Chapter 8: The Vanishing Truth
The door to Sweet Dish restaurant swung open, and a well-dressed guard bowed in greeting. "Welcome, sir, welcome, madam."
Aarav, Nayan, and Karishma went inside and settled at a corner table. A waiter brought the menus.
"Sir, ma'am, what would you like to order?"
Aarav, staring blankly at the table, said, "I don't really feel like eating, man. Something feels... off."
Nayan looked at him. "Bro, have something at least."
Karishma told the waiter, "Bhaiya, please bring three plates of vegetable noodles."
The waiter left. Karishma glanced at Aarav, whose gaze was lost outside the window.
"What's wrong, Aarav? Is something bothering you?"
"No... just feeling strange today. Like something's about to happen."
Nayan laughed. "Bro, watch fewer horror movies. You're getting jumpy."
Karishma and Nayan chuckled, but no smile touched Aarav's face. Karishma looked at Nayan, a question in her eyes. Nayan raised his eyebrows in response—no idea.
"Aarav, look, the noodles are here!" Nayan said.
The waiter placed three plates and left. Aarav picked up his fork but just twirled it in the noodles.
"Seriously, Aarav," Karishma said softly. "What happened? Tell us. Why are you sitting here so quiet?"
Aarav suddenly looked up, trying to force a smile. "Hey, I was just messing with you two, seeing if you'd even notice I was upset."
They all laughed, but Aarav's laughter was strained, a peculiar restlessness flickering in the corners of his eyes.
After eating, paying the bill, they stepped outside.
"Alright, guys, I'm heading off now. You take care," Aarav said.
"Yeah, bro, you take care too," Nayan and Karishma said in unison.
---
Aarav returned to the hostel. Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, the flash of police lights illuminated a narrow lane. Inspector Abhi stood over an aged, withered body, its face deeply wrinkled yet clothed like a young man's.
"This is the fifth such case in Mumbai," Abhi said, his voice tinged with exhaustion and anger. "Where a young person's body suddenly turns ancient."
Prade, a young constable, spoke up. "Sir, something's wrong here. Something that makes these people old. Sir, you don't think a... vampire has come to our city?"
Abhi snorted. "Prade, that stuff happens in stories and TV shows, not in real life."
"You're right, sir, but then who's doing all this?"
Abhi scratched his chin. "That's just it, Prade, I can't figure it out. Because in every death, the blood isn't missing. The person is just... aged. It's a weird case. Like some clever scientist's weapon that makes people old before their time. But how is that possible? Nothing makes sense."
Prade lowered his voice. "Sir, I've even heard that in the old days, a Daayan lived deep in these jungles, one who sucked people's age. You don't think she's behind this?"
Abhi's face turned stern. "Shut up, Prade. What kind of superstitious nonsense are you believing? Let's move. And don't ever talk like that again, understood?"
Prade fell silent. The constables loaded the body into an ambulance, and the police vehicles drove away.
Hidden behind a tree, Kiyan listened to this entire exchange. A profound pain darkened his eyes. He turned and melted into the depths of the forest.
---
Aarav lay on his bed, listening to music on his phone, but his mind wasn't in it. He got up and went for a walk in the park opposite the hostel, settling on a bench.
Just then, a small puppy limped up to him, one leg injured. Aarav's eyes fell on its paw—it was bleeding.
"Ah, buddy," Aarav said softly, pulling a biscuit from his pocket. He fed the puppy, but his gaze remained fixed on the wound.
He gently picked up the puppy. The wound was deep, probably from a piece of glass. The poor thing was trembling.
Without thinking, Aarav placed his thumb near the wound, perhaps to wipe the blood away.
And then it happened again.
The moment his finger made contact, the bleeding stopped. The edges of the wound began to knit together, healing at an impossible speed. Within seconds, the wound vanished entirely. The puppy's leg was perfectly healed, as if nothing had ever happened.
Aarav's heart hammered against his ribs. He set the puppy down, which now began to happily jump around. Aarav stumbled back, then turned and sprinted towards his room.
He went straight to the washbasin and began scrubbing his hands furiously under the tap. Then he looked at his face in the mirror—fear, shock, and deep confusion stared back.
"What... what is happening?" he whispered. "First that flower, now this puppy's leg... what is all this?"
He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to wipe away a delusion.
Just then, his phone rang.
He came out of the bathroom, drying his hands. He picked up the phone. A notification—a reply from his father.
He opened the message. "Aarav, there is nothing like what you read. Many people write such articles just for fame, to stir up ordinary folks. I am perfectly fine. Don't worry, son. Take care of yourself."
Aarav took a deep breath. Then he opened his laptop again and searched for NCLRL.
His breath caught.
That article... was gone.
He searched repeatedly, trying different keywords. But "The Secret Explorer" blog, that article, yielded nothing. As if it had never existed. It had been completely erased from the internet.
Aarav closed the laptop and buried his head in his hands. A cold gust of wind blew in through the window.
Outside, across the street, a car was parked. On its front grille was mounted a demon mask, complete with two horns. Through the tinted windows, a man was watching Aarav's room. His eyes glinted with a cold, calculated light.
(Chapter End)