Zero

Somewhere in Yash’s hometown.Inside a flat.

A man woke from a dream—no, a nightmare—and refused to admit it, however much he told himself otherwise.

“Argh— I should stop drinking this much.” He brought one hand to his eye and squinted against the stubborn ache.

The wall clock ticked in the room. Tick. Tick. Tick. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and felt the cold floor against them. For a moment it seemed as if time itself had slowed.

He tried to shake the gloom away. “Ah—9:00 a.m. Already late for duty,” he muttered, forcing a tone that didn’t fit his mood.

He shrugged into a brown leather jacket and crossed to the door. His hand closed around the cold doorknob. It wasn’t unusual to feel metal at that hour—yet today the chill seemed sharper, as if something in the handle had been waiting.

He pushed the door and stepped out, snapping it shut behind him. He almost stumbled—but didn’t fall. Something small and white scattered on the floor caught his eye. Tiny fragments. Too small to trip a person, but impossible to miss.

“Huh…bone fragments?” he thought, frowning.

He dropped his handkerchief over the pieces and used it to lift one up. He held it too close, peering like a fool, and his face contorted. He gagged—an animal, choking reaction—and dropped the fragment. His mouth tasted of copper; his eyes burned.

“What is this?” he whispered.“I should take a sample to the station.”

At the police station, panic had already arrived.

“My son’s been missing almost twenty-four hours! What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you finding him?” Yash’s mother cried, voice ragged and raw.

“Ma’am, we’ve filed an FIR. We’re doing everything we can—please stay calm,” ASI Arjun said, trying to soothe her. Her sobs turned the end of her words into half-breathed pleas.

Arjun glanced toward the clock. 9:45 a.m., he thought. He’s late again.

The gate clanged open. A man in a brown leather jacket walked straight past Arjun and into the room where Yash’s mother sat. He moved with a rough, practised ease that hid more than it revealed.

“Ma’am,” he said, and his voice cut through the crying. “Please calm down. We’ll find your son. We already have leads—so please, don’t cry.”

“Give her some water,” he told a constable without ceremony. The constable obeyed.The man and Arjun stepped into the SI’s office. “Arjun, report,” the man ordered.

“Sir—Yash, age seventeen, a high School student. He was last seen in his room; his mother says he was sleeping before he disappeared.—” Arjun began.

“And you reported it only now—after twenty-four hours?” the man interrupted.Arjun winced. “Sir, you were at a party yesterday—you didn’t even come to station—”

The man cut him off. “Forget the past. Focus on now. We’ve got a case.”

Arjun bit his lip and kept his face straight. Yes, he is reckless, Arjun thought.

“Anything else?” the man asked.

“Sir,” Arjun said, “it’s not just Yash. There’ve been multiple missing-person complaints—teenagers and adults — people vanish from all over. Some come back, some don’t. It’s…odd, but so far nothing points to a single pattern.”

Outside the office, Yash’s mother asked a constable, trembling but slightly steadier, “Who’s that…with the ASI?”

“SI Akshay,” the constable answered. “He looks like a drunk thug, but he’s not a bad man.”

“Still a moron,” another constable muttered under his breath.

Yash’s mother met Akshay’s eyes. Her exhausted gaze was hungry for hope—like a thirsty gazelle watching clouds and praying for rain.


Somewhere else that felt a world away, Yash sank into darkness.

Huh—where am I?
Why is everything…dark?
Wait who are you?What what are you doing wait! wait!Ahhhhhh

But I woke up.A pain cut through me. A light stabbed at my eyes. I blinked and saw an overhead lamp flare white.

“Even if you were internally injured, that doesn’t mean you can scream here,” a voice said—flat, bored, thin.

I turned my head. A woman stood a little way off in a white coat. Her hair was long, black, and glossy. Her skin was pale, the dark circles around her eyes carved into her face. She had a ruinous, strange kind of beauty—like an apple that had been bitten and left to rot but still shone where the light hit it.

She walked closer and, when she reached the stretcher, sat and lit a cigarette.
She smokes? Maybe I saw her somewhere Weird I thought.

“So—you’re the one. Number 102?” she said. “I saw your batch’s trail. Impressive—if you’re proud to be an impressive fool, losing your mind over a friend.”

“What?” I croaked.

"though I should praise that you held your ground in front of 25.....you are lucky to be alive." She touched my face; her hand was cold as glass.

"Wait where is Naman?"I asked

"Oh you are talking about number 100 he is in room number 6"

I tried to get up and run, but my legs wouldn’t move.

“What's happening?” panic bubbled in my throat.

“Sorry,maybe you didn't understand,” she said with a faint smile that held no warmth. “You can’t leave as long as I don’t want you to.”

She leaned in, eyes flat as winter ice. “I’m Zero. You aren’t leaving this place until you fully recover. Afterall you are in CAFE.”

                 —END OF CHAPTER—