📖 Chapter 21 – Poison in the Shadows
Night at the station was quieter than the day, the roar of trains fading to a dull hum as the last commuters drifted home. Raj and his team wheeled the cart back through the narrow streets, exhaustion heavy in their limbs. Yet the weight in Raj's chest was heavier still. The system's warning—Betrayal Risk High—echoed in his mind like a bell. He had seen Rohit pocket the money, seen his resentment when confronted. Though the youth had yielded, Raj knew it was not loyalty that made him return the notes—it was fear. And fear could only hold a man for so long.
As they returned to the hostel, Rohit walked apart from the others, his expression shadowed. Arjun chatted easily with Imran, praising his courage for speaking up, while Meena offered Raj a quiet nod of support. But Rohit said nothing, his silence louder than any protest. Raj watched him, his heart steady but heavy. A storm was building, and it was only a matter of time before it broke.
Elsewhere, in the back alleys near the station, Shankar sat at his dim stall with a bottle of cheap liquor, his pride burning hotter than the alcohol in his veins. Business had all but vanished; customers now flocked to Raj's stalls, leaving him with scraps. But where others saw ruin, Shankar saw only vengeance. He leaned forward, his voice a low growl as he muttered to himself, "The boy bends but doesn't break. Then I'll strike until he shatters."
The next day, trouble began small, like poison dripping drop by drop into water. A customer at the railway stall complained loudly that his pav was undercooked—something that had never happened before. Raj checked and found nothing wrong, but the man stormed off, muttering about "losing quality." Later, a woman claimed her gulab jamun tasted sour. Again, the sweets were fine, but the complaint spread whispers through the crowd.
Raj's instincts sharpened. These were not accidents—they were planted seeds. And as the day wore on, he noticed Rohit watching uneasily, his eyes flickering toward the crowd as though he knew more than he dared say.
That evening, as the others packed up, Raj lingered by the stall. "Rohit," he said quietly, his tone calm but edged with steel, "if you know something, speak. Poison has entered our stall, and silence will only let it spread."
Rohit's jaw clenched. For a long moment, it seemed he might confess, but then his pride flared. "I don't know anything," he snapped, turning away.
Raj's gaze hardened, though he did not press further. Trust could not be forced—it had to be chosen. But inside, he knew the truth: Shankar was already twisting Rohit's heart, and if he didn't act soon, the crack would become a chasm.
That night, as the city lights flickered beyond the hostel window, the system whispered a chilling update:
[Sabotage Detected: Reputation Damage Imminent.]
[Countermeasures Required.]
Raj closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He had faced sabotage before—in his past life, it had ruined him. But this time, he would not fall. This time, he would turn poison into fire.
And in the darkness of the station, Shankar smiled like a man who believed the game was already his.