Chapter Two: The Crown and the Commoner
The white Mansory Rolls Royce glided silently through the warm, late evening streets of Gwalior. Streetlights flickered to life as dusk dipped into darkness, casting golden halos over broken sidewalks, quiet shops, and the lives Arpit had known for seventeen years.
Arpit sat alone in the back seat, his gaze distant as the city passed him by. The leather beneath him was softer than anything he had touched. Everything smelled of elegance. The hum of the vehicle was barely perceptible. Still, inside his mind, a storm brewed.
"Hey," he muttered, fingers twitching, unsure of who—or what—he was addressing. "How... how do I even spend that kind of money? I don't even have a wallet."
A gentle chime sounded in his ears. The voice of Astraeus, his AI guardian, responded smoothly.
"Master Arpit, for all matters involving wealth, logistics, or protocol, your Head Butler, Mr. Sebastien Leclair, is prepared to assist. He has already anticipated your needs."
Arpit turned toward the man sitting upright in the front compartment—refined, unreadable, precise.
Before Arpit could say anything, Sebastien spoke.
"Ah! Forgive me, Master Arpit," Sebastien said, turning with a graceful motion and reaching under his seat. "In my haste, I neglected to present your initial belongings."
He produced a small, obsidian-black case no larger than a laptop bag. It shimmered faintly with a soft, internal glow. As he opened it, a subtle fragrance—like cedarwood and ozone—floated out.
Inside lay two items nestled in black velvet:
A sleek, gunmetal Infinity Bank Card with Arpit's name engraved in gold. It looked like a relic of the future.
A custom Samsung S25 Ultra phone. At first glance, it resembled a regular flagship device, but the screen glowed with a strange depth, almost alive.
"Your phone, Master," Sebastien explained, offering it. "This S25 Ultra is not available on the market. Built exclusively by Samsung for your personal use. It contains three terabytes of storage, quantum encryption, adaptive biometrics, and instantaneous connection to every servant, agent, and steward assigned to your care."
Arpit blinked. He took the phone carefully, like it might explode.
"This," Sebastien gestured to the card, "is your primary financial key. The Infinity Card has no spending limit. It is fingerprint-locked and coded to your astral signature. Your current liquid account holds 400 billion Earth-standard credits."
Arpit gawked.
"That much money... just sitting there?"
Sebastien nodded. "And should you choose to spend the entire balance in a single second, your personal finance core will automatically replenish the account via real-time transfer."
"How... how is that even legal?"
"Master Arpit," Astraeus cut in smoothly, "your financial infrastructure exceeds the capacity of all known global banking networks. Legality is a question of jurisdiction. In your case, the jurisdiction bends."
Arpit fell back into his seat.
He powered on the phone. The startup interface bloomed into a brilliant golden-white pulse. The screen read:
Welcome, Master Arpit Sharma. Ascendancy Protocol Verified.
He quickly opened the dialer and typed in the few numbers he remembered by heart. He didn't call—just saved them. A faint comfort.
Sebastien watched quietly but said nothing.
A buzz reached the butler's watch. He glanced at it. A soft smile touched his lips.
"His classmates," he murmured internally. "Good. He's still grounded."
"Where are we going?" Arpit finally asked.
"To your new residence," Sebastien said. "A villa, located not far from your adoptive family. Your biological father made arrangements years ago to ensure you'd remain near familiar ground."
That startled Arpit.
"You mean—I'm still near Neha, Ananya, Ma, Papa...?"
"Yes. And, coincidentally, near your school friends as well."
Arpit turned to the window. The skyline felt warmer.
Five minutes later, the car rolled to a stop.
The gates before them parted silently. Guards in the same advanced tactical gear stood along the high stone walls, their postures upright, eyes unreadable. The gates bore a crest: a glowing insignia of two interlocking rings—one of fire, one of light.
As Arpit stepped out, he whispered to Astraeus, "Who are they?"
"Your personal guard detail," the AI replied. "In your father's words: hunting dogs in silk."
The entrance opened into a villa that seemed pulled from dreams. White marble steps. A cascading wall of water forming an indoor fountain. Ambient lighting that adjusted as Arpit walked in. He felt the temperature subtly shift to match his comfort.
"Allow me a quick tour," Sebastien said.
They passed a grand foyer with walls that shimmered like glass but displayed art in real-time—paintings that moved gently, as though alive. To the left, a lounge with gravity-adjusted recliners. To the right, a library filled with leather-bound tomes and sleek tablets. Upstairs: bedrooms, meditation chambers, a moonlit observatory with a ceiling that could project any night sky in the known universe.
Finally, Sebastien led him to a discreet elevator panel.
"Now, the garage."
The elevator descended.
One floor. Two. Three. Four. Five.
When the doors opened, Arpit stepped into a place that looked like a billionaire's playground.
There they were. Rows of hypercars. A Lamborghini Sian, Huracán, Urus. A Rolls Royce Phantom and Ghost Mansory Editions. Pagani Panora, Bugatti Chiron, Range Rover Autobiography, G-Wagon AMG, and at least three Tesla prototypes that hadn't yet reached the public.
"Overkill," Arpit muttered.
Then he stopped.
In the corner sat a matte black Cadillac Escalade. Not the most expensive—but familiar. A comfort.
"That one," he pointed. "How did you know I liked it?"
Sebastien and two guards flinched. One of them even dropped his walkie.
"Forgive us, Master," Sebastien said quickly. "We accessed your adoptive family's phones and cloud backups to extract data on your preferences, purchases, search history... and emotional attachments."
"You hacked my family's phones?!"
"Only to serve your comfort better," another guard stammered.
Arpit didn't know whether to laugh or be horrified. "And the Mahindra Scorpio?"
"Same reason," Sebastien admitted. "Sentimental value."
Arpit shook his head. "You people are terrifying."
But secretly, he was smiling.
They cared—in the strangest, most overpowered way possible.
Later that night, Arpit collapsed onto a bed larger than his old room. The ceiling sparkled above with a gentle astral projection of the Milky Way.
He stared up for a while, unable to think, unable to cry, unable to scream.
"Astraeus," he whispered.
"Yes, Arpit?"
"Tomorrow... I want to go to my coaching class. Pretend everything is normal."
"Understood."
"And... I don't want to study hard anymore. I want to enjoy life. With my friends."
"As you wish."
He turned to his side.
"Prepare everything for tomorrow. Just... make it all ready."
"Already done, Master. Sleep well."
And for the first time since the day began, Arpit Sharma—the boy who woke up an aspirant and went to bed a prince—closed his eyes and slept.
Peacefully.
[End of Chapter Two]