Night – Newsroom Studio, City D
Inside a rival news channel's studio, an anchor rehearsed her script: "Was The Living Market just a market of corpses? Tonight, an exclusive look at the lies behind the legacy. And a special interview with a former artisan who says he warned the builders."
Backstage, a shadowed man smiled as he signed a cheque for the whistleblower—a man who'd never worked a day on the site but knew exactly which lie the public would believe.
Midnight – Safehouse Café.
Veer, Aakash, and Kavya Thakur sat hunched over a stack of legal documents and old clearance maps.
"These workers were registered in 2010. The land clearance happened in 2019," Kavya said, flipping pages. "Meaning—"
"—they died before our project ever began," Aakash completed.
"But why weren't they found before?" Veer asked.
"Because the developer back then bulldozed without full excavation. And no one questioned missing laborers.
Especially if they were undocumented migrants," Kavya said coldly.
"We need to expose that timeline," Veer said.
"We also need to find the original contractor. The one who ordered the illegal work in 2010," Kavya added.
Next Morning – UDC Mall Protest Site, Gate 3
A group of local artisans had gathered, holding up placards reading: "Tradition Built on Bones? Not in Our Name!"
"Living Market = Dying Workers."
Tension mounted as a former artisan leader accused the Upadhyay Group of "profiteering off martyrdom." The media lapped it up, cameras zooming in.
From behind the gate, Rishika and Riyansh watched in silence.
"She was one of our earliest supporters," Rishika said softly.
"She still might be. If she believes the truth," Riyansh replied. "We just have to show her."
At the old City D Municipal Archives, Kavya stumbled across a faded file with the label Laalina Civic Slum Redevelopment – 2010 Contractor License Revoked. Inside were grainy photos of the demolished site, a list of laborers—marked Missing, not Deceased.
One of the names matched the ID tag found on the body.
Kavya's breath caught. "This file," she whispered, "might just save the Living Market."
Meanwhile, across town in an old press office once owned by a defunct tabloid, a livestream flickered to life.
A masked whistleblower calling himself "Dastavez" (meaning Document) went live: You trusted them with your future. They gave you graves beneath your homes. UDC is a lie built on bones—literally. Do you want your children playing on the soil of the forgotten? Wake up, City D. This is blood money."
Within thirty minutes, 3.4 million views. Within an hour—nationwide outrage.
Early Morning – CBI Office, City D
The Central Bureau of Investigation had now been roped in. A special unit arrived at the site with drones, scanners, and sealed warrants. For the first time since the project began, the UDC site was officially marked: "Seized Under Investigation."
But it wasn't just a body anymore. It was the narrative. And in modern Country I, narrative was everything.
Back at the Upadhyay Group,
Rishika watched the footage of "Dastavez" again. "He's not just a rogue activist. Look at the background—those files behind him, that voice modulation—it's calculated. He's trying to collapse more than just this project."
Veer crossed his arms. "We need to figure out who benefits if this falls apart."
Aakash murmured, "Pride Real Estate. They've been trying to resecure this parcel for years."
Riyansh narrowed his gaze. "And the head of Pride's legal division is Rajiv Rathi—the same man Vikram once worked under at a different firm. Vikram may be out of the picture, but his loyalties might not be."
Rishika stood, the weight of leadership on her shoulders but her eyes burning with defiance. "Then let's start countering their story. Quietly, legally, digitally."
That afternoon, Kavya received an encrypted email from a blocked source.
The subject line read: "Not all ghosts are dead. Some are just buried."
Inside were five attachments—scanned pages of a secret sale deed, photos of construction files from 2009, and a video of a powerful industrialist visiting the same land at midnight years ago.
Kavya stared at the sender's name, which appeared only once: "A Friend of the Forgotten."
Late Evening – UDC Site, City D,
Under a temporary canvas of floodlights and construction tarps, the UDC Mall site stood still—no concrete mixers humming, no echo of boots on scaffolding. Instead, there was the slow whirl of a government drone hovering above, surveying what had now become the most controversial piece of land in City D.
The city buzzed with media speculation. Headlines screamed across screens and news tickers:
"UDC Mall: From Hope to Homicide?"
"Dead Bodies or Dead Dreams?"
"Artisan Groups Abandon Project; Protests Escalate."
Kavya Thakur stood tall, her notes arranged, her voice clear. "Your Honour, we have secured signed affidavits from the Artisan Collective confirming they were misled by outside agents funded by rival developers. The bodies found date back to pre-Partition—records now confirmed by ASI."
The judge looked over the documentation in silence. Then nodded.
Next Morning – Live Broadcast, Outside UDC Site
Veer and Riyansh appeared side by side—one in corporate black, the other in ceremonial white kurta—calm under pressure.
Rishika, standing with them, looked into the camera. "This mall is not a graveyard of ambition. It's a revival of forgotten communities. And no rival, no scandal, and no ghost of the past will stop it."
The news anchors tried to interrupt.
Veer spoke louder. "We've invited the artisan leaders back. On our terms. Under full transparency."
48 Hours Later – Breaking Ground Again,
The banyan tree stood untouched in the center of the atrium—the Living Market's symbolic heart.
A child from the displaced artisan colony cut the ceremonial ribbon, not a minister. That had been Rishika's idea.
As drums played and media captured the moment, Riyansh stepped aside. "No speech today," he said. "Only work."
And work began. Rishika sat between Veer and Riyansh, sipping coffee, her eyes watching cranes rise.
"A body from the past. An attempted collapse. Media firestorms. Artisan fury. Legal battles. And still—"
"We build," Veer said.
Riyansh smiled. "The only legacy worth leaving is the one you build despite everything."
Rishika looked at the site. Then at them.
"And we just poured our foundation."
"This is my guilt. But maybe now… it can be your justice."