Chapter 2: Zero-Cost Borrowing
Jassi closed the door and turned back to face his guests.
Rohan had already made himself comfortable on the worn-out sofa, legs crossed, whiskey bottle open on the coffee table. Mrs. Savita Sharma sat primarily on a plastic chair, her bony hands folded in her lap. Kunal—her massive, silent son—stood by the window, his dead eyes scanning the room like a predator counting exits.
The same Kunal who held me down, Jassi thought. The same hands.
"Jassi, beta, you live alone here?" Mrs. Sharma asked sweetly. "No girlfriend? No family?"
"No," Jassi said flatly. "Just me."
"Such a shame," she clucked. "A young man like you should have someone. My niece's daughter is very pretty—"
"I'm not interested."
Rohan laughed, pouring whiskey into three glasses. "Leave him alone, aunty. Jassi's a lone wolf. Always has been. That's why he's so good at saving money, right, brother?"
Saving money. Jassi almost laughed. In his past life, he had saved every rupee. Bought extra instant noodles, bottled water, canned goods. And when the apocalypse hit, Rohan had smiled and said, "Share with us, brother. We're family now."
Then they ate him.
Jassi sat down across from Rohan, accepting the glass of whiskey. He didn't drink. He just swirled the amber liquid and watched it catch the light.
"So," Rohan said, leaning forward. "You've seen the news, right? The storms? The earthquakes in Gujarat? They're saying it's just a freak weather pattern, but..." He lowered his voice. "I've got a bad feeling, Jassi. A really bad feeling."
Mrs. Sharma nodded vigorously. "My knees have been aching for two weeks. That always means something terrible is coming. Always."
Kunal said nothing. He just stared at Jassi's refrigerator.
Jassi took a slow breath. In his past life, he had dismissed Rohan's concerns. Called him paranoid. Then the first hypercane hit and everything changed.
Now, he had to play along. Give them nothing. Let them believe he was still the same trusting fool.
"You're right to be worried," Jassi said quietly. "I've been thinking the same thing."
Rohan's eyes lit up. "See? I knew it. That's why I came to you. We should pool our resources. Combine our supplies. Stick together when things go bad."
Pool our resources. That meant Rohan had nothing, as usual. He wanted Jassi's stockpile.
"Maybe," Jassi said. "But I need time to think. And right now, I have to go out. Important errand."
He stood up. Rohan looked disappointed but didn't argue.
"Fine, fine. But don't forget—we're in this together, yeah? Brothers till the end."
Till the end, Jassi repeated silently. Yes. Till your end.
---
After Rohan and the Sharmas left—Mrs. Sharma shooting one last greedy look at Jassi's kitchen, Kunal's shadow lingering a moment too long in the hallway—Jassi locked the door, bolted it, and leaned against the wood.
His hands were shaking. Not from fear.
From restraint.
He had wanted to wrap his fingers around Rohan's throat. To activate Reinforce and crush his windpipe right there. But the law still existed. The police still answered calls. And if he went to prison, he would lose his only chance to prepare.
Patience, he told himself. One month. Then the world burns, and no one will care how Rohan dies.
He walked to his computer and sat down. The screen glowed with the usual clutter: news headlines about "unprecedented weather patterns," social media arguments, and—there.
A pop-up ad.
"Need cash fast? Personal loans approved in minutes. No collateral. No questions. Apply now."
Jassi stared at the ad. Then a slow, cold smile spread across his face.
In his past life, he had been careful with money. Paid his bills on time. Avoided debt like the plague.
But the apocalypse was coming in thirty days. Banks would collapse. Online loan platforms would vanish. Interest rates, repayment schedules, credit scores—none of it would matter after April 18.
He could borrow everything. From everyone.
And never pay a single rupee back.
---
[System Notification]
Side Quest Generated: "The Borrower's Feast"
Objective: Accumulate ₹5,00,00,000 (five crore rupees) in liquid funds before the first hypercane.
Reward: Sanctuary expansion + 1 additional Sanctum Walk charge per day.
Note: Funds must be obtained via loans, credit cards, or financial instruments. Direct theft does not count.*
Jassi chuckled. The system approved.
He cracked his knuckles—they popped louder than normal, a side effect of his enhanced body—and began typing.
First, he opened a spreadsheet. Columns: Platform Name, Loan Amount, Interest Rate, Expected Disbursal Time.
Then he started applying.
Platform 1: MoneyMate
"Instant loan up to ₹10 lakhs. 18% interest. Approval in 10 minutes."
Jassi uploaded his PAN card, Aadhaar, and bank statements. He inflated his income slightly—enough to pass automated checks, not enough to trigger manual review. Within seven minutes, ₹10,00,000 appeared in his account.
Platform 2: QuickRupee
"₹5 lakhs. 22% interest. No income proof required."
Approved. ₹5,00,000.
Platform 3: LoanBazaar
"₹15 lakhs for salaried professionals. 15% interest."
Jassi used his genuine salary slip from the previous month. Approved. ₹15,00,000.
He didn't stop.
Every loan app on the Play Store. Every "buy now, pay later" service. Every credit card he could apply for online. He maxed out his existing cards—three of them, total limit ₹6 lakhs—and applied for five new ones.
By midnight, Jassi had borrowed from seventeen different platforms.
Total: ₹87,00,000.
Eighty-seven lakh rupees.
In his past life, that amount of money would have changed everything. Paid off his mother's hospital bills. Given him a future.
Now, it was just fuel for revenge.
---
His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
*Jassi ji, this is Vikram from MoneyMate. We noticed you applied for multiple loans tonight. Is everything okay? Would you like to discuss a consolidated loan? Up to ₹50 lakhs, special rate just for you."
Jassi typed back: "Send the agreement. I'll sign tonight."
Within an hour, another ₹50,00,000 landed in his account.
Total: ₹1,37,00,000.
One crore thirty-seven lakh rupees.
He stared at the number on his screen. In the old world, he could have bought a flat. A car. A lifetime of security.
In the new world, he would buy survival.
---
[System Notification]
Side Quest Progress: ₹1.37 Cr / ₹5 Cr (27%)
Reward locked until full completion.
Still a long way to go. But he had thirty days. And he was just getting started.
---
The next morning, Jassi woke to the smell of frying eggs from the neighboring apartment. The walls in this building were thin—he could hear everything. Mrs. Sharma's morning prayers. Kunal's heavy footsteps. Rohan's voice? No, Rohan lived two floors down. But his presence still lingered like a stain.
Jassi checked his phone. Seven missed calls. Four from Rohan. Two from unknown numbers. One from his office—his boss, probably wondering why he hadn't shown up for work.
Work.
In his past life, he had been a mid-level accounts executive at a logistics firm. The same company where he had met Rohan. The same company where, after the apocalypse, they had all hidden in the basement until the food ran out.
He wasn't going back.
He typed a quick message to his boss: *"Taking personal leave. Will resign formally later."*
Then he blocked the number.
The world was ending in thirty days. What were they going to do? Fire him?
---
He needed supplies. Real supplies. Not just instant noodles and bottled water—those would run out. He needed long-term solutions.
The pocket dimension. The time dilation.
He entered the Sanctuary—a single thought, and the world twisted around him. He stood in the white void, 100 square meters of empty potential.
Time ratio: 1 hour outside = 24 hours inside.
That meant if he spent one real day preparing, he would have nearly a month inside the Sanctuary. Enough time to organize, to train, to plan.
But first, he needed things to put inside.
Jassi exited the Sanctuary and opened his laptop. He began placing orders:
- Food: Rice, lentils, spices, cooking oil, sugar, salt, tea, coffee. Canned vegetables, canned meats, powdered milk. Energy bars, protein powder, multivitamins. 50 kg of wheat flour. 20 kg of dried chickpeas. 10 kg of honey (never spoils).
- Water: 500 liters of bottled water. Water purification tablets. A portable reverse-osmosis filter.
- Medicine: Antibiotics (amoxicillin, ciprofloxacin), painkillers (paracetamol, ibuprofen), antiseptics, bandages, sutures. Anti-diarrheals. Antihistamines. Burn cream.
- Tools: Shovels, hammers, screwdrivers, a crowbar. Duct tape. Rope. Tarpaulins. A camping stove with extra gas canisters.
- Weapons (the tricky part): He couldn't order guns online legally. But he could order things that become weapons. A heavy-duty crossbow from a sporting goods store. Hunting knives. A machete. Bear spray. A baseball bat. A metal pipe. He also found a listing for "replica air rifles" that, with minor modification, could fire real pellets.
He added everything to his cart. The total came to ₹22,00,000.
He paid without flinching.
Most items would arrive within 2-3 days. He would store them in his apartment first, then transfer everything to the Sanctuary under cover of night.
But some things—the crossbow, the knives—required in-person pickup. The store was across the city, in a mall near Andheri.
Perfect, Jassi thought. A test run.
---
[System Notification]
Skill Update: Sanctum Walk (Lv.1) – Teleport within 40 meters.
Suggestion: Practice in a safe environment before field use.
He had been so focused on the loans and supplies that he hadn't tested his teleport properly. Now was the time.
Jassi stood in the center of his living room. He picked a spot near the kitchen—exactly 8 meters away, in line of sight.
He activated Sanctum Walk.
For a split second, reality bent. The world folded like a piece of paper, and then—
He was standing in the kitchen.
No sound. No flash. Just a brief sensation of falling through a door that wasn't there.
He checked his watch. Less than a second had passed.
Thirty-second cooldown, the system reminded him.
He waited. Then he teleported back to the living room. Then to the bathroom. Then to the balcony.
Each jump was instantaneous, silent, and utterly disorienting in the best way.
By the tenth jump, Jassi's head was spinning. The system displayed a warning:
[Sanctum Walk]
Excessive use without rest may cause spatial disorientation. Recommend 5-minute break after 10 consecutive jumps.
He sat down on the sofa, breathing deeply. The room seemed to tilt slightly, then stabilized.
Forty meters, he thought. That's the length of a cricket pitch. Enough to cross a street. Enough to escape an ambush. Enough to appear behind someone who thought they had me cornered.
He smiled.
Rohan had no idea what was coming.
---
The doorbell rang again.
Jassi tensed, then relaxed. It was too early for Rohan to return. He checked the peephole.
A young woman stood outside. Late twenties. Long black hair pulled into a messy bun. Wearing a faded purple salwar kameez. Dark circles under her eyes.
Neha.
Jassi's heart stopped.
Neha Sharma. No relation to Mrs. Savita Sharma—different family entirely. She lived in the flat next door, the one on the other side, not the one with Kunal. She was a freelance graphic designer. She had a cat named Chutki.
She was also the woman who, in Jassi's past life, had begged him for food three weeks into the apocalypse. He had given her half his remaining supplies. She had promised to repay him somehow.
Two days later, she sold him out to a group of raiders in exchange for safe passage out of the city.
"I'm sorry, Jassi," she had whispered, not meeting his eyes. "But I have to survive. You understand, don't you?"
He had understood. And then he had watched her walk away while the raiders beat him unconscious.
Now she was standing outside his door, looking worried.
Jassi opened the door.
"Jassi! Thank God." Neha's voice was breathless. "I've been knocking for five minutes. Are you okay? You didn't come to the society meeting last night."
The society meeting. In his past life, he had attended. Listened to Mrs. Sharma complain about the garbage disposal. Watched Mr. Iyer argue about the parking fees. All of them so blissfully unaware that in one month, none of it would matter.
"I'm fine," Jassi said. "Just busy."
Neha peered past him into the apartment. Her eyes landed on the laptop screen—still open to the shopping cart full of supplies.
"Wow. Are you... stocking up for something?"
Jassi stepped sideways, blocking her view. "Just some online shopping. What do you need?"
She hesitated. Then she lowered her voice. "Look, I know this is weird, but... I'm short on rent this month. My client hasn't paid me. I need ₹15,000 by tomorrow or the landlord is going to evict me."
₹15,000. In his past life, Jassi had given her the money. Had felt good about helping a neighbor. Had even invited her to join his survival group when the apocalypse began.
And she had repaid him with betrayal.
"I don't have it," Jassi said flatly.
Neha's face fell. "Please, Jassi. I know you've been saving. I've seen the delivery guys coming to your flat. Just a loan. I'll pay you back next month, I swear."
Next month. There was no next month. Not for her. Not for anyone.
But Jassi didn't want her money. He wanted her to feel the same desperation he had felt. To know what it was like to beg and be refused.
"You should have thought about that before you spent your earnings on that new phone," Jassi said. "I saw your Instagram story. The unboxing video."
Neha's cheeks flushed red. "That was... that was a gift from my brother."
"Sure it was." Jassi stepped back and began to close the door. "Good luck, Neha. You're going to need it."
"Jassi, wait—!"
The door clicked shut.
He leaned against it, listening to her footsteps fade away down the hallway. A small part of him felt guilty. A smaller part felt satisfied.
But most of him felt nothing at all.
The old Jassi—the one who helped neighbors, who trusted friends, who gave his last ration to a woman who would sell him out—that Jassi had died on a concrete floor, piece by piece.
The new Jassi had a system, a pocket dimension, and a list of names.
Neha Sharma was on that list.
---
[End of Chapter 2]
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