Aarav usually spent his time locked inside his room—either playing games, cultivating, studying, or mindlessly scrolling through reels and short videos. But today, an unusual boredom had crept in, gnawing at his patience.
With a quiet sigh, he finally decided to step outside.
As he walked out of his room, he noticed Shakshi sitting in the living room, focused on her laptop. She glanced up at him.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Just heading out for a bit," Aarav replied casually. "I'll be back soon."
"Alright… but come back quickly," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "And no magic."
Aarav rolled his eyes. "It's not magic, it's telekinesis."
"Yeah, whatever," she waved him off. "Just be back before dinner."
Aarav raised his hand in a lazy wave, slipped on his shoes, and walked out.
---
A few minutes later, he reached the parking floor via the elevator.
Parked neatly in a corner was his bike.
It wasn't just any ordinary bike—it was something he had brought out from his dimensional space, a relic from one of his previous transmigrations. That space held unimaginable wealth: countless gold coins, diamonds, mountains of rare jewels, spirit stones, deadly weapons, and treasures collected across lifetimes.
A personal pocket dimension—his own hidden vault.
Opening it required only a trace of spiritual energy.
Before bringing the bike out, Aarav had already swapped its license plate with a registered one under his name—courtesy of the access he had through his father's identity.
He put on his helmet, started the engine, and sped off.
---
The city lights blurred past him as he rode swiftly toward his destination—an underground club near the harbor.
A place known not just for drinks…
…but for betting.
From the outside, it looked like a normal bar. But inside, it functioned like a casino. Different kinds of games were played here—cards, seasonal betting events, and during major matches like cricket or football, the stakes soared.
And today…
…was the IPL final.
Mumbai Indians vs Chennai Super Kings.
The perfect storm.
As Aarav arrived, rain suddenly began pouring down heavily, drenching the streets.
He parked his bike and walked inside.
The outer area buzzed with chatter—people drinking, laughing, eating—but Aarav ignored it all and walked straight toward a guarded door.
Two men stood there.
Aarav leaned in and calmly spoke a password.
They said nothing.
Just stepped aside.
He walked in.
---
The atmosphere inside was completely different.
Electric.
Multiple screens showed the live match. The crowd was loud, restless, fully invested. Money was flowing like water.
At one table, a man counted stacks of cash while noting bets in a register. Every possibility was being wagered—next ball six, four, wicket—everything.
Aarav grabbed a beer from the counter and sat on a nearby sofa.
After a moment, he walked to the betting desk and deposited 25,000.
Then he returned to his seat, sipping quietly.
Outside, the rain intensified.
---
Then the door opened.
A young man, around twenty-five, walked in wearing a waterproof hoodie. The moment he entered, the atmosphere subtly shifted.
People smiled.
Greeted him warmly.
Aarav hadn't even looked yet—but he felt it.
A distinct presence.
A protagonist aura.
His eyes flickered slightly.
"So… another one."
The young man—Veer—greeted everyone casually and walked toward the betting counter.
"How much has the collection reached?" he asked.
The man at the desk smirked arrogantly. "Enough for you to turn thousands into lakhs."
Veer chuckled, tapping the table lightly. "Now that's what I like to hear."
He pulled out 25,000 and placed it down. "Add mine."
Without waiting, he grabbed two beers from the freezer and joined his group.
"What's the situation?" he asked.
"Bad. Wickets are falling one after another."
Veer clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh no… not good. Is Dhoni out?"
"Just came in."
Veer let out a relieved breath. "Good."
He took a sip and said, "Put my entire 25,000 on Dhoni hitting a six."
The man at the counter blinked. "All at once?"
Before he could respond further—
Aarav's voice cut in calmly from behind.
"Mine too. 25,000 on Dhoni's six."
A few heads turned.
Veer glanced at him, studying him for the first time.
"You seem a bit young to be betting like that," he said. "What if you lose?"
Aarav didn't even look at him. His eyes remained on the screen.
"You could lose too."
Veer smirked. "That's next to impossible."
Aarav finally spoke, tone steady. "Seems like you have a lot of faith in your luck."
Veer chuckled softly. "Luck is important… but mine isn't that great. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."
"Then why bet?" Aarav asked.
Veer took another sip, then said—
"Because even if you don't have luck… if you use your brain properly… you can beat luck."
That line—
It made Aarav pause.
Slowly… he turned his head.
For the first time—
He looked directly at Veer.
And in that moment…
His expression changed.
Because what he saw…
…wasn't just another protagonist.
It was something else entirely.
Aarav stared at him—
genuine surprise flickering in his eyes.
Aarav was surprised… but not for the usual reason.
It wasn't because he had encountered another protagonist.
It was because—
the face in front of him was someone he already knew.
Very well.
The moment he saw Veer clearly, something clicked in his mind.
This wasn't just any character.
This was a face from his original world.
A famous actor.
A superstar.
For a brief second, Aarav's thoughts froze.
"…I've seen him before."
His gaze sharpened.
"…So it's not just novels."
A realization slowly sank in.
"I can enter… movies too."
That thought alone carried a strange weight.
Aarav's eyes subtly scanned the surroundings again—the betting setup, the crowd, the timing, the energy of the place…
And then—
he recognized it.
"So this is that movie…"
The storyline unfolded in his mind almost instantly.
A 25-year-old unemployed young man…
getting scolded by his father for wasting his life.
Out of frustration—and ego—he throws a challenge:
"I can earn one lakh in two hours."
With just 25,000 in hand…
he walks into a betting den like this.
Takes a risk.
Wins big.
More than a lakh.
And right when things seem to go his way—
the police arrive.
Someone tips them off.
And from that moment…
the real story begins.
Aarav's gaze drifted back to Veer.
"So this is the protagonist…"
In terms of strength—
this guy was no joke.
A martial arts expert.
The kind who could wipe out an entire gang without breaking a sweat.
Aarav couldn't help but think—
"Of course… it's a South Indian movie."
A faint smirk appeared on his lips.
"Doesn't matter if he's a software engineer, a businessman, a banker, or just a college student…"
"If he's the protagonist… he comes with an inbuilt martial arts package."
His thoughts turned slightly analytical.
"Logically, it makes no sense."
"A normal guy… taking down gangs without training, without cultivation…"
Then he paused.
A new thought surfaced.
"…or maybe…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…they do have training."
"…they do have cultivation."
"…it's just never shown."
His expression turned thoughtful.
"After all… this isn't a movie anymore."
"Once the story ends… they don't disappear."
"They continue living in this world."
"Breathing. Growing. Changing."
A slow, almost amused smile formed on his face.
"So maybe… the logic exists."
"Just hidden."
He was still lost in his thoughts when—
CRACK!
The sound of the bat echoed through the speakers.
The ball soared high into the sky.
And then—
"SIX!!!"
The entire club erupted.
Cheers, shouting, laughter—
people jumping, celebrating, money flying across tables.
Aarav blinked once… then looked at the screen.
A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
Without wasting a second, he stood up and walked to the counter.
His 25,000 had turned into one lakh.
He collected the cash calmly.
As he turned to leave, the man at the counter called out—
"Not playing anymore?"
Aarav smirked faintly while gathering the money.
"If I don't get home before dinner… I'll be the one getting played."
With that, he walked out.
Outside—
the rain had grown heavier.
Cold droplets hit the ground relentlessly, soaking the streets.
Aarav paused for a moment… then casually reached into his dimensional space and pulled out a raincoat.
He wore it, put on his helmet, and started his bike.
The engine roared.
And just as he was about to leave—
sirens echoed in the distance.
Police vehicles rushed toward the club.
Aarav glanced at them for a split second…
then calmly drove past them.
No panic.
No hesitation.
Just a quiet breath of relief.
"Right on time."
And within seconds—
he disappeared into the rain-soaked streets.
Barely ten minutes into the ride…
The calm of the rain-soaked road shattered.
Out of nowhere, a man stumbled right in front of Aarav's bike.
Aarav slammed the brakes.
The tires screeched against the wet road as the bike stopped just inches away from him.
The man looked terrible.
Blood covered his hands… smeared across his clothes… dripping down slowly with the rain washing parts of it away. His long, messy hair stuck to his face, and his eyes were wide—panicked, desperate.
Before Aarav could even process anything—
The man lunged forward.
"Get off the bike! NOW!" he shouted, his voice trembling yet aggressive. "Hand it over or I'll kill you!"
In one swift motion, he pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at Aarav.
Aarav slowly raised both his hands.
"Easy… easy…" he said calmly.
But before anything else could happen—
BANG!!
The sound of a gunshot echoed sharply through the rain.
For a split second, everything froze.
Then—
A hole appeared in the man's forehead.
The impact was brutal—so strong that blood burst out from the front as well.
His body went limp instantly.
He collapsed right there on the road.
Aarav's eyes shifted forward.
Standing a few meters away…
…was a woman.
Around twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight.
Curly hair, slightly wet from the rain, her expression cold and focused.
In her hands—
a shotgun.
And its barrel was aimed directly at Aarav.
Aarav's thoughts instantly turned sharp.
"Shit… looks like someone's playing a game with me."
"No matter how much I try to stay out of the plot…"
"…it keeps dragging me back in."
The woman calmly reloaded the shotgun.
The metallic click echoed softly.
Then she raised it again.
Her finger tightened over the trigger.
Aarav reacted immediately.
"Wait! Don't shoot—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
A realization hit him.
"…she's deaf."
Without wasting a second, Aarav switched to sign language.
"Wait. Please don't shoot."
The woman's eyes widened slightly.
She hadn't expected that.
For a brief moment—
she hesitated.
But only for a moment.
The gun was still aimed at him.
Aarav quickly signed again—
"I won't tell anyone."
He had no intention of getting involved in this mess.
Not this time.
The woman stared at him carefully… then responded in sign language.
"Who are you?"
Aarav answered without delay.
"I'm Aarav. I can't hear… but I can speak."
A half-truth.
Enough to survive.
The woman studied him for a second longer…
Then she gestured again—
"Come with me."
Aarav frowned slightly.
"Seriously?"
He didn't move.
The woman tilted her head slightly and gestured again—firmer this time.
"Follow."
Aarav exhaled softly.
"…this is exactly what I was trying to avoid."
Still—
he followed.
As he moved behind her, the scene ahead revealed itself.
A bank.
Right outside it, a large crane was in operation.
But what it was lifting—
wasn't construction material.
It was money.
Huge stacks of cash had been tightly packed together into a massive cube-like structure, wrapped securely in plastic sheets.
The crane lifted it slowly…
…and placed it into a nearby truck.
Rain poured down over everything—
washing the blood off the road behind them…
while ahead—
a completely different kind of operation was unfolding.
Aarav's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So that's the game…"
And just like that—
he realized—
he was already deep inside it.
After that, Aarav and the girl walked toward a man who appeared to be around thirty-five to forty years old. He was tall, well-built, and strikingly handsome, carrying an aura of authority that made him stand out instantly. Aarav recognized him at a glance—this was the villain of the movie. In his original world, this man was nothing less than a superstar. Here, his name was Bunty.
Bunty didn't waste any time. He turned to the man standing beside him and said firmly, "You'll take the truck and cross the border." Then, shifting his gaze to the rest of his men, he added, "And you all will take the cars and keep circling the city. Lead the police in the wrong direction."
As soon as the orders were given, the men began to disperse without hesitation. Just as they were about to leave, Bunty's sharp eyes landed on the girl—and then slowly shifted to Aarav.
His gaze turned cold.
He raised his hand and asked the girl in sign language, "Who is he?"
The girl replied calmly through signs, "My new assistant."
The moment Bunty heard that, his expression darkened. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Aarav again, this time with clear hostility. He signed back, "He can be dangerous."
The girl didn't back down. She responded without hesitation, "I can handle him."
Bunty held her gaze for a moment, then finally nodded slightly before giving further instructions through sign language, "You will wait for us at the destination with Koti. Receive the cash."
The girl gave a short nod in agreement.
Soon after, she, Aarav, and another man named Koti left the place on two bikes—one of them being Aarav's.
—
After some time, they stopped near the city border.
The atmosphere was tense, the road dimly lit, with only the distant hum of vehicles breaking the silence.
Suddenly, Koti's phone rang.
He picked it up—and within seconds, his expression changed completely.
"What?" he exclaimed in shock.
"Bunty has been caught by the police."
The moment the girl heard this, her eyes widened slightly. She quickly signed, "How?"
Koti shook his head, clearly confused. "I don't know…"
The girl's expression hardened. Without wasting a second, she signed again, "We have to get him out."
Koti immediately objected, his voice tense, "That's dangerous."
The girl didn't fully understand his words, so she turned toward Aarav, her eyes searching for clarity.
Aarav met her gaze and calmly used sign language, "It can be dangerous… but I can help. I have a plan."
Her curiosity deepened. She stepped slightly closer and signed, "What's the plan?"
But Aarav didn't answer.
He simply smiled.
—
At the same time, in a dimly lit police lockup, Bunty sat behind iron bars.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor as a few police officers approached, holding an official-looking document.
They showed the order to the others—and soon after, one of them pulled out his phone and started dialing the high command.