July 3, 2001.
Bangalore Central Jail, also known as Parappana Agrahara, was a bleak fortress of concrete and barbed wire located on the southern outskirts of the city. It was a place where hope went to die, usually strangled by red tape and corruption.
Surya stood outside the main gate. The monsoon sky was grey, mirroring the grim walls.
"System," Surya checked his balance.
[Karma Points: 300 KP.]
He needed persuasion. He was about to walk into a prison to recruit a convict for a college. If he sounded crazy, they would throw him out. If he sounded weak, they would ignore him.
"Purchase Skill: Silver Tongue (Level 1)."
Cost: 300 KP.
[Purchase Confirmed.]
[Skill Acquired: Silver Tongue.]
Effect: Increases persuasion success rate by 50%. Voice gains a subliminal quality of 'Trustworthiness'. Unlocks dialogue options: 'Negotiate', 'Intimidate', 'Charm'.
Surya felt a subtle shift in his throat. His vocal cords relaxed. His mind seemed to organize words into optimal patterns before he even spoke them.
"Let's go shopping," Surya whispered.
The Visitor's Room.
The room was divided by a wire mesh. On one side sat the prisoners, wearing white. On the other, crying families. The air smelled of phenol and despair.
Surya sat on a metal stool. Opposite him, a woman was led in by a female guard.
[Target: Shakuntala Devi]
* Age: 42.
* Former Role: VP of Finance, Omega Chit Funds.
* Current Status: Undertrial Prisoner (No. 402).
* Crime: Sections 406 (Criminal Breach of Trust) & 420 (Cheating). Allegedly siphoned ₹2 Crores.
* Actual Truth: Discovered her boss was laundering money for a political party. Was forced to sign false affidavits under threat to her family.
* Mental State: Resigned. Suicidal ideation.
Shakuntala looked older than forty-two. Her hair was greying rapidly, and her face was gaunt. She sat down, not looking at Surya.
"I told my sister not to come," she said, her voice flat. "I don't need money for canteen coupons."
"I'm not your sister," Surya said.
The Silver Tongue took effect. His voice cut through the background noise of the prison—clear, calm, and compelling.
Shakuntala looked up. "Who are you? A lawyer? I have no money for lawyers."
"My name is Surya. I run a college. I'm looking for a Commerce Head."
Shakuntala stared at him. Then, a dry, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. "Is this a joke? Or are you insane? I'm an embezzler. The newspapers called me the 'Chit Fund Queen'. You want me to teach children?"
"I want you to teach them about money," Surya corrected. "Real money. Not the fantasy they teach in textbooks."
"I am a thief," she spat the word out.
"No," Surya leaned closer to the mesh. He lowered his voice. "You are a scapegoat. You found the discrepancy in the 'Alpha Account' on March 14th, 1999. You tried to report it to the Managing Director, Mr. Shetty. Two days later, the files were found in your locker, and Shetty bought a new villa in Dubai."
Shakuntala froze. Her eyes widened in terror.
"How... how do you know about the Alpha Account?" she whispered. "That name... it was never in the papers."
"I know a lot of things," Surya bluffed, relying on the System's intel. "I know you didn't take a rupee. I know you signed the confession because they threatened your son's admission in Manipal."
Tears welled up in her eyes. The mask of indifference cracked.
"They ruined me," she sobbed quietly. "I was the best Chartered Accountant in my batch. I followed every rule. And now I rot here while Shetty drinks scotch."
"Rules are for pawns," Surya said. "And you played by their rules. That was your mistake."
He placed his hand on the mesh.
"I can get you out, Shakuntala. I can hire the best criminal lawyer in the city. We can prove the signature on the transfer order was forged—forensic accounting is your specialty, isn't it? You know where the bodies are buried."
"It's impossible," she shook her head. "Shetty has powerful friends. He is connected to... big education trusts."
Surya's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess. The Seth Trust?"
Shakuntala nodded. "Shetty handles their black money."
Bingo. The web was connected. Vikram Seth's father was using chit funds to launder capitation fees.
"Then we have a common enemy," Surya smiled grimly. "I am fighting the Seths too. Join me. Teach my students how to catch thieves like Shetty. In return, I give you your life back."
Shakuntala looked at this young man. He shouldn't be dangerous. He looked like a boy. But his eyes... they held a storm.
"If... if I get bail," she hesitated. "Who will hire me? I have a record."
"I just told you," Surya said. "I'm the Principal. I hire who I want. And frankly, a Commerce teacher who has seen the inside of a jail is exactly what I need. You know the cost of corruption."
[System Notification]
[Persuasion Successful.]
[Target Loyalty: 80% (Desperate Gratitude).]
"Get me out," she whispered. "And I will count every rupee for you until my fingers bleed."
Two Days Later. July 5.
Surya stood in the High Court of Karnataka. He wasn't the lawyer—he had hired Advocate Hegde, a shark of a lawyer recommended by Ananya Rao.
The fee was steep (₹25,000), depleting Surya's reserves again, but it was an investment.
"Your Honor," Hegde boomed. "My client has been held for two years without trial.
The prosecution claims 'flight risk', yet she has surrendered her passport. Furthermore, we have new evidence—a sworn affidavit from the bank manager regarding the chain of custody of the locker keys."
Surya had used his Hardware Mastery to recover "deleted" emails from Shakuntala's old home PC (which her sister had kept). The emails proved she had raised concerns about the funds days before her arrest.
The judge adjusted his glasses. "Bail granted. Surety of ₹50,000."
Surya stepped forward and placed a bundle of cash on the table.
The College. July 6.
The Commerce batch—30 new students—sat in the newly whitewashed Room 2. They were chatting, throwing paper balls. They expected a boring lecture on "Principles of Accountancy".
The door opened.
A woman walked in. She wore a simple cotton saree. Her hair was tied in a severe bun. She carried no book, only a newspaper.
It was Shakuntala Devi.
She walked to the blackboard. She didn't write her name.
She wrote a number: ₹10,000,000,000.
"Ten thousand crores," she said. Her voice was rusty but sharp. "That is the estimated black money circulating in the Indian Education Sector this year."
The class went silent.
"My name is Shakuntala Devi," she said. "I am not a professor. I am a forensic auditor. And until yesterday, I was Prisoner Number 402."
Gasps rippled through the room.
"You are here to learn Commerce," she continued, pacing the room like a caged tigress. "Commerce is not about debit and credit. It is about power. It is about knowing who owns the debt and who owns the asset."
She picked up the newspaper.
"Today's headline: 'Stock Market Bull Run'. Who makes money here? The broker? The investor? No. The insider."
She looked at the students.
"I will teach you how to read a balance sheet so well that you can see the CEO's lies in the margins. I will teach you that a rupee saved is not a rupee earned—it is a rupee that is losing value to inflation. You want to be rich? First, understand why you are poor."
Surya watched from the corridor.
Dr. Rao was standing next to him, sipping tea.
"She's intense," Rao noted. "Scary."
"She's perfect," Surya said.
[System Notification]
[Commerce Department Established.]
[Head of Department: Shakuntala Devi.]
[Department Aura:] 'The Golden Eagle'. Students gain +30% proficiency in Economics and Mathematics. Chance of detecting financial fraud +80%.
The Principal's Office (Unfinished).
Surya sat at his desk. He now had his trinity.
* Science: Rao & Moorthy.
* Commerce: Shakuntala.
The college was running. Classes were full. The generator was chugging along.
But finances were tight. The lawyer fees and construction costs had drained him.
Shakuntala walked in. She didn't knock. She placed a ledger on his desk.
"I reviewed your accounts," she said sternly. "It's a disaster. You are burning cash on diesel and legal fees. At this rate, we will be bankrupt in August."
"I know," Surya rubbed his temples. "I'm waiting for the second installment of fees."
"Not fast enough," she tapped the ledger. "We have assets. The land. The computers. The brand."
"So?"
"So, we leverage them," Shakuntala's eyes gleaned with a predatory light—the look of a CFO who was back in the game. "We don't borrow from banks; their interest rates are 14%. We issue 'Educational Bonds'."
"Bonds?"
"We sell future discounted seats," she explained. "Parents pay ₹10,000 now for a seat guaranteed for their younger child three years later. We give them a 'Gurudeva Gold Card'. It locks in the current fee rate."
Surya blinked. It was... brilliant. It was basically a futures contract on education.
"Is that legal?"
"It's a grey area," she smirked. "But it's not illegal. It's 'Advance Booking'. I can raise ₹5 Lakhs in a week with the right marketing."
Surya laughed. He had hired a convict, and she was already plotting high-level financial maneuvers.
"Do it," Surya said. "But Shakuntala... one condition."
"Yes?"
"We are building a war chest. Because Vikram Seth isn't just going to cut our power next time. He's going to come for the land."
"Let him come," Shakuntala said, her face hardening. "He destroyed my life. I'll destroy his balance sheet."
Meanwhile, at Seth International HQ.
Vikram Seth threw his phone against the wall. It shattered.
"She got bail?" he screamed at his assistant. "Shakuntala Devi got bail? Who is representing her?"
"Hegde, Sir. But the money... the surety came from Surya Gowda."
Vikram paced his office. The purple aura around him flared violently, cracking the glass table.
"He recruits my rejects," Vikram hissed.
"The drunk doctor. The mad mechanic. The thief accountant. He is building an army of broken toys."
He calmed down. He sat in his chair, staring at the city skyline.
"Fine. If he wants to play with trash, I'll bury him in it."
He pressed an intercom button.
"Initiate Project Eklavya."
"But Sir," the assistant trembled. "Project Eklavya is... it's aggressive. It means poaching students directly."
"Do it," Vikram commanded. "Announce a 'Talent Hunt' Exam. First prize: ₹1 Lakh. Venue: Right next to his college. On the same day as his mid-terms."
"I want to see if his loyal dogs stay when I throw a bone made of gold."
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