He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The messy hair was gone, replaced by a neat, modern cut that suited the sharp lines of his face. The simple black t-shirt and pants felt natural, a comfortable disguise.The man in the mirror looked exactly as he remembered, in the prime of his life, but his eyes held the weight of a century and a half.
He walked out of the suite, the quiet hum of the 34th floor a distant sound. Aarav and the maid followed him, a silent procession to the elevators. They stepped inside, and the lift descended with a smooth, soundless grace, a rapid drop from the secluded heights to the bustling first floor.
The elevator doors slid open. The man walked out, but after a few steps, he realized his silent escort was no longer behind him. He looked back over his shoulder. Aarav was still in the elevator, his posture as rigid as ever.
"Are you not coming?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"I was only tasked to protect you till here," Aarav replied, his voice a flat monotone. "Others will take it from here."
"Someone else other than you?" he asked, the sarcasm evident in his tone.
"I have a task that has been on hold. I need to finish it. I wish you a happy journey."
Aarav gave a single, respectful nod. The elevator doors began to close, and he was gone.
He looked forward and started to walk, turning his back on the elevator and on the First Knight. The maid, a silent and professional shadow, moved to his side and started to guide him. They walked down a hushed hallway, its polished marble reflecting the glow of the overhead lights.
They stopped in front of a set of unassuming double doors, flanked by two men in dark, tailored suits. The guards stood motionless, their posture a silent statement of authority. The maid stepped in front of the man and spoke to them in a low, respectful tone. The guards listened, their eyes flicking over to him.
After a short conversation, the guards nodded, and one of them reached out and opened the door. He stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. The man walked in front, a new-found purpose in his stride, with the maid following close behind. He was about to enter a new world.
He walked into the room, and the quiet elegance of the Serene Lotus Garden washed over him. The world he had just left—the hushed, polished hallways and the cold, unyielding guards—felt a universe away. The air was filled with the soft scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle trickle of a small pond filled the silence. A slender wooden bridge arced over the water, leading to a small, gazebo.
The scenery was enough to put a man's mind at ease.
In the gazebo, a young man was sitting on a simple chair, his hands resting on the tabletop. He was staring at the pond, his expression distant, as though he were a world away, lost deep in his own thoughts.
He made his way towards the gazebo, taking his time. He was in no rush. The world he had just entered was a canvas of impossible detail and color, and he walked slowly, admiring the scenery as he went. The bridge offered a small moment of reflection, the cool air carrying the scent of a dozen different flowers. He could hear the low hum of the city beyond the soundproof walls, a constant presence, but here, the gentle trickle of the pond was the only music.
In the gazebo, the young man was still lost in his thoughts, his eyes fixed on the surface of the water. He was so deeply engrossed that he only noticed the other man when he was standing directly in front of him. He looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and polite composure.
A young man who looked only a few years older than him, simply sat down on the opposite side of the table. The silence between them was heavy with the weight of unanswered questions.
Aryan's thoughts were broken, and he shot up from his chair. His greeting was a quick, respectful bow. "Good morning, sir," he said, his voice a little strained.
The man simply gestured for him to sit back down. His motion was simple, but his authority was clear. As Aryan settled back into his seat, he began his introduction, his hands clasped on the table.
"Hello, sir," he said. "My name is Aryan."
The young man front of also did the same
"Anand…Anand Patil."
For Aryan, the world seemed to crash down around him. He had been sent on a high-stakes mission for a powerful man, a "golden asset," but he never expected the man to be named after the founder himself. The name was a sacred, almost forbidden word within the family. His family had served the Patil clan for three generations, and not one of the six generations of Patils since the founder's death had ever named their child Anand. To do so would have been an act of ultimate disrespect, a claim to a legacy that no one could ever truly live up to.
Now, a young man who looked only a few years older than himself was claiming that very name.
His thoughts raced, a whirlwind of fear and confusion. He finally understood the gravity of his mission, and the reason for the Family Head's secretive warnings. If the council elders, if the family knew about this, who knew what they would do? Would they see him as a symbol of hope or a blasphemous lie?
"Just who is he? "Aryan's mind screamed. "He can't be... a son. A secret child of the Family Head? But that's forbidden without the consent of the Missus..."
The questions were endless, and the answers were terrifying.
Aryan's thoughts were a chaotic maelstrom of confusion and fear, but they were silenced by a voice in front of him.
"Yes?" The man repeated.
Aryan blinked, his gaze snapping back to the figure across the table. He was still lost, but he forced himself to focus. "So, what are we going to do now?" the man asked.
Before Aryan could answer, the silence of the garden was broken by the soft hum of wheels. A maid entered, pushing a mobile cart laden with four or five different dishes, a bottle of juice, and gleaming cutlery. She moved with practiced grace, placing a few dishes on the table before quietly pouring a glass of juice.
As she worked, Aryan found his voice. "It's entirely at your discretion, sir," he said, his voice a little strained. "Whatever you would like to do. I'm here just to guide you."
The maid placed the bottle on the table and, with a silent bow, started to exit.