Arc 1: The Wealth Momentum (2016)Part I: The Zero-Sum Game
Chapter 8 — High Brand Looks Down on Poor
Status is not spoken.
It is sensed.
And nothing reveals it faster than a room built for the rich.
Palladium Mall did not smell like Mumbai.
It smelled like imported perfume, cold marble, and invisible money.
Vikram Choudhary stood just inside its revolving glass doors, momentarily disoriented—not by the luxury, but by the silence. Outside, Mumbai shouted. Inside, it whispered. Every footstep echoed with purpose. Every glance measured worth.
This was not a place meant for wandering.
It was a place meant for belonging.
And Vikram, in his faded jeans, old sneakers, and unbranded shirt, did not belong.
At least—that was what the mall wanted him to believe.
The Invisible Line
He took three steps forward.
Immediately, he felt it.
Not a voice.
Not a gesture.
A shift.
Security guards didn't block him—but they noticed him. Sales associates didn't approach him—but they clocked him. Shoppers didn't stare—but their eyes flickered, dismissed, and moved on.
Vikram had crossed an invisible line.
From potential buyer to time-waster.
He almost smiled.
So this is how it works, he thought.
Not wealth.
Presentation.
Old Reflexes Die Hard
A familiar discomfort crawled up his spine.
The urge to shrink.
To walk faster.
To pretend he was here for someone else.
To check prices without touching.
To leave.
This feeling wasn't new.
It was conditioned.
Years of middle-class survival training.
Don't embarrass yourself.
Don't ask questions.
Don't step where you can't afford to fall.
He stopped walking.
Right there—under a chandelier worth more than his yearly salary.
And exhaled.
The blue holographic panel hovered quietly.
₹ BALANCE: ₹8,64,112.00
The number didn't care where he stood.
Didn't care who judged him.
Didn't care about Palladium Mall.
Vikram straightened his back.
"Let's fix the mismatch," he murmured.
The First Boutique
The Armani store gleamed like a museum exhibit.
Mannequins dressed in suits that could buy motorcycles.
Clean lines. Neutral colors. Aggressive minimalism.
A saleswoman stood near the entrance.
Tall. Immaculate. Sharp eyes.
She glanced at Vikram.
Once.
Her smile did not reach her eyes.
"Sir," she said politely, already disengaging, "we are currently showcasing our new collection."
Translation: Don't touch unless you intend to buy.
Vikram stepped inside anyway.
The saleswoman followed—two steps behind.
Not to assist.
To observe.
Judgment, Measured in Silence
He picked up a blazer.
The fabric was smooth. Light. Expensive.
He checked the tag.
₹3,80,000.
The old Vikram would have laughed.
The old Vikram would have put it down like it burned.
This Vikram held it calmly.
"Do you have this in my size?" he asked.
The saleswoman hesitated.
A fraction too long.
"Yes," she said. "But… sir… these pieces are—"
"Limited?" Vikram finished.
"Yes," she replied, relieved.
He nodded.
"I'll take two."
Her eyes widened.
"Two… sir?"
"Yes," he said. "Different colors."
Silence.
Then—
"Of course, sir."
Her tone changed.
Not warmer.
More precise.
The Snowball Begins
Within minutes, another staff member appeared.
Then another.
Suddenly—
Water was offered.
A chair appeared.
Measurements were taken.
Mirrors angled.
Compliments flowed.
"Excellent choice, sir."
"Very refined taste."
"This suits your frame perfectly."
Vikram watched the transformation with clinical fascination.
Same man.
Same face.
Same clothes.
Different assumptions.
Escalation
He didn't stop at Armani.
He moved.
Gucci.
Hugo Boss.
Burberry.
Zegna.
Each store followed the same pattern.
Initial dismissal.
Then shock.
Then reverence.
By the fourth store, staff greeted him before he spoke.
Word had traveled.
A man who buys.
Not asks.
Not browses.
Buys.
The Wardrobe Overhaul
Vikram didn't shop like a normal person.
He shopped like an engineer solving a problem.
Objective:
Eliminate visual cues of economic weakness.
Solution:
Complete wardrobe replacement.
Suits.
Casual blazers.
Formal shirts.
Tailored trousers.
Leather shoes.
Belts.
Watches.
Sunglasses.
Not flashy.
Not loud.
Quietly expensive.
By the end—
The total crossed ₹5,00,000.
Half a million rupees.
Spent in under two hours.
The Snobby One
It happened at the fifth store.
A high-end Italian boutique.
The salesman—young, slim, arrogant—looked Vikram up and down.
Then smirked.
"Sir," he said casually, "this section might be… above your requirement."
The words were polite.
The meaning wasn't.
Vikram turned slowly.
Met the man's eyes.
"You mean my budget?" he asked calmly.
The salesman smiled thinly.
"Yes, sir."
Vikram nodded.
"Bring me everything on that mannequin," he said.
The salesman blinked.
"Sir?"
"The entire display," Vikram repeated. "Including the shoes."
A pause.
"Sir, that's—"
"I know," Vikram said. "That's why I want it."
The manager appeared within seconds.
Apologies followed.
The salesman turned pale.
The mannequin was stripped.
The Payment
₹5,00,000.
Swipe.
Approved.
The moment the transaction completed—
The blue panel erupted.
Gold lines laced through the blue.
The sound—
Not a ting.
A rolling cascade.
Trrrr—trrr—trrr—TRRRR—
SOCIAL STATUS ELEVATION DETECTED
CATEGORY: IDENTITY UPGRADE
AMOUNT: ₹5,00,000.00
CONFIDENCE THRESHOLD EXCEEDED
BONUS ACTIVATED: 5x MULTIPLIER
Vikram's breath caught.
REBATE CREDITED: ₹25,00,000.00
₹ BALANCE: ₹33,64,112.00
Paid to Be Respected
Twenty-five lakhs.
From clothes.
From being judged.
From correcting perception.
Vikram didn't smile.
He didn't laugh.
He simply stood there—
And understood.
The system wasn't rewarding fashion.
It was rewarding self-recognition.
The moment he refused to accept lesser treatment—
The system responded.
The Walk Out
He left Palladium Mall with multiple bags.
Security guards opened doors for him.
Sales staff bowed slightly.
People glanced twice.
Some with envy.
Some with curiosity.
No one ignored him anymore.
Outside, the Mumbai air hit his face.
Same city.
Same street.
Different weight.
Back Home: The Mirror Test
In his room, Vikram changed.
Suit. Shoes. Watch.
He stood before the mirror.
And paused.
The man looking back—
Was unfamiliar.
Not richer.
Sharper.
More defined.
The blue panel hovered.
CONFIDENCE INDEX: +18%
POSITIVE EMOTION GAINED
For the first time—
The system reacted to how he felt.
The Lesson
Vikram sat on the edge of his bed.
He removed the watch.
Placed it carefully.
And exhaled.
"So this is how the world works," he murmured.
People didn't respect money.
They respected the signals money sent.
And the system—
It amplified signals.
A Dangerous Satisfaction
He thought of Kareena.
Of the IAS officer.
Of the looks.
The comparisons.
The dismissals.
And for a fleeting moment—
Satisfaction bloomed.
Sharp.
Sweet.
Then he crushed it.
"No," he said softly. "Not for revenge."
The panel flickered faintly.
EMOTIONAL STATE: STABLE
"Not yet," Vikram corrected.
End of Chapter 8
SYSTEM LOG:
High-Tier Social Purchase Completed.
Multiplier Record Updated.
User Identity Alignment: IN PROGRESS.
The Zero-Sum Game had taught Vikram a cruel truth:
The world doesn't hate the poor.
It simply refuses to see them.
And now—
For the first time in his life—
Vikram Choudhary was visible.