Chapter 1
Arjun Swasthik pressed his forehead against his one-room rented apartment's single window. Outside, the monsoon dusk painted Bengaluru's skyline in charcoal grays, rain-drenched streets glimmering with amber streetlights. A distant rumble of thunder vibrated through the thin walls—each echo a reminder of the tempest outside and the storm brewing inside his mind.
He glanced at the small table beneath the window: a chipped ceramic mug, half-filled with cold instant coffee, and his phone displaying a text message: "Reminder: Internship stipend of ₹25,000 credited today." The words felt ironic. Charged just hours ago, the stipend barely covered rent for another month, let alone meals, transport, or supporting his sister's fledgling NGO. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and sighed, pressing a calloused finger against the glass as raindrops traced fleeting rivulets down the pane.
Arjun leaned back on his creaking cot, flipped open his battered laptop, and navigated to the bank's mobile app. His heart thumped in rhythm with the updating icon. Finally, the home screen appeared—and the number made him catch his breath. ₹250,000. Two hundred fifty thousand. He blinked, swiped down to refresh, and blinked again. The same sum glowed like a promise in green digits.
No way. He tapped the account statement. A single line item: "Rich Man System Credit—₹250,000." He clicked it, but the app refused to show more details. A notification popped up: **"Welcome to the Rich Man System. Your first reward has been granted. Use wisely."**
Arjun's pulse raced. Reality blurred as he stared at the phrase. *Rich Man System?* It sounded like a gimmick, a prank from some shady startup. Tentatively, he swiped the notification away. He tapped the "Refresh" button again, then opened a new browser tab and searched: "Rich Man System Bengaluru"—but no legitimate results. Only message boards filled with rumors of an otherworldly system that "rewards those who prove their worth." It smelled like superstition or internet nonsense.
He clicked back to the banking app. The sum remained. He opened his phone's calculator and typed 250000 minus 25000. The subtraction was irrelevant—he already knew the math. Yet seeing the number flashed pointedly on the screen made it real. His breath caught when he realized he couldn't tell whether he was dreaming, hallucinating, or just encountering a glitch. The mug of coffee trembled in his hand, coffee sloshing onto the table.
His first instinct was to call Ravi. Ravi, his senior at the internship, had acted like an older brother since their university days. Responsible, pragmatic Ravi would rationalize everything—unless he was part of the joke. Swiping to the phone app, Arjun tapped Ravi's contact, thumb hovering over the "Call" button. He hesitated, heart pounding. What if it was a prank that triggered a massive overdraft? What if it vanished before Ravi answered?
He pressed the button. The phone rang once, then twice, then cut to voicemail. "Hey, Arjun. I'm with Sharma-ji on the project demo. Leave a message." He cursed under his breath. Sharma-ji, the stern mentor at the firm, always hovered near Ravi's desk. Arjun sank into the cot, mind racing: *Project demo? That's tomorrow.* He clicked into his messages, typed frantically:
> Ravi—urgent. Call me ASAP. Bank account shows ₹250,000 credited by something called the Rich Man System. No idea if glitch or scam. Meet me at the café at MG Road? I need you here.
His hands shook as he sent it. He looked at his reflection in the laptop screen—pale, wide-eyed. His entire life to this point had been defined by scarcity: tuition fees borrowed, student loans looming, instant noodles for dinner, and sleepless nights debating whether to book an auto or walk home. And now, *this.* The thought of suddenly having disposable cash—*did he even dare spend it?*
He stood, pacing the cramped quarters. The rain intensified, drumming on the roof like a drumroll. With each step, he wrestled conflicting impulses: Awe at the possibility, fear of consequences, moral trepidation. After a minute, he grabbed his umbrella, stuffed his phone and wallet into his backpack, and headed out. The narrow hallway outside was dimly lit, lined with identical doors belonging to students and interns like him—everyone squeezed their dreams into this mush of shabby apartments.
By the time he reached MG Road, drizzle had turned to a steady pour. Neon signs flickered, auto-rickshaws splashed through puddles, and pedestrians huddled beneath umbrellas. Arjun's shoes were soaked by the time he reached "Bean & Brew," a modest café where he and Ravi often met. Through the glass façade, he spotted Ravi sweeping papers off a corner table, Sharma-ji seated opposite, eyebrows knitting as he scurried to close a laptop.
Arjun ducked inside. Ravi's posture stiffened when he saw him. "What's up, Arjun? You look like you've seen a ghost." Sharma-ji glanced up. "Good evening, Swasthik. Everything all right?" Arjun swallowed. He took two steps forward. "Sir, may I borrow two minutes? Urgent." Sharma-ji nodded curtly; Ravi rose, motioning Arjun to sit.
Ravi's eyes flicked from Arjun's drenched clothes to the message he held. "What's going on?" Arjun sat, blood pounding in his ears, and reopened the banking app. The green ₹250,000 shone back. He stammered, "I—I don't know how. It just appeared this morning, credited by some 'Rich Man System.' Then this popped up." He showed Ravi the notification on his screen. Ravi leaned over, expression shifting through disbelief, amusement, and wariness.
"Are you… you sure you didn't accidentally log into someone else's account?" Ravi asked carefully. Arjun shook his head. "Checked my details. This is my account." He tapped his profile icon. "UID, IFSC, everything matches." Sharma-ji set down his coffee, brow furrowed. "And you didn't apply for any scholarship or refund? No error message?" Arjun hesitated. "Nothing. The bank statement only shows that one entry. No reference code, just 'Rich Man System.'"
Ravi opened his own banking app on his phone—blank. Sharma-ji frowned. "I'd advise caution. Banking glitches can reverse or trigger investigations. But if it's real… you might consider informing bank security. Normally, they'd freeze the account until resolved." He tapped his temple. "We live in a world of audit trails and KYC. Banks aren't in the business of giveaways."
Arjun's mind swirled. Part of him wanted to protect this mystery windfall—not tell a soul. But another part recognized the risk. He looked up at Ravi. "Can you drive me to the branch? I need answers." Ravi's features softened. He nodded. "Let's do it. But I have to warn you—if it's a scam, you could be in deep trouble."
Arjun closed the app. "I understand." He gripped the edge of the table, adrenaline coursing. As they left the café into the rain, the streetlights blurred through the downpour, and he realized that his life—*everything*—had changed in a single, inexplicable moment. Whether miracle or mirage, the first pulse of the Rich Man System had begun. And he, Arjun Swasthik, was its unwitting subject.
The auto-rickshaw's engine thrummed beneath him as he settled into the back seat. He glanced at Ravi—loyal, grounded Ravi—sitting forward, phone in hand. "We'll figure this out," Ravi said quietly. Arjun nodded, closed his eyes for a second, and let the rain mask the tears he hadn't even known he'd shed.
Because tonight, fate was rewriting his story—one impossible credit at a time.