The long weekend had emptied most of the hostel. Only the distant sound of rain on the roof and the occasional creak of old wood broke the silence. Arjun’s room had been prepared with care: the mattresses formed one wide platform, eighteen lengths of soft rope lay coiled in a neat row, the leather belt and wooden paddle hung side by side from the chair, and two full bottles of coconut oil stood open on the table. Three thick candles burned low, their light moving slowly across the walls.

Eighteen soft knocks came at the exact minute he had ordered.