The thunderous applause echoed through the venue as Anaya took a graceful bow on stage. The audience's cheers filled her heart with warmth, but her eyes instinctively searched for one person—Ayaan.
Among the crowd, she spotted him, standing near the backstage entrance. He didn't shout or clap excessively like the others, but instead, he simply raised both hands, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. A small smile tugged at her lips. That was enough.
As she stepped off the stage, her friends rushed toward her.
"Congratulations, Anaya!" Pooja and Sneha beamed, hugging her tightly.
Riya, however, turned to glare at Dev. "You know, for a pervert, you sure look excited."
Dev scoffed. "Oh, come on! You're still stuck on that?"
A teasing laugh interrupted them.
"Looks like Riya and Dev's bond is getting stronger."
Anaya's playful voice made Riya stiffen, while Ayaan added, "Yeah, seems like Dev is heading into a relationship."
Riya immediately turned red. "Ayana! Ayaan! Stop it!"
Before the teasing could continue, Riya's gaze landed on Anaya's phone. Her teasing smirk faded. "Looks like you got a missed call."
Anaya's eyes widened. She quickly checked her phone. Her breath hitched.
She immediately dialed the number back, but there was no response. A lump formed in her throat as she stared at the screen, waiting.
Ayaan watched her closely. This was the first time he had seen her so emotional. For Riya, it was the second.
Ayaan took a step closer, his voice soft. "Anaya…?"
Anaya blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. She forced a smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry."
Before anyone could say anything more, her phone buzzed. A call back.
She hesitated for only a moment before answering, her voice trembling slightly. "Hello…?"
Without another word, she stepped into a quieter room.
Ayaan and Riya exchanged glances.
"Who is she talking to?" Ayaan asked in a low voice.
Riya hesitated before answering, "I don't know. But this is the second time she's received a call from this number. The first was two months ago. Both times, she reacted the same way."
Ayaan frowned, deep in thought.
Dev, sensing the tension, smirked. "Well, since we're already being nosy, should we go eavesdrop?"
Ayaan lightly punched Dev's stomach.
"Oof!" Dev groaned. "Damn, Ayaan, calm down!"
Riya snorted. "You deserved that." Then, turning to Ayaan, she added, "And… thanks for respecting Anaya's feelings."
A few minutes later, Anaya returned, her eyes shining with excitement.
"They're coming back for my finals!" she said, unable to hide her joy. She turned to Ayaan. "Please stay with me. I really want to introduce you to them."
Dev raised an eyebrow. "And what about me?"
Anaya smirked. "Oh, don't worry, Dev. I'll introduce you to Riya's parents. In the presence of that bouncer."
Dev immediately turned pale. "Okay, okay, I get it. No need for threats."
Before they could continue joking, Ayaan and Dev's phones buzzed at the same time.
Neither of them needed to check. They both knew who it was from.
Ayaan and Dev exchanged looks.
"I need to take care of something," Ayaan said. "I'll be back before the finals."
"Yeah, same here," Dev added.
Anaya smiled. "Take care."
As they left, Riya crossed her arms. "So… why do you trust Ayaan so much? And… do you know that judge...?"
Anaya's smile softened. "Riya, I love you for worrying about me, but… please stop badmouthing Ayaan. It hurts me."
Riya sighed. "Fine." Then she turned to Pooja. "Hey, gimme your scooty keys."
Pooja blinked. "Uh, why?"
"No reason."
Pooja hesitated before tossing her the keys. "Try not to crash it."
Riya smirked as she put on a mask and followed Ayaan and Dev.
After a few minutes of tailing them, she spotted them entering a public café—but they weren't alone.
They sat down across from someone.
Riya's eyes narrowed.
The guest judge from earlier.
She parked the scooty and quietly made her way toward them, determined to find out what was really going on.
--------
Sitting a few seats behind Ayaan and Dev, Riya sharpened her focus, listening intently. Dev was the first to break the silence.
"Why did you call us here in public, General Rathore? If you wanted to discuss something important, wouldn't a private location be better?"
Riya frowned. General? General for what?
Rathore leaned back in his chair, his expression calm yet firm.
"Instead of worrying about whether a private space is truly secure or not, I prefer discussing this in a public setting. No one suspects casual conversations in a crowd."
Dev looked at him like he'd grown two heads. "Whaaat?"
Rathore ignored Dev's exaggerated reaction and turned his gaze toward Ayaan.
"Congratulations, Ayaan. In your batch, after Rohit and Isha, you're the second one to fall in love."
Ayaan stiffened. "It's not like that—"
But Rathore simply smiled. "I'm happy for you. You have my blessing."
Riya's breath hitched. What?!
She had been straining her ears to make sense of their relationship with this judge, but now she had something even bigger to process.
Ayaan doesn't have any hidden lover?!
For some reason, she felt an odd sense of relief but quickly dismissed the thought. This wasn't the time to dwell on that.
She continued listening as Rathore's tone shifted.
"Before moving to the main topic, I need to warn you about Ajay Chowdhury. Just like his father, he plays dirty tricks."
Dev scoffed. "You mean that rich kid?"
Riya's eyes widened. Wait… how does this judge know about Ajay?
Rathore ignored Dev's comment and pressed forward.
"Now, let's move on to the real issue. I'm glad I found reliable resources for this mission. And just like before—don't ask who, what, when, how, or why."
Riya felt her stomach drop. Mission? What mission?
Ayaan and Dev immediately adjusted their posture, their expressions serious.
Then Rathore dropped the bombshell.
"On the day of finals of this singing competition…"
-----------
Laughter filled the dorm room as Pooja and Sneha sat beside Anaya, teasing her about the upcoming finals.
"Only three weeks left," Pooja mused. "What will you do after the finals? Will you finally give Ayaan our hostel details?"
Anaya grinned. "Why? Are you worried about something? Oops—don't tell me you have a crush on my man."
Sneha gasped dramatically. "Ooooh~ 'My man,' huh?"
The realization of what she had just said hit Anaya like a truck. Her cheeks turned crimson as she buried her face in her hands.
"Ugh! Why did I say that?!"
The teasing continued, the room buzzing with lighthearted energy. Anaya felt content, truly enjoying the moment with her friends.
But then—
A sharp pain shot through her head. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, her hands flying up to clutch her head.
"Why… why… why?!" she cried out.
A sudden flash of images flooded her mind—dark, familiar, yet altered. The tragedy… but different.
Her breathing grew ragged. "Why has it… been updated?!"
Pooja and Sneha rushed to her side, alarmed. "Anaya! What's wrong?!"
But Anaya was shaking violently, her voice breaking as she gasped, "Eswar Uncle… Eswar Uncle… Eswa—"
Then, in a trembling whisper, "Ayaan… Ayaan, where are you? I want to see you."
Pooja immediately grabbed Anaya's phone and tried calling Ayaan, but—
The line was busy.
Anaya's body trembled before her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped into unconsciousness.
The last thing she saw in her mind—
A massive explosion.
-------
Rathore's voice was steady, unwavering.
"On the day of finals of this singing competition…"
Ayaan and Dev sat rigidly, anticipation thick in the air.
"…I received intelligence that there is a high possibility of a bomb blast on that day."
------------
Somewhere in the shadows, blood dripped onto the cold ground.
A man stood amidst a battlefield of corpses, his dagger glistening with fresh crimson. His breath was calm, his movements effortless, as if the act of slaughtering ten men was nothing but routine. His sharp eyes flickered toward a tattoo inked on the arm of one of the fallen.
A symbol—one he recognized.
His lips curled into a cold smirk. "That gang."
Then, a sudden vibration.
The metallic hum in the air made his senses sharpen. In the dim light, red flashes illuminated the walls around him, marking the presence of another force.
His smirk widened. "That gang? No… The Hollow Pact?"
A chuckle escaped his lips. He raised his blood-stained dagger and murmured to himself, "I don't need those stupid blindfolds or that sword… My theories are about to become real."
A sudden rustling. Fifty Hollow Pact members emerged from the shadows, ready to strike.
He didn't flinch.
With a single, precise slash of his dagger, nineteen bodies fell lifelessly to the ground.
Only one remained.
The last Hollow Pact member, barely holding onto his severed limbs, trembled at the sight of the monster before him.
The man crouched down, gripping his dagger lightly. His voice was eerily calm.
"What's your goal? Answer before I kill you."
The wounded man choked on his own fear. "W-We… we're planning a bombing… a-at… S—"
Slash!
A quick, clean cut silenced him forever.
The man exhaled as if the kill had meant nothing. Then, he picked up the fallen man's mobile phone, checking its battery.
5% left.
He immediately dialed a number.
The call connected.
A gruff voice answered. "General Rudra, where the hell are you—"
Rudra cut him off. His voice was cold, emotionless.
"Captain Rathore. As one of the founder of Project M, I am assigning a Threat Level 5 mission to you."
A pause. Rathore's tone changed. "Go on."
Rudra continued, ignoring any pleasantries.
"Mission: Protect the survivors of Numn University.
Location: Final Day of the singing competition, NSRM City.
Threat from: The Hollow Pact.
Mode: Just like in Numn University.
Your Assistance: It's up to you."
Before Rathore could respond, Rudra glanced at the phone.
1% battery left.
He muttered, "And don't expect any more communication from me. Just like before… I began my hunt."
The call ended.
The screen flickered, then died.
Rudra sighed, tucking his dagger away. He turned to the endless darkness ahead, the scent of death thick in the air.
"Time to see if my theories are real or not."
-------------
Rathore sat back in his chair, staring at his phone.
Ayaan and Dev waited for him to speak. Riya, still hiding nearby, listened carefully, piecing together what little she understood.
Rathore finally exhaled.
"On the finals of this singing competition…"
He leaned forward.
"I received reports from Intel. There is a possibility of a bomb blast that day."
Ayaan and Dev stiffened.
Riya's breath hitched.
Anaya is performing at the finals.
Ayaan and Dev were about to question further, but Rathore cut them off with a cold tone.
"Shh, I already told you—don't ask who, when, or why."
Ayaan hesitated, his concern for Anaya surfacing despite Rathore's warning. He took a deep breath before asking, "At least tell me the mission details. I need to know what I'm walking into."
Rathore's gaze remained unreadable. "I won't disclose everything. But we suspect that the bomb blast is not a general attack—it is specifically meant to target the survivors of Numn University."
Ayaan's breath hitched. For a second, he froze, the weight of that statement sinking in.
Rathore continued, his voice sharp. "Ayaan, I know you weren't selected for that, but this mission is related to THAT."
Ayaan clenched his fists. Project M… the Tragedy of Numn University… is that what Rathore is talking about? He didn't dare voice his thoughts, but the connection was undeniable.
Rathore exhaled and gave them a firm look. "Ayaan, Dev—I've sent you the location. Be there for a detailed briefing."
Ayaan's phone vibrated with a notification. As he glanced at it, another notification caught his eye—several missed calls from Anaya. His chest tightened. Why was she calling?
Rathore's voice pulled him back. "I will inform you further. For now, you should leave."
Ayaan and Dev exchanged glances before reluctantly stepping away. But Ayaan hesitated once more, a lingering question weighing on him.
Rathore's eyes flickered with understanding before he spoke. "I know what's running through your mind. But don't forget my first lesson—'The Balance between Bond and Mission.'"
Ayaan swallowed hard, nervous but unwilling to let his emotions cloud his judgment.
Before leaving, he asked Rathore one last question. "…Can you tell me why some undercover agents are surrounding news reporters? Is it related to that mission?"
Rathore remained expressionless. "I'm aware of it. But no, it has nothing to do with that mission."
Ayaan wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to push Rathore further. With that, he and Dev finally exited the café.
------------
Riya remained seated, her fingers trembling slightly against the cool surface of the table. Her mind swirled with shock and fear.
"A bomb blast… at the finals? Survivors of Numn University? Who even are Ayaan and Dev?"
Before she could process her thoughts further, a sudden pressure touched the back of her head. A metallic click followed.
Riya's breath hitched as she turned her gaze slightly—a gun was pressed against her skull.
A cold voice spoke. "Who are you?"
Her heart pounded as she realized the judge from earlier was holding the weapon.
Before she could respond, another voice—Rathore's voice—cut through the air.
"You'll find out who I am after I pull this trigger." He clicked his tongue. "Oh? I see… I thought I lured that son of a loser henchman, but instead, I got… what was her name again? Anaya's friend, right? Eavesdropping on my conversation?"
Riya's fear flickered into anger. "I never imagined Anaya would fall for someone associated with pointing guns at people's heads." Her voice wavered but held defiance. "I'll tell her everything."
Rathore chuckled darkly. "Try it. But if you say anything that interferes with my mission… I will personally track down every person you know. And without hesitation—" his voice lowered, "I will erase them."
Riya clenched her fists. "Are you threatening me?"
Rathore glanced at his watch, then slowly placed the gun on the table.
The café chef approached, saluting him. He moved to retrieve the weapon, but Rathore stopped him.
"No need to pick it up. This gun is for her." He smirked slightly, turning to Riya. "You, Riya, right? I trust Ayaan's judgment, so it's not a problem if I give a gun to his girlfriend's friend."
Riya stared at him, stunned.
"I'm only giving it to you for Anaya's safety. Use it when you feel threatened—especially by that 'son of a loser.'"
Riya hesitated, then picked up the gun. Her hands trembled slightly as she pointed it at Rathore and pulled the trigger—
Click.
No bullet.
Rathore smirked. "Oops. I forgot to reload it."
He tossed a pack of bullets onto the table.
Just then, Riya's phone vibrated—a message from Pooja.
Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the bullets, shoved them into her bag along with the gun, and stormed out of the café.
As she left, Rathore leaned back in his chair, turning to the chef no hidden agent.
"Send a confidential order to all officials on behalf of the President. Make sure they know—I personally handed a gun to Miss Anaya's friend, Riya. This will ensure she avoids any legal issues in the future."
With a sigh, Rathore reached for a file placed on the table. Flipping it open, he scanned through the profiles of Pooja, Sneha, and Riya—dossiers filled with detailed background checks, affiliations, and surveillance notes. His eyes lingered on Riya's file for a moment before he shut the folder with a quiet thud.
Murmuring to himself with a disappointed look, he said, "Aditya I followed your orders and changes … and I know your decisions are for the sake of public safety. Yet, I can't help but feel disappointed—dragging innocent people into this mess, all for that stupid Project.. ."
His grip tightened on the file before he tossed it aside, leaning back in frustration. Outside, the world moved as usual, oblivious to the weight of the decisions being made in the shadows.