Chapter 13: The Cold Sweat of Truth

  The air inside the newly christened "AK Digital Services" shed was stagnant, smelling of fresh paint and ozone from the printer.

  Arjun sat behind his laptop, his fingers hovering over the glowing keys.

  Outside, the sounds of Baridih continued—the distant lowing of a cow, the clatter of a cycle—but inside this room, the stakes had shifted from lakhs to life and death.

  The Near-Miss

  Sughar Singh’s voice was still echoing in the rafters. “That AK Digital money saved our honor!”

  Arjun felt a drop of sweat break from his hairline.

  It moved in slow motion, a cold, salt-sting trail crawling down his temple.

  He didn't dare wipe it.

  He watched his father’s eyes—the eyes of a man who had spent forty years detecting lies in the village markets.

  Ramesh’s gaze was a physical weight.

  "Gulp."

  Arjun’s throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

  "The... the portal, Papa," Arjun repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

  He could see the gears turning in his father’s mind.

  Ramesh looked at the new lamination machine, then back at Sughar.

  For three agonizing seconds, time stretched.

  Arjun could hear the rhythmic beat "thump-thump" of his own heart, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

  "Haaaahhh."

  He let out a breath so quiet it didn't even disturb the dust on the desk.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Technology," Ramesh finally muttered, turning back to his lentils.

  The tension snapped like a dry twig.

  Arjun felt his muscles go limp.

  He leaned back into the shadows of the shed, his shirt sticking to his spine.

  He had survived, but the "Suspicion Reset" was a fragile shield.

  The 1,000x Ghost

  That night, the house was silent.

  Amit was asleep on the floor, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

  Arjun opened the "Samsung S24 Ultra".

  The screen’s 120Hz smoothness felt like silk under his thumb.

  "[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: ALGORITHM ANOMALY DETECTED]"

  "[HEAVEN’S GATE OPENING: 3:14 AM]"

  [PROJECTED MULTIPLIER: 1,000x - 1,250x]"

  Arjun’s hands began to shake.

  A 1,000x multiplier.

  If he bet just ?1,000, he would hit the "10 Lakh mark" in one minute.

  He would be a "Millionaire" in the middle of a village where people fought over ten-rupee discounts.

  He looked at Amit.

  He looked at the cracked walls of their room.

  3:14 AM arrived.

  The Aviator plane took off.

  "10x... 50x... 100x..."

  The red plane on the S24 Ultra was a streak of fire.

  "500x..." (?5,00,000)

  "800x..." Arjun’s thumb was paralyzed. He felt the "Gamble-Madness" rising—the same thing that destroyed men in the Ranchi casinos. But the System was calm.

  The blue numbers remained steady.

  "1,000x..."

  "CASH OUT."

  "[SUCCESS. +?10,02,000]

  [TOTAL WEALTH: ?12,45,000]"

  The screen turned a deep, royal gold.

  Arjun didn't celebrate.

  He felt a profound sense of terror.

  He was now a 20-year-old with twelve lakhs in a digital wallet, sitting in a room that cost less than the phone in his hand.

  The Investigation

  Priya couldn't sleep.

  Sanjay’s call from Gujarat had opened a door she thought she had locked.

  She sat on her hostel bed in Ranchi, the blue light of her phone reflecting in her expressive dark eyes.

  She searched the "AK Digital Solutions" registration again.

  She looked at the filing date.

  It matched the week Arjun had supposedly been "ghosted."

  "You were building this while I was blocking you?" she whispered to the empty room.

  She felt a strange, bitter heat in her chest.

  It wasn't love.

  It was a challenge.

  She had spent three years trying to escape the "Farmer’s Daughter" label through books and exams.

  If Arjun had found a shortcut—a way to build a firm in the very dust she fled—she had to know how.

  "I'm going to Baridih," she decided, her jaw tightening.

  "I'll tell my father I need to visit the Nagri market for a project. I'll see for myself if 'AK Digital' is a real office or just a boy playing with a stolen dream."

  The Brother’s Greed

  The next morning, Amit woke up before Arjun.

  He saw the S24 Ultra lying face down on the laptop.

  He knew he shouldn't touch it.

  He knew Arjun’s rules.

  But the earbuds, the lamination machine, the money for Lapung—it had changed Amit’s perception of reality.

  If Bhaiya could make fifty thousand in a minute, why was he still sweeping the shop?

  Amit picked up the phone.

  It was unlocked.

  He saw the "Total Wealth" screen.

  "?12,45,000."

  Amit’s breath hitched.

  A million.

  Over ten lakhs.

  He felt a sudden, sharp hunger.

  He looked at the Aviator app icon.

  He knew the minimum bet was ?10.

  “Just once,” Amit thought, his hand trembling.

  “Just one ten-rupee bet. If I win, I can buy that bike I saw in Nagri without asking Bhaiya for a single paisa.”

  He tapped the icon.