"Since everyone's here, I'll begin the distribution." The voice boomed, cutting through the quiet.
Henry blinked against the haze, murmuring, "Who's shouting like that?"
He stretched, realizing he'd been sleeping on a table. His head throbbed.
"Wait… wasn't I in Burj Khalifa celebrating New Year's eve?" he muttered.
'Where am I now?' His eyes scanned the room.
Rows of benches held young faces, all waiting quietly, and a middle-aged man moved deliberately, handing out sheets of paper to each person.
Henry frowned, a wave of disorientation washing over him.
He shook his head, trying to focus, and studied the man distributing the papers.
"He… seems familiar," he whispered to himself.
His mind raced to place the face, to remember where he'd seen him before. But before he could, the man had already reached his row.
The sheet was slid silently in front of him, and the man moved on, continuing his distribution with calm precision.
Meanwhile, Henry's eyes widened, his throat dry as sand. He wanted to shout, to curse out, but he held himself back, forcing his racing heart and swirling thoughts into silence.
He lowered his head, murmuring, "He… he used to teach at my university, didn't he?"
His gaze darted to his hands, then to his clothes, then around the room.
"I'm… back in my university days?"
His fingers trembled and pulse spiked as shock hit him.
"How? Did I… travel through time?"
Questions tumbled in his mind, but none made sense.
He hadn't died. He hadn't fallen anywhere. He'd just been asleep in a hotel room.
Then his eyes landed on the sheet of paper beside him. In an instant, all confusion and wonder drained away.
"Damn it!" The curse slipped out before he could stop it.
He stared at the sheet: Systems & Signals. Third Semester Exam.
He grabbed the paper, flipping through the questions. Panic surged. "I don't remember a damn thing!"
Years had passed since he studied for exams like this, years since he'd passed them.
And now… here he was, back in the past, staring at a test he couldn't answer.
"Shit!" Henry slammed his fist against the bench because he knew, with sinking certainty, that he is going to fail this time.
Meanwhile, every head in the class turned towards him.
"What's wrong?" Mathias, the exam instructor, asked, brow furrowed, clearly annoyed.
"Nothing, Sir," Henry muttered, lowering his head and forcing himself to calm down.
His eyes flicked across the room, taking in the other students hunched over their papers, then back to himself. He exhaled softly.
'This is just a minor loss,' he thought.
Henry measured the world in profits and losses. People, situations, even mistakes—they were all numbers on a ledger.
Failing the Systems & Signals exam was a loss. But losses could be turned.
If he was going to lose here, he could at least find a way to profit.
He began scribbling numbers on the paper, planning ahead for what he would do once the exam was over.
Meanwhile, the invigilator watched, irritation plain on his face. This is not the first time he had seen students waste exam time.
'These children,' he thought, 'how hard could it be to remember a few answers?'
'They waste their time playing, goofing around, and end up failing.'
He glanced at his wristwatch, calculating the remaining minutes.
'When they graduate, they'll see how harsh the world really is.'
'They'll understand why we pushed them to study hard.'
...
After more than two hours, the invigilator's sharp voice sliced through the room. "Last one hour!"
Henry's pen moved across the paper, filling the question sheet with numbers in a blur of blue ink.
As he glanced at the questions, he paused—and then began writing the questions themselves onto the answer sheet.
It wasn't unheard of; some students had done it before.
But for Henry, this was a first. Writing the questions instead of answers felt… strange, almost liberating.
For the next hour, he filled pages with questions alone.
Then the invigilator called, "Time's up!"
Papers were collected, one by one.
The invigilator's expression remained indifferent as he took Henry's sheet, and Henry finally stepped out of the classroom.
...
Outside, the students spilled into the hallway, chatting, laughing, rushing toward the canteen.
The entire place buzzed with noise and movement.
Henry froze for a moment, staring at the sea of bags.
'Which one is mine?' he murmured. His mind raced.
'And my phone… where is it?'
"Hey, Henry! How'd your exam go?" A tall, broad young man with a thick mustache and beard walked over to Henry.
Henry blinked in surprise.
"Jace!"
"Thank God you're here," he said, relief breaking through his panic.
"Lend me your phone for a second."
Jace glanced at him but handed it over without protest.
Henry quickly signed into his Google account, opened 'Find My Phone,' and hit 'Ring.'
Ding Ding Ding—Ding Ding Ding—Ding Ding Ding.
The sound cut through the chatter of the hallway.
Henry's head snapped toward the noise.
It was coming from the far side of the room. He pushed past backpacks, shoving a few aside, scanning for something familiar.
'There.'
He found a bag that felt familiar and unzipped it. The phone vibrated frantically inside.
He silenced it, breathed out, and handed Jace's phone back to Jace.
"Thanks, dude," he said, a flicker of calm returning as he pocketed the phone.
Jace gave him a puzzled look. "Why'd you ring your phone when it was already in your bag?"
Henry chuckled. "Didn't even remember where I left it.'."
He lied smoothly, draping an arm around Jace as they walked toward the crowded canteen.
"Hey, Jace, do you remember which room I'm in this semester?" Henry asked, leaning closer.
Jace nodded. "Yeah… why?"
Henry laughed, a quiet, confident sound. "Damn! You're a lifesaver."
Jace froze, bewildered by Henry's sudden cheerfulness, but Henry didn't care. He had no reputation to protect—he was already a delinquent in everyone's eyes.
That made people less likely to refuse him, and right now, he was enjoying having control.
Scanning the canteen, Henry spotted a few familiar faces and slid into his usual spot just as more students arrived.
"Hi, Henry!"
"Hey!"
"Yo, Man!"
Henry recognized them immediately: Dylan, Sonny, and Matthew.
He remembered the future clearly—Matthew would leave the group next semester, leaving only four of them, a small band of troublemakers, together until graduation.
'Though these three would graduate on time, I'd follow a year later,' he thought, quietly remembering the future which was yet to come.
"What's the next exam?" Henry asked casually.
The others stared at him, incredulous.
"Henry, you need to keep track of time," Matthew said. "The semester's already over, and classes won't start for another fifteen days."
"Aren't you going home?" Dylan added.
Henry rubbed his temple and answered, "Yeah I am going. But, I heard someone say we have nine subjects, so I just asked."
The group burst into laughter.
"Henry, we don't have nine subjects," Matthew corrected. "Six subjects and three practicals."
Henry nodded, unfazed, and pulled out his phone.
After unlocking it with the old password he remembered, he started installing the Binance Coin app, his focus entirely elsewhere.
While the others chattered over lunch, Henry worked silently, signing up on the platform.
Sonny peeked at the screen. "Henry… what are you doing?"
Henry replied nonchalantly, "I'm gambling."
The table went silent for a moment.
Dylan blinked in disbelief. "Are you… okay?"
Henry waved a hand, shrugging. "I'm fine. Just signing up on some site."
"I heard there's some match-fixing going on, so I'm checking things out."
Jace's eyes lit up. "Which app?"
Henry smiled faintly. "Come with me to my room, I'll show you."
With that, he finished his lunch and gathered his things.
The others collected their bags, heading to their rooms, while Henry trailed behind Jace, letting him guide the way until they reached his room.
"The app's Binance," Henry said casually.
"I am mostly just checking things out."
With that, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, while Jace headed to his own room.
Everyone else was rushing home for the mid-month break, so no one noticed Henry's odd behavior. If they had, they might have realized the calm, deliberate way he spoke was anything but normal.
Once inside, Henry followed the app's instructions carefully—KYC verification, selfies, everything it asked.
A few minutes later, he linked his bank account and checked his balance.
"$160… hmm," he muttered. "Let's keep $20 for travel, and $40 for safety… that leaves $100."
Then, he tapped the screen and bought $100 worth of BTC.
Within minutes, the Bitcoin appeared in his wallet, and the money left his bank account.
Henry stared at the numbers for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"15th October 2017," Henry muttered, checking the date.
"For $100, I got about 0.016 BTC. Not bad at all." He glanced at the back of the question paper, where numbers, dates, and past Bitcoin values were scribbled—tracking when it had risen, when it had fallen.
"I'd better set a reminder." He tapped an alarm into his Redmi phone and labeled it BTC for 15th December 2017.
Henry exhaled, letting the tension slip for a moment.
His reflection caught his eye—a thin, youthful face, a skinny frame.
"Damn… I really was this thin in university," he murmured, but didn't linger on it.
Quickly, he packed a few clothes, a charger, and his phone.
'I don't even remember what I need… these should do,' he thought.
With a final glance around, he locked the door and stepped out of the university, moving toward his next destination—his home.