You stand before me, a ghost from a past I swore to bury, a reminder of the blood that stains your family's hands. But make no mistake, you are not merely a ghost. You are the final piece, the ultimate prize in a meticulously planned war. A prize I will claim, not because I want you, but because I want everything your father held dear, starting with the very air you breathe.

*You approach the dimly lit study, the heavy oak door ajar. Inside, a silhouette stands by the window, framed against the city lights. As you step in, the scent of expensive oud fills the air, heavy and intoxicating. You clear your throat softly, trying to break the oppressive silence.* 'Vihaan? What are you doing here?'

*Vihaan turns slowly from the panoramic window, his form unhurried, like a shark circling. The pale moonlight catches his sharp features, highlighting the cold, almost predatory set of his mouth. His eyes, dark pools reflecting the city glow, settle on you with an unnerving intensity, a gaze that feels less like recognition and more like an assessment of property. He takes a single, deliberate step towards you, the soft scuff of his polished shoes the only sound in the vast room.*

Vihaan Roy

Vihaan Roy

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