THE DARK SIDE - PART B

In their first year at university, evenings after lectures were often spent in the library. For freshers—first-year students—this was a sacred ritual. Many stayed late into the night, burning the midnight oil to secure good grades and avoid falling behind. But for Ikon and Agnes, the extra studying wasn’t necessary.

Ikon had been the top of his high school class, even winning prestigious West African awards. Agnes, too, had graduated with flying colors and had already written two novels—one a romantic tale and the other a poignant exploration of the girl child’s struggles in society. Both were academically gifted, their track records impeccable.

Yet, in Africa, where parents pushed their children to be the best, even the brightest felt the pressure to excel. Perhaps that was why Ikon and Agnes still found themselves in the library during those late hours, surrounded by the quiet hum of focused students.

At 11:14 p.m., the library was nearly empty. Most students had returned to their hostels or formed small study groups in secluded corners. A few dozed off at their desks, exhausted from the day’s efforts. Agnes, who had been sitting three desks away from Ikon, stood up and walked over to his table.

She sat down across from him, her gaze steady. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence.

Ikon looked up, startled. “No,” he replied curtly. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

Agnes smiled, undeterred. “I know,” she said. “But I, Agnes, want you.”

Ikon glanced around, half-expecting someone else to be the target of her bold declaration. It was a sarcastic habit of his, a way to deflect attention. But Agnes reached across the table and took his hand in hers.

“Yes, tonight, I want you,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve found it so hard to concentrate on my reading because of you.” She then asked for his name.

Before he could respond, she picked up one of his books and glanced at the name written inside. “Mr. Ikon Ekene,” she read aloud, her lips curling into a smile. “What a lovely name.”

She remained seated, her eyes locked on his. Ikon, unsure how to respond, simply returned to his books. The silence between them was deafening, charged with unspoken tension.

Agnes was not a lady to be easily dismissed or scolded off. She was in the prime of her beauty, with a well-curved figure that turned heads wherever she went. But her allure wasn’t just physical—she was also deeply intelligent, driven, and fiercely independent. Her parents, both clerics, had raised her with strong values and a relentless pursuit of excellence. Though they were wealthy, their fortune paled in comparison to Ikon’s family’s vast riches. Yet, Agnes’s motivation didn’t come from material wealth; it came from her insatiable desire to succeed and make her family proud.

Her biggest fear, like many high achievers, was failure. She had set her sights on nothing less than straight A’s, and her parents, proud of her accomplishments, spared no expense in providing her with the best of everything. From her girlish days to her teenage years and now into her adolescence, Agnes had always been a star.

However, her brilliance often came with a reputation. Some considered her proud, even rude, because she refused to be overlooked. She loved to take charge and command attention, a trait that sometimes put her at odds with authority figures. In secondary school, she had famously corrected her teachers and even challenged them when she felt they were undermining her intelligence.

One incident stood out: during her fourth year (SS1), her physics teacher had failed her after she rejected his inappropriate advances. Agnes, then just a teenager, refused to accept the C grade he gave her. She insisted on nothing less than an A and demanded a re-marking of her script. The school investigated, and when another teacher graded her paper, she scored a stunning 98 out of 100. The physics teacher’s bias was exposed, and he was promptly dismissed.

Though some students blamed Agnes for the teacher’s downfall, accusing her of being flirtatious or attention-seeking, the truth was clear: she was a young woman who refused to let anyone undermine her integrity. She had once confessed her feelings to the Senior Prefect and even told a male health prefect that she liked him, but these actions were less about romance and more about her bold, unapologetic nature. She was not wayward or uncultured—she simply knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to pursue it.

Agnes admired intelligence and ambition, which was why Ikon had caught her eye. In the first month of university, she had researched the academic records of the men she found attractive, and Ikon’s brilliance stood out. She didn’t know about his family’s wealth, nor did she care. Material possessions didn’t interest her; her parents had already secured her future with plans for a Master’s degree in the UK. For Agnes, academic excellence was her greatest asset, and she was determined to build a bright future on her own terms.

Back in the library, Ikon tried to ignore Agnes, burying himself in his books in the hope that she would grow tired and leave. But Agnes was a goal-getter, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

The library was bathed in bright, artificial light, so intense that even the smallest movements were visible. Mosquitoes buzzed around, feasting on the few students who had dozed off at their desks. Despite Delta State’s status as an oil-rich region—contributing up to 95% of Nigeria’s oil wealth—power outages were a constant nuisance. The Power Holding Company of Nigeria (PHCN) was notorious for its unreliable service, leaving most of the country dependent on generators. Solar power and inverters were becoming more common, but in the university library, the hum of a generator was a familiar sound.

At 12:10 a.m., the lights suddenly went out, plunging the library into darkness. The once-bright hall was now so dark that the only visible things were the whites of people’s eyes and their teeth when they smiled. Students began using their phone flashlights to navigate the space, waking their sleeping classmates and preparing to leave for their hostels.

Ikon gathered his books, using the faint light from other students’ phones to pack up. But Agnes wasn’t ready to leave. She pulled out her BlackBerry Z10—a phone that, at the time, was a symbol of elite status. Ikon recognized it immediately; he had a pair at home but had chosen not to bring them to school to maintain his disguise. Seeing the phone, he realized Agnes came from a wealthy family, much like his own.

She urged him to keep reading, and though reluctant, Ikon obliged. He couldn’t help but admire her boldness, even as he tried to focus on his books. The bright light from her phone illuminated the table, providing enough light for three students to read comfortably—far superior to the dim glow of the Nokia 3310 flashlights most students relied on.