The corridor outside was already beginning to stir with the first early footsteps of students heading to the mess. Inside Arjun’s room the air was thick with the scent of coconut oil, sweat, and the sharp, unmistakable smell of eighteen thoroughly used girls. The mattresses still covered the floor. The continuous rope still linked every pair of bound wrists. The leather belt hung from the chair, its surface dark from use. The bottle of oil was half empty.

Arjun had not unlocked the door.