The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the living room. Jagat Ghosh, a seasoned investigative reporter, leaned back into the cushions of his sofa, sipping hot coffee. Spread out on the table before him was the morning edition. His front-page exposé on the mysterious Hunting Forest was already making waves.
A sudden knock at the front gate broke the silence.
Looking out, jagat saw two men standing there, holding copies of the very newspaper he was reading. Sensing a potential lead, he called out and invited them inside.
The men stepped into the living room, dressed in immaculate, identical black suits. They carried an aura of quiet menace. Without waiting for an invitation, they took a seat opposite him. One of the men slammed the newspaper onto the coffee table, pointing directly at the headline.
"Do you actually know anything about this forest?" the man asked, his voice low and cold.
Jagat smirked slightly, gesturing to the paper. If I didn't know anything, I wouldn't have written the news, would I?
The second man leaned forward, his expression unreadable. Well, I brought some news for you too.
Assuming it was a hot tip from an anonymous source, jagat's interest peaked. Expecting a great scoop, he set his coffee mug aside, grabbed a notepad and a pen, and looked up ready to write. Alright, brother. Tell me, what's the news?
The first man sat back calmly, crossing one palm over the other. The second man glanced up at the ceiling and grimanced. Turn up your fan a bit. It's getting suffocatingly hot in here.
Jagat complied, switching the ceiling fan to its highest, fastest speed. The blades began to whir violently above them.
The moment the fan picked up speed, the second man lunged across the table. Before jagat could react, the man gripped his collar in a vice-like hold.
What are you doing?! Let go of me! He gasped, struggling against the iron grip.
"This is your next headline," the man whispered savagely.
With terrifying, superhuman strength, he hoisted jagat straight up into the air, launching him directly into the path of the spinning ceiling fan.
A sickening, metallic crunch echoed through the room. The high-speed blades struck jagat's head with lethal force, decapitating him instantly. His body collapsed heavily back onto the floor. Within seconds, the hall, the sofa, and the newspaper were drenched in a gruesome pool of blood.
The man who had been sitting calmly finally stood up, looking down at the carnage. Tomorrow, the news should be about a house blast. But before that, cut his body up and parcel the pieces.
The second man nodded in grim agreement. They picked up the blood-soaked newspaper and tossed it onto the remains. At a silent signal, a group of heavily armed bodyguards entered the house. With clinical precision, they began butchering the reporter's body into hidden parcels.
The lead man adjusted his suit, looking at the bloody mess one last time. He let out a dark, mocking laugh. Jagat Ghosh... is now truly nothing but a ghost.
Turning on their heels, the men walked out of the house. Moments later, a massive explosion ripped through the building, reducing jagat Ghosh's home-and his final story-to a blazing pile of ash.
The news of the house blast spread like wildfire, but the true horror remained buried beneath the ashes. Jagat Ghosh had made a fatal mistake long before those men ever stepped into his home. He had dared to print a name that was meant to be whispered only in absolute terror.
The Hunting Forest wasn't just a stretch of wild, uncharted land. It was a private kingdom, a playground of shadows, and the absolute territory of one man. Adline Singh Rathore.
In the underworld and high society alike, Rathore's name was a death warrant. He was a man of absolute power, ruthless ambition, and zero mercy. A strict, unspoken law governed the land: If anyone dares to speak or write the name of Adline Singh Rathore in relation to the forest, that day will be their last on Earth.
Jagat had thought he was chasing the scoop of a lifetime. In reality, he was signing his own death certificate with ink.
Back at the smoking ruins of the reporter's house, the men in black suits watched the flames rise into the night sky. The lead man took out an encrypted satellite phone and dialed a single number.
The message has been delivered, Sir, the man spoke into the receiver, his voice trembling slightly despite his cold demeanor. Jagat Ghosh and his files have been completely erased.
On the other end of the line, a deep, commanding voice resonated through the speaker. It was a voice that could freeze.
"Good," Vikram Singh Rathore replied from his mansion overlooking the dark canopy of the Hunting Forest. "Let this be a reminder to the world. My son's forest stays in the dark. And anyone who tries to shine a light on it... burns.
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Later that afternoon...
After hours of lectures, the group finally collapsed into their usual spots in the crowded college canteen. The smell of samosas and coffee filled the air, but the mood was heavy with a different kind of stress.
Krishti slumped onto the table, her head resting on her arms. Yaar Aashi, she groaned, looking up with panicked eyes. Exams chalu hogaye hai! Kuch bhi nahi pada ab tak... I'm going to fail!
[Exams have started! I haven't studied anything yet...]
Krishti looked like she was about to cry over her untouched cold coffee. Yaar Aashi, seriously! My brain is like a blank notebook. If I open the textbook now, even the letters will probably run away in fear!
Aashi covered her ears, looking at the ceiling in despair. I don't even know where my book is! Please don't talk about exams!
Frisha looked at her with a mix of suspicion and awe. Even if you don't know anything, you still somehow write the exam and pass, she pointed out. Then she looked at the others and asked, Why does everyone agree with that? Is she some kind of secret genius or what?
Vihaan, seeing his chance to recover his pride after the morning's slap, leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. Don't worry, Krishti. I have a foolproof scientific method for passing without studying.
Aashi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. Oh really, Professor Vihaan? And does this 'scientific method' involve another monkey mask?
Better, Vihaan grinned, picking up a samosa. It's called 'Osmosis by Samosa.' You place the textbook under your plate, and as you eat, the knowledge travels through the potato, into your hand, and directly to your brain. It's very advanced.
Yash snorted, nearly choking on his drink. The only thing traveling to your brain is extra oil, Vihaan. Last time you tried that, you fell asleep in the exam hall and started snoring during the Calculus paper!
I wasn't snoring! He defended himself. I was... meditating on the formulas.
Ziya sighed, leaning in closer. No matter how the exams go, I just have to pass. Otherwise, I'll end up with backlogs. Aashi... you'll help me, right? Like you always do? Huh? blinked her eyelashes.
Aashi copied her, fluttering her eyelashes in the same way. She didn't even look up from her phone. She sat back, cleared her throat, and changed her voice to a perfectly flat, robotic tone-like a recorded phone operator. Aap jis insaan se baat karna chahte hai, woh insaan agle das roz busy hai, she announced to the table. Krupaya karke das days ke baad call kare... dhanyawad. And fluttering her eyelashes again.
[The person you are trying to contact is busy for the next ten days, Kindly call again after ten days... thank you.]
The table went silent for a second as they processed her "automated message."
Aashi, please! Frisha begged, reaching across the table to shake her arm. We don't want a computer operator; we want our topper, Aashi! Without you, none of us will survive these exams-we'll be living in the canteen!
Vihaan chimed in, grinning. Madam, please connect my call. My brain is already drifting out of the coverage area!
Aashi scoffed. Just a while ago, you were talking about the 'samosa formula.' Huh... go and write the exam yourself then.
Aashi, come on... my sweet laddoo, I'm sorry, betu. Please help me. Vihaan said apologetically.
That's more like it.
She dropped the "robotic voice" and looked at them seriously. Guys, I haven't even studied yet! You all will have to help me, she tried to say, but they weren't buying it for a second.
Yash shook his head firmly. Come on, Aashi. Don't say that you're the one who's going to get us through these exams. We're all counting on you!
Ziya added, gesturing to her own head, You've got the brains. You write whatever comes to your mind and somehow end up getting marks. We can't do that!
Then what are your brains for? Just throw them away! Even hungry animals use their brains better than you guys. The poor books are suffering because nobody opens them. Honestly, you should just become the exam papers and stand in front of the examiner yourselves!
She smirked, finally seeing a chance to have some fun. Oh? So now you all realize that I have a brain? she asked, raising an eyebrow. Okay, I'll give you a challenge. When everyone loudly shouts, 'Aashi is the most intelligent,' then I'll think about helping you.
She didn't even finish her sentence before the group took her seriously.
AASHI IS A VERY INTELLIGENT GIRL! they all screamed in unison, making people at the next table jump.
She's amazing! She's beautiful! She's our topper! Vihaan and Yash were practically standing on their chairs now, chanting like they were at a football match.
The entire canteen went silent. Students stopped eating their samosas, and even the canteen uncle froze with a tea glass in his hand, everyone staring at their table.
Aashi's eyes went wide. She quickly flipped her hair back with a stylish flick, trying to look cool despite the embarrassment, but then she realized everyone was still looking.
Stop, guys! she hissed, her face turning pink. Okay, that's enough! You're all complimenting me way too much!
She looked around as dozens of eyes stayed fixed on them. The intelligent girl now just wanted to disappear under the table.
She looked around at the staring faces in the canteen, then back at her ridiculous, cheering friends. She sighed, a small smile finally breaking through. Okay, okay! That's enough! Come on, I'll help you all she conceded.
The table erupted in cheers again, but this time a bit more quietly. Yash, always the one to celebrate early, grabbed a bottle of cold drink. He held it up like a trophy, and everyone followed suit, clinking their bottles together in the center of the table.
"Cheers!" they shouted, the "exam stress" forgotten for a moment.
Vihaan, sensing the mood was at an all-time high, leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. This is such great news. Aashi is going to save us. So why don't we have a party tonight?
The suggestion hung in the air for barely a second before everyone chimed in.
"Yes!"
"Done!"
"Definitely!"
"Ok," Vihaan announced, checking his watch. See you all tonight. Be ready!
With the plan set, the group finally packed their bags. The noisy, energetic huddle broke apart as everyone headed out of the college gates, waving goodbye and heading to their respective homes to get ready for the night.
Night...
The street was quiet, lit only by the golden glow of the streetlamps. Parked right outside the gate was Yash's car, the engine idling with a low hum. Inside, the guys were checking their watches every thirty seconds.
Just as Yash was about to start the car in frustration, the front door opened. Aashi and Ziya stepped out, looking like they had just stepped off a movie set.
Aashi had completely transformed her usual college-girl look into something elegant and sophisticated. She wore a sleek emerald-green silk slip dress that shimmered beautifully under the lights, paired with a structured black blazer draped over her shoulders. A delicate silver necklace adorned her neck, while her soft, voluminous waves framed her face perfectly. With confidence in every step, she looked effortlessly stunning-a perfect blend of grace, charm, and boss-girl energy.
As they reached the car, Yash reversed the engine. Finally! We practically grew old waiting here while waiting for you.
They hopped in, and the car sped off toward the party. Kishti, squeezed in the back, groaned. Seriously, you two? What took so long? Half the party will be over by the time we reach!
Aashi immediately pointed at Ziya. We're late because of her! She couldn't decide which earrings to wear for twenty minutes!
"Oye!" Ziya shot back, laughing. Aashi was the one standing in front of the mirror doing her hair like she was going to meet a prince. Don't blame me!
Vihaan turned around from the front seat, waving his hands to stop the fire. !
Enough! You two made us late too, so be quiet now. The important thing is that we're finally on our way. Turn on the music, Yash!
The car filled with loud music and laughter as they raced toward the city lights. But as Aashi looked out the window at the passing trees, she felt a tiny shiver-was it the night breeze, or was someone watching the car from the shadows?
She caught Vihaan's eye in the rearview mirror and flashed a sweet, mocking smile. "Very sweet boy," she said, patting the back of his headrest as if she were praising a toddler.
Vihaan's jaw dropped, and he turned around in his seat as far as the seatbelt would allow. Baccha? Main tujhe 'baccha' ke jaisa dikh raha hoon? He gestured to his sharp party shirt and styled hair. Look at this personality, Aashi! I'm a man of mystery!
[Boy? Do I look like a 'boy' to you? he asked, raising an eyebrow.]
Aashi didn't skip a beat. She looked over at Ziya, frisha and Kishti, a mischievous glint in her eyes. So, what do you say girls? Is he our 'man of mystery'?"
"Absolutely not!" Ziya laughed, leaning forward. "Yes, baby boyy!"
"Cho chweet baby boy," Kishti added, pinching the air as if she were pinching Vihaan's cheeks.
The car erupted into a chorus of "Baby boy!" and "Cho cute!" as the girls joined forces to tease him. Even Yash, who was trying to focus on driving, couldn't help but chuckle, hitting the horn in rhythm with their chanting.
"That's enough!" Vihaan groaned, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled his morning "slap" mark. "Aashi, stop it! One more 'baby' and I'm jumping out of the moving car."
"Aww, look, the baby boy is getting angry," she teased, her laugh ringing out over the music. For a moment, the stress of exams and the shadows of her family's past felt miles away. In this car, under the city lights, she was just a girl having the best time with her favorite people.
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The grand hall of the Rathore Palace was silent, save for the ticking of an ancient clock. Rana Verendra Singh, the patriarch, sat stiffly in his chair, his eyes fixed on the massive wooden doors. It had been a week since he had seen his grandson, Adline Singh Rathore.
Rajeshwari Ji, his wife, walked into the hall, her footsteps echoing on the cold marble. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Aap jaake so jao, she whispered softly. Mai baith ke rahungi. Adline aayega toh mai aapko utha dungi.
[You should go and get some rest. I'll stay here and wait. When Adline comes back, I'll wake you up.]
Verendra Ji looked up, his face etched with deep lines of exhaustion and grief. Main ye raaj ko sambhal raha hoon, he said, his voice breaking. Lekin apne hi pote ko sambhal nahi pa raha hoon. Main kya karu?
[I am taking care of this kingdom. But I can't even protect my own grandson. What am I supposed to do?]
As the weight of his helplessness crashed down on him, the powerful Rana began to cry. Rajeshwari Ji's heart shattered. Aap roiye mat ji... hamara pota jaldi hi aayega, she comforted him, though her own voice trembled.
[Please don't cry... our grandson will be back soon.]
But Verendra Ji shook his head, his eyes filled with a terrifying truth. Hamare pote ke wajah se bohot hi log mar chuke hain, Rajeshwari. Ab main aur nahi dekh sakta... use dekh kar hi mera dil ko thanda rahega, par uski Sacchai mujhe andar se jala rahi hai.
[So many people have already died because of our grandson, Rajeshwari. I can't bear to watch it anymore... Only seeing him brings peace to my heart, but the truth about him is burning me from the inside.]
Seeing the strongest man she knew break down like this, Rajeshwari Ji could no longer hold back her own tears. The palace felt less like a home and more like a gilded cage, holding the secrets of a grandson who was becoming a monster they could no longer control.
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📖 Dear Readers,
The Second chapter also complete!and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.
If you like the story, please consider voting and sharing your thoughts in the comments. Your support and feedback truly inspire me to continue.
Enjoy the first Second, and stay tuned for what's coming next! ❤️
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