(A/N):
Thanks for the support!!!
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Meanwhile, far from fan reactions and review streams, attention stirred in a very different place.
At the heart of a single galaxy's entertainment power structure sat the Orpheon Grand Theater Association.
Orpheon Grand Theater Association...
Its influence stretched across hundreds of worlds.
If a film reached Orpheon theaters, it was no longer just a movie—it was a statement.
At the top of that structure stood its current head:
Zerath Kaul'drake.
A towering lizard-man with emerald scales, slit pupils, and a presence sharp enough to silence rooms without words.
His title was as long as his reputation:
Supreme Curator of Galactic Exhibition & Audience Integrity
Zerath leaned back in his office chair and activated a private call.
The projection shimmered.
His wife appeared—resting comfortably, one hand on her stomach.
She was pregnant.
With their 122nd child.
The medical scan hovered beside her image, glowing softly.
Female.
For their species, tradition mattered.
A family was only considered complete when it bore 122 heirs.
With this child, the line would be fulfilled.
And with that—
She would officially receive the title of Sha'va-Tirren.
Head of the household.
Zerath's eyes softened, just slightly.
"I'll be home soon," he said. "I promised you something to keep you happy."
The doctor's warning echoed in his mind.
'Keep stress away. Happiness stabilizes the cycle.'
"I'll bring your favorite meal," he added.
His wife paused.
"...."
"There's no need," she said thoughtfully.
"I already watched something today."
Zerath blinked caught off guard by her response.
-Blink -Blink
"...."
"You… watched a movie?"
"Yes," she replied. "It's called 3 Idiots."
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"…And?" Zerath asked carefully.
"I liked it," she said simply. "Very much."
Zerath's eyebrow rose.
In centuries of marriage, this was unprecedented.
"...."
Whenever he chose films for them, she either mocked the plot, dissected the flaws, or scolded him for wasting her time.
Yet now—Praise. From her.
"What kind of movie?" he asked.
"Funny," she said. "But also kind."
That made his tail twitch.
-Twitch
"I laughed," she continued. "And then I thought."
That sealed it.
"I'll review it," Zerath said.
The call ended.
From his wife's side as if the reason for her call has been compleated.
He immediately summoned his assistant.
A lizard woman stepped into the room, mirroring his features almost exactly—same scales, same eyes—except for long blonde hair tied neatly behind her back.
His eldest daughter.
"Open records," Zerath ordered.
"Any major studio release titled 3 Idiots?"
She adjusted her glasses, fingers dancing across her tab.
"No major studio," she replied.
"But—"
A projection expanded.
The Star Entertainment logo rotated calmly in the air.
"It's an independent production," she continued. "Newcomer studio."
Zerath leaned forward.
"...."
"However," she added, "this studio produced two consecutive hits."
Another projection layered in.
"First, a successful animated series: Tom and Jerry."
Zerath's eye narrowed slightly.
"Then a feature-length animated movie based on the same."
More data scrolled.
"And now," she finished, "a live-action film titled 3 Idiots."
She looked up.
"It's outperforming expectations. For a beginner"
Zerath sat back slowly.
A newcomer studio. Back-to-back successes. And a movie that made his wife smile during pregnancy.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
For the first time in a very long while, the head of the Orpheon Grand Theater Association felt genuine curiosity.
And curiosity, in his position, was dangerous—in the best possible way.
Zerath leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once on the armrest.
"Play it," he said simply. "If your mother likes it, I want to know why."
His daughter froze.
"…You want to watch it?" she asked, genuinely shocked.
Zerath shot her a sideways glance.
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
She swallowed, nodded, and moved fast.
-Gulp
"...."
Pulling up the Star Entertainment page, she instinctively paused.
"…Father," she said slowly.
"What."
"The subscriber count is still increasing."
Zerath's eye flicked to the number.
For a studio this young, this independent, those numbers were… abnormal.
She scrolled further.
Comments poured in endlessly. Not generic praise. Not paid hype.
Inside jokes. Quotes. Callbacks to scenes.
Hardcore fans.
"That's… impressive,"
She admitted quietly.
She selected 3 Idiots.
The movie began.
The airplane scene hit first.
Farhan clutching his chest.
Panic. Chaos.
Running from security with desperate sincerity.
Zerath's daughter snorted before she could stop herself.
Then came Raju.
The frantic phone call.
The door flying open.
His wife shouting after him—
"YOU FORGOT YOUR PANTS!"
Raju sprinted off regardless.
His daughter burst out laughing.
-Hahaha!!!
Actually laughing.
Zerath didn't stop her. He was smiling too.
Not wide. But real.
The movie kept rolling.
Chatur entered. Sharp tongue. Forced confidence.
The date—September 5th—hung in the air like a loaded question.
Mystery layered over comedy.
The banter flowed naturally. Not rushed. Not explained.
Then—The decision.
They were going to Ooty.
The song began.
The road stretched ahead.
Friendship filled the silence between beats.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Zerath's gaze stayed fixed on the screen.
He didn't interrupt. Didn't analyze aloud.
He simply… watched.
"This movie hasn't even started its main conflict yet," his daughter murmured.
"And it already feels… complete."
Zerath nodded once.
-Nod
"That's because," he said slowly, "it understands pacing."
The song ended. The road continued.
And for the first time in decades, the man who decided what an entire galaxy watched found himself doing something unfamiliar.
He wasn't judging.
He was enjoying.
Somewhere, light-years away, Krishna had no idea that a door he never knocked on had just begun to open on its own.
The movie flowed on.
The screen filled with motion, then—A race.
Not on roads. Not on fields.
A microscopic chaos of sperms surging forward, frantic, desperate.
Farhan's voice layered gently over it.
"From the moment we are born… we are already running."
Zerath's daughter blinked, surprised.
"…That's a bold opening."
Farhan continued, explaining how destiny seemed fixed the instant one took their first breath.
How expectations, family pressure, and invisible finish lines were imposed before anyone even understood the rules.
Zerath's eye narrowed, thoughtful.
"...."
Then—College.
Bags slung over shoulders. Nervous excitement. Uncertainty masked by bravado.
The hostel.
Raju appeared on screen, hands folded tightly, eyes shut in intense prayer.
"Please let me pass,"
He begged the gods—despite the semester not even having started.
Zerath's daughter laughed again, shaking her head.
-Haha
"He's already terrified."
Then came Millimeter.
The helper boy's warning echoed ominously.
"Wear innerwear. Make sure no holes."
Farhan and Raju exchanged confused looks.
"…Why?"
Zerath's daughter muttered, half-laughing.
Night fell. The mood shifted.
Seniors gathered.
Juniors lined up. The chant began.
"Lord seniors, you are great!"
The humiliation was exaggerated—but the fear underneath was real.
Then—Rancho stepped into their lives.
Casual. Calm. Unimpressed.
A senior attempted his power play, threatening to pee on the hostel room door.
Rancho didn't argue.
He acted.
The light bulb shattered. Wires exposed.
A spoon tied to the scale. The setup was absurd.
And then—
ZAP.
The senior convulsed, screaming.
-Ahhhhh!!!
"...."
The juniors stared. Then laughter erupted.
Loud. Unrestrained. Liberating.
Zerath's daughter covered her mouth, eyes shining.
"That's… brilliant. Even though..."
Zerath leaned forward slightly.
"That's not just comedy," he said slowly. "That's catharsis."
On screen, the seniors fled. Authority shattered.
Fear dissolved into laughter.
And Rancho stood there—not heroic, not dramatic—just practical.
The movie moved on.
But something had already settled in that grand office.
This wasn't just a comedy.
It was rebellion dressed as laughter.
And Zerath Kaul'drake, ruler of galactic theaters, found himself thinking something he hadn't thought in centuries:
'This deserves to be seen… everywhere.'
The tone shifted quietly.
Laughter gave way to unease.
On screen, Viru stood rigid as stone, dismissing a student without hesitation.
The crime wasn't incompetence. It was deviation.
"You didn't follow the pre-approved project," Viru said coldly.
"Deadlines exist for a reason."
The student tried to explain. Failed.
A call was made to his father.
Authority crushed hope with procedure.
The boy left the room hollow.
Outside, in a moment no one cared to notice, he hurled his project—a small camera drone—into a trash bin and walked away.
Zerath's daughter leaned forward.
"That project… it wasn't bad. Even through it looks simple on that timeline which seems so backwards."
Rancho noticed it too.
He picked the drone up.
And made a decision.
The mood lifted briefly as Rancho quietly completed the unfinished project, not for praise, but for someone else.
A senior. A good person.
Someone who deserved to see his work fly.
Then came the song.
Chaos. Friendship. Hostel life bursting with color and reckless joy.
Zerath found himself tapping one clawed finger lightly against the armrest, rhythm syncing unconsciously with the tune.
As the song ended, the prank unfolded.
Raju held the small monitor. The drone lifted.
It floated past windows. Past laughter.
Past Silencer, calmly reading a book while wearing nothing but innerwear.
Zerath's daughter burst out laughing.
-HAHAHA!!!
"WHY—WHY IS HE ALWAYS LIKE THAT?"
The laughter was genuine.
Then—The drone rose higher.
One more floor.
And the screen went still.
A body. Hanging. Lifeless.
The room on screen collapsed into panic.
Students rushed. Voices overlapped. Shock swallowed humor whole.
In Zerath's office, silence fell.
No one spoke.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The funeral followed.
Rain. Muted colors. A crowd carrying grief they didn't know how to name.
Rancho stood before Viru.
And didn't bow. He accused him.
Of pressure. Of fear masquerading as discipline. Of rising suicide numbers year after year.
Zerath's eye narrowed sharply.
-Frown
"This," he said quietly, "is dangerous storytelling."
His daughter didn't look away.
"It's honest. I couldn't even think about reading book by book like that instead of knowledge implant."
Viru dragged Rancho to the campus.
"Teach," he demanded. "Show me how."
Rancho did. Not with lectures—but with a simple game.
Learning became curiosity.
Curiosity became joy.
Zerath leaned back slowly.
"…This method," he muttered, "predates modern pedagogy."
Then came the letters. Cold. Formal.
Warnings sent to Farhan's and Raju's families—accusing Rancho of corrupting their futures.
The fallout was immediate.
Disappointment. Fear. Broken trust at home.
Zerath's daughter clenched her hands unconsciously.
"...."
By now, she was fully immersed.
Zerath, however, was thinking differently.
"This setting," he said slowly, "this world… it's primitive."
No hypertech. No interstellar shortcuts. Barely the beginning of modern science.
"And yet," he continued, voice thoughtful, "it feels real."
His daughter nodded.
-Nod
"Because it doesn't rely on history. It relies on people."
Zerath's gaze returned to the screen.
A movie set millions of years before his own era.
No shared timeline. No familiar politics.
Yet every emotion translated perfectly.
"That," Zerath said quietly, "is its charm."
The film moved forward.
And the man who decided what an entire galaxy watched realized something unsettling:
This story didn't belong to one time.
Or one species.
It belonged to anyone who had ever been told—
'Don't dream. Just comply.'
The movie rolled on, easing the weight just enough before pressing it back again.
Farhan's house came first.
Neat. Ordered. Comfortable.
His father spoke with pride about the air conditioner he had installed—just so Farhan could study better and still paying EMI for it.
The room wasn't about comfort. It was about expectation.
They were ushered out quickly.
No food. No warmth.
But as they stepped outside, Farhan's father turned back once and said sharply, almost awkwardly,
"If you come again… eat before you leave."
Zerath's daughter tilted her head.
"He doesn't know how to care… but he tries."
Zerath nodded slowly.
-Nod
"Affection expressed as pressure."
Then—
Raju's house...
The contrast was brutal.
Small. Cramped. Faded walls.
Sadness hung in the air—but so did humor.
Raju's mother used the same roller to scratch his father's back.
Zerath snorted.
-Snort
"...."
His daughter laughed openly now.
-Haha!!!
Rancho and Farhan pretended to eat, nodding enthusiastically, while clearly struggling not to gag.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Raju beamed proudly, unaware.
They left hungry.
And honest. Which led to Rancho's solution.
"Let's eat at a random wedding."
The screen shifted.
Music. Lights. Food everywhere.
Rancho spotted Pia—and the man beside her.
Her fiancé.
The way he spoke to her. The way he dismissed her words.
Rancho didn't hesitate.
He offered advice. Unasked. Undiluted.
And then proved his point with calm logic and demonstration.
Pia stood there, stunned.
"…Have I seen you three before?" she asked, squinting.
Zerath's daughter smiled knowingly.
"...."
Pia walked away—to her father.
Who turned. And revealed himself.
Viru.
The room on screen froze.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Zerath's eye widened slightly.
"That's well done," he muttered. "Very well done."
It was Viru's elder daughter's wedding.
Viru stared at the three of them, shocked, confused, suspicious.
"What are you doing here?" his eyes asked.
Behind him, Mona smirked.
She walked straight up to Rancho.
"Can you help me?"
She asked sweetly.
"Give my father the same demonstration. Let him see the real face of my fiancé."
Rancho didn't hesitate not knowing they were caught red handed.
"Raju," he said calmly, "bring the sauce."
Raju complied instantly. Rancho turned.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Viru's gaze locked onto his.
Tension crackled. The three of them stood side by side.
And, almost reflexively, they muttered together—
"All is well."
Zerath leaned back, a low chuckle escaping him.
"This," he said quietly, "is courage disguised as stupidity."
His daughter didn't look away from the screen.
"No," she corrected softly. "It's honesty disguised as humor."
The movie didn't rush.
It let the moment sit.
Because sometimes, the bravest thing three idiots can do—Is stand in front of power, smile, and refuse to be afraid.
The mood darkened again—quietly, deliberately.
The scene shifted to Viru's office.
Cold. Orderly. Imposing.
Viru spoke to Raju and Farhan without raising his voice, which somehow made every word heavier.
He laid out the truth like a ledger.
Rancho's family, he said, was wealthy. Secure. Risk meant little to him.
"But you?" Viru continued, eyes settling on Raju.
"One family is poor. The other survives on the edge of middle-class stability."
He leaned back.
"If you follow him… think about who will pay the price."
The words landed.
Hard. Raju listened. Really listened.
That night, no matter how Rancho or Farhan tried to reason with him, Raju made his decision.
He shifted rooms.
Straight into Silencer's.
The universe punished him immediately.
Silencer's habits were inhuman.
Lights on at impossible hours. Relentless studying. Rules. Rules. Rules.
Raju tried to adjust. Failed. Spectacularly.
"...."
He tiptoed. He whispered. He prayed.
Silencer farted. Not-Loud.
At precisely the wrong moment.
Raju's face twisted in horror.
Farhan nearly choked laughing when he visited.
Zerath's daughter laughed so hard she wiped her eyes.
-Haha
"This is suffering."
Zerath hummed in agreement.
"Self-inflicted."
Then came the library scene.
Silence. Rows of books. Tension thick as fog.
Silencer stood proudly, rehearsing his speech—word for word, memorized without understanding.
Rancho and Farhan exchanged a look.
Opportunity. They intercepted the speech.
Rewrote it. Injected chaos.
Meanwhile, a prank call rang through Silencer's phone.
Rancho's voice—disguised—spoke solemn nonsense.
Silencer nodded seriously, taking notes.
In the library, he delivered the altered speech with absolute confidence.
The result? A linguistic disaster. Professors stared. Students gasped.
Silencer stood there, proud, unaware he was reciting beautifully structured nonsense.
Zerath laughed openly now, a rare sound.
-Hahaha
"That's what happens when knowledge is memorized but never understood."
His daughter nodded.
-Nod
"He didn't learn. He stored."
The scene ended with Silencer basking in imaginary victory—while the trio watched from a distance, trying and failing to suppress laughter.
The movie didn't mock intelligence.
It mocked empty excellence.
And as the story rolled on, one thing became clear to both viewers in that office:
This film wasn't just about friendship.
It was about choosing between fear and curiosity.
Between compliance and understanding.
And every time a character chose wrong—
The consequences were painfully, hilariously human.
The cultural festival erupted like a controlled explosion.
Silencer stood at the podium, chest puffed, confidence absolute.
He began his speech.
And the auditorium lost its mind.
Every line landed wrong. Every pause created a double meaning. Every carefully memorized sentence twisted into something unintentionally obscene, arrogant, or outright ridiculous.
Laughter rolled in waves.
Students collapsed into their seats. Teachers stared in disbelief.
The librarian, who had painstakingly prepared the speech, swayed once… and fainted.
On stage, Silencer smiled proudly, unaware.
At the front row, Principal Viru stood up in horror.
The moment the speech ended, Viru stormed the stage and slapped Silencer—hard.
Silencer froze, eyes wide, still not understanding what had gone wrong.
The chaos lingered long after the lights dimmed.
That same night, under the open sky on the hostel terrace, Silencer confronted Rancho and Farhan.
His voice trembled—not with fear, but fury.
"I swear," he said, pointing at them,
"I will become successful. More than both of you. The world will know my name."
Rancho met his gaze calmly.
Farhan stood beside him.
"All is well," they replied together.
The oath was sealed.
The scene shifted. A shopping mall. Bright lights. Polished glass.
Pia confronted Rancho, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Her fiancé had gifted her an expensive, luxurious watch.
Rancho listened quietly.
"I don't hate your father," he said simply. "In fact…"
He lifted his invention.
"I named it after him."
Pia blinked looking at the name.
-BLINK -BLINK
"What?"
"VIRUS," Rancho explained. "Very Interesting Research Utilization System."
Her anger flared instantly.
"You're mocking him!"
She grabbed the project and hurled it to the ground.
The device skidded away.
Millimeter, ever watchful, quietly picked it up.
Rancho didn't chase it.
Instead, he looked at Pia.
"Why does someone need to study engineering," he asked calmly,
"to become a banking manager?"
The question landed heavier than any accusation.
Then came the demonstration.
Rancho turned to Pia's fiancé and said casually,
"Pia lost her watch."
The man snapped instantly.
His face twisted. His voice rose. He scolded Pia publicly, belittling her, taunting her, valuing the object more than her.
The mask slipped.
When he finally stormed off, Pia stood frozen.
"...."
Rancho silently handed her the watch.
She stared at it… then marched after her fiancé.
She thrust the watch back at him.
"Take it," she said sharply. "You donkey."
She turned and walked away.
The mall noise faded.
Something between Pia and Rancho shifted—unspoken, unfinished.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
There will be two chapters a week(Monday and Tuesday)
If delayed I would post it on Wednesday or Thursday.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!!