The morning sun was doing its best to punch through the grime, stabbing the cracked sidewalk with these almost angry beams. Arjun hugged the cardboard box like it was a secret, pressed up against his chest so tight you'd think it might float away if he let go. Honestly, it weighed a ton—not just pills inside, but a whole lot of pressure. Responsibility, fear, maybe even a sprinkle of hope.
Riya's pharmacy was squeezed in its usual slot, sandwiched right between a sari shop bursting with color and an electronics repair place that looked like it ran on prayers and spit. That little bell above the door gave its tired jingle as Arjun walked in, dust motes swirling in the sunlight behind him.
Riya looked up from her counter, eyes wide for a second, blinking like she wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or worried. Her dad shuffled out from the back, kurta all rumpled, glasses sliding down his nose like they were tired too. You could tell he'd already been through it today.
"You brought something?" he asked, voice careful, like he thought Arjun might be carrying trouble instead of medicine.
Arjun set the box on the counter, gentle, like it might break. He peeled the tape back, fingers fumbling a little. Inside, the antibiotics sat in perfect rows, shiny and real-looking under the flickering light. Not the kind of thing you find every day around here—or at least, not without paying through the nose for it.
Riya's dad squinted, picked up a strip, turning it over in his hands like it might bite. "These… these are real. Where did you—"
"Does it matter?" Arjun said, barely above a whisper. "Test them, check the batch numbers. I'm not going anywhere."
The old man just stared, and you could almost see the gears turning behind those glasses. Then he nodded, disappeared into the back with the strip clutched in his hand.
The silence was… well, awkward. Riya crossed her arms, giving Arjun that look like she was trying to see through him. "What's the deal, Arjun? One day you're dragging yourself in here all banged up, next thing you're—what—running medicine stock like some street dealer?"
Arjun didn't look away. "It's not about dealing. I'm sick of watching people suffer while crooks control the market. My mom's coughing herself to pieces at night, your dad's losing customers. Why let them squeeze us dry?"
Her face softened for a second, and then she remembered to be tough again. "You think you're gonna fix all that? Alone?"
"I won't be alone," he said, quieter now. "Not if your dad… and maybe you… stand with me."
Before Riya could answer, her dad came back out, face all mystery. He put the strip back in the box, slow.
"Batch is real. Expiry's fine. I don't know how you managed this, Arjun, but it's good stock." He leaned in, voice dropping. "You get what you're risking here, right? The big suppliers find out, they won't just look the other way."
Arjun felt that warning like a punch to the gut. But he nodded. "I know. But if we let fear run the show, nothing ever changes."
Long pause. The old man finally sighed, deep. "Alright. We'll sell them. No promises beyond that. If it works, we'll talk more."
Honestly, Arjun felt like he could finally breathe again. That first wall? Down.
By lunch, word was out, but not in a flashy way. Just whispers, like the city itself was passing secrets. Folks started showing up—an old guy with a prescription for his wife, a young mom with tired eyes and a baby on her hip. Every time Riya's dad handed over real medicine at a fair price, you could see the relief light up their faces. Like, for a second, the world was a little less cruel.
Arjun hung out near the shelves, pretending to tidy up, but really just soaking it all in.
"Finally, normal prices—"
"Thank you, saab, my kid's been up all night—"
"Where's this from? Doesn't matter. It's the real thing."
And then the System pinged in Arjun's vision, all business:
Trial Run Update: Customer Satisfaction → High. Reputation up. Profit's looking good, too.
Each time someone left with medicine, Arjun's heart thumped. Not about the money—more like, he was finally doing something. Finally poking a hole in Khanna's iron grip on the city.
After the rush, Riya leaned against the counter, watching him with this look that was half worried, half proud. "Did you see their faces?" she said, voice soft.
He nodded, couldn't hide the smile creeping up.
"This is dangerous," she went on, tone sharp but not cold. "But… it matters. Just… don't lose yourself in it, okay? Don't let the fight chew you up."
He actually listened—really took in the worry behind her words. For a second, it felt lighter.
"I won't," he promised. "Not while I have reasons to keep going."
She almost said something else, but then the bell over the door did its thing again—customer, moment gone.
That evening, shutters down, Riya's dad sat counting the day's money, hands trembling just a bit. Excitement? Nerves? Probably both.
"Arjun," he said, voice even, "you did well. Maybe too well. People are going to notice. If you can get more—quietly—we might actually build something."
Arjun felt a spark catch. "I can. I will."
The old man gave a slow nod. "Come back in two days. Bring what you can. We'll see."
Walking home, the city's neon painted everything in weird colors, the System pinged again:
Quest Completed: First Delivery.
Reward: [Basic Negotiation Aura Lv.1]
Effect: You talk, people listen—a little more than before.
He actually felt it, like this thin, invisible armor. Standing under a busted streetlight, Arjun grinned to himself. For the first time in ages, it felt like maybe he wasn't just floating through life. Maybe—just maybe—he was actually changing something, right here, right now. And honestly? That hope felt lighter than any box.