Dinner passed more quietly than usual.
Ayaan sat at the table, pushing rice across his plate without realizing it. His mother noticed first—she always did.
"You're not hungry today?" she asked.
"I am," he replied automatically. He wasn't.
The television murmured in the background. His father flipped through channels, stopping when a familiar headline filled the screen.
Another girl found dead.Near the river.Late night.
Ayaan's hand stilled.
The reporter spoke with practiced calm. Too calm. As if death had become routine. As if this wasn't someone's daughter. Someone's entire world.
His father exhaled. "This country is finished."
No one answered.
Ayaan stared at the screen, his chest tightening. The image blurred—not from tears, but because his thoughts were already racing ahead of the words.
Again.Another one.Nothing changes.
After dinner, he went straight to his room. Shut the door. Locked it.
He sat at his desk, elbows resting on cold wood, fingers pressed together. Calm on the surface. Chaos underneath.
He thought about the system.About reports and investigations. Committees. Delays.
About how much people trusted it—and how often it failed them.
The screen glowed as he powered on his laptop.
Then he opened the secure line. Where no one can track him. He turned on the auto voice changer.
Ariyan was lying on his bed when his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He stared at it for a long moment before answering. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end didn't sound entirely human. Distorted. Clean. Cold.
"You could've saved her."
Ariyan sat up at once. "Who is this?"
"You ran," the voice continued. "And she died."
"Stop," Ariyan said, his breathing uneven. "You don't know—"
"I know everything."
Silence filled the room.
Then the voice spoke again, quieter now, sharper."But it's not over."
Ariyan swallowed. "She's dead."
"Yes," the voice replied. "But they're alive."
His hands began to shake. "What are you saying?"
"You still have a choice," the voice said. "Not to save her. That chance is gone. But to make sure they never do this again."
Ariyan let out a weak laugh. "What… what do you want me to do?"
A pause.
Then—
"Kill them."
The word landed like a slap.
"Kill?" Ariyan repeated, panic flooding his voice. "Are you insane?"
"They didn't hesitate," the voice said evenly. "Why should you?"
"I'm not a murderer," Ariyan said, almost pleading.
"But, they are," the voice replied.
Ariyan stood, pacing the room. "I can't— I can't do this."
"You already live with death," the voice said calmly. "This would only give it meaning."
Ariyan stopped moving.
"You won't be alone," the voice continued. "I'll give you everything. Names. Locations. Patterns. Plans. Weaknesses."
"Who are you?" Ariyan whispered.
A brief pause.
"I am VOID."
The word echoed inside Ariyan's mind.
"You kill," VOID said. "I guide."
Ariyan's breathing grew loud. Uneven. Fractured.
"If I say no?" he asked.
"Then you'll spend the rest of your life asking what if," VOID replied. "And they'll keep doing it to someone else."
Silence stretched between them.
Ariyan closed his eyes.
"…If I do this," he said slowly, "there's no going back."
"No," VOID agreed. "There isn't."
Another pause.
Then, barely audible—
"Okay."
Ayaan leaned back in his chair as the word reached him through the call.
His expression didn't change. His voice didn't waver.
"I'm with you," VOID said. "From beginning to end."
He ended the call and stared at the darkened screen.
For the first time, a line had been crossed.
And somewhere deep within him, something quiet—and irreversible—began to move.