*March 11, 1986, Mumbai, India*
Raj Mehra strode into the Mehra Building, the glass-and-steel monolith that housed his burgeoning empire, its polished lobby gleaming under midday sunlight. The hum of activity—typing clerks, ringing phones, and scurrying staff—paused as heads turned, eyes locking onto him with a mix of awe and curiosity. Raj felt the weight of their stares, a puzzle knitting his brow. *What's with them today?* he thought, his enhanced senses picking up every whisper, every glance. His new JS-1 Medicine and Sun God Body upgrades—granting 100x stamina, bull strength, cat-like reflexes, and cheetah speed—made him hyper-aware, but this attention felt different, almost reverent.
He rode the elevator to his fourth-floor office, the mirrored walls reflecting a figure that stopped him cold. Raj stared at his reflection, jaw slackening. His face, already sharp and handsome, was now chiseled to near-perfection—high cheekbones accentuated, jawline sharper, skin glowing with an ethereal radiance. His dark hair shimmered, each strand catching the light like polished obsidian. His eyes, once intense, now held a magnetic depth that seemed to pull the world in. *What the hell?* He blinked, turning his head to confirm it wasn't a trick of the light.
"System," he whispered, his voice low in the empty elevator, "what's happening to me? My face—my hair?"
The ROI system's neutral voice hummed in his mind. [*Host, this is an effect of the Sun God Body. Beyond energy absorption from sunlight, it optimizes physical appearance, enhancing features for charisma and influence. Additional effects include converting solar energy into extended lifespan and a de-aging process, slowing cellular decay. Furthermore, intimate contact with partners transfers minor benefits: one week of increased lifespan and enhanced physical beauty per encounter.*]
Raj's lips curled into a triumphant grin, his reflection mirroring the devilish spark in his eyes. *Immortal?* The JS-1 Medicine had already stretched his lifespan to 500 years, but this? *A god among men, with Priya and Jyoti by my side, ageless and beautiful.* The thought thrilled him—his empire, already vast with 40 crore in assets, would endure centuries, and his lovers would share in that eternity. He stepped out of the elevator, confidence radiating, the stares of staff now making sense. He wasn't just Raj Mehra; he was a force, a living legend.
In his office—a sleek expanse of teak and glass overlooking Bandra's seafront—Raj settled into his leather chair, the city's pulse a distant hum. A stack of film scripts awaited, each a potential goldmine for *Karma Productions*. He flipped through them, his enhanced mind processing details with uncanny speed. Family dramas, love stories, a gritty crime saga—each script vetted by the ROI system for profit potential. After an hour, he narrowed it to five: *Dil Se Pyar* (a tragic romance), *Parivaar Ki Kahani* (a multi-generational saga), *Ishq Aur Intezaar* (a love triangle), *Ghar Ka Sukh* (a family reconciliation tale), and *Pyaar Ka Safar* (a road-trip romance). Total investment: 3.5 crore. Projected return: 8 crore within two years, per the system's 85% confidence.
Raj buzzed the intercom. "Ravi," he said to the young staff boy who answered, "get Ashok Kumar up here. Now."
Ravi, a lanky 19-year-old with nervous energy, stammered, "Yes, sir, right away." Raj leaned back, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. Two days ago, he'd learned Uncle Shyam—*Karma Productions*' co-manager with Priya—had hired Ashok as his assistant. The move had sparked a rare pang of jealousy in Raj; Shyam was a trusted uncle figure, but Raj wanted his own gatekeeper. He'd ordered Suraj to arrange a secretary, and today was interview day.
Ashok Kumar, a wiry man in his late 30s with slicked-back hair and a perpetually serious demeanor, entered minutes later, notepad in hand. "Sir, you called?"
Raj slid the script stack across the desk. "Ashok, these five scripts—*Dil Se Pyar*, *Parivaar Ki Kahani*, *Ishq Aur Intezaar*, *Ghar Ka Sukh*, *Pyaar Ka Safar*. Sign contracts, secure rights, start pre-production. Budget's 3.5 crore total. Coordinate with Priya and Uncle Shyam. I want casting finalized in two weeks, shooting by May."
Ashok nodded, jotting notes. "Understood, sir. I'll get the legal team on the contracts today. Any specific directors in mind?"
"Arjun Singh for *Dil Se Pyar*—his style suits tragedy," Raj said, his voice crisp. "The rest, let Priya shortlist. System says these will hit; don't screw it up."
Ashok's lips twitched, a hint of a smile. "Yes, sir. Anything else?"
"That's all. Go." Raj waved him out, leaning back to savor the quiet. The Lotus Awards plan—pitched to Priya earlier—was taking shape, with bribes already smoothing the licensing process for an August launch. *Mehra Construction* was scaling, *Mehra Book House* grossing 3 crore globally, and *Pyar Kiya* climbing toward 1 crore lifetime. The underworld? Crippled, with D-Company and Shetty at 70–78% losses, thanks to Arjun Das's raids. Raj's empire was a machine, oiled by chaos and ambition.
The door swung open, and Suraj Singh strode in, his tailored suit as sharp as his demeanor. "Boss," he said, adjusting his glasses, "secretary interviews are done. We filtered five candidates. Want to choose, or should we?"
Raj's eyes gleamed, his enhanced charisma making the room feel smaller. "I'll choose. Send them in, one by one."
Suraj nodded, a knowing smirk flickering. "Alright, boss. First one's ready in 15 minutes." He exited, leaving Raj to prepare.
The interviews began promptly. The first candidate, Neha Sharma, entered—a plain woman in her 20s, average build, modest saree, nervous smile. Raj leaned forward, his enhanced features almost intimidating her. "Neha, why this role?" he asked, voice smooth.
She stammered, "S-sir, I'm organized, good with schedules…"
Raj consulted the system mentally. [*Will Neha Sharma perform duties effectively?*] [*No. Insufficient adaptability, prone to errors under pressure.*]
He fired off tough questions: "How do you handle conflicting deadlines? What's your approach to sensitive financial data?" Neha faltered, her answers vague. "Wait outside," Raj said, dismissing her with a wave.
The second candidate, Riya Patel, had a decent figure, her kurta accentuating her curves modestly. Raj repeated the process. "Riya, how do you prioritize tasks in a crisis?" [*Will Riya Patel perform effectively?*] [*No. Lacks initiative, risk of leaks.*] Her answers crumbled under pressure. "Wait outside," Raj said, already bored.
The third candidate, Kajal Agarwal, sashayed in, her presence electric. Her tight blouse and saree hugged a voluptuous figure, and as she adjusted her dupatta, it slipped—deliberately, Raj noted—revealing cleavage and the unmistakable outline of nipples, no bra beneath. His enhanced senses caught every detail: her jasmine perfume, the slight flush on her cheeks, the calculated tilt of her head. *She's playing me,* he thought, amused.
"Kajal, why this role?" he asked, eyes lingering on her curves.
She leaned forward, her voice sultry. "Sir, I'm dedicated, flexible… I handle *all* needs with care." The dupatta slipped again, her blouse straining. Raj smirked—she was baiting him.
[*Will Kajal Agarwal perform effectively?*] [*No. Prioritizes personal gain, high risk of error but loyal 70-80%.*]
Raj asked easy questions—"How's your typing speed? Can you manage travel bookings?"—enjoying her performance, her eyes inviting his gaze. "Wait outside," he said, holding her stare.
The fourth candidate, Pooja Kumari, entered—a nerdy girl in glasses, simple salwar kameez, sharp eyes cutting through her plain appearance. Her posture was confident, her resume meticulous. "Pooja, why this role?" Raj asked.
"Sir, I'm efficient, discreet, and thrive under pressure," she said, voice steady. "I've managed high-stakes projects in college and internships."
[*Will Pooja Kumari perform effectively?*] [*Yes. High competence, low error rate.*] Raj tested her: "How do you handle confidential data leaks? What's your strategy for multi-tasking?" Her answers were precise, professional.
Then, a curveball. "Pooja, if I asked you to sleep with me, would you?"
Her eyes narrowed, unflinching. "Sir, I'm not a prostitute. I'd resign before compromising my integrity."
Raj laughed, leaning back. "Relax, Pooja, I'm not interested. But if I sleep with others, would you leak it to the press?"
She didn't blink. "Your personal life is yours. I'd do my job—nothing more."
[*Is Pooja Kumari loyal?*] [*Yes. 92% loyalty probability.*] Raj extended his hand. "You're hired."
The fifth candidate, Priyanka Desai, didn't even enter. [*Is she competent? Beautiful?*] [*No. Subpar skills, average appearance.*] Raj waved it off. "Send Kajal back in," he told Ravi.
Kajal re-entered, her dupatta still low, a coy smile playing on her lips. Pooja returned too, sitting stiffly. Raj stood, his enhanced charisma filling the room. "Congratulations, both of you are my secretaries. Pooja, you'll handle office duties—schedules, files, coordination. Report to Suraj on the third floor; he'll set you up. Your cabin's left of mine. Any doubts?"
Pooja shook her head, professional. "Clear, sir."
Kajal leaned forward, her blouse straining. "Boss, what about me?"
Raj's smile was predatory. "Kajal, you're my personal assistant. Food, clothes, health—stress relief when I need it. Understood? Normally most time you will work on 5th floor or in my cabin."
Kajal's eyes sparkled, catching his meaning. "Yes, boss. Anything you need."
Pooja's expression remained neutral, but Raj sensed her disapproval—contained, professional. "Go," he said. Pooja exited for Suraj's briefing; Kajal lingered a moment, adjusting her saree suggestively.
Raj stand up from his Chair and come to Kajal and said come Kajal i will show you 5th floor.
Kajal also stood and come to his side.
Raj place his hand on her waist and she startled but didn't remove Raj hand.
Watching this Raj started walking with her out of office and come to 5th floor.
Both of them enter and Kajal saw there was 3 rooms and a swimming pool with open roof.
Raj then closed the door and said " lets start the work and started opening his shirts. "
Kajal watching this startled and said " Sir, is not this very quick i need some time. "
Raj said playfully " You are hired for this now you want to walk out. "
She said " Sir, no its not like this. "
Raj has already opened his Shirt and inner shirt and become bare chested.
Raj body was super hot with 6 packs and tight muscle like god.
Kajal was very astonished to watch this her face become red.
Then Raj took her to side of pool and Raj then laid there on mattress and said her to apply oil on his back.
Kajal shocked that her thought were wrong and her face become Red.
But she started applying Oil.