second year, and the fourth year."
"Alright." So, the letters are taken from extra exam sheets, and they started arriving this month. That means they've sent five letters over the last thirteen days. Meem then asked, "Sir, how many midterms have you held in the last two months?"
"Only for the fourth year. I scheduled yours but haven't conducted the second-year midterm yet."
"Then it's possible the culprit is one of your fourth-year students," I suggested.
Sir shook his head. "Impossible. I compared their handwriting with the letters. None of them matched."
He showed us the fourth-year test papers, and after careful examination, I had to agree with him. Meem asked, "What will you do now?"
Thinking for a moment, I said, "I'll need three to four days to investigate."
Sir asked, "What are you planning to do?"
I replied, "Sir, I'd like to observe the fourth-year students' classes. But I'll need your permission for that."
Sir paused, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Alright, you have my permission. See if you can find anything."
Meem looked worried. "They'll recognize you."
I reassured her, "Where no one in our class even recognizes me, the fourth-years definitely won't know me."
She smirked, "Oh, they know you. After that incident with sir, the whole class knows you well."
Sir muttered, "That day, he got on my nerves."
I apologized, "Sorry, sir. That day, I couldn't control myself. (To Meem) Anyway, starting tomorrow, I'm officially your senior."
She teased, "Yeah, but only for a few days."
Back home, I'm resting, having missed the usual group gathering with Meem today. Starting tomorrow, I'll be joining the fourth-year classes. I remembered ReLife's Kyo—how he transformed Kaizaki Arata into a junior about ten years younger. If he were here, I'd ask him for a capsule to make me a five-year senior for just a week.
My phone buzzed. Meem had sent me the fourth-year class schedule I asked for. No classes tomorrow—so it's a good excuse to catch up on some anime.
**Sunday**
Arriving on campus, I came dressed a bit differently than usual. Lack of sleep for the last few days has left dark circles under my eyes. I've combed my hair to the left and put on my UV-protection glasses, paired with a white shirt and pants for a senior-like vibe. Some students even greeted me as I passed by.
Entering the fourth-year classroom, I took a seat at the very back corner of the middle row. If I hadn't entered this classroom, I wouldn't have realized the difference between first-year and final-year students. In our class, everyone is usually discussing plans to visit places like Jaflong in Sylhet, the Sundarbans, Sajek Valley, or Saint Martin's Island, or making arrangements for where they'll sing or hang out. But here, everyone looked preoccupied, with worry etched on their faces. Some of them had dark circles under their eyes. Conversations were about the BCS exams or other job tests, and some were even discussing moving abroad. The atmosphere was dire and serious. I found a seat and sat down.
Suddenly, a short guy came up and asked, "Are you in this class?"
I asked him back, "Is this the fourth-year class or not?"
"Yes, it is," he replied.
I said to him, "I'm your senior. Due to a job, I couldn't complete my fourth-year courses. Now, I'm here to finish them."
He looked a bit intimidated and said, "Sorry, senpai, I didn't recognize you."
I reassured him, "No need to call me senpai. Since we're in the same class, we're classmates."
He still hesitated, saying, "Even so, senpai, I didn't recognize you."
Why apologize for not recognizing me? I don't know any of them either. I told him, "I haven't been around much, and I was away for two years, so you probably haven't seen me. Maybe that's why you don't remember."
He replied, "Yes, senpai, that could be."
I reassured him again, then asked, "You don't have to call me senpai. What's your name?"
"My name is Jubayer. And yours?"
"Sakib," I answered.
Talking like this with juniors—lucky they don't recognize me. Otherwise, I'd be in big trouble by now. Jubayer kept me company in the classroom. I got to know two or three more people, and to all of them, I had to say, "I'm here to complete a course for promotion purposes."
Questions kept coming one after another. Mr. Anis taught the first period that day, but I didn't understand a word of the course he lectured on. Everything went over my head. Once the class ended, I took a moment to observe everyone.
Mr. Sharif entered the classroom to teach the next subject. When he saw me, his tired expression faded slightly. He looked at me and said, "Aren't you Sakib? You didn't take the final exam two or three years ago because of a job."
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"How's the job going?"
"It's going well, sir."
Sir then introduced me to all my senior classmates. I attended the remaining classes that day and went home.
Later that night, Meem called and asked, "Did you find anything?"
I answered, "No."