One week ego
Vedant unlocked the phone. It was a message from Rishi. He immediately stood up, alert. His eyes scanned the room. He knew there were cameras installed here—whatever he did, Kabir would be watching. Without wasting a second, he switched off the lights and sat down exactly where Rishi had been sitting earlier. He slid his hand under the mattress and felt something. Pulling it out, he quickly tucked it into his pocket and rushed into the bathroom.
Inside, he locked the door and pulled out the tiny camera from his pocket. A smile crept across his lips. Rishi had left the camera for him—to record Kabir's every move. Rishi hadn't mentioned it during their conversation, knowing Kabir would be listening. Instead, he had sent a cryptic message. Just then, Vedant heard the sound of the door opening outside. He turned on the shower instantly, wrapped the camera in his towel, and dropped it into an empty bucket. He took off his T-shirt and splashed some water on himself to make it look like he was bathing.
"Mister Kabir Sinha," he whispered with a smirk, "I promise you won't enjoy this luxurious life for long. If I don't get you behind bars soon, I'm not a real journalist."
Suddenly, the bathroom door slammed open. Vedant realized he had forgotten to lock it in his haste. Kabir stood at the doorway, smiling. Vedant grabbed his T-shirt from the bucket and tried to cover himself, failing miserably. Kabir's smile deepened.
"You… you can't just walk into the bathroom like that," Vedant snapped.
"I can. It's my house. I can go wherever I want."
"But this room is mine."
"You didn't buy it. And frankly, it's way beyond your pay grade."
"And yours too. Every human is just a tenant on this earth. What makes you think you're any different? You've looted people to build this empire. One day, your arrogance will crumble."
"Never," Kabir replied calmly. "But I admire your imagination. You know what? It's so vivid, you could write a book right here. Want a title? 'The Great Kabir Sinha.'"
He took a step forward.
"Stop!" Vedant barked. Kabir halted.
"To be great, your actions must be great too. And why are you even here? Can't you see I'm bathing?"
Kabir chuckled.
"I can see. That's why I came in."
Vedant's jaw clenched.
"If you're so fond of barging into bathrooms, go do it with your girlfriend. Not here."
"Ah, you reminded me. Been there, done that. You know, life's short and the line of girls is long. I've lost count of how many showers I've shared. But when life gets too predictable, it gets boring. I think boys understand boys better. How about a little trial?"
Kabir pushed the door further and stepped inside. Vedant's face turned crimson with rage.
"Don't you dare come near me!" he shouted.
Kabir placed his hand on the wall behind Vedant, trapping him. Vedant pressed against the wall, clutching his T-shirt tightly as Kabir stared at him. That mischievous smile still lingered on Kabir's lips. Vedant shrank into himself as the shower drenched them both. Kabir gently touched Vedant's hair.
"Get out! You creep!" Vedant said, trembling.
He glanced at Kabir, whose eyes were locked onto his face. There was a seductive gleam in Kabir's gaze, as if he were reading Vedant's every thought. Then, without a word, Kabir stepped back.
"If you try anything foolish in here, you won't walk out unscathed. Remember that, Vedant," Kabir said and stormed out.
Now he stood in his room, soaked. Water dripped from his hair. His clothes clung to his body. But he remained still, unmoving. His face was flushed—and only he knew why. He punched his chest twice, as if trying to slow his racing heartbeat. Then, running his fingers through his wet hair, he walked straight into the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Vedant stood frozen in the same position, trying to calm himself. He felt fear… or maybe anger toward Kabir. He couldn't tell. His pounding heart seemed to be saying something—something even Vedant couldn't understand.
In the Jangal
After a brief silence in the forest, Rishi slowly removed his trembling hands from his ears and lifted his head—only to be stunned. The ferocious beast lay dead before him, and in front of it stood the Writer, his back turned. In his hand was a sword, dripping blood that merged with the rain-soaked earth. Rishi steadied himself with shaking hands and rose to his feet, his legs barely holding him. Rainwater dripped from his hair. The downpour had eased now. The Writer slowly turned toward him, his face stern and unreadable.
"Wri… Writer… you… you're here! You came to save me?" Rishi stammered, barely able to speak. His breath was shallow, his voice quivering. The Writer flicked his wrist, and the sword folded into three segments, transforming into a dagger, which he tucked into his pocket.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was sharp, cold, and direct.
"I came looking for you…" Rishi's sentence trailed off as the Writer's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You said the only way to know you was to stay in Red Pine. So I came to find you."
"Let's go," the Writer said, walking ahead.
"To Red Pine?" Rishi asked, following behind.
"To your home. I'll drop you off. Wandering in the forest like this is dangerous for you and for the creatures here. Because of you, I had to kill one."
"I'm not going home," Rishi said firmly. The Writer stopped and turned. His face was rigid, his eyes icy.
"You chose to go back once. You rejected Red Pine. I can't take you there again."
"No. I want to go there," Rishi insisted.
"If I hadn't come, you would've died here," the Writer said, emotionless, and began walking again.
"I don't care if I had died," Rishi replied. The Writer halted. Rishi bumped into his back.
"Ouch. What kind of rock are you carrying on your back?" Rishi muttered, rubbing his forehead.
"You're coming with me. Right now. To your home."
"To your home?"
"To your home."
"No! I won't go. I want to know everything about you."
"Don't you understand anything?" the Writer snapped, turning around. His expression was cold, but Rishi stared back with equal intensity, as if he had made up his mind.
"Mr. Writer, I came here today knowing that even if death awaits me, I won't back down."
"Why? What suddenly sparked this interest in just one week? That day you ran away. You even scaled those high walls to escape. So why this obsession now?"
"I don't know anything except that I need to know everything about you."
"Then listen carefully, Rishi. I'm not an open book for anyone to read. Even if you spend years with me, knowing me will still be beyond your reach. If you want to stay in Red Pine, fine. I'm ready. But whatever happens there, you alone will be responsible."
The Writer strode ahead. Rishi stumbled after him.
"What do you mean by 'whatever happens'? What danger could possibly be there?"
"Your humanity is danger enough. Especially without a brain."
"You're seriously giving off demonic vibes."
"You haven't seen anything yet. Red Pine isn't an ordinary house. Death resides there."
The Writer's words sent chills down Rishi's spine. But he felt a strange satisfaction, he was finally being taken there. Half an hour later, they stood once again at the gates of Red Pine. Rishi looked around. The forest felt cursed, as if countless deaths were buried here and restless souls wandered in silence.
But his scream escaped when he saw shadows in the windows of Red Pine laughing at him. As if their prey had walked right into their trap. He rushed behind the Writer, terrified. But the Writer didn't seem to care at all.