Vansh didn't remember the walk back clearly.
One moment he was outside the bookstore.
The next—
He was standing in front of his apartment door.
The book still in his hand.
His grip tightened slightly as he unlocked the door with the new key.
Click.
For some reason, that sound felt louder than usual.
The moment he stepped inside, he locked the door again.
Twice.
Then paused.
Listening.
Nothing.
Just silence.
"…Get a grip," he muttered.
But his voice lacked conviction.
He walked to his desk and placed the book down carefully.
Not casually.
Not like an ordinary book.
More like something fragile.
Or dangerous.
For a few seconds, he just stared at it.
"The Game of Perspective."
The title felt heavier now.
Meaningful.
Intentional.
Vansh pulled his chair and sat down.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then opened the book again.
Page after page.
Line after line.
He read everything more carefully this time.
Not as a reader.
But as a creator.
As someone who knew this world.
And the conclusion didn't change.
It was his game.
Every mechanic.
Every storyline.
Even unreleased elements.
Even alternate paths he had only thought about—
Not written.
"…That's not possible," he whispered.
His mind started racing.
Possibilities forming.
Breaking.
Reforming.
Leak?
No.
Impossible.
That level of detail—
Only a handful of people knew.
Coincidence?
No.
Not this precise.
Prediction?
…
That thought stayed longer than the others.
Vansh leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"If this isn't copied…"
His voice trailed off.
"…then it means it already existed."
Silence answered him.
His eyes slowly moved back to the book.
Something about it still felt off.
Not just the content.
Something deeper.
He leaned forward again.
Flipping pages more slowly now.
Observing.
Not reading.
That's when he noticed it.
A letter.
Slightly darker than the rest.
Vansh froze.
"…Wait."
He leaned closer.
Scanning the page again.
There it was.
Subtle.
Easy to miss.
He quickly grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.
Then turned back to the beginning.
Now he wasn't reading.
He was searching.
Page after page—
He found more.
Letters that were just a shade bolder.
Not enough to notice casually.
But enough to stand out when you looked for them.
He began writing them down.
One by one.
Carefully.
Minutes passed.
Maybe longer.
Finally—
He stopped.
Looked at the sequence.
E L Y S I A N P A R K
Vansh stared at the paper.
"…Elysian Park?"
The name felt familiar.
Not from memory.
But from somewhere else.
Like hearing a word in a dream.
"Is this… a location?"
His heartbeat picked up slightly.
A hidden message.
Inside a book that shouldn't exist.
"…Okay."
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.
"This is real now."
But something else bothered him.
If there was one message—
There could be more.
Vansh flipped through the pages again.
Faster this time.
Scanning.
Searching.
And then—
He saw it.
Numbers.
Not many.
Just a few.
But like the letters—
Slightly different.
He grabbed the pen again.
Writing quickly now.
20550606100601101256
He stared at them.
"…What are you supposed to be?"
Coordinates?
Dates?
Codes?
Nothing made immediate sense.
He leaned back again.
Mind working faster now.
More focused.
More alive.
This—
This was something he understood.
A puzzle.
A pattern.
A system.
And for the first time since last night—
He didn't feel lost.
He felt engaged.
His lips curled slightly.
"…Alright."
But then—
His phone buzzed.
The sudden sound snapped him out of it.
Rohit.
Bro… you free?
Vansh stared at the message.
Then at the book.
Then back at the message.
This was it.
The moment he had thought about earlier.
Maybe I should tell him everything.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
Then slowly—
He started typing.
Something weird happened.
A second later—
Reply.
Finally. I knew it. What happened?
Vansh exhaled.
Then typed again.
Not here. Tomorrow. SK Café. I'll explain everything.
A pause.
Then—
This serious?
Vansh looked at the book again.
At the paper with letters.
At the numbers.
"…Yeah."
He typed:
Yeah. And bring your girlfriend too.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Now I'm definitely coming.
Despite everything—
Vansh let out a small breath of relief.
Not because the situation got better.
But because—
He wasn't alone anymore.
At least not completely.
He placed his phone down.
Then looked back at the paper.
"Elysian Park…"
His eyes shifted to the numbers again.
"…and you."
The room fell silent once more.
But this time—
It wasn't empty.
It felt like something was waiting.
Watching.
Not from outside.
But from within the pattern itself.
Vansh slowly closed the book.
"…Tomorrow," he said quietly.
But even as he said it—
He knew.
Whatever this was—
It had already started.
And tomorrow…
Was just the next move.