The nightmare clung to Moksh like a shroud, its echoes still ringing in his ears as he stumbled into the kitchen. Tara, his sister, stood in the doorway, her eyes etched with worry. "Another nightmare, Moksh? It's been years, but it's like you're still trapped in that... that place."
Moksh deflected, a familiar defense mechanism kicking in. "Did you brush your teeth?"
Tara sighed, the question a stark reminder of their fractured reality. After a hurried breakfast, Moksh dropped Tara at school. As she walked towards the gate, Avni, her friend, approached, bubbling with excitement. "Did you see Albert Sarkar's interview? He's so handsome! He works for the APC(Asian paranormal council)."
The name hit Moksh like a physical blow. Albert Sarkar. A wave of suppressed memories, dark and jagged, threatened to drown him. He felt Tara's gaze, a silent question in her eyes. He turned away, the cheerful schoolyard suddenly a stark, unwelcome contrast to the turmoil within him.
He sought refuge in Rashid's gold shop. Rashid's brother, a kind, observant man, noticed Moksh's distress. "You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, Moksh. You're the only family Tara has left. And after... after what happened, you're a savior in her eyes." He paused, his voice dropping. "Seventeen years. Gone. Then the Barasat police found you, rescued you from Gangarpar..."
The words were like salt in an open wound. Gangarpar. A place shrouded in shadow, a place Moksh desperately tried to forget. "If it weren't for you," Moksh said, his voice thick with emotion, "I don't know what Tara would have done."
A news report on the shop's TV screen shattered the moment. A Level 10 "traveling merchant" in Gangwon City was wreaking havoc, repeating the phrase, "나는 자제로워지 싶어 (naneun jayuro wojigo sipeo) - I want to be free." The APC, including many Level 19 and a Level 4 officer, were struggling to contain him.
Moks snapped. "Turn it off! I can't stand it. They're always showing these 'possessed' cases. Don't they have anything else to report?"
Rashid's brother intervened, sensing the darkness rising in Moksh. "Customers are coming, Moks. Focus on your work."
As Moksh rode home on his motorcycle, a desperate cry pierced the air. A child was being bundled into a car. Kidnappers. Moksh's blood ran cold. He followed them, his bike weaving through the traffic like a predator on the hunt.
The kidnappers, realizing they were being pursued, jumped out, guns drawn. "Back off!" one snarled.
Moksh didn't hesitate. He rammed the car with his bike, the impact sending the kidnappers reeling. One was injured, the other opened fire. A bullet slammed into Moksh's back.
Just then, a police van screeched to a halt. Inspector Vikas emerged, gun raised. "Let him go! Hands up!"
As one kidnapper held a gun to Moksh's head, the other tried to escape. But Moksh, fueled by adrenaline and a desperate need to protect, unleashed a flurry of martial arts moves, disarming the kidnapper in a blur of motion.
The police swarmed in, arresting the kidnappers. Moksh, bleeding from the gunshot wound, slumped against his bike, the echoes of the nightmare momentarily silenced by the chaos of the present. But the name Albert Sarkar lingered, a dark promise of secrets yet to be unearthed, a thread that threatened to unravel the fragile peace he had tried to build. Who was Albert Sarkar, and why did his name trigger such a violent reaction in Moksh? And what truly happened in Gangarpar seventeen years ago? The answers, Moksh knew, were buried deep, waiting to be dragged into the light.