After leaving the room, Arav walked back to his quarters, where a maid stood with a tray of dinner beside Butler Veer."Master, shall I serve your meal?" Veer asked softly.
Arav shook his head, exhaustion visible in every movement. "No… my hunger died the moment he did. Just make sure we leave early. And tell everyone to rest well tonight."
Veer bowed and quietly dismissed the maid. The room fell silent as Arav sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes blank and thoughts heavy. Memories of his father's teachings, his voice, his presence—all floated like ghosts in his mind. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy, and before he realized it, he drifted into sleep in a sitting position, his hand still gripping his father's ring.
Meanwhile, in Ishan's room, the servants had arranged a separate cot for the doctor. It was well past midnight when a faint sound began to echo—something between a whisper and a hymn.
The doctor stirred, half-asleep. "Mr. Veer? Is someone out there?" he called nervously.
A chill breeze slipped through the slightly open window. He stood, adjusting his glasses, and reached for the door. When he opened it, a maid stood outside—completely naked, her body expressionless, her eyes hollow.
In her hand, she held a folded piece of paper.
The doctor hesitated, then slowly took it. The maid turned and walked away down the dark corridor without a word.
He unfolded the note. Written in jagged letters, it read:"Quit dreaming and wake up."
Before he could even make sense of it, he felt a breath near his ear.He turned—Ishan stood behind him, eyes pure white, blue veins pulsing beneath his skin. His lips had turned black, curling into an unnatural grin that spread too wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth.
The doctor's heart thumped violently. His body froze, drenched in sweat. The world around him twisted—and he fainted.
When he awoke, the same darkness filled the room. The clock ticked the same time as before.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, exhaled shakily, and tried to convince himself it was only a dream. The air in the room still felt thick—too still, too heavy. He turned to glance at the bed beside him, where young master Ishan lay quietly. His chest rose and fell, his face peaceful, almost angelic under the faint glow of the night lamp.
The doctor managed a faint, uneasy smile. "Just a nightmare," he whispered to himself.
But as his gaze drifted upward—toward the ceiling—his breath froze.
There, above him, something hung upside down. His vision blurred for a moment, then focused. The figure was wearing his own coat. His own shirt. His own face—pale, lifeless—stared back at him.
His throat tightened as he realized what he was seeing: his body suspended above him, head severed, hanging by invisible threads. Blood gathered at the neck, thick and dark, dripping slowly onto the bedsheet below—one drop after another. Each drop sounded louder than his own heartbeat.
He wanted to scream, but his voice refused to come. His breath hitched. He turned his trembling eyes toward the cot beside him—Ishan still lay there, unmoving. Peaceful. Unbothered.
For a brief, horrifying moment, the doctor wondered if time itself had stopped. The lamp's flame did not flicker. The air did not move. Even the sound of his own breathing felt wrong—too loud, too distant.
Then, without warning, the world shifted.
The doctor blinked—and suddenly he was no longer looking up. He was looking down. Down at himself, sleeping on the bed, body whole again, face calm. The perspective twisted, like falling through water.
He couldn't tell if he was awake or trapped somewhere between dream and death. His limbs felt weightless. He reached out—but his hand wasn't there. Only darkness stretched around him, swallowing everything but the faint outline of the bed and the boy beside it.
From that darkness, something moved.A shape. A shadow. It leaned forward, faintly human, its grin stretching far too wide.
The doctor's heart thundered once—then silence.Only the smile remained.
When morning came, the doctor looked pale, his eyes hollow and trembling.
"Sir, are you alright?" Veer asked, noticing his unease.
The doctor forced a faint smile. "Didn't get much sleep… that's all."
Moments later, Arav entered. "Doctor, I hope you're well. How's Ishan?"
Veer answered for him, "It seems the doctor stayed up all night caring for the young master, sir."
The doctor nodded weakly. "He's stable for now. But you should take him to Delhi quickly. The sooner, the better."