The office air conditioner was running painfully slow. Outside, the sun was scorching, but inside there was an eerie calm. Ananya sat at her desk, deeply focused on a stack of old case files. Today she was wearing a light blue formal shirt and her familiar short skirt. The heavy-framed glasses on her face made her look even more serious.
Scattered across her desk were forensic reports from twenty years ago—reports Henry had once buried using his power. Ananya was carefully taking notes when her hand suddenly froze on one page. It was a copy of Laboni's postmortem report.
She removed her glasses and placed them on the table, pressing her palms to her forehead. From the outside, she looked like a diligent officer, but inside, a storm of buried memories was raging.
Just then, a shadow fell across the office doorway. Ananya quickly put her glasses back on and straightened her expression. She assumed it was a colleague or Rehan. But when she looked up, an icy chill ran down her spine.
Standing at the door was the "young" Henry.
Dressed in a black suit, wearing that familiar, twisted smile, he slowly scanned her—this version of her in a light blue shirt and skirt, a reflection that stirred the memory of the old Laboni.
Henry (walking in slowly):
"Busy with files, glasses on and all? Blue suited you before too, Laboni. It still does."
Ananya closed the file and looked at him calmly. Her voice did not tremble.
Ananya:
"I told you, Mr. Henry, my name is Ananya. And entering a government office without permission is a punishable offense. Are you eager to go back to prison?"
Henry:
"Ananya or Laboni—this blue shirt and the way you sit give you away. You can say you were joking all you want, but your handwriting says you're settling old scores."
Ananya placed her pen down. She realized Henry had been following her, trying to psychologically corner her. Adjusting her glasses with one hand, her other hand moved toward the intercom.
Her eyes held no fear—only hatred.
Ananya (coldly into the intercom):
"Security? There's an unauthorized person in my cabin. Remove him immediately. And make sure he's never allowed anywhere near this office again."
After receiving confirmation, she put the phone down and pretended to focus on her notes, as if Henry didn't exist.
Henry wasn't shaken. He leaned over her desk, arrogance burning in his eyes.
Henry:
"Calling security? Don't forget, Laboni—I once ruled this city. People still fear me. Do you think these guards can stop me?"
At that moment, two large security guards entered the cabin. They didn't recognize Henry; to them, he was just a trespasser.
Guard 1:
"Sir, you need to leave. Entry without permission is prohibited."
Henry smirked mockingly, then looked straight at Ananya.
Henry:
"I'm leaving—for today. But this blue shirt and your glasses are etched into my mind. We'll meet again very soon, Ananya… or should I say, Laboni."
As the guards escorted him out, Ananya didn't lift her eyes from the file. Only when she sensed he was gone did she exhale sharply and roll her shirt sleeves up tighter.
She knew this "young" Henry wouldn't let her go easily—and neither would she show mercy this time.
She leaned back over the files and wrote a new note:
"Target-1: Henry's hidden base."
Ananya knew there was a mystery behind Henry's sudden youth. Without delay, she began her investigation. Disguised with a cap and a plain jacket, glasses on, she followed him.
He led her into an old, decaying slum. There, Henry carefully stopped in front of a broken house. Moments later, an elderly woman emerged—bent with age, hair completely white.
From hiding, Ananya listened.
Henry's demeanor changed the moment he saw her.
Henry (softly):
"Mother, I'm here. I brought your medicine and food."
Ananya was stunned. Henry's mother was still alive? And he was hiding her here?
Old Woman (trembling):
"Henry? Where did you come from after all these years? People said you were dead. And why do you look so different? Are you really my son?"
Henry:
"I didn't die. I came back. I need to reclaim what they took from me. But why are you living here? I wanted you somewhere better."
The old woman suddenly broke down crying.
Old Woman:
"I don't want your kingdom! I'm paying for your sins. That girl… Laboni… her soul won't let me sleep. Why did you kill her?"
Henry's jaw tightened. He shoved her hand away, the demonic look returning to his eyes.
Henry:
"Don't say her name! Even dead, she haunts me. And now she's back—in another form. But this time, I won't let her go."
Ananya recorded everything on her phone. She realized the old woman was Henry's greatest weakness.
Suddenly, a dry twig snapped under Ananya's foot.
Henry:
"Who's there?!"
Henry spun around like a predator. Ananya instantly hid behind a broken wall, holding her breath. After scanning the area and finding nothing, Henry muttered something and drove away.
When the sound faded, Ananya approached the old woman.
The woman looked up, eyes widening in shock.
Old Woman (whispering):
"Laboni? My child… you've come back? I knew you would."
Realizing the mistake, Ananya removed her glasses and sat beside her, holding her hands.
Ananya:
"I came to listen, Mother. Why is Henry like this? What's the secret behind his youth?"
The woman sobbed.
Old Woman:
"He's no longer human. In prison, he found a tantric from Tibet. Through a cursed ritual, he traded his soul for youth—to take revenge on you."
Ananya shuddered.
Ananya:
"Is there any way to stop him?"
Old Woman:
"Yes. The key to his youth is in the old watch he always wears. Break it, and his true form will return."
But then the woman revealed something worse.
Old Woman:
"The contract binds his life to Laboni's soul. If he accepts that you are Laboni and you kill him, you'll die too."
Ananya froze.
Ananya:
"So if I kill him, I die as well?"
Old Woman:
"Yes. He did this so you'd never dare kill him."
Ananya thought of Sara—Henry's daughter.
Then she spoke calmly.
Ananya:
"I won't kill him. Death would free him. I'll break the contract so he lives like a walking corpse."
She stood up, resolve burning in her eyes.
Later, as Ananya reached her car, strong hands grabbed her from behind. Cold breath brushed her neck. That expensive perfume—once Laboni's favorite—now felt like poison.
Henry:
"Talking about love?"
He stood impossibly close.
Henry:
"My mother told you everything, didn't she? The contract… love… Do you really think you can hate me while looking at this face?"
He gently removed her glasses.
Henry:
"Look into my eyes. Do you see a killer—or the man you once loved?"
Ananya shoved him away and put her glasses back on.
Ananya:
"This face meant something once. Now it's just a rotting corpse to me."
Just then, headlights flared. A car screeched to a stop.
Sara stepped out—now an accomplished doctor, fire in her eyes, syringe in hand.
Sara:
"Move away, Ananya ma'am! I know how to treat this monster!"
Ananya raised her hand firmly.
Ananya:
"Not now."
Turning to Henry, she whispered:
Ananya:
"Love strengthens the contract—but endless hatred poisons it. Every time you come near me, you rot from the inside."
She drove away with Sara.
Henry stood alone, suddenly feeling an itch in his palm. A black vein writhed beneath his skin.
Later, in her apartment, Ananya loosened the buttons of her blue shirt and stared into the mirror. A faint red mark lingered on her neck where Henry's breath had touched.
Her phone rang—no number.
Henry:
"Lock your windows tonight. I'm coming… to reclaim what's mine."
The security camera feeds began deleting themselves.
Outside her apartment, heavy footsteps approached.
A slow knock echoed through the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.