As the day slipped into afternoon, both Sumendu and Diya found themselves desperate for answers. Yet the more they thought, the more their minds seemed to numb, exhausted by unanswered questions. Finally, Sumendu decided he needed a distraction—something to clear his head. He reached for the day's newspaper and began flipping through its pages absentmindedly.
That was when a full-page advertisement caught his eye—a local fair had come to town.
The moment he saw it, an uncontrollable urge surged within him, sudden and overwhelming. Without quite understanding why, he called out to Diya, held her hand, and pointed to the advertisement.
"We must go to this fair," he said, his voice firm yet distant. "Something tells me there will be a clue there."
Diya looked at him, surprised. After everything she had experienced—especially the incident with the dart—she no longer trusted instincts or signs. Yet she said nothing. Instead, after a brief pause, she nodded. They agreed to visit the fair that evening.
As the sun slowly dipped below the western horizon, they hailed an auto and made their way to the venue. The fairgrounds were already alive with light and movement. Strings of bulbs illuminated the area as people poured in. Tents were lined up in rows—some vendors eagerly welcoming their first customers, others still busy setting up their wares.
The moment they stepped inside, the strange pull in Sumendu's heart intensified. With every shop they passed, the sensation grew stronger. His curiosity peaked, but alongside it crept an unmistakable anxiety.
And then they reached it.
A small tent stood at the very end of the last lane, almost hidden from plain sight. A simple board hung outside, bearing the words:
"The Deep Divine Tarot Card Reader."
Here, the pull became irresistible.
Sumendu felt compelled to enter. As he moved forward, Diya grabbed his arm, shocked.
"What are you doing?" she whispered urgently, trying to pull him back.
Calmly, Sumendu held her hand and looked straight into her eyes."I think we must go in," he said quietly.
Before they could argue further, a voice emerged from inside the tent—old, commanding, and unmistakably clear.
"Sumendu… come inside. I am waiting for you."
A chill ran down both their spines.
Without another word, they stepped into the tent.
Inside, the air felt heavy and unfamiliar. Strange tools and oddly shaped objects filled the space, their purposes unclear. Then their eyes fell upon the source of the voice.
An old woman, perhaps in her early sixties, sat upright behind a round table. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, her posture rigid and composed. In her hands was a deck of cards, which she shuffled continuously, almost rhythmically.
In the same commanding tone, she spoke again.
"Come. Sit here."
It was clear they had no real choice.
Sumendu sat down willingly. Diya hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to run—but something held her back. Gathering herself, she decided to go along with the flow.
Slowly, they both took their seats.