The sun had barely risen when Arjun stepped into the marble-floored lobby of the Imperial Hotel. The air was cool, laced with the faint scent of fresh lilies placed in tall glass vases by the entrance. His stride was calm, deliberate, his shirt crisp, his notebook tucked under his arm. Today was not about words written in margins or sketches in solitude. Today was about action—about putting the Equalizer's potential into motion in the world of markets.
Nikhil Sethi, the young broker he had recruited, was already waiting for him near the elevators. His suit was a little too sharp, his tie too tight, his hair slicked with nervous energy. He clutched a laptop bag like a lifeline.
"Good morning, sir," Nikhil greeted, voice carrying a mix of formality and awe.
"Good morning," Arjun replied, his tone steady. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as one can be when someone says they want to… change the way the markets work," Nikhil said, attempting a half-smile.
Arjun didn't smile back, but his eyes softened. "Then let's begin."
They settled into a private conference room adjoining the hotel's business center. Screens lined one wall, streaming live data from the National Stock Exchange and the Bombay Stock Exchange. Numbers rolled endlessly—green, red, flashing like a heartbeat of the economy.
Nikhil connected his laptop, pulling up charts, lists, and scanned reports. "Here's what you asked for," he said. "Underdog stocks. Micro-cap companies, ignored sectors, firms with tiny volumes. They're all volatile, most of them bleeding losses, but if you want overlooked, this is it."
Arjun leaned forward, scanning the lists with sharp focus. Companies no analyst would recommend, firms no portfolio manager would touch. To most, it was waste. To Arjun, it was raw material.
"Start small," Arjun said. "One lakh rupees. Buy me as many of these as you can within that limit."
Nikhil blinked. "One lakh?"
"Yes. One lakh."
The broker typed swiftly, executing trades across ten different micro-cap stocks. Shares blinked into existence on the ledger, small positions scattered like seeds across barren soil.
"Done," Nikhil said, turning the screen toward Arjun.
Arjun studied it, then nodded. "Good. Now ten lakhs."
Nikhil hesitated, fingers hovering. "Ten lakhs already?"
"Do it," Arjun said quietly.
The trades executed, filling with slightly larger volumes this time. The system absorbed them without resistance.
"Now one crore," Arjun said.
Nikhil nearly choked. "One… crore?"
"Yes," Arjun replied, eyes steady. "One crore."
Hands trembling, Nikhil keyed in the trades, watching as the orders filled. Stocks that had languished for weeks suddenly surged with small bursts of volume, like long-forgotten machines sputtering to life.
Arjun's gaze never wavered. "Ten crore."
Nikhil swallowed hard, but complied. His fingers moved faster now, urgency mixing with disbelief. "This is… sir, no one invests like this. You're inflating these companies with sheer weight."
"That's the point," Arjun said.
"Hundred crore."
"Sir—"
"Do it."
The commands came like steps in a staircase, each higher than the last. Nikhil's forehead shone with sweat as he typed in order after order. The numbers became surreal, detached from ordinary comprehension.
"One thousand crore."
"Ten thousand crore."
"Fifty thousand crore."
"Now… one trillion."
Nikhil stopped, staring at Arjun in disbelief. "Sir, that's… it's not possible. That's not investment, that's… that's rewriting the exchange itself."
Arjun's voice was calm, almost gentle. "I didn't ask if it was possible. I asked if you could do it."
Nikhil's breath shook as he keyed in the final commands. The screens exploded with activity. Stocks no one had touched in months were suddenly alive, volumes spiking, prices shifting. Analysts across the country would soon be scratching their heads, wondering what invisible hand had breathed fire into forgotten companies.
By late afternoon, Nikhil sat slumped in his chair, pale and wide-eyed. He whispered, "More than one hundred trillion, sir. You've cycled through more than one hundred trillion rupees in trades. It doesn't make sense. The markets shouldn't even allow this."
Arjun leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Don't concern yourself with how. Concern yourself with discipline. Can you keep this quiet? Can you stay steady?"
Nikhil looked at him as though seeing both a savior and a storm. "Yes, sir. Whatever you ask."
"Good," Arjun said, closing the laptop. "Then this was only the beginning."
Evening fell as Arjun returned to the gathering of his council—the textile man Ravi, the café owner Sunita, the electronics seller Harish, and the transporter Deepak. They had been waiting in the hotel hall, uncertain but hopeful.
Arjun entered, his presence quiet but commanding. He set his notebook down and began.
"Your debts are cleared," he said simply. "Every outstanding supplier payment has been settled. You owe no one."
They blinked, stunned. Ravi's voice cracked. "All… cleared? How? That was lakhs—"
Arjun raised a hand. "Do not ask how. Ask only what comes next."
They leaned forward, listening.
"Now, you build. The Council Store begins immediately. A joint department store—not a corner shop, not a local market, but a branded hub. Every one of you will contribute your products and services under one roof. Customers will walk in and find everything—textiles, food, electronics, transport services—all branded as Council Store."
Their eyes widened.
"And to ensure this store does not remain a hidden gem," Arjun continued, "I have purchased an entire marketing agency. Not hired—purchased. Their sole task will be to build the Council Store's identity."
He outlined the plan:
Social media campaigns blitzing across Meta, Instagram, WhatsApp.
Google Ads targeted to urban and rural audiences alike.
Television commercials showcasing Council Store as the people's marketplace.
Dedicated influencers and testimonial videos highlighting authenticity and fair prices.
"I have allocated one crore purely for advertising," Arjun said. "Not as charity. As investment. Every rupee will bring more customers to your doors. And when they arrive, you will be ready."
The business owners sat stunned. Sunita pressed a hand to her lips, tears threatening. "Sir… no one has ever done this for us. We… we don't know how to thank you."
"Don't thank me," Arjun said evenly. "Thank the system you will build together. Council Store is not mine. It is yours. But if you fail to honor its discipline—if you let greed poison it—it will collapse, and I will walk away. Do you understand?"
They all nodded, solemn and firm.
The next morning, the Equalizer's hum returned—not with comfort, but with warning.
"External observation resumed. Higher-level nodes detected."
This time, Arjun knew it wasn't petty creditors or jealous distributors. This was government-grade attention. And unlike the last time, he would not sidestep.
He directed the Assistant. "Find me the direct number of a senior Enforcement Directorate official."
The voice replied instantly. Number secured. Would you like to connect?
"Yes," Arjun said.
A call was placed, a meeting arranged. By afternoon, Arjun sat across from a man in his fifties, sharp-eyed, wearing a plain grey suit. His name was withheld, his presence deliberate. This was no casual official—this was someone used to walking the line between law and power.
"You asked to see me," the official said cautiously. "Not many do that willingly."
Arjun leaned forward, calm. "Because most people fear you. I don't. I'm not here to hide. I'm here to invest."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Invest?"
"Yes. In this country," Arjun said. "Tell me—what is India's current debt?"
The official hesitated, then replied, "Fifty-six trillion dollars."
Arjun nodded slowly. "And what if I cleared it?"
Silence fell heavy in the room. The official leaned back, studying him as if trying to pierce the impossible claim. "You're serious?"
"Completely," Arjun said. His tone never wavered. "But I want something in return."
The man's voice was cautious. "What?"
"I want access to data," Arjun said. "I want the names of every business in India that is suffering—not because of incompetence, but because of lack of funding. Small industries, mid-sized factories, large companies struggling to survive. You give me those names, and I will give them a future. In exchange, your country's debt vanishes."
The official was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, "This is… unprecedented. Why would you do this?"
Arjun's eyes were steady. "Because systems should not collapse from neglect. Because people should not drown while creditors float. And because I can."
The official exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know who you are, Mr. Malhotra. But I know power when I see it. I'll get you what you asked for."
Arjun inclined his head. "Good. Then we begin."
By the time Arjun returned to his lodge that evening, the city lights were glowing against the night. He sat by the window, watching the streams of traffic, hearing the hum of the world below.
He thought of the trillions he had cycled through the markets, the council stores taking shape, the marketing agency preparing its campaigns, and now, a nation's enforcement arm preparing to hand him the keys to its struggling industries.
The Equalizer pulsed softly, not with warning, but with acknowledgment:
"Network stabilized. Macro-influence expanding. Operations aligned."
Arjun closed his eyes briefly. The path was clear. Not survival. Not profit. But transformation.
Tomorrow, the work would continue.
But tonight, the first true foundation of his vision had been laid.