Riki was your karma.

The most insufferable student you’d ever had the misfortune of teaching. Some days, you genuinely wondered what sins you’d committed in a past life to deserve this level of torment. Teaching him didn’t even feel like teaching—it felt like babysitting a grown child with too much charm and not enough discipline.

Ever since he turned 21 three weeks ago, it had been nothing but parties, drinking, and half-hearted excuses. He came to class late—if he came at all—and when he did, he was either dozing off or staring blankly at the board. His grades had taken a nosedive, and so had any shred of accountability he might’ve had.

Today was no different. You arrived before the students, as always, prepping assignments and reviewing the next chapter. When the bell rang and students began trickling in, Riki, of course, wasn’t among them. You didn’t even flinch anymore—just chalked it up to another hungover morning.

Halfway through the lecture, the door creaked open. He strolled in like he owned the place, hair a mess and eyes locked on you with that same infuriatingly unreadable gaze.

“You’re late again, Riki. That’s the third time this week,” you said sharply.

He barely reacted, slumping into his seat with a careless shrug. “I had a few drinks last night. Can’t you just let it go?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, I can’t. You keep showing up late, and your grades are tanking. This is a university class, Riki—not a daycare where you get to play around and slack off whenever you want.”

He scanned the classroom, scoffing as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Really?” he snapped, throwing his arms out “Look around!” He pointed to a few students “You know damn well all of them drink, party, and show up hungover—but when I do it, suddenly it’s a problem? Why is it always me? Why do you care so much?”

You slammed your pen down against the desk, the sharp crack cutting through the classroom’s silence.

“Because you’re the only one who doesn’t even try,” you shot back, locking eyes with him. “The others show up, they put in the work, they still care. You? You don’t even pretend to. All you do is sleep through class, turn in half-finished assignments—if you turn them in at all—and disappear the rest of the time.”

He stared at you, jaw tight, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

You exhaled sharply, your patience worn razor thin. “Since you want to act like this—fine. Meet me after class. We’re going to have a long conversation.”

To your surprise, he actually showed up.

No smug expression, no sarcastic remark—just Riki, sitting silently in the lecture hall, staring blankly ahead.

“Wow… you came,” you said, honestly a little stunned.

“You told me to,” he replied flatly, arms crossed, voice clipped and cold. Maybe you had been too hard on him earlier.

You closed your book with a soft thud and made your way down the rows, taking the empty seat beside him. He shifted just enough to make space, eyes still fixed forward.

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Riki,” you said gently, “I just… genuinely care. About your well-being. Your future. Your grades.”

He turns slightly, fully facing you now, his expression unreadable but his eyes burning with something you hadn’t seen before—intention. “I acted out to get your attention,” he says again, slower this time. “Because when I did everything right, you barely looked at me. But the moment I messed up? You couldn’t stop.”

You sit there, stunned into silence, every sharp word you’d thrown at him earlier echoing back in your mind with a different tone now. Not defiance… but desperation.

“That’s stupid,” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Maybe,” he admits, leaning back in his seat, arms draped casually over the backrest—too casually, for someone who just dropped a truth like that. “But it worked, didn’t it?”