Turmoil in Crisis

1st Mar., 2002 –

The sky was a canvas painted with the flurry of birds in flight, their movements delicate yet purposeful. A brisk breeze whispered through the coastline, where the waves gently kissed the shore with rhythmic precision. Near this serene seascape stood “Casa Rivera,” Harsh’s apartment, a sanctuary amidst the tranquil chaos.

Inside Harsh’s room, Heran lay sprawled across the bed, her naked form partially concealed by the disheveled sheets. Her clothes lay scattered like forgotten memories across the room. The morning sun pierced through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a beam that danced across a potted seedling before landing on Heran’s face. She stirred, instinctively reaching for Harsh, but his side of the bed was cold and empty.

Startled, Heran sat up, her heart pounding as she scanned the room. The sterile emptiness around her only amplified her anxiety. The clock on the wall struck ten, its chime breaking the silence. From the bathroom, Harsh’s voice emerged, casual and unfazed, followed by his appearance, wrapped in a bath towel. His nonchalance contrasted sharply with Heran’s disquiet.

“Good morning,” Harsh said with a raised eyebrow and a subtle hand gesture that asked if she was alright.

“Nothing,” Heran whispered, shaking her head as she stood up. Her movement brought her into the full embrace of the sunlight streaming through the now-open curtains. The warm rays caressed her body, highlighting her curves and illuminating her smile—a smile that could captivate any heart. She glanced back at Harsh, who stood momentarily speechless, mesmerized by her beauty.

“Sam called,” Harsh began, his voice a bit shaky from the sight before him. “He wants us to meet him at the café.”

Heran’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and affection. “I can’t imagine a day without you,” she said softly, moving closer to him. “Thank you for saving me, for being here with me.” Her words were filled with sincerity, yet Harsh, charmed and bewildered, couldn’t recall the exact moment she referred to.

“We’re also late for work,” Harsh added, trying to divert his thoughts. Heran’s playful demeanor returned as she kissed his cheek, her lips lingering a moment longer than usual. She snatched his towel, wrapping it around herself and leaving Harsh standing in his underwear as she sauntered towards the bathroom.

Harsh chuckled, “Okay, I see how it is,” he muttered. His attention was diverted by a sudden gust of wind that nearly toppled the seedling on the windowsill. Reacting swiftly, he caught the pot before it fell. “You’re not leaving me just yet,” he said to the plant, placing it back securely. The bustling sounds of the city below drifted up to him, a reminder of the life that pulsed beyond his apartment walls.

He moved to the kitchenette, preparing a cup of tea. He crushed a painkiller tablet into the drink, hoping for some relief, but it was futile. A droplet of pinkish blood fell from his nose into the tea, a stark reminder of the peculiar ailment that plagued him.

Heran emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the towel, her hair damp and her expression slightly irritated. “Who keeps the water so hot? I nearly burned myself,” she pouted, but Harsh was already on his way to the bathroom, ignoring her complaint.

As he shut the door, Harsh approached the sink, his reflection staring back at him. His head throbbed with a familiar yet inexplicable pain. He spat more pink blood into the sink, wiping his face with a towel. When he looked up again, the mirror betrayed him. His reflection morphed into a grey-armored warrior, the transformation so surreal that Harsh staggered back in horror.

He touched his face, and the armored figure in the mirror mimicked his movements. Panic surged through him as his reflection transformed into a monstrous dragon, its scales shimmering with a sinister hue. Harsh reached out to touch the mirror, but before his fingers could make contact, everything returned to normal. Only the flickering light bulb above him indicated something had been amiss.

Outside, Heran dressed quickly, a growing sense of unease gnawing at her. The flickering light confirmed her worst fears. She hurried to the bathroom door, knocking softly. “Harsh, are you okay?”

A scream erupted from within, followed by agonized moans. The lights flared like miniature suns, the very ground seemed to tremble. Heran’s heart raced, fear etched on her face. The tension in the air was palpable, every second stretching into an eternity.

Then, silence.

Summoning her courage, Heran opened the bathroom door. Harsh lay on the floor, his eyes glowing with an eerie blue light. “What’s happening to me? Help me!” he pleaded, his voice trembling with pain. Pink blood streamed from his eyes, a horrifying sight that sent Heran reeling back in shock.

Unable to bear the sight, she fled the room, collapsing just outside the door as she vomited. The terror of what she had witnessed clung to her, an inescapable nightmare.

[WRITER’S NOTE – Inside the bathroom, Harsh experienced a metamorphosis, a transformation that had been building since the night of the mysterious landing. The images of warriors, beasts, and otherworldly entities flashed through his mind, their memories, loves, and hatreds flooding his consciousness in a torrent of emotion and sensation trying to takeover. In those few harrowing seconds, he lived lifetimes.]

A Week Before on 19th Feb., 2002 –

Daylight shone again on the Weeb-themed restaurant, “Otaku Hideout.” The friends, recovering from their partying, found themselves broke and unable to afford more drinks. At the checkout reception, they managed to pool their resources and pay off their enormous bill. Just as they were about to leave, an informant approached, revealing another bill from the front bar. It was loaded with various alcoholic beverages ordered by Kajal.

Kajal, shocked, recalled her night at the bar. Everyone stared at her, and she admitted, “I may have ordered this all.” The bartender confirmed that she had spent the entire night at the front bar, breaking four glasses, three men’s noses, and two kids’ hearts. Harsh added, “And you also puked on my shirt.” Kajal clenched her fists, silently raging at herself.

The additional bill was beyond their means. Sam, struggling to suppress his laughter, finally burst out. Kajal hit Sam and screamed, “I told you we should have gone to the 5-star hotel next door instead of this crappy restaurant.” A cook nearby overheard Kajal’s rant and perked up. Heran whispered, “Look, you already spent thousands here. Imagine how much the bill would be at the 5-star.” Harsh agreed, “True.” Kajal had no response but angrily demanded that Sam pay the bill.

Sam pulled out his phone to pay online, but his daily quota was exceeded. He informed the group, and they realized they had no money left. As they were about to explain this to the receptionist, a tall, muscular man with scars on his face stepped out from the kitchen door behind the reception. He stood before them, arms folded, wearing a chef’s hat and an apron stained with what looked like blood but was likely ketchup. His apron had a golden nametag reading “Master Chef Zeff,” who was also the owner. He smirked and pointed to a billboard that read, “Fail to pay, face the consequences.”

They were broke. Kajal’s anger turned to sorrow. Sam explained that their cards were blocked and they had no cash. Sam pleaded with Chef Zeff to let them leave and bring back the money, but Zeff refused and assigned them to cleaning duties around the restaurant to pay off the bill. Harsh had no money, Heran’s phone was broken, and Kajal’s account was controlled by Sam to prevent overspending.

Chef Zeff didn’t allow them to leave, even if only one person went to bring back money. Instead, he had them clean endlessly to pay off their debt. He took their phones to prevent calls for help and reminded them of the restaurant’s motto, “Embrace the anime way, pay your bill, and play your part to earn your stay!” He showed them a book with amendments, including the worst punishment: if anyone ate more than they could afford, they would have to wear maid costumes and serve customers. Harsh recalled seeing someone in a maid costume last night.

If someone tried to skip out on their bill, their picture would be posted on the “Board of Rogue Eaters Roaming Free,” with the unpaid amount listed below. It looked like a high-stakes wanted poster. Below the “Deadpool” was another motto: “Unpaid bills mean extra thrills,” written in what appeared to be blood splatter. Anyone whose picture was on the board would be banned from entering, and bounty hunters could capture them for a reward. A nearby worker mentioned that the board was a myth. Kajal scoffed, “No wonder other restaurants want you out of here.” Chef Zeff was annoyed, but Sam corrected her, “It’s culture, Kajal.” Harsh added, “More like a cult.” Kajal retorted, “I thought men were simple creatures. How did they come up with this?”

Chef Zeff explained that the establishment’s unique style was the brainchild of its predecessor, and they were committed to maintaining it. Sam noticed the restaurant’s trademark logo and remarked, “Isn’t it going to be 32 years since the establishment?” Chef Zeff sweated slightly, but Sam continued, “You sure can give speeches, dude.” Harsh added, “Yeah, this place is well managed, and everyone seems to follow the rules.” Zeff puffed up with pride at Harsh’s words, but Kajal muttered, “This place is still trash.”

In the end, Harsh and his friends worked off their debt by cleaning dishes. As the day ended, Harsh couldn’t take his eyes off Heran, enchanted by her beauty. Despite his introversion, he felt a deep need to protect and praise her. The strong feelings stirred within him, but he remained silent, overwhelmed by her gaze as she scrubbed dishes alongside Kajal.

After hours of work, Chef Zeff, pleased with their effort, invited them for a drink at the front bar. Though they initially refused, Kajal accepted when Zeff threatened more dishwashing. They joined him at the bar, each receiving a different flavor of vodka and ginger ale. Harsh’s drink, a deep pink, triggered a memory and a sharp headache.

As they toasted, Harsh calmed and took a sip. The drink tasted delicate and unique, but as he finished, his mind broke under the influence of hallucinogens. He screamed and fell, pink liquid oozing from his ears, his eyes glowing blue. His reality warped, flooded with visions of non-human creatures.

Heran, terrified, tried to help Harsh despite his erratic movements. Kajal demanded to know what drugs were in the drinks, threatening Chef Zeff with her father’s police connections. Sam couldn’t stand to see Harsh in such a state and held his head in his hands. Harsh soon lost consciousness and fell cold. Kajal kept shouting at Zeff as others looked around for potential culprits. Heran cried until Sam informed them that an ambulance was on its way.

Harsh stirred, finding himself lying on a sofa. Beside him was Heran, her hand clutching his, fear etched across her face. As he opened his eyes and groggily took in his surroundings, Heran’s expression shifted from relief to something more intense. “Why do you always have to scare me like this?” she asked, her voice trembling as she swiped away her tears and hugged him tightly.

Harsh, still disoriented and with a pounding headache, struggled to piece together what had happened. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper.

Heran pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “Are you still hiding something from me? Please, just tell me,” she pleaded. Harsh reached up to touch her face but couldn’t find the words to explain the chaos swirling in his mind.

Nearby, the exit was blocked by several workers, standing guard as if defending against an attack. Kajal stood over Chef Zeff, who was on his knees, begging for forgiveness. “Ambulance is here!” Sam’s shout broke through the tension, drawing everyone’s attention.

Harsh tried to sit up, memories flooding back in disjointed fragments. He glanced at Sam, confusion evident on his face. “What’s happening?”

Kajal, still fuming, pointed accusingly at Zeff. “It’s your fault! You pushed my friend to the brink, and he passed out. What do you have to say about this? We never should have come to this crappy restaurant.” Zeff, tears streaming down his face, muttered apologies, but Kajal’s fury remained unquenched.

Sam approached Harsh, who was now semi-upright. “Can you walk?” Sam asked gently.

Harsh’s world was still spinning, and he didn’t respond. Sam tried to help him up, but Harsh broke free, stumbling as he pushed Sam away. “Stop dragging me!” he shouted, his voice raw with frustration.

Sam, looking down, spoke softly. “You weren’t doing well when we found you. Your disappearance, the cops... It’s been hard. The nurse at the headquarters insisted on professional help. She gave me a card for Sharda Hospital. I should have taken you to a doctor immediately, but instead, we were out having fun, playing arcade games, getting into accidents, even ending up in jail.” Tears streamed down Sam’s face as he continued, his voice breaking. “It’s my fault. I should have prioritized your health, not these stupid adventures.”

Harsh, his throat dry and his mind racing, felt the weight of Sam’s words. He reached out, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam helped him to the waiting ambulance, Heran staying close by his side while Kajal and Sam followed in an Uber. Chef Zeff watched the ambulance leave, tears in his eyes—not just from Kajal’s harsh words, but from witnessing Sam’s heartfelt confession and the deep bond of friendship.

[WRITER’S NOTE – Earlier that day, Harsh and Sam had spent the day at a large mall, eating and playing games, recreating their childhood memories. On the way back, Sam was driving through a mountainous pass. Harsh, trying to get something from the mini-fridge, asked for help. Distracted, Sam didn’t notice the truck coming towards them until it was too late. A car from behind nudged them, making Sam swerve into a dirt wall. No one was injured, but their car was damaged. A cop car, already looking for them due to Harsh’s earlier speeding, arrived at the scene.]

Later, at the modern multi-specialty Sharda Hospital, Harsh was taken to the psychological OPD. Dr. Radhika, a professional psychiatrist specializing in mental health and disorders, welcomed him. Sam had informed her ahead of time, and she was prepared with Harsh’s medical file.

In the consultation room, Harsh sat on a comfy couch while Dr. Radhika, holding a notepad, began the session. “Calm down, Harsh. I’m here to help. I’ll be asking you several questions, and I need you to be open with me.”

The atmosphere of the room gave Harsh a sense of déjà vu. The ceiling tiles were the same as the ones from his “trial,” and the floor was white marble. The only difference was the comfortable seat and the room filled with various objects.

“Your friend told me everything that happened,” Dr. Radhika began. “He’s very caring. His concern for you brought me here late today, even though I was supposed to be off.” Harsh listened but struggled to find a proper reply. She continued, “Sam mentioned your changes in behavior, the sudden shocks, and collapses. He also provided your past medical report from the police.”

She glanced at the file and then back at Harsh. “According to this, you have no physical damage or chemical issues, which is good, especially for a report from the cops.” She sighed, trying to ease the tension. “Now, let’s begin.”

The time passed by, the consultation continued, the sterile room almost feeling like a confessional booth under the steady, probing questions of Dr. Radhika. Harsh answered with surprising fluency, detailing his symptoms and experiences. Despite initial discomfort, he shared that he had no current physical injuries or past traumas that he could recall.

Dr. Radhika leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “How would you describe your current health, especially regarding these sudden collapses?” she asked.

Harsh hesitated but then spoke, “It’s always irrational. It starts with mysterious visions, then voices—some familiar, others not. I hear thoughts that aren’t mine. During these episodes, I feel like I’m not myself. It sounds crazy, but it’s the truth.”

Dr. Radhika nodded, her expression encouraging. “Don’t worry about sounding crazy. Just tell me everything, as freely as you can.”

Harsh took a deep breath. “These experiences are uncontrollable and unpredictable. After each episode, my head feels cloudy, like a chunk of my memory is erased. I can’t remember what happened just before, but each vision is different, like I’m experiencing someone else’s memories.”

Dr. Radhika scribbled notes and asked, “So these visions aren’t connected to you personally? You don’t feel anything specific in them?”

Harsh squinted, trying to recall. “There’s usually a soothing voice of a woman, but it’s stopped recently. Now, I see fantasy characters in my reflection—dragons, otherworldly beings. Sometimes they interact with the surroundings, talking to me.”

The doctor paused thoughtfully. “Do you recall anything specific from today’s incident?”

Harsh nodded. “Yes, I remember seeing a farmer who felt familiar, but I didn’t know him.”

Dr. Radhika pressed further. “And other incidents from before?”

Harsh laughed nervously. “There was an old man with black eyes reflecting space. And once, I saw a giant eye in space talking to me.”

Dr. Radhika smiled gently. “Whatever you’ve seen, it’s real to you. Don’t think you’re losing your mind. Your experiences are valid.”

As she spoke, the lights flickered. “It’s probably an electrical issue,” she said, noticing the empty water bottle. “I’ll be right back,” she assured Harsh, leaving the room. Alone, Harsh glanced around, his eyes finally settling on a mirror. Instead of his reflection, a black silhouette with glowing white eyes stared back. The lights went out, and the shadow rushed towards him.

Earlier, outside the psychology OPD. Kajal stormed in, frustration evident on her face. She found Sam and Heran sitting outside Dr. Radhika’s office. Heran looked up as Kajal stood before Sam, who was engrossed in an old magazine. “What the hell, Sam!” she snapped, smacking the magazine from his hands. “You’re reading magazines instead of answering your phone?”

Heran, curious, asked quietly, “What’s going on?”

Sam ignored her, shouting back at Kajal. “This is a hospital, you numbskull! Reception is bad here!”

Kajal folded her arms. “You should have gone home. I should have stayed here.”

Sam shot back, “You said you knew where Dad hid his stash. Even if you stayed, you’d be lost.”

Kajal huffed. “I knew the place, but there was no cash. I had to go to your room—God, what a toxic waste!”

Sam’s face twisted in anger. “What did you do? Don’t tell me you took what I think you did.”

Kajal grinned sarcastically. “That was all my net worth!”

Heran watched their bickering, trying to interject but getting ignored. Finally, she smiled faintly. “Guys, this is a hospital. Calm down.”

In unison, Sam and Kajal yelled, “Stay out of it!” Heran’s patience snapped, her expression turning grim. Both siblings looked at her and shrank back in fear.

Dr. Radhika returned, passing by the tense siblings. Just as she reassured Heran that everything was fine, the glass window shattered. A chair flew through, scattering shards. Inside, Harsh stood, his movements jerky and unnatural, his eyes glowing a deep blue. The room was wrecked, mirrors shattered, decorations destroyed.

Sam stared in horror as Harsh advanced. Dr. Radhika shouted for everyone to get back, but Harsh charged at Sam, leaving destruction in his wake. Sam froze, but Kajal pushed him aside just in time. Harsh crashed through the window behind Sam, his hands bloodied.

Security rushed in, their whistles blaring. Harsh, seeing them, shouted, “You can’t hold me!” and ran, breaking windows with his bare hands. Dr. Radhika hurried to prepare a sedative while Heran tried to approach Harsh, but the security held her back.

Harsh saw his reflection in a window and screamed, “You are not me!” He fought off the security, throwing them aside with unnatural strength. Dr. Radhika, syringe in hand, moved closer. Sam regained his composure and joined the security, helping to restrain Harsh.

“Harsh, stop!” Sam pleaded, but Harsh laughed maniacally, his eyes filled with a demonic glow. The doctor finally jabbed the syringe into Harsh’s neck. He lashed out, sending everyone flying before collapsing, the drug taking effect. He murmured, “You can’t get me,” before losing consciousness.

The consultation room lay in ruins, blood and shattered glass everywhere. Dr. Radhika’s notepad lay amidst the debris, with “Harsh Vishal” written at the top. The last page contained words like “visions,” “delusions,” and a large, bold “schizophrenic behavior.”

Kajal murmured in shock, “What in the world...”

Dr. Radhika, shaken but determined, looked at the aftermath. “We need to get him stabilized and properly diagnosed,” she said, signaling for more help. The true extent of Harsh’s condition was just beginning to unfold.

Current time. 1st Mar., 2002 –

Kajal’s phone buzzed with urgency. Heran’s voice crackled through, explaining the situation with Harsh and their rush to Sharda Hospital. Kajal turned to Sam and relayed the news. Without hesitation, Sam jumped into his old, rusty ranger and sped towards the hospital.

Unbeknownst to them, a small group of elite thugs watched the Agarwal home. One of them saw Sam leave with Kajal and informed their boss, Chains ‘n Bones Brooke. With a menacing laugh, Brooke declared, “Start the operation. Today is when the power shifts.”

Sam drove furiously, Kajal urging him to push the accelerator harder. They were unaware of the looming danger as Brooke’s men tracked their movements. Hidden in a truck, a masked man lay in wait, ready to cause an accident. As Sam approached an intersection, one of Brooke’s scouts signaled the truck driver. The truck lurched forward, aiming to ram Sam’s car.

Just before the collision, a girl with ember eyes chased a black cat across the road. Sam swerved to avoid her, narrowly escaping the truck, which crashed into another, creating a massive traffic jam. Kajal gasped, “Whatever you did, damn, we are saved!”

Sam got out to find the girl, but she had vanished along with the cat. “Did you see the kid? Where did she go?” he asked Kajal, who looked baffled. “What kid are you talking about?”

At Sharda Hospital, Harsh lay unconscious in a clinic bed as glass shattered around him. A dark fume emanated from his body, attempting to take human form. In Dr. Radhika’s office, Heran noticed the doctor’s bandaged neck and asked, “How’s your neck?”

Dr. Radhika, looking weary, replied, “I’ve seen better days. Thanks for asking.”

Heran apologized, but Dr. Radhika dismissed it. “Don’t be sorry. It’s my job. These things happen.”

The doctor explained, “Harsh hasn’t reported any creepy dreams lately, assuming he’s not hiding anything...”

Heran assured her, “He’s not hiding anything.”

Dr. Radhika continued, “I’ve been studying Harsh’s brain patterns using high-end means. The organ responsible for dreams is unusually active during the day, which is not typical. This isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s unusual. We need more study for a proper conclusion.”

Meanwhile, on the road, Brooke’s first plan failed, so they moved to a direct attack. Another truck, this time driven by a masked thug, waited for Sam. Sam, now alert, noticed suspicious vehicles and slowed down, heightening his guard. At the next intersection, a truck accelerated toward them. Sam swerved just in time, escaping with a scrape.

Kajal, shaken, exclaimed, “Was that truck aiming for us?”

Sam, gripping the wheel tightly, replied, “I think so. We’re the targets here.” He sped off, determined to reach the hospital.

Brooke, infuriated by the failures, smashed his phone. “I’ll do it myself,” he growled.

Brooke’s lackeys taunted Sam, but he ignored them, focusing on the road. Kajal muttered, “What’s with these jerks?”

“Idiots,” Sam replied, just as Kajal pinched his stomach, causing him to swerve. “I want to get to the hospital, but not like this!”

At the Hospital, Heran asked Dr. Radhika about Harsh’s medication, concerned about the painkillers he was consuming. Dr. Radhika frowned, “Overdosing is dangerous. I’ll adjust his medication. Thanks for informing me.”

Back on the Road, Brooke arrived in a flashy, modified car. He revved his engine, taunting Sam. As they approached a red light, both cars screeched to a halt. Brooke, sunglasses off, cigarette in hand, approached Sam’s window. Blowing smoke in Sam’s face, he said, “Do you know who I am?”

Kajal retorted, “You messed with the wrong people. Do you know who my father is?”

Brooke, unfazed, pulled a gun and pointed it at Sam’s head. “I don’t care who you are. This ends now.”

Inside the Hospital. The dark fume from Harsh’s body coalesced into a vaguely human shape. Dr. Radhika and Heran rushed to his side, the room filled with an eerie glow. “We need to stabilize him, now!” Dr. Radhika ordered, grabbing a syringe with a potent sedative.

On the road, Sam stared down the barrel of Brooke’s gun, his mind racing. He glanced at Kajal, then back at Brooke. “You don’t want to do this,” he said calmly, trying to defuse the situation.

Brooke sneered, “I don’t take orders from you.”

Suddenly, the sound of police sirens filled the air. Brooke cursed and pulled back, getting into his car. “This isn’t over,” he snarled before speeding away.

Sam and Kajal exhaled in relief, the tension momentarily broken. “Let’s get to the hospital,” Sam said, driving off before Brooke could regroup.

At the Hospital, Harsh convulsed as Dr. Radhika administered the sedative. The dark form dissipated, leaving him unconscious but stable. “We need to keep a close watch on him,” Dr. Radhika told Heran. “This is just the beginning.”

Heran nodded, worry etched on her face. “What’s happening to him?”

Dr. Radhika sighed, “I’m not sure, but we’ll find out. For now, let’s focus on keeping him safe.”

Outside, Sam and Kajal arrived, rushing into the hospital. “We need to see Harsh,” Sam demanded at the reception, urgency in his voice.

As they navigated the hospital corridors, Brooke’s words echoed in Sam’s mind. The power struggle had only just begun, and the true fight was yet to come.

Inside Harsh’s room, the air was thick with tension and the unspoken fear of the unknown. Dr. Radhika, Heran, Sam, and Kajal stood united, ready to face whatever came next. The shadows may have receded for now, but the battle for Harsh’s mind—and possibly his soul—was far from over.

Harsh wandered through an endless void of pitch darkness. The cold gnawed at his bones, and a profound emptiness enveloped him. His memories faded like wisps of smoke. He recalled working in a field with his father but realized it was a dream. Now, even his father’s face was slipping away.

As the abyss grew colder, Harsh’s face bore a look of sorrow. His memories were being erased faster now. “I have no wishes, but if this is hell, I don’t want to die. I want to remember my father again. My mom...who was she? Friends...did I not make any?” His memories depixelated exponentially, leaving him with nothing but fragments.

Yet, a scent pierced through the darkness—Jasmine. “What is this smell? It’s familiar...I remember this. Jasmine?” He followed the fragrance, moving with no sense of direction, guided only by his senses. He stumbled upon a lit candlestick. In its flickering flames, he saw eyes—cute, warm eyes. He remembered Heran, the love of his life. The candle provided warmth and the source of the familiar fragrance.

Above, spheres of aura floated, reflecting the candle’s light. They pulsated as if alive. The air around him grew chill, dense, and heavy. Harsh clung to the warmth of the candlestick. Suddenly, a creature with blade-like limbs appeared, slicing the candle in two. But the candle didn’t go out. Fear gripped Harsh, and he ran, shouting, “Please help, someone help me, I don’t want to die!” The creature stepped on the broken candle, snuffing out its flame. Darkness engulfed the land once more.

In the void, Harsh felt wetness underfoot. Before him was a vast, cold body of water. Two glowing eyes emerged from the dark. Desperate to survive, Harsh plunged into the cold water. The creature stopped at the water’s edge, but Harsh felt numb. He was happy not to be slain but soon saw a light patterning through the water. It came from a gigantic squid, its tentacles splayed out, drawing everything towards its mouth.

Harsh was powerless against the siphon. The squid’s tentacles, lined with thorn-like spines, ensnared him, pulling him into its maw. He thought this was the end. His life flashed before his eyes, though much of it was erased. He remembered Heran and wept as the squid’s pressure crushed him.

Now, at Sharda Hospital, Harsh’s body was convulsing on the clinic bed, dark shadows billowing from him. His pulse spiked alarmingly, the monitors beeping furiously. A nurse rushed to call for help.

In Dr. Radhika’s office, a nurse burst in with the news. Dr. Radhika and Heran hurried to Harsh’s room. His heartbeat was unnaturally high. Dr. Radhika sprang into action, assisted by other doctors. Heran entered despite the nurses’ attempts to hold her back. She grasped Harsh’s arm and whispered, “Why do you always have to be so problematic... I’m not panicking. I know you’ll come back... as always...”

On the Streets, Brooke held a gun to Sam’s head. Sam remained calm, despite Kajal’s frantic curses. Brooke smirked, “There’s no fun in this,” and pocketed his gun. One of his lackeys urged, “Boss, pull the trigger. You’ll be raised a rank.” Another chimed in, “Yes, boss. No backing down now.”

Sam discreetly dialed his phone beneath the steering wheel, connecting with his father. The wail of police sirens grew louder. Kajal kicked her car door open, knocking Brooke’s lackeys back. Sam shoved Brooke away, revved the engine, and sped off, narrowly trampling a lackey.

Brooke, furious, jumped into his car to give chase, but the approaching police forced him to abandon the pursuit. He veered off into a side street, escaping the law.

Sam raced towards Sharda Hospital. “Who were they?” Kajal asked, her voice shaking.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, gripping the wheel.

“You don’t know? They had a gun to your head! How much debt are you in?”

“I’m not in any debt!” Sam snapped. “What are you thinking?”

“How many conflicts have you been in this month?”

“I don’t know, the month just started. Who counts?”

“What?” Kajal shouted, then paused. “Do you remember what you did to deserve this?”

“Maybe,” Sam muttered, recalling past entanglements.

Harsh, trapped by the squid, heard a distant voice. “Come back.” In the material world, Heran, clutching his arm, pleaded, “Come back to me. I can’t take this anymore, seeing you suffer. My heart can’t bear it.”

A nurse tried to pull Heran away, but as soon as she let go of Harsh’s hand, his heartbeat dropped dramatically. Dr. Radhika and the team worked frantically to stabilize him.

FLASHBACK, January 1990 –

The day before Harsh’s mother died, she lay in bed, stricken with cancer. Harsh, only five, stood outside the room as his father wept, pleading, “Come back to me. Please, I can’t take this reality. It’s my fault. I can’t watch you suffer.

Harsh’s mother had hidden her illness, but when her husband discovered the truth, she was already in stage 2. The cancer spread rapidly. Faced with grim options, Harsh’s father consented to a risky lobectomy, manipulated by the hospital’s desire for reputation. The operation failed, leaving him guilt-ridden and estranged from his son.

Back to 1st Mar., 2002 –

Presently at Sharda Hospital, Sam and Kajal arrived, parking hastily. They rushed to Harsh’s room, finding Heran outside. “Sorry we’re late,” Kajal apologized.

“It’s okay,” Heran replied.

“How is he?” Sam asked.

“No one’s allowed in, but they say he’ll be okay,” Heran said. Sam peeked inside, seeing Harsh lying still.

In the Abyss, the darkness grew thicker, heavier. Harsh, remembering his father’s words, felt a surge of warmth and clarity. He fought against the squid’s crushing grip, driven by the echoes of his father’s plea and Heran’s voice. As the abyss tried to reclaim him, he clung to the last vestiges of his memory and the flicker of hope.

In the hospital, Harsh’s vitals stabilized. Dr. Radhika sighed with relief. Heran, tears streaming, whispered, “Come back to us, Harsh. We’re waiting for you.”

The struggle was far from over, but for now, Harsh held on, battling the darkness that sought to consume him.

Moments later, as Harsh lay in the clinic, his pulse was subtle, as if he were battling an internal war. Kajal and Heran sat outside his room, waiting patiently. Heran prayed fervently, clutching her handkerchief, while Kajal provided silent support. Sam was busy with paperwork when police officers approached him from behind. “Come with us, Samir,” one of them said.

Sam, handcuffed and bewildered, asked, “What’s the deal? Didn’t Dad send you?”

“Yes,” replied the officer.

“So why the handcuffs?”

“For your own safety. You don’t know what rabbit hole you’ve fallen into.”

At the police headquarters, Sam was taken to his father Vikram’s office. Inside the private chamber, Vikram sat with an air of dominance and fury. As soon as Sam entered, he demanded, “What’s all this? Release these cuffs!” He struggled against the chains, shouting at the cops.

Vikram’s voice boomed, “Don’t speak!” His roar silenced Sam instantly. “You are not in any manner to raise your voice.”

“So tell me, why am I here?” Sam demanded.

A woman entered from the back. “Because you are trying to take the law into your own hands,” she said.

Sam shouted, “Speak again!”

The woman, adjusting her glasses, replied, “For a while now, you’ve been tackling crime in the city, handling groups of criminals by yourself, and we know it’s in plain sight.”

“Isn’t that good?” Sam retorted.

“Not for you,” she said ominously. “Your actions have made the underworld want you erased—literally. You were a pawn protected by the Queen, making you formidable. But now, the Queen is trapped, and the King can’t protect you alone. You’re a running pawn with no protection.”

The police officer added, “You’ve been doing our work for us, but you’ve overstepped. You’re a great opposing force to them, and they’re acting brutally to remove you.”

Sam, saddened, whispered, “I didn’t even know.”

Vikram continued, “Special forces have been protecting you, not my men specifically but a friend’s. Now, they’re out of commission, and there’s no one left to trust. You think you’re a hero, but reality is different. The Governor protected you, but he withdrew his protection after his son was killed. The forensic evidence points to you.”

Sam was shocked. “What?”

“A gun was found at the scene, with my fingerprints and yours. I kept it secret, but now you’ll do as I say. Don’t get mixed up in law enforcement acts, or get caught near one.”

Sam was taken to his house and placed under home arrest. His home became a fortress, guarded by cops. Meanwhile, the Otaku Hideout restaurant—a front for an organized crime syndicate—was in flames. The restaurant, which appeared to be an ordinary food court, was actually a hub for maintaining law through crime division. The CCG (Crest Chest Gang) launched a full-fledged raid to overthrow the old regime.

A rain of bullets decimated both sides. The CCG, aiming to establish their dominance, left behind a banner and a treasure chest as a mark of their victory. The news spread quickly: the major pillar of the Otaku Hideout had fallen, halting the flow of ‘spice’ and drastically cutting their income. The CCG now controlled Mumbai’s arms and drug trade, ruling the city with an iron fist.

The Order of Seasoning, headquartered in Italy, sent the ruthless Spice Eaters to handle the CCG while planning their next move. The city of Mumbai was now under the control of a corrupt and brutal regime. The CCG expanded their market, targeting Gujarat to dominate the narcotics trade.

Amidst the despair inside the hospital, Harsh lay in a deep coma, tended to by Heran. Kajal had to leave for her shift, leaving Heran alone with Harsh. Sam, feeling trapped at home, turned on the TV and stumbled upon the news of the burning restaurant. The place where he and his friends once visited was now destroyed.

In the realm of dark, Harsh fought desperately against the crushing force of the squid. As he remembered his father’s words and Heran’s pleas, he felt a surge of warmth and clarity. He pushed against the darkness, driven by love and hope.

In the hospital, Harsh’s vitals stabilized. Dr. Radhika and her team sighed in relief. Heran, with tears streaming down her face, whispered, “Come back to us, Harsh. We’re waiting for you.”

Harsh’s eyelids fluttered, and he gasped for air. The battle was not over, but for now, he had returned from the brink. The darkness receded, and a glimmer of hope shone through.

Uncertain, 2nd Mar., 2002 –

The day rose again over Mumbai, unaware of the shifting underworld power. Corruption spread its roots deeper, but amidst the chaos, there were glimmers of resistance. Harsh’s awakening was a small victory in a city gripped by darkness.

Trapped at home, Sam watched TV to pass the time, flipping through channels until he saw news of the burning restaurant, a favorite haunt of his and his friends. Though the report assured no one was hurt, the restaurant was effectively closed, and Sam knew something was up. His resolve strengthened as he found a business card from “Otaku Hideout” on the table, the very restaurant that had burned down.

>> Here ends the 7th chapter...