The Cheater
The first rays of the morning slowly touched the sky of the city, tearing through the heavy curtain of night with fragile, golden fingers. The soft, gentle sunlight passed through the white lace curtains of the bedroom window, scattering dust motes that danced lazily inside the quiet room
The room was completely silent...
Only the faint, mournful sound of the morning wind brushing against the glass panes and the deep, rhythmic breathing of a boy could be heard.
He was sleeping soundly on his narrow bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady cadence, as if he had drifted away on some distant current, completely lost somewhere far away from the harsh realities of the waking world.
But suddenly...
In the suffocating darkness of his deep sleep, a strange, unnatural world began to appear behind his closed eyelids.
A deserted place...
A thin, ghostly fog rolled across the ground, swallowing everything in its path. An unusual, oppressive silence surrounded the earth, heavy enough to choke the lungs.
And right there, standing tall and immovable in the exact middle of that endless fog...
A very large man was standing.
His presence alone was so overwhelmingly powerful, so dense, that even the surrounding air felt heavy, vibrating with a suppressed, latent fury.
The sleeping boy, standing in the dreamscape, looked at him in sheer surprise, his eyes wide.
There were a thousand unspoken questions burning in his eyes.
Boy:
"Who... are you?"
For a few agonizing moments, there was only the hollow whistle of the wind. No answer came.
Then, the huge man slowly lifted his massive face, the shadow of his brow parting to reveal a gaze that pierced straight through the soul.
His voice was deep... unnaturally deep, rumbling like distant thunder beneath the earth... but there was a strange, burning spark of absolute hope hidden inside it.
Stranger:
"Aarkan..."
The boy became instantly shocked, his muscles freezing in place.
Then the man spoke again, his voice rising in a strong, unyielding tone that commanded the very fabric of the dream:
Stranger:
"Never give up."
As soon as those four words echoed through the hollow air...
FLASH.
Everything around them began to dissolve, turning rapidly into blinding, brilliant white light.
Aarkan's eyes suddenly snapped open.
He gasped, his chest heaving as he immediately sat upright on his bed, the motion sharp and sudden.
His breathing was slightly faster than normal, sweat beading faintly along his hairline.
For a few tense seconds, he quietly looked around his familiar room, letting the shadows of the dream recede into the corners of the walls.
Then, the tension melted away, and he slowly, playfully smiled.
Aarkan:
"Huh..."
He raised a hand, pushing his messy bedhead hair back from his forehead, and said with a light touch of amusement and lingering surprise:
Aarkan:
"What a beautiful dream..."
A small, genuine smile settled comfortably on his face.
Thump.
Only two to three seconds passed.
Knock... knock...
The heavy wooden main door of the house was rapped sharply from the outside.
Aarkan's eyes instantly shot toward the direction of the door.
He became slightly surprised, his eyebrows twitching upward.
Aarkan:
"Who could it be this early in the morning?"
At that exact moment, the clinking of utensils drifted out from the kitchen down the small hallway.
Mom (Lyra):
"Aarkan? Are you awake?"
Aarkan looked away from the front door, turning his head toward the open kitchen entrance.
Aarkan:
"Yes, Mom."
While wiping her hands on a small kitchen towel, Lyra called out again, her voice echoing down the hall.
Mom (Lyra):
"Then go see who is at the door. I am tied up here in the kitchen."
Aarkan rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his palm, groaning softly as he pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up with a heavy dose of teenage laziness.
Aarkan:
"Man... who on earth came this early?"
He began to slowly, sluggishly walk down the narrow hallway toward the front door, dragging his bare feet against the cool wooden floorboards.
Then, suddenly...
His instincts flared. His footsteps instantly became faster, snapping him out of his morning haze.
He quickly reached the front door, his hand shooting forward to grip the cold brass handle.
Aarkan:
"Who is it?"
For a few heavy moments, there was absolute silence from the other side of the threshold.
Then...
A sweet, musical laugh was heard.
A laugh filled to the brim with both bubbling happiness and uncontainable excitement.
Girl:
"It's me..."
A small, teasing pause.
Girl:
"Aira."
Aarkan's eyes widened slightly in genuine disbelief.
Aarkan:
"Huh... Aira?"
He twisted the handle and pulled the heavy door open in one swift motion, surprise washing over his features.
Outside, framed by the bright, horizontal beams of the morning sunlight, Aira was standing right on the porch.
A radiant, happy smile was splashed across her face, her eyes sparkling with news she had been dying to share.
Aarkan:
"Good morning, Aira."
Aira immediately replied with an enthusiastic grin, her posture bouncing slightly on her heels.
Aira:
"Good morning, Aarkan!"
Then she stepped forward slightly, crossing the threshold of personal space as she spoke with breathless excitement:
Aira:
"I have brought some incredible news for you."
Confusion instantly washed over Aarkan's face, his forehead wrinkling.
Aarkan:
"Good news? What kind of good news?"
Aira's smile only grew deeper, her eyes dancing.
Aira:
"You got first rank in the Academy."
For a few absolute moments...
Everything in the hallway seemed to stop. The dust motes froze in the air.
Aarkan just kept staring at Aira, blinking once, twice.
As if his brain flat-out refused to process the words he had just heard.
Aarkan:
"Me...? First rank?"
Aira nodded vigorously, her smile unwavering.
Aira:
"Mmhmm. Completely."
A heavy wave of shock, disbelief, and sudden, bubbling happiness crashed into Aarkan's eyes.
He slowly looked down, muttering to himself as if trying to decode a glitch in reality:
Aarkan:
"But... how is that possible?"
Then, a sudden, paranoid thought hit his mind.
Is this another dream?
Slowly, deliberately, he raised his right hand and pressed his index finger directly against his own cheek.
Aarkan:
"Maybe..."
He pressed his cheek a little harder, sinking his skin inward.
Aarkan:
"Ouch!"
Aira instantly blinked, looking at him in total confusion and slight surprise.
Aira:
"What on earth are you doing, Aarkan?"
Grimacing slightly and holding his pinched cheek, Aarkan replied defensively:
Aarkan:
"I was just checking..."
He paused for a fraction of a second.
Aarkan:
"Whether this is real life or if I'm still stuck sleeping in my bed."
He pressed it again, applying noticeably more force this time.
Aarkan:
"Ah, damn, that hurts!"
Aira burst into a bright, lighthearted laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
Aira:
"Idiot, this is completely real."
Then she lowered her hand, assuring him with a warm, steady tone:
Aira:
"You really, actually got first rank. Your name is sitting right at the very top of the public bulletin board."
A small, stunned silence followed between them, filled only by the chirping of distant birds outside.
Then, turning on her heel with a bright wave:
Aira:
"Okay! See you later, Aarkan. Don't fall asleep again!"
Aarkan snapped out of his daze, offering a wide, genuine smile back.
Aarkan:
"Yeah... see you later."
For a few final moments, both of them locked eyes, sharing a quiet, unspoken understanding.
Then, Aarkan slowly pulled the heavy wooden door shut.
Click.
With the sharp, definitive sound of the lock latching into place...
His mind violently flashed back to the dream he had just experienced.
"Never give up..."
Those deep, rumbling words were still echoing fiercely in the quiet corridors of his mind.
And standing there in the dim hallway, a profound realization hit him:
Maybe... just maybe... it wasn't just a dream at all.
Aarkan slowly turned around from the closed front door, his hand lingering on the brass knob for a second too long.
The faint, echoing click of the door closing had barely faded away into the silence of the house.
For a few heartbeats, he stood motionless in the dim passage.
There was still an intoxicated mixture of absolute shock and giddy happiness warring across his face.
Aarkan (softly to himself):
"First rank..."
A wide, uncontainable grin broke across his features, and he let out a soft chuckle.
But the exact second he turned his body to walk back down the hall toward his room...
His steps violently locked up. His entire posture froze.
Standing right there at the edge of the hallway, leaning casually against the kitchen doorframe...
Was his Mom, Lyra.
Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest. But plastered across her face was a terrifyingly strange smile.
A devilish, deeply playful, and all-knowing smile that instantly sent a cold shiver down Aarkan's spine.
Aarkan became instantly nervous, his throat going dry.
Lyra (her voice dripping with amusement):
"Who was at the door so early?"
Aarkan blinked rapidly, scrambling for composure, completely caught off guard.
Aarkan:
"Mom...?! Uh, you're standing there?"
Lyra uncrossed her arms, stepping forward with that exact same razor-sharp, playful smile dancing in her eyes.
Lyra:
"Don't change the subject. And by the way... today was your official Academy result day, wasn't it?"
Aarkan's brain slammed on the brakes. The memories of the past week rushed back in a single wave, and color violently drained from his face for a split second before flooding back red.
A tiny, unmistakable flash of nervous panic flared up in his eyes.
He swallowed hard, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to play it cool:
Aarkan:
"Mom... yeah. It was Aira."
A small, agonizing pause stretched between them.
Aarkan:
"She... she brought the official Academy result sheet from the board."
Pure, unadulterated curiosity sparked in Lyra's eyes. Her maternal instincts locked onto the prey instantly.
She took one slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance.
Lyra (her tone sharpening playfully):
"Well? Did you pass... or did you fail miserably like you always threatened to do?"
As soon as those words dropped into the air...
Aarkan's facial expression shifted dramatically.
A thick, theatrical tension wrapped around his face like a mask. He puffed out his chest, trying to look serious, though his eyes were practically glowing with hidden laughter.
He spoke in a deliberately slow, drawn-out, nervous tone:
Aarkan:
"Well... neither did I pass..."
A single second of dead silence ticked by.
Lyra's playful smile narrowed slightly, her eyes narrowing into slits as she stared him down.
Then, a sudden, wicked grin split across Aarkan's face, breaking the tension entirely.
Aarkan:
"Nor did I fail!"
Lyra blinked, throwing her hands up in utter confusion, entirely thrown off by the abrupt shift.
Lyra:
"Then what the hell happened?! Speak clearly!"
Aarkan kept his lips sealed for two agonizingly long beats, drawing out the suspense.
Then, unable to contain it any longer, pure, unadulterated excitement exploded in his eyes.
He threw his hands up and yelled with unbridled joy:
Aarkan:
"Straight to first rank, Mom! Number one in the whole damn Academy!"
For a fraction of a second...
Lyra became entirely, eerily silent.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened. It was as if her brain refused to parse the data, rejecting it as a mathematical impossibility.
Lyra (her voice dropping to a breathless whisper):
"First... rank...?"
Aarkan beamed, nodding his head up and down so hard his hair whipped back and forth.
Aarkan:
"Yes, Mom! I'm telling you the absolute truth!"
Lyra's face shattered into a brilliant, dazzling expression of absolute joy. All pretense dropped.
Lyra:
"Get over here right now! Show me the damn paper!"
Aarkan didn't need to be told twice. He lunged backward into his room, his hands frantically patting his pockets before fishing out the crisp, official result sheet.
He sprinted back out, holding the paper out with both hands like a sacred artifact.
Aarkan:
"Here you go, Mom! Look with your own eyes!"
Lyra snatched the paper from his hands, her eyes darting across the printed scores, the signatures, and the bold, undeniable gold seal of the Academy at the very top.
A flood of fierce pride, vindication, and deep maternal happiness rushed into her eyes, shimmering dangerously close to tears.
After a few heavy, silent seconds, she let out a shaky, triumphant laugh.
Lyra:
"What... are you serious? Is this real?"
She whipped her head back up, locking her gaze onto Aarkan's proud face.
Lyra:
"Congratulations, my boy... you actually did it."
The profound weight of a mother's love, relief, and immense pride bled thick and heavy into her voice, wrapping around the room like a warm blanket.
Lyra:
"You really, officially got first rank."
Aarkan's smile stretched so wide his cheeks began to ache. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to act casual while vibrating with pride.
Aarkan:
"Told you, Mom. I had it under control."
Lyra chuckled softly, wiping away a phantom tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. Then, suddenly, a completely new, mischievous wave of energy took over her features.
Lyra:
"Well then..."
She paused, taking a dramatic, theatrical step backward, dragging out the anticipation.
Lyra:
"How about we celebrate this historic disaster of an achievement properly?"
Aarkan's eyes lit up like twin lanterns in the dark. His jaw dropped.
Aarkan:
"Hell yeah! Oh, come on, Mom, tell me!"
Lyra flashed a wide, loving grin.
Lyra:
"And for this grand celebration..."
She dramatically turned her body, pointing a finger directly toward the open kitchen behind her.
Then she snapped her gaze back to Aarkan's hungry face.
Lyra:
"We are making custom, heavy-loaded burgers from scratch."
For a full second, Aarkan completely stopped breathing. His brain buffered.
Then, a smile of monumental, god-tier proportions erupted across his face.
Aarkan:
"Are you actually serious right now?!"
A pure, unadulterated, childlike wave of excitement broke out in his voice, stripping away all his teenage coolness in a single second.
Lyra threw her head back and laughed loudly, the sound echoing warmly through the small house.
Lyra:
"Yes, mister! Now go sit down before I change my mind!"
Aarkan pumped his fist into the air, a massive grin plastered from ear to ear.
A completely normal, mundane result day...
Had suddenly transformed into an unforgettable, legendary milestone in his life.
And deep down inside his chest...
He knew it wasn't just the cheap dopamine hit of getting first rank that felt so intoxicating.
It was the quiet, burning validation of that one profound truth:
Someone had finally noticed his blood, sweat, and silent, agonizing hard work.
Lyra looked down at the official Academy result sheet one final time, tracing the ink with her thumb, before letting out a fond sigh. She lifted her head, casting a warm, lingering look of absolute pride toward Aarkan.
Without uttering another word, she turned on her heel and walked back into the bright, cluttered sanctuary of the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly against the tiles.
Aarkan tracked her every movement with wide, satisfied eyes as she walked away.
Aarkan (softly, under his breath):
"Mom..."
Just as she crossed the kitchen threshold, Lyra stopped dead in her tracks, pivoting her upper body back over her shoulder.
Lyra:
"Aarkan, I'm starting on the patties now. Until I call you, park yourself at the dining table and don't even think about touching anything else!"
Instant, obedient happiness flashed across Aarkan's face.
Aarkan:
"Yes, Chef! Crystal clear!"
He spun around on his heel, marching proudly toward the wooden dining table in the corner of the living space. He aggressively pulled out a heavy chair, scraping its legs loudly against the floor, before dropping heavily into the seat.
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Lyra rolled up her sleeves and immediately went to work, pulling raw, essential ingredients out from the wooden counters and cupboards one by one with practiced efficiency.
Thick, soft burger buns, crisp green lettuce leaves, bright red sliced tomatoes, onions, and blocks of heavy cheese were lined up on the marble counter in a neat, orderly row.
The rich, comforting symphony of morning cooking began to fill the quiet house.
Clack... clack...
The sharp, rhythmic sound of a stainless-steel knife striking a wooden cutting board as vegetables were chopped with precision.
Hsssss...
The aggressive, beautiful sound of a cast-iron pan hitting high heat, instantly searing whatever touched its surface.
And slowly, molecularly, the thick, mouth-watering, savory smell of seasoned meat, toasted butter, and frying onions began spreading heavily through every corner of the house, thick enough to wake the dead.
Sitting at the dining table, chin resting lazily in the palm of his hand, Aarkan alternated his gaze. One second he was staring greedily toward the kitchen counter, and the next, he was looking down at the official result sheet resting beside his elbow.
For him, today was undeniably a very, very different day. The air felt lighter. The world felt... conquerable.
After some time had passed...
The narrative perspective slowly shifted, breaking through the ceiling of the house.
From a high, detached angle overhead, the entire structure of the small home could be seen in absolute clarity.
On the left side of the architectural layout, trapped in the warm glow of the kitchen, Lyra was a blur of motion, completely absorbed in her culinary work, flipping patties and assembling layers of food.
And on the right side, sitting rigidly at the dining table like an excited king waiting for a feast, Aarkan sat completely still, staring straight ahead, waiting for the verdict.
After a few tense, hunger-inducing moments, Aarkan couldn't take it anymore. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out across the house.
Aarkan:
"Mom... honestly, how much longer? I'm starving to death over here!"
Lyra's voice floated back out from the kitchen, muffled by the sound of sizzling grease.
Lyra (yelling back):
"Patience is a virtue, mister! Good things take time!"
Leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, staring fixedly toward the warm light spilling out of the kitchen entryway:
Aarkan:
"Yeah, but what exact level of masterpiece are you building in there?"
Lyra didn't grace that with a verbal response.
Instead, the sound of her spatula clinking rapidly against the pan grew louder, a clear indicator that she was ignoring him completely.
And Aarkan's eyes remained pinned to the kitchen entrance like a hawk tracking its prey.
Slowly, deliberately, the cinematic camera angle lifted higher still, moving away from the kitchen, away from the warmth, rising up through the roof tiles.
The internal lights of the small house gradually dimmed, flickering out one by one as evening approached faster than expected.
The ambient daytime sounds of the neighborhood started fading away into a hollow hum.
And within the span of a few heartbeat moments...
The scene violently cut forward in time, shifting directly to Aarkan's bedroom deep in the dead of night.
The room was completely submerged in a heavy, inky darkness.
Only the cold, pale fingers of moonlight creeping horizontally through the glass window managed to carve out a soft, ghostly silver glow across the wooden floorboards and the edge of the bed.
Aarkan was lying flat on his back, staring up into the void above him.
There was a strange, deeply secretive smile spread across his face—the kind of smile a person wears when they are holding all the winning cards in a high-stakes poker game.
Then, he let out a low, muffle
