The sun burned bright in the sky of the real world — harsh, merciless, and nothing like the mystical glow of the Isekai realms. Yeshwanth blinked against it, feeling the weight of exhaustion in every muscle. His body still carried faint aches from battles waged in a world no one here would ever believe existed.
He breathed slowly. The scent of diesel, dust, and wet pavement filled his lungs.
No mana. No Excelone Dagger. No Lucia. No Tim. No Nila…
Just reality. Cold, indifferent, unforgiving.
But he had made it back. His "fixed job" — a dull office position he took only because he needed money — waited for him like an invisible chain. He dragged himself through the shift, body present but mind elsewhere. Every keystroke felt pointless compared to slaying ninja leaders and unleashing psychological enmity.
But he finished. Somehow.
When he stepped outside, the sky was turning orange. He checked his phone out of habit… and froze.
Bank Alert: ₹25,00,000 credited to your account.
Source: Unknown — Isekai Compensation Reward
For a second, he genuinely thought he was hallucinating. But the number didn't go away.
Twenty-five. Lakhs.
His breath caught. He felt lightheaded.
"So… it followed me," he muttered, staring at the screen like it might explode.
A grin tugged at his lips. Not a small grin — a full-blown idiot smile.
Twenty-five lakhs. From Isekai. Real money. Real world.
He laughed to himself, attracting some strange looks from passersby. Not that he cared. His mind was already racing.
"I can clear debts. I can invest. I can build something… I can—"
But fantasies are fragile. Reality doesn't like when people get too happy.
Because right then, right at the peak of his daydream, someone tapped his shoulder.
A heavy hand. Calloused fingers. A scent of beedi and cold sweat.
Yeshwanth turned.
His heart dropped.
Standing in front of him was a stocky man in a brown shirt, thick mustache, and dead-serious eyes. A man everyone in the neighborhood feared:
Ibrahim — the moneylender.
Not the polite type. The type who collects debts the way predators collect prey.
He crossed his arms.
"Yeshwanth. Long time no see."
Yeshwanth swallowed. "Sir… everything okay?"
Ibrahim smirked. "Oh yes, perfectly. I just came to talk about your father."
A bad sign. Very bad.
Yeshwanth felt his stomach tighten. "What about him?"
Ibrahim leaned closer, voice dropping to a slow, dangerous drawl.
"Your father borrowed ₹5 lakhs from me for personal purposes. That was years ago. Now with interest… penalties… missed EMIs…"
He paused, watching Yeshwanth carefully.
"The total comes to ₹10 lakhs."
Yeshwanth felt like someone had slapped him.
Five… became ten? Just like that?
His daydream shattered. His happiness evaporated. Reality ripped the rug from under him and left him standing there, numb.
"I didn't… I didn't know he borrowed…" he whispered.
"That's not my problem," Ibrahim replied coldly. "Debt doesn't vanish because someone dies. The responsibility now falls on the family."
Family. That word hit harder than any ninja technique.
"Yes, sir… I understand," Yeshwanth said quietly, jaw clenched.
Ibrahim nodded, tone final. "Good. I'll give you one month. Bring the money."
And just like that, he walked away, leaving dust and despair behind him.
The Weight of the World
When Yeshwanth reached home, the atmosphere was tense. The house felt smaller, darker, as if the walls themselves carried stress.
His elder brother, Rajesh, sat on the sofa with a worn-out expression. Their mother sat beside him, rubbing her knees — swollen, aching, wrapped in cloth.
Yeshwanth exhaled slowly.
"Brother… Ibrahim came today."
Rajesh's shoulders tensed. He closed his eyes for a moment. "So he found out. I thought we had more time."
"Is it true? Did father borrow five lakhs?"
Rajesh nodded bitterly. "Yes. For treatment… then for business… then again for living expenses. He thought he could repay later."
"But interest has doubled it," Yeshwanth said quietly.
A heavy silence settled in the room.
Rajesh spoke again, voice cracking slightly — something Yeshwanth rarely heard from him. "That's not all. Mother's knee problem… the doctors confirmed it today. The veins in her knees are collapsing. If we don't operate soon… she might lose mobility permanently."
Yeshwanth felt something sink inside him. "How much will the surgery cost?"
"Ten lakhs," Rajesh whispered. "Minimum."
Ten lakhs. For mom's leg. Ten lakhs. For Ibrahim.
And on top of all that—
Rajesh looked at him again. "And your education loan… five lakhs."
Yeshwanth's chest tightened. His hands went cold.
Debt.
Debt.
Debt.
He had twenty-five lakhs. But real life doesn't let you enjoy it. Not for a second.
His fantasies of a new life… Gone. Vaporized in one evening.
He sank into a chair, numb.
₹10 lakh – moneylender
₹10 lakh – mother's surgery
₹5 lakh – education loan
= ₹25 lakhs total debt
Everything he earned. Everything he fought for. Everything he nearly died for.
All of it was already spoken for.
Reality didn't care if he fought demon ninjas. Reality didn't care if he unlocked supernatural powers. Reality didn't care if he had a soulmate in another world.
Reality wanted money. Now.
The Emotional Crash
Yeshwanth stared at the ceiling, feeling something twist inside him. A pressure building behind his ribs. The kind that makes you want to scream but your voice dies before it leaves your throat.
His mother spoke softly, trying to hide her pain.
"Yeshwanth… don't stress, my son. We will manage somehow…"
But her hands shook as she held her knees.
She was in pain. He could see it. He hated seeing it.
Rajesh added quietly, "We didn't want to burden you. You already worked so hard. But father's debts… mother's leg… your loan… everything collapsed together."
Yeshwanth exhaled a shaky breath.
"I… I will handle it."
Rajesh's eyes widened. "How? That's twenty-five lakhs—your whole savings."
"I don't care," Yeshwanth said. "This family needs it. I'll fix it."
The words came out calm, but internally he felt something break.
He had gone to another world. Risked his life countless times. Got beaten, stabbed, nearly killed. Saved people he didn't even know.
And after all that? His reward wasn't freedom. It was responsibility.
He had achieved power beyond humans… But even that power couldn't fight poverty. Couldn't fight medical bills. Couldn't fight old debts.
In the Isekai world, he was a hero. Here, he was just a young man drowning under weight he never asked for.
The Quiet Resolve
Later that night, he sat alone in his room. His phone glowed in the dark, showing the bank balance again.
₹25,00,000.
It didn't excite him anymore. It looked like a number mocking him.
He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "So this is it. Everything I earned… gone before I could even breathe."
But then—
A faint, warm feeling pulsed inside his chest. Somewhere deep. Like a whisper.
Nila's ring.
Sealed around his finger.
Her voice echoed faintly in his mind:
"My darling… you will return to me."
He felt a strange comfort. Even if the real world crushed him… someone out there wanted him. Needed him. Believed in him.
He clenched his fist.
"I won't run. Not from debts. Not from responsibilities. Not from anything."
He stood.
"I'll pay the twenty-five lakhs. I'll clear everything. And then… I'll become strong enough to protect everyone — here and in Isekai."
It wasn't a heroic declaration. It wasn't dramatic. It was quiet. Cold. Determined.
The kind of resolve forged only when life beats you into the dirt and you stand up anyway.