The night was calm, too calm to feel real.
Vikram sat in the driver's seat, both hands resting on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the empty road ahead. Sofia sat beside him, silent for once, watching the city lights disappear behind them. The decision had been sudden. England. A break. A reset. Or at least that's what it looked like on the surface.
The car moved smoothly toward the airport, cutting through the darkness like it was escaping something unseen.
"You're unusually quiet," Sofia finally said, breaking the silence.
Vikram gave a faint smile. "Just thinking."
Sofia raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous. Every time you say that, something strange happens."
Vikram let out a short laugh, but it lacked humor. "Maybe England will help. New place, new air, new thoughts."
Sofia nodded. "And my grandmother. You'll like her. She doesn't talk much, but when she does, it's always something important."
That sentence stayed with Vikram longer than it should have.
England – Two Days Later
The Bentley slowed down as it passed through iron gates taller than Vikram's house back in America. Beyond the gates stood a massive old bungalow, surrounded by ancient trees and a garden that looked like it had stories buried beneath it.
"This is your grandmother's house?" Vikram asked, genuinely surprised.
Sofia smiled. "I told you. Big."
The house didn't look luxurious in a modern sense. It looked… old. Heavy. As if it had witnessed too many lives, too many secrets, and decided never to speak of them again.
They stepped inside.
The air smelled faintly of old wood and something metallic Vikram couldn't place. Sofia's grandmother stood near the staircase, tall and straight despite her age. Her eyes were sharp. Observing. Judging.
"So this is Vikram," she said calmly.
"Yes, Dadi," Sofia replied. "This is him."
The old woman walked closer, studying Vikram's face like she was reading a page written in invisible ink.
"You carry shadows with you," she said.
Vikram froze for half a second. "I'm sorry?"
She turned away, uninterested in explanations. "Come. You both must be tired."
Sofia laughed awkwardly. "She talks like that. Don't mind."
But Vikram minded.
Later That Evening
Rain tapped gently against the windows as Vikram sat in the guest room, laptop open, blank screen staring back at him like an accusation.
No words came.
Every time he tried to write, images flashed in his mind. A mirror. Johnny Albert's face. Room 309. Blood on the floor that shouldn't exist.
He closed the laptop.
A knock echoed softly.
Sofia entered, holding two cups of tea. "You haven't written a word, have you?"
Vikram sighed. "Not a single one."
She handed him a cup and sat beside him. "Then don't write. Not everything needs to be forced."
Before Vikram could reply, a distant sound echoed through the house.
A sharp scream.
Sofia stood up instantly. "That came from downstairs."
They rushed out into the hallway.
The house staff had already gathered near the living room. One of the maids was crying, pointing toward the back door.
"There… there was a man," she stammered. "He fell."
They found the body near the garden steps.
A middle-aged man lay motionless, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood seeped slowly into the wet soil.
"He slipped," someone whispered.
But Vikram knew better.
The position was wrong. The fall was staged.
Sofia looked at him, her face pale. "Vikram…?"
"He didn't fall," Vikram said quietly. "He was pushed."
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Sofia's grandmother appeared behind them, calm as ever.
"No police," she said firmly.
Sofia turned. "Dadi, someone is dead."
The old woman's eyes hardened. "And police will bring noise. Questions. Trouble."
Vikram felt a familiar chill crawl up his spine.
Dragon Hotel rules. Different country. Same silence.
The Unspoken Rule
Later that night, Vikram sat alone in the library. Old books lined the walls, their spines cracked with age.
Sofia entered quietly. "Dadi has handled it. The body will be… taken care of."
Vikram looked up sharply. "Taken care of how?"
Sofia avoided his eyes. "You don't want to know."
That was the problem. Vikram always wanted to know.
He walked to the window. Outside, the garden looked peaceful again, as if nothing had happened.
"Why does this feel familiar?" he murmured.
Sofia stepped closer. "What do you mean?"
Vikram turned to her. "A place with secrets. A death that must stay hidden. People pretending nothing happened."
Sofia's voice dropped. "Vikram, you're overthinking."
"Am I?" he asked. "Or is something following us?"
Sofia didn't answer.
A Midnight Discovery
Unable to sleep, Vikram wandered through the house. His steps led him to a locked door near the cellar.
The handle was cold.
Something compelled him to try it.
The door creaked open.
Inside, dim light revealed a narrow room. On a wooden table lay old newspaper clippings. Headlines caught his eye.
"UNSOLVED MURDER AT DRAGON HOTEL – CASE CLOSED WITHOUT ANSWERS."
Vikram's heart began to race.
More clippings. Different years. Different places.
Same pattern.
Deaths. Silence. No police.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Sofia stood at the door, her expression unreadable.
"You weren't supposed to see that," she said softly.
Vikram turned slowly. "You knew."
Sofia swallowed. "I knew… something."
He stepped closer. "Is this why you wanted to come to England?"
She shook her head. "I wanted you safe."
Vikram laughed bitterly. "Then why does everywhere we go smell like blood?"
Sofia's eyes filled with tears. "Because you're connected to it, Vikram. Whether you like it or not."
Before he could ask more, a sound echoed from outside.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate.
Someone was walking through the garden again.
Vikram looked toward the window.
For a split second, he saw a figure standing under the tree.
Black coat.
Still.
Watching.
The same feeling returned.
The same shadow.
And suddenly, Vikram knew one thing with absolute certainty.
England was not an escape.
It was the beginning.