The corridor lights hummed softly overhead, casting a golden hue on the metallic floor. Om walked beside Narad, both heading toward the dining hall. The hum of energy panels, the subtle tremor of heating systems beneath their feet, even the faint ticking of Narad's wristband—Om heard it all. His senses had become sharp. Too sharp, perhaps.
The sudden growl of a stomach broke the rhythm.
Grrrrrr.
Om turned his head to find Raj standing just around the corner, arms crossed, but clearly embarrassed by his body's cry for food.
"Hello, Mr. Raj," Om greeted with a slight nod and an amused smile.
Raj squinted at him for a second before his face lit up.
"Oh-ho! Look who's finally crawled out of his cave!" he said, half-mocking, half-relieved.
Grrrrr.
Another growl.
Raj blushed.
Om chuckled, "It's been about an hour since I came out, actually."
Raj tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze scanned Om—up and down—pausing briefly at his shoulders, then arms.
"Wait a second… You look taller," Raj said slowly. "And… buffer?"
"Do broken inheritances usually work that way?"
Om raised an eyebrow, "Why do you ask?"
Raj scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Narad told me not to bother you for six days. Said you figured out something important."
Om turned to Narad with narrowed eyes.
Narad raised both hands defensively, "Don't give me that look, Master Om. He kept pestering everyone in the facility."
Raj looked between them, his face now full of confusion.
Om sighed, then gave Raj a friendly smile. "It's nothing big. I just started following some training techniques mentioned in the inheritance. A few exercises, some breathing routines. That's all."
Raj nodded, though a bit slowly.
"Huh. Well, good for you then, buddy," he said with a grin. "Looking a lot less like a stick now."
Om chuckled lightly. "Mr. Raj is truly an idiot… but a loveable one."
From the corner of his eye, Om noticed Narad suppressing a smirk.
I know you did that on purpose, he thought.
——
They entered the dining hall, the warmth of cooked food wafting into the air. Plates clinked, steam rose, but the energy at the table was… odd.
Sara was already seated, her hair tied back in a neat bun, eyes quietly observing everyone. She didn't speak unless necessary—one of the few constants Om had come to appreciate.
The four of them ate mostly in silence. Om chewed slowly, his body still adjusting to its new rhythm. Raj, for once, didn't fill the air with endless chatter.
Narad, however, broke the silence.
"Mr. Raj," he began without looking up from his plate. "I need to inform you of something."
Raj looked up, mid-bite. "Yes, Sir?"
"In two days, you'll have a battle."
Raj's eyes lit up, and a grin spread across his face. "So, Ronnie wants a rematch already? Didn't learn the first time, huh?"
Narad shook his head calmly.
"No. It's not Ronnie."
Raj blinked. "Then who?"
"Your opponent is Om."
Time stopped. Or at least, it felt like it did.
Raj sat frozen, his spoon hanging in mid-air. He stared at Om with wide eyes, his pupils shaking slightly. The confidence drained from his face.
"No. Not him," he whispered.
Sara raised her eyes from her food, watching him. She had seen Raj fight Ronnie without hesitation. Why did Om's name bring out this kind of reaction?
Narad leaned forward slightly. "Why not?"
Raj's voice trembled, "You don't know him like I do."
Om raised an eyebrow.
"If you want, I'll spar with Mr. Bhanu, even Ronnie again—but not him."
Narad pressed, "What exactly are you afraid of?"
Raj opened his mouth to respond but stopped. His eyes darted toward Om, then away again.
Om stared silently at Raj, expression unreadable.
In that quiet moment, something passed between them—an invisible pressure. It wasn't anger, but it wasn't warmth either.
Raj quickly stood up.
"I'm done with dinner. Mr. Narad, I'll meet you in your office."
He grabbed a few extra bowls, turned into his shadow form, and vanished with the lingering scent of rice and burnt curry.
Narad blinked, taken aback. "Master Om, what just happened?"
Om gave him an innocent look. "I have no idea."
Sara kept eating, but her gaze lingered on Om just a second longer.
What exactly happened to him in those six days? she wondered. Even Raj—the loudest among us—looked genuinely scared.
The clatter of utensils, the clink of plates, the low hum of heating coils continued. But now, the silence felt loaded.
Narad finished the last bite of his meal and wiped his mouth.
"By the way," he said casually, "a parcel arrived for you a few days ago. It's waiting at the reception."
Om turned to him with a puzzled expression. "For me?"
"Yes," Narad nodded.